Chapter Fourteen
January 29th
Pre-dawn
The cold stars burned and the sleeping earth turned as men, orcs and elves put their strength to ever so carefully moving part of a fallen mountain. Shovels heaved lumps of hard-packed earth in bites that seemed too small. Picks struck apart clods and shattered stone, while iron rock-bars pried loose boulders too heavy to be moved or broken. And ever the careful balance of unstable debris was shored up with the logs Aerio had directed to be notched for placement in the shape of heavy frames. Gradually a crude trench took shape in the dark rubble, torches now wedged in rocks high overhead as the moon slowly sank into shadow. More than once a shout warned of falling rocks or a sudden slump of earth, but after each scramble for safety the workers clambered back to their labors.
Gubbitch and his "lads" worked without ceasing, their gnarled forms dark as the earth they delved as moonlight passed and stars glinted on frozen snow. Russ the Beorning lent his might as no ordinary man could, clad now in an odd patchwork of old blankets that were kilted about his waist, wrapped around his back, chest and shoulders, and belted with lengths of rope. While he could not be truly warm, his powerful efforts kept the hot blood pumping and never did his steady pace slow. The Men worked as long as muscles and strength allowed, only retreating to rest at the fire when fatigue and safety demanded it. Elros first, and then Bob came to sit for a time beside Anardil, both with faces streaked black with dirt and fingernails caked in soil. Neither spoke, and upon leaving to resume work could only lean a heavy hand on their friend's shoulder in a gesture of encouragement that might, after all, be empty.
Aerio's quick figure was frequently seen bounding lightly on the dark slope, directing with Gubbitch the placement of shoring, or lending his sinewy strength to the heave of a rock-bar, as if by will alone he would lift these tons of tumbled debris. Neither rest nor peace would the young elf have until he saw Sevilodorf free and safe, and for once his clever tongue spoke no word that was not absolutely needed. Graceful elves worked beside crooked orcs, sweating men worked beside a silent Beorning, and rock by stone the mountain was moved.
Few noticed when the icy steel-blue of coming dawn began to bleach the eastern stars from the sky. The trench became a shallow tunnel, and the tunnel became a burrow. Now the notched logs were handed in lengthwise and torches held in nervous hands illuminated the jagged press of mud and stone overhead. Yet the orcs' understanding of mining practices appeared sound, as the black, concreted mass of the slide remained held in place by the careful placement of shoring timbers.
Then suddenly iron rang on solid stone, and Darien's man, Monroe, exclaimed in dismay, "Ah, here we go again."
Hooknose pressed in next to him, torch in hand, and peered intently at this new obstruction. He reached horny knuckles to rap the curving bulge of dark rock that had been uncovered, and then grinned a snaggle-toothed grin.
"Tha did it!" he exclaimed. "This 'ere's roof of cave! We be almost in!"
"We're in?" rang Bob's eager voice behind them.
"Almost," Monroe crowed, and white teeth shone in a filthy face.
Bob's whoop echoed across trampled snow into the night-black trees, and a ragged chorus of cheers followed. Gambesul leaped in with a pick in hand, and swung the flat of the metal hard against the curved stone. Iron rang with a skull-jarring clangor, and he swung again, then again, the racket clashing into the frozen silence of early daybreak.
Looking out at puzzled faces, he smiled impishly and said, "Just ringing the bell. I'd hate to barge in unannounced."
At last, someone had openly voiced the hope that they would find those they sought alive and well inside the buried cave. Renewed strength was kindled in weary limbs as once more the digging resumed, this time angling slightly downward, digging now just beneath the curved ceiling of the yet-hidden cavern. Then suddenly a rock fell ... and it dropped away from them, into dark space somewhere beyond.
