Redemption RP

[Lady Midnight]

She sat at the table and waited. The inn-keeper scrutinised her which made her feel a little edgy. A young woman but how young exactly the inn-keeper could not tell as her green eyes held the expression of an old woman, not strictly beautiful but certainly pleasant to look at.....or at least the inn-keeper thought so, with long dark hair trailing down her back and a determined set to her jawline. Certainly very striking. She had been there sometime, apparently waiting for someone. It didn't look like they were going to show. It wasn't right thought the inn-keeper, a woman like her on her own. He'd seen her somewhere before, he was sure of that. Perhaps he'd go and keep her company.

The woman wasn't in the mood for company. At least not that sort. As the inn-keeper approached her table she slowly reached for her blade just in case. The inn-keeper noticed and backed off. Another time perhaps, when she was in a better frame of mind.

She was growing impatient. Where were they? Time was running out and she needed help. She'd been told she could find it here. She needed answers.

[Scarfair]

Lasser-Lante hunkered down in the brush, watching the front of the Inn as the daylight died. He waited for nothing more than impatience from his customer, and for darkness to fall.

Her horse was already tired of the wait, Lasser eyed the dapple-grey as it shifted and wickered at the hitchpost. His own big, black bay nudged his shoulder from the road-weeds and scrub behind him. 'Easy, Donnebrook...She'll get tired and leave soon. You'll get to run then.' He scratched his horse's cheek as the bay laid it's head in the crook of Lante's neck.

Finally, she stormed out. She stomped down the steps and mounted the dapple in a huff. Perfect for Lasser's purposes, perhaps she would be too angry to watch the trail ahead of her. Perfect.

He waited as she spun her mount gracefully and left the Inn, riding hard and with disappointment in her back. Lasser and his horse moved as soon as she reached the bend ahead.

At the turn it happened as he hoped. She was an expert rider, but even she had to pull up as a creaky old wagon rolled over the trail in front of her. Before she had time to dart around the roadblock, Lasser was on her.

He reigned up, a devilish smile on his thin lips. 'M'lady, you sent word for Lasser-Lante, and lo... here I am.' he bowed politely over his saddle horn.

She grasped her swords hilts, the greatblade coming half out of sheath before she relaxed as she heard his name. 'You are the thief the elves call "Narbeleth?'"

'Aye, and if ye have need of my services, I have need to see yer gold.' The scoundrel's eyes glanced at the fat purse in the lady's belt.

She coldly dipped her hand in the slip, fetching out a palmfull of Gondorian Wheels. 'These and thrice more if you can get me into the Keep of Uthed the Old. Undetected, that is...' Her own eyes flashed as she tried to measure his worth.

The thief whistled low, shaking his head. 'You don't want much, do you?!' Narbeleth chuckled. 'Since the Lord of Dunland's eastern range has felt his mortality, he keeps his gates barred and his walls watched closely. Why Uthed's hold?'

The Lady shoved her gold back in it's pouch. 'It is my position he will vacate. Uthed usurped my grandfather's command, my time to reclaim it is come.' And Lasser was taken aback, for her nobility shone like garnered light, and her commitment reached to him, an authority speaking to his blood. Here was someone used to command, and even as a lowly thief, Lasser knew the truth in her words...

'You are kin to Erold, cousin of Eomund, then? Guardian peoples of the Eastern Downs of the Emyn Muil? I heard that your family fell from favor, something about trading horses to Mordor. That isn't the way of it?' Lante asked, very serious now.

'Nay! And do not assume that which could unlimber my blade!' The Lady's anger and pride now left Lasser with no doubts. 'We have never trafficked with the Black Hand! It is a lie that Uthed used to throw suspicion upon my father and grandfather's command. With Isengard's help and that filthy Wormtongue's treachery, Theoden was turned against us. Eomer has stood upon Theoden's edict that bans us for four years, mainly because it benefits his side of family. But Uthed is dying, and now Uthed and his sons will pay dearly for that time!' She spoke from her teeth, clenched in violate determination. She spat, and brushed a gauntleted fist across her lips. 'Will you aid me?'

Lasser-Lante bowed across his saddlehorn again. 'I will get thee in, Lady, for thy station reveals itself in thine haught and grandeur. Pray, accept my arm, a thief's blade though it might be...'

[Lady Midnight]

The Lady looked at Lasser-Lante and tried to hide her contempt. For her, a daughter of TrÃ* Sliabh, to be reduced to mixing with a common criminal such as this, it was shameful! However she needed him to accomplish her mission. And it was not the first time since Uthed's betrayal of her family that she had been forced to keep such company. Still that didn't mean she had to like it. She gave the thief a cool nod and said:

"I will see to it you are well rewarded. Come! Let us go!"

With that she encouraged her dapple-grey horse to pick up the pace and galloped off in the direction of TrÃ* Sliabh, the thief following behind.

A pair of eyes watched with interest as they left the inn and started on their journey. They had watched the Lady the whole time from the moment she'd arrived at the inn. By now it was becomming apparent as to her identity and the nature of her business. Slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion, the eyes followed as the Lady and Lasser-Lante began their journey.

[Scarfair]

Lasser flashed quick hand signals to the brush as he and the renegade daughter of Rohan's wild east left the roadblock. His cohorts in the wood moved to retrieve the wagon and do as the master thief bade them.

As he rode, Lante calculated the forces he would need to pull this off. Uthed was old, mean, powerful, and paranoid to the extreme. The thief didn't know a whole lot about the wild lands that blended Dunland and Rohan, he knew mostly what he learned in the scarce, unfriendly Inns of Dunharrow. But he now felt sure he knew the reason Uthed and his three sons ruled their hold with such hard terror and discipline. That reason rode before him with a fury's vengence and a warrior's blade.

He wondered if it was murder that would be done, if he actually got her to Uthed's presence. He supposed she could call upon the ancient rites of combat, perhaps challenge her way back into command of the far eastern hold, but he knew better of Uthed. The old wolf would never abide by any rules or tradition that carried fairness in them, he would loose every warrior under his fist to stop her from making any such challenge. As the road disappeared behind them, Narbeleth wondered briefly if he'd bitten off more than he could chew. And that thought made him smile, for life was nothing if not for a challenge...

[Lady Midnight]

As they rode east towards the lands she had once called home, the Lady considered carefully their quest. Although an adept warrior to say the least and very skilled with her blade she knew she was not bred for this. She should be at home attending to her father's household or preparing to be wed to some other minor lord. But Fate had chosen another path for her: one that included a vow, and this couldn't be broken under any circumstances. It was the last request of her father, a dying vow.

No she couldn't turn back under any circumstances although it might mean certain death for her if she continued. It was certain that Uthed, or his sons would have her killed given the chance. And if not them there were plenty of others who, believing the lies about her family, might well do it for them. But if she actually died trying to redeem her family's honour then surely that must count for something, enough to make people question her family's guilt?

But could she kill a dying man? Was it right? What was the honourable thing to do here? And just how much attention should she pay to honour when she knew Uthed would pay none?

As the Lady rode on musing over the hand that fate had dealt her, Lasser riding a little ways behind, the eyes that had watched her all the way from the inn continued their interest in her. Suddenly the dapple-grey mare grew restless as though she could sense that they were being watched. The Lady was a little worried by this.....she knew her horse well. patting her gently she calmed her, saying "Easy Ruadh! Easy now girl!" before turning to Lasser and saying with a worried frown:

"We're being followed. Ruadh has a sense for these things."

[Aragorn]

Duriel and Drelin crept slightly ahead of James. They had been following the thief and the Lady for a couple of minutes. Drelin motioned for them to stop. He whispered to the others.

"They notice we're following them!"

"How?"

"I don't know."

They watched the thieves. Soon it became clear to Duriel and James that Drelin was right. They were acting strangely and James could have sworn that the Lady kept glancing back at them.

[Scarfair]

Lasser-Lante slowed his pace, motioning his charge to hang back and ride with him. As their steeds cantered stirrup-to-stirrup, he pulled a small, stone rood from a pocket lined in his cloak. To the Lady it looked as though it was carved from a dullish, grey, finished granite entirely. Heavy flouts and flauns of oakleaves on either end of the rod of stone graced it's caps. It was made in a style she recognised instantly.