Nobody moved. Breath came in harsh gasps. Eyes gleamed wetly in torchlight as anxious faces waited for whatever might come next. Then Anbarad, for it had been he who dislodged the stone, swung his pick and gave a mighty shove. Again shattered earth crumbled forward away from him, and rocks clattered down some hidden slope. And again everyone waited.
xxxxxx
Her feet automatically maneuvering about the larger stones Sev paced a nervous path along the cavern wall. The occasional clank of metal upon rock had been replaced by a rhythmic melody that carried her from the heights of hope to the pits of anxiety. It was well within the realm of her bad luck to be crushed by the last boulder to fall from the ceiling. And then there was Nik. Would escape from this prison lead only to another? No, she would not allow that even if she had to travel all the way to King Elessar's court and beg to be heard. Her late husband's family had contacts in both Gondor and Rohan and she would utilize every means at her disposal to see that real justice was served.
Her thoughts drew her eyes to the dark recess where she knew Grady's body lay alongside Landis' still figure and that of the archer caught in the landslide. The cost of this expedition had been high enough already.
A lull in the steady thudding brought her to a sudden halt. The pale light of the lantern, which had burnt steadily through the night now, seemed to waver as all within the cavern held their breath and raised their eyes to the top of that sloping mass of rubble holding them prisoner. A great ringing of the very stones above their heads brought all but the injured Evan to stand before that barrier. Another chime and yet another, led them to back-thumping exuberance.
The sounds of digging resumed with an increase in tempo that was echoed by the heartbeats of those awaiting rescue. What would they find upon their release?
Horus appeared silently at Sev's side. "We will let you speak first, madam."
"And all of your men will speak the truth?" Sev asked once more. As Horus nodded briefly, with eyes lifted again to the ceiling at the sound of rock cracking beneath repeated blows, she added, "Evan, too?"
Horus dragged his eyes down to meet hers. "Yes, madam."
The men, even Osric, had recognized that they must temper their feelings against the orc in the face of the power wielded by his friends. A Beorning, elves and Rangers - aye, whatever transpired beyond these walls, these men no longer had any illusions that Darien and their comrades outside held the upper hand. However, the healer woman's willingness to lay aside her own grievances against them, in return for the simple truth spoken without a coating of hatred, had further convinced them. But the young of all people see the world in black and white and it had taken Horus many words to persuade Evan there were shades of grey to be considered as well. Ultimately it had been the little orc coming forth to say that he was willing to speak to his friends in Neal's favor that had brought Evan into agreement with the others. The remembrance of Neal dangling in the grasp of the large bear had been a compelling thought for all of them.
As a large rock broke free and tumbled down to rest at their feet, a narrow slit of light appeared. The sharp glint of metal shone for an instant then a large section of earth and stone slide down to reveal the dirt streaked face of what could only have been an elf.
xxxxxx
For an instant two sets of eyes simply stared at each other and blinked.
"Well," said Sev. "Are you coming in, or not?"
"Sevilodorf!" Anbarad gave a most un-elvish whoop, and then laughed as those behind him burst into cheers and a babble of exultation. "Yes, we're coming in! Stand away, I don't know how much of this dirt is coming in with us!"
Dawn swept upon the world in an icy cloak of silver-blue, as the last timbers were shored in place and the last shovels-full of earth were tossed aside. Now the rescuers could see the ruddy flicker of a single lamp near the back of the buried cave, and the huddled forms of those waiting within. So close to their goal, the greatest care must be taken now that the exit tunnel was stable enough to permit safe passage.
Elros clambered out to open air to shout towards the fire below, "They're alive!"
Neal bowed his head in his hands and his shoulders shook, as Anardil stood and took what felt like the first deep breath in his life, his own tears tracing unnoticed lines down his face. Never had a winter dawn looked so glorious and clear, as the first light blushed golden behind the bold black crags of the Ephel Dúath.
The boy Evan was first out on Sevilodorf's instruction. The men inside passed him carefully up to the rescuers, then Monroe lifted the youngster bodily and picked an unsteady path down the rubble field. Still favoring his wrenched ankle, Neal waited at the bottom, and cast aside all the restraints of manhood as he crushed his little brother in a bear hug.
The second figure to emerge was the little uruk who whooped when he saw Russ waiting a few feet below. Nik slithered down as quickly as he could to the grinning Beorning, glad to stand again in the protective shadow of the giant.
"Nik." Russ said. It was only one word and softly spoken, but if the message it held spoke volumes, then the look on the big man's face would make a tale ages in the telling. Russ laid an enormous hand on Nik's shoulder. Nik grinned up at him.
"I knew you'd come," Nik said. "I knew it."
"You hurt your head," Russ said, his concern obvious. "Are you all right?"
Nik started to speak, then staggered slightly, the world around him beginning to spin. The long night and the longer day before it, his wounds, Grady, and the enormity of everything came suddenly crashing down upon him like, well, like a mountain.
"You're not all right," Russ said as he reached down and lifted the Uruk gently in his arms. "Let's get you off this pile of rock and down by the fire." Russ turned to the bushy bearded man, Carrick, standing nearest to him and said, "I'm taking Nik down the hill. If you need me, call out."
Carrick nodded his agreement and returned to his work. He didn't want to say it out loud, not at that moment; but for all of Russ's strength and the help he could provide, Carrick was as happy to see him go as he was for his help with the digging.
One by one men crawled blinking into the lemon-yellow wash of a frigid new day. A thin layer of snow blanketed all the world in blue-white shadows, but the landslide that had nearly killed them carved a bold black scar down the mountainside, and more than one turned to stare in stunned awe.
Anardil paced in ever-tightening circles until he saw a smaller form emerge from the escape trench - and his heart sprang into his throat. He bounded forward without thought but one was faster, the elf Aerio leaping past him and up the tumbled rocks to skid to a halt at Sev's side. At the first yelp of her outrage Anardil stopped and grinned from ear to ear.
"Aerio, what are you doing? Aerio, put me down this - AH!"
She might as well have been weightless for all the effort the elf seemed to use, as he swept her off her feet and into his arms.
"Hold on," he said with a grin. "You don't want to make me stumble and drop you."
"Aerio, I can walk -."
"Nay, Mistress Sevi," he said, and gave her a final toss against his chest before setting his feet down-slope. "I am informed that you have suffered a head injury, and it would not do to have you stricken with dizziness and falling to be maimed, just when we have won your freedom."
"If you drop me, I am going to hurt you, elf ... " But she clung to him tightly, as she saw just how treacherous the broken slope truly was, and prayed elven agility would not fail now.
But of course it did not, and no sooner did her feet find solid ground than another took Aerio's place. She did not even need to see his face to know who suddenly swept her into a fierce one-armed embrace. The familiar scent and warmth of him was suddenly the first right thing she had known in an eternity of darkness.
"Anardil," she breathed, and he answered not, but buried his face in the dusty tangles of her hair.
xxxxxx
Russ carried Nik to the fire, ignoring the others who were gathered around it, and gave him a long drink of water. By the time Nik had finished his eyes had cleared again, though the weariness remained.
Russ wrapped Nik in one of the saddle blankets and said, "Let's have a look under that bandage," and gently began to remove the wrap from Nik's head. "Get caught under a rock did you?"
Nik started to answer, but stopped when he saw a sudden look of fear pass over the face of one of the men at the fire. Next to him sat the boy Evan from the cave. Even Nik could not miss the resemblance. This could only be Neal, Evan's brother, the one he had been so worried about.
Russ finished unwrapping the wound and when he looked upon it, a low growl escaped him. "This is from no cave in," he said, and looked hard at Nik.
"No," Nik replied, still keeping an eye on Neal. "It's not."
"Which one, Nik?" Russ demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Which one did this to you?"
Nik looked at Russ, then back to Neal. The Beorning followed his gaze and Neal blanched, remembering the strangling pressure of Russ's hand clamped around his neck, cutting off all hope of air.
"It doesn't matter now," Nik said, "He's dead."
Neal's jaw dropped, and Russ swiveled his head around to look at Nik.
"Dead?" Russ asked. Something was going on here, he was sure of it, but he didn't know what, not yet.
"I killed him. In the cave," Nik said and his shoulders slumped. "His name was Grady and he was going to kill Sev and then me. I had to stop him. He's the one who shot me with the stones."