'That is an elvish work! How does a roader such as you carry it?' She looked at him in a mix of wonder and suspicion.

'Heh, a bauble an elf in Mirkwood just couldn't help giving up... I say he owed it to me, pretty much don't care what his tale is.' Narbeleth grinned sly, noticing her face change with distaste. 'Oh fear not, M'lady! I didn't kill anyone to get it, heh heh...'

He rolled the rood in his hands, blowing on it to warm the cylinder evenly. As it warmed a deep green glow spread from it's center to it's ends, blossoming richly in the darkness. At the very center of the colour, three pinpricks of scarlet washed and wavered like relflection.

Lasser's face went hard. 'Aye, there are three people behind us, shadowing the road.' He pushed the rood back into his pocket. 'Let's speed our mounts and stretch their legs, let them run.'

The Lady glanced over her shoulder again, feeling the eyes on her back. 'Do you think they have horses?' she asked, straining her ears for the sound of hoofplods.

'Exactly what we will find out, HEE-YAW!' Lante whip reigned his horse, causing Donnebrook to rear up and launch himself on the road. The Lady gave her own mount some heel and thundered behind, determined to outrace the black that the thief rode, and whoever it was that paced them at their back...

[Aragorn]

Drelin swore. Duriel's looked turned to that of hate. James didn't know what was going on.

"What's going on? Why'd they move faster?"

Drelin spat and answered.

"We moved in the wrong place at the wrong time. That man must've seen our shadows. Even I saw them. He couldn't have missed it!"

Duriel's expression stayed hateful as he spoke.

"Call the horses."

"But...then they'll know we are following them!"

"They already know, call the horses!"

Drelin let out a shrill cry. In a minute stamping could be heard and finally two steeds and a pony appeared. James frowned.

"You know, we shouldn't let them roam freely. They could run away when we most need them."

Duriel smirked.

"Well, my Stormfeet wouldn't. She's in my debt."

Drelin smirked.

"You never told us that story. You only mentioned that she was in your debt."

Duriel sighed.

"It's a long, sad, sad, story. Another time."

Duriel, Drelin, and James mounted their horses and road off in pursuit of the thief and the Lady.

[Scarfair]

Uthed the Old, son of Uthrain, Lord of the eastern march of Tri Sliabh, sat on his throne in the abandonment of his Hall. As the pain of his disease grew worse, his company grew deplorable, even such that his own wife refused to join him on the dias.

There was more than the pain to his body that tormented him, there was a black doubt upon his heart that spent his good moods into despair, and burned the weak wick of his life like festering wildfire. 'Liadan...!', he spat the name out to no one and pounded shaky fists upon the arms of the Oaken Throne.

The last blooded heir of his greatest enemy roamed the world, avowed to take this hold back from the hand that held it in usury. No matter how he tried to fool himself and his own heirs, the people spoke low and out of hearing, muttering the truth when Uthed House Guards were out of earshot. The only way to assure that one of his sons would inherit this land was to wipe any opposer's name off the lips of the restless population. He had only one threat left alive who could seriously challenge his sons' succession. She had to die!!

The old man shifted his slowly withering bulk on the mound of cushions he had piled beneath him and on his back. The pain never left him now...

Uthed went through his precautions once more in his mind. The wall and gates were double garrisoned, with rotating sentries every four hours. Rider squads rode the maintrails, and individual mercenaries guarded most of the wild trails. There was not much else he could do, other than let worry and fear gnaw on his soul like rats crowding a swill. He slammed his fist again, She had to be found! She had to be gone! Gone before... He closed his eyes as the other fear that ate him alive roared hungrily awake again in his head. She had to be gone, long gone! Before his own soul was hurtled into the abyss that he knew awaited him...

[Lady Midnight]

Ruadh was a swift horse and could easily outrun their pursuers. Or so thought the Lady LÃ*adán, daughter and true heir to TrÃ* Sliabh as she ran hell for leather, trying to give them the slip, yet also to continue further on her journey to an uncertain fate. Who were they? she wondered. Were Uthed's men come to commit more misdeeds to satisfy his greed for wealth and power? If they had come to kill her they would meet with a mighty reckonning!

And why now? LÃ*adán was curious. Uthed had years in which he could've killed her, why wait until she reached adulthood? Was it that she was more of a threat to him? Or was it simply the spite of an old man wasting away in a slow, lingering death?

She was wrong about the horse. This time Ruadh wasn't her usual self. For just then another grey mare appeared, swift as the wind, the like of which neither LÃ*adán nor Lasser had never seen. On her back rode a young man and she was quickly followed by another horse and a pony bearing an Elf and a Hobbit.

LÃ*adán eyed the three suspiciously and, fearing the worst, drew her sword. She gave a cool nod to Lasser and the thief drew his horse up beside the pony and held a blade to the Hobbit's throat.

LÃ*adán looked coldly at the others, her breeding evident in her bearing, her firey temper blazing in her green eyes.

"Who are ye?" She demanded of them. "Friends or foes of Uthed the Usurper? State your business! Tell me now or it will go hard for ye!"

[Aragorn]

James had a look of utter fright plastered on his face. Drelin notched an arrow to his bow but Duriel signaled him not to fire.

"Leave him be!" Duriel shouted, "He has done no harm to you! As for Uthed, I do not know who you name! He is but a stranger in my memory! Withdraw your sword from anywhere near my friend's throat or I will let my elven companion fire! And believe me, he is an expert marksmen!"

Drelin's grip tightened on the bow. Duriel still gave no signal to fire. James was as scared as ever. The pony was the same. If it was not for it's loyalty to the hobbit it would have bucked James off and fled long ago.

[Lady Midnight]

One glance at Duriel was all LÃ*adán needed to know that he meant what he said. Still they had been following them since they left the inn and had yet to give any answers as to why. This man claimed he did not know who Uthed was....... but she only had his word for that. She looked at the thief. Perhaps it was something to do with him. With a nod to Lasser she turned to Duriel, still keeping her sword unsheathed, and said in her haughtiest tone, looking every inch a lord's daughter:

" What manner of man are you to threaten one such as I, the daughter of TrÃ* Sliabh? Have ye no honour, Sir? Very well we shall let your friend go but I say again: what is your business here? If ye be not Uthed's friends why do ye follow us?"

It had not been her intention to hurt the Hobbit but she did not trust these men and couldn't afford to take any chances. She was very young and scared, the weight of her familial duties resting heavy on her shoulders. She hoped this didn't show too much through the thin veneer of cold superiority she tried to maintain.

[Aragorn]

Duriel glanced back at Drelin who shrugged.

"I'm afraid I do not know who Tri Sliabh is." Duriel remarked, "Our business here? We've been roaming this land for years. What be your business here? As for following you. We have not seen you around these parts before and you didn't look like you just wanted to go riding through the woods with your friend here. Also, your friend looks like the type of man who would sneak into your house at night, steal your valuables, and slit your throat. If you know what I mean."

[Lady Midnight]

LÃ*adán put her blade away and gave Duriel one long, icy stare. She was the daughter of Lord Torin, late of TrÃ* Sliabh, to which she was the rightful heir. What right had he to question her? Who was he to comment on the company she kept?

"My business, Sir, if indeed it is any of your concern, is to reclaim what's rightfully mine from Uthed the Usurper and to avenge my father's death!"

She gestured towards Lasser-Lante.

"This man is in my employ and is merely assisting me in my quest."

It was getting late and she needed food and rest. The cracks began to show in that proud, hostile, ice-queen mask of hers and she could keep it up no longer. Her attitude began to soften a little.

"Good Sir, Uthed is a despot who abuses lands and position he unlawfully stole from my family many years ago. My companion and I seek only to right the wrongs done to my family and to the good people of TrÃ* Sliabh. Now it is late. I have but a little food but you are welcome to share it. But in the morning my companion and I must be on our way."

[Aragorn]

James turned his pony 'round and kicked it hard, it ran fast over to where Duriel and Drelin were.

"Now, you see why I tell you to stay with us and not wander ahead?" Duriel asked.

James nodded slowly. A look of terror still plastered on his face. Duriel went into deep thought and it took a tap from Drelin to wake him from his entrancement.