No one spoke after that.
'So Nik has killed a man,' Russ thought. And he knew right away that it was the truth. Still, Nik was holding something back, something that for some reason he didn't want Russ to know, not yet. Whatever it was he was sure it involved one or both of these other two young men. But if the three of them were willing to set it aside, then Russ was as well. Nik would tell him when the time was right. If there were anything Russ had discovered Nik to be very poor at, lying and keeping secrets were at the top of the list. Although some, Russ included, might count those as virtues rather than faults. He washed Nik's wounds with clean water and then re-bandaged them with one of the rags that Gubbitch had brought for him. The wounds had been tended before and for that Russ was grateful. There was no sign of infection as yet and Nik, Russ had learned, had marvelous recuperative powers. Still, he was going to need more tending once they returned home. And a great deal of rest.
"Right then," Russ said as he stood. "I'm going to try and find you something to eat. You stay here and rest by the fire. I'll be back."
"I think they only have meat," Nik said.
Russ looked down at him, "And I think we can make an exception this one time don't you?" he said and winked.
Nik grinned up at him, nodding vigorously. The three of them sat in silence as they watched Russ go lumbering off in search of food.
When he was gone, it was Neal who spoke first. "Why didn't you tell him it was me that shot you?" he asked.
Nik just shrugged. "I can tell him anytime," he said.
"What will happen when he finds out you lied to him?" Evan asked.
"I think he already knows," Nik said and, inching closer to the fire, hunched down and closed his eyes.
Neal turned to his brother, "You know, Evan, Grady was not a good man, maybe once he was, but not for awhile now." Evan nodded, wondering where this was going and not liking the way it felt. "He had problems," Neal continued, "but it doesn't seem right him getting the blame for something he didn't do."
Now Evan began to grow truly worried. He knew what the bear-man was capable of and the thought that Neal could do or say something that would rouse his anger terrified him.
"Can't we just let it go?" Evan asked. "The Ur…I mean Nik, said he would tell him later."
But Neal just shook his head. "Later is not good enough. There is going to be a lot of explaining to do and we might as well start out right."
"Start out right?" Evan's young face frowned.
"With the truth," Neal answered as he rose to his feet. "I'll be back."
"Where are you going?" Evan asked, his voice quavering slightly, and then added, "I'm going with you. Get me something for a crutch."
He knew the answer before he even asked the question, but he hoped he was wrong. He had already feared that he had lost his brother once this night. The idea that it might happen again was almost too much too bear.
"I'm going to tell the truth," Neal stated. "And you stay here by the fire, you need the warmth, and you're not going anywhere on a broken leg." Then Neal left.
Evan moved as to rise to follow him, no matter the cost, but a strong hand pressed him back down. The boy turned to look and saw that it was Nik.
"He'll be okay. Russ won't hurt him. Stay here with me and keep warm, it will make you feel better."
Evan nodded and pulled his cloak a little closer around him. He looked at Nik, sitting there, the firelight dancing in his black, soul-less eyes. 'Except he does have a soul,' Evan thought, and the thought surprised him, almost as much as the fact that Nik no longer seemed ugly to him, just different. He knew then that when the time came, he would tell the truth as the lady had asked him. Just the truth. Evan hunched up and closed his eyes, imitating Nik's posture. And from a distance, one could not tell the difference between boy and Uruk-hai.
xxxxxx
Darien counted his men out, greeting each with subdued relief. Aware that not all eyes watching were friendly, they stood behind him in silence, wondering when and how retribution would fall. Darien's clenched nerves relaxed slightly as first the uruk and then the woman were safely released. Osric appeared with his arm in a sling. Horus emerged shortly thereafter. Darien hailed him with a nod and a smile, then as the dark man made his way down the slope, Darien stared back at the opening, looking for three missing faces, the archer Slevin, shave-headed Grady and most of all Landis. He knew Landis would wait until last, ever the good sergeant who put the men first.
Horus arrived at his leader's side and grasped the tall man's shoulder. This was going to be hard.