"Uthed, Uthed. I have heard that name before, now that you mention it more." Duriel said, "Ah, yes. Two riders came up to us one day and asked if we had permission to ride these rodes. I said 'Permission from who?'. The two men chuckled and responded, 'Why, Lord Uthed of course!'. I replied, 'Lord Uthed? Who might he be?'. The two men laughed and drew their swords. 'We'll take you to him' they said. Drelin killed one with his bow and I slew one with my sword. Well, if you insist we stay."

James stared in shock.

"You mean we're going to stay with these...these...barbarians!" he shouted.

Duriel smirked.

"Now, just because the Lady almost killed you doesn't mean they're barbarians." Duriel chuckled.

James was about to argue further until he saw the look from Duriel.

"Oh, alright." the hobbit continued to pout silently for a while but he eventually stopped.

[Griffin]

Jaden watched the exchange on the road with the eyes only Elfs were given.

He watched the 'Lady' as she confronted the two men and the hobbit and wondered if the time was right to show himself.

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. He would follow them further, with the stealth of an Elf, to wherever they stopped next. He decided that he may reveal himself to them then, and see whether they could use the aid of an Elfish bow.

If not, he would follow them besides, one never knew when the chance would come again to have such adventure in these old lands.

[Lady Midnight]

LÃ*adán listened with interest as Duriel told of his encounter with Uthed's men. As she listened her face took on a look of such bitterness as niether Duriel, nor the rest of the group had ever seen before. It was a look of sheer hatred. It was a while before she spoke, she merely buisied herself with getting food out of Ruadh's saddlebag. When she spoke there was a strange edge to her voice:

"Ay that sounds like Uthed's men alright! And he is no lord! That title last rightfully belonged to my brother, Tadgh son of Torin, and would still be his except that Uthed even stoops to murdering infants in their cradles!"

Here she paused as a shudder went through her. She hoped no-one had noticed it.

LÃ*adán looked at the Hobbit and noticed that the poor thing looked terrified. She smiled at James and said:

"Do not be frightened little man. We mean you no harm. I am sorry my companion had to threaten you but it is likely that Uthed will try to kill me and I can't take any chances. Come, let us make camp and eat before we become too weary to travel!"

[Scarfair]

Lante sidled up to the Lady while camp was made, trying to get her alone. As soon as the others were out of earshot, Lasser voiced his thoughts.

'M'Lady, while I have no grudge for company upon the road...These Elves! If one word gets back to Thingol's ears, and we will have a hunting squad on our backs! The Elven King of Mirkwood has vowed to stretch my neck!'

Liadan glanced darkly into his eyes, 'Is the rope deserved, thief?'

Narbeleth smiled wickedly, 'Well now, that would much depend upon who you asked. Nevertheless, your plight will not be aided, and my job will not be fulfilled if I am, uh, caught. Will you question those two closer, (motioning towards the elves that unpacked thier glorious horse), find out if they are from Mirkwood while I picket our horses?'

[Lady Midnight]

A look of derisive scorn crossed LÃ*adán's face as she listened to the thief. But much as she hated to admit it, the horrid man was right. She was young and naive. She didn't stand a chance without him.....despite her skill with a blade.

So she walked over to where Drelin and Duriel were making camp for the night and, smiling at them both, turned to the Elf and asked:

"Be ye from Mirkwood, Sir? I have had occasion to meet with the Elves of Mirkwood but I do not know you."

Glancing back at Lasser she wondered just what had he done to make an enemy of the Elf-King. True he was a loathsome individual but since he had been in her employ he had been more than useful. In her mind only one man truly deserved to die and die he would, whether she had any part in it or not. It was a comforting though that Uthed was getting his just deserts whether she suceeded or not.

(OOC I'm offline until Wednesday so you'll have to manage without me)

[Aragorn]

Drelin looked up at Liadan.

"I am originally from Mirkwood, yes." the elf said, "but I haven't been there in quite a while."

Drelin sighed. The memories of him being banished from Mirkwood came back to him. Remembering the night he was framed for killing an elf.

"Yes, quite a while." He echoed himself.