Darien glanced down at him and said, "Good to see you safe." His expectant gaze wandered back to the hill. "Where are the others? They're taking their time."
"There are no others, Darien."
For a moment, the tall man stood motionless. Then he turned to look with horror at Horus. The black eyes of the smaller man glittered as he struggled to find words.
"The others ... three of us ... they are dead."
Horus flinched as his leader seemed to stagger under the blow.
"How?" Darien demanded.
Slowly, hesitantly, Horus explained how Slevin the archer had been caught by the fall, how Grady had seemingly gone mad and murdered Landis.
"Enough." Darien stopped him at this point, and stared unseeingly at the happy group of men, elves and orcs, all relieved to have the ones they held dear safe.
Landis had been his rock, the friend who, even when consumed by his own misery, had rallied Darien from despair, handing him a reason to go on. The reason? Kill orcs; the one thing in the world that they could be certain was a just and good cause. But here he stood watching orcs who were evidently more trustworthy than the warrior, Grady; a man that he had allowed into his group. Landis had cautioned against him, 'a hot head.' But no, Darien had taken pity, for Grady had known loss as had so many. Pity? He had been a fool. Every decision he made, no matter how well intentioned, led ultimately to failure and death.
He broke the silence to ask with vehemence, "Did you kill Grady? Did you avenge Landis?"
Horus recalled his promise to be honest, and though he feared the outcome, he told Darien the truth.
"No, captain. Another got there before me, and I let him be the hand of vengeance." Horus paused an instant to muster his strength, and then met his captain's eyes squarely as he said, "It was the uruk, Nik. He prevented Grady from slaying the woman, as well. I did not try to stop him."
Watching his leader, Horus was shocked to see him break into a bitter laugh.
'How ironic,' Darien thought. He turned and walked a short distance from his diminished group, then paused before a tree and let his forehead rest against the trunk. Running his fingers along the rough bark, he tried to feel something. But there was nothing. He was numb. Let it stay that way. He had things that yet needed to be done.
Returning to his men, he said, "Let us go and fetch our dead. If they will allow us."
"They will." Horus sounded certain. 'If they are anything like Sevilodorf,' he mused.
Then Carrick, being practical, added, "And let's also salvage whatever supplies may remain."
xxxxxx
Without knowing exactly how it came to be, Sev found herself beside a much-welcome fire surrounded by a sea of faces. A blanket was wrapped tightly around her shoulders and a small tin cup filled with something warm was shoved into her hands. While all was greatly appreciated, she was completely overwhelmed and for a time could do nothing but sit dazedly staring about her. Her attention passed briefly over Russ and Neal standing aside in quiet conversation, an odd sight considering their last meeting had involved Russ' massive hand around the youth's throat and Neal thrashing some three feet off the ground. Yet their discussion seemed amicable enough, and Sev huddled tighter against the seeping chill. The simple sights of the sun rising, the dark branches of the trees beneath a thin white layer of snow, and the exquisite blue of the sky were suddenly too much. Dropping the cup at her feet she pressed her face into Anardil's shoulder and began to sob.
His arm wrapped tightly around her and he murmured something in elven that she could not understand. She was aware of footsteps moving away from her, leaving her at least a little privacy. But from behind, she heard familiar voices talking quietly, Elros gravely commenting some inanity that Sev had been through a great deal, Aerio and Firnelin solemnly agreeing. She wished they would quit mumbling as if she were an invalid - and then realized how she probably looked.
Ordering herself to stop this foolishness, Sev lifted her head and took three deep breaths. Anardil raised his hand to stroke her hair but stopped with a frown as she jerked away. His fingers had found the still tender lump on the back of her head. Tilting her chin up, he examined her face carefully. His gray eyes turned stormy as he saw the bruises now exposed by her tears.
Running a finger lightly across her face, he spoke in a too-soft voice that chilled her blood. "Which of them did this?"
Moving his hand once more to her hair, his touch held the infinite gentleness of a man who is a breath from violence as he said, "And this?"
"It doesn't matter." Sev closed her eyes and leaned against his chest.
"Of course it matters," Anardil said harshly.
"Not any longer."
Taking another deep breath, she gathered her feet under her and stood, and Anardil rose with her. Grasping his hand tightly she turned to find Elros and Celebsul regarding her with quiet concern.
Sniffing and rubbing away her tears with her free hand, she said, "Forgive my miss-ishness, gentlemen. I am sure you would like to know exactly what went on."
Elros looked from Sev to Anardil. Receiving a sharp nod from Anardil, Elros said, "If you feel up to enlightening us."
Sev frowned slightly at the exchange between the two men. "Would it be possible for Bob to join us? As a Ranger, he must hear all of this and I really do not want to do it twice."
"Certainly." Elros called Bob to rejoin them as Celebsul refilled Sev's cup.
With a small nod of thanks, Sev sipped the warm broth; she was pretty certain it was no more than dried meat that Anardil had boiled in another tin cup, but she cared not, if it would help drive the slow chill from her bones. Bob came, and the rest of the elves, and behind them the silent, hulking form of Russ in his strange robes of old blankets, accompanied by his small friend Nik. Then never once releasing her tight hold on Anardil's hand, and in a voice utterly devoid of emotion, she told them everything she could remember about the previous day. Rain and discomfort and subterfuge were her facts, but the friends who heard listened between her words, to the fear and desperation that had driven her.
Reaching the end of her tale, she stood pale beneath her grime and repeated, "Landis asked that his death be payment for all. And that is what I wish as well."
Elros and Bob exchanged glances, and Bob looked down with a grimace while Elros pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. The bond of a common crisis had held the truce between parties with very different intents and purposes. What now was to be done?
"I suppose Bob and I must talk to Darien and his lot," said Elros wearily. "We've been so focused on all this -." He waved a hand towards the raw, black scar of landslide in the snow. "That I'm afraid we spoke of nothing else."
Holding out her now empty cup, Sev allowed her weariness to overtake her. "If you have no further questions, I want to go sit somewhere that I do not have to look at that." She pointed toward the rubble-heaped hillside.
Anardil forced a brief chuckle and wrapped his arm and his cloak around her shoulders. "I fear we cannot move the mountain for your convenience, lady, and you would dislike sitting in the woods whilst the trees shed snow down your back. However, I see a nice, quiet place by the fire here where you may rest and warm yourself properly."
For once, Sev utterly lacked the energy to respond, and let herself be seated like a child with her back to the torn hillside and the fire snapping before her.
xxxxxx
Light had returned to the world, but the Sun would be long climbing from its bed behind the Ephel Dúath Mountains. While the sky shone gold and luminous and far away to the west the tips of the White Mountains gleamed like silver crowns, here in the foothills all was still wrapped in pale, frozen blue shadow. Although the long night had ended, there was still work to do. Men were exhausted, cold, hungry, and nobody was going anywhere until these things were at least partly amended. Plus there remained those who had not survived. Violence of Man and violence of the very earth, each had claimed its victims. Darien led several of his men back up the broken slope to the now-abandoned exit trench, and there paused, feeling cold that went beyond the icy grip of a snowy morning. That black hole looked like nothing so much as a pit of hungry shadow, and he could not suppress a shudder.
A touch on his shoulder startled him, and Horus eased past with a lantern shining a pallid light in his hand. "Come, captain. I will guide you. Be careful where you step."
But just as the dark man bent to enter the opening, a harsh shout echoed behind them, accompanied by a clatter of stone.
"Ey up! What tha doin' 'ere?"
Darien turned to see the orc leader, Gubbitch, scrambling up the slope to catch them, with two more orcs - he could never tell which was who - clumping at his heels. Frowning, Darien waited for the hunched creature to catch up, for he did not feel like shouting.
As he rattled to a halt on the edge of the trench, Gubbitch repeated, "What's thy up to?"
"I am retrieving my dead," Darien said in clipped tones.
"Ah." The orc nodded his ugly head and dropped to his haunches. "Reckon ah'll come wi' thee, so tha don't go an' bury tha sens again."
Stiffly, Darien said, "We don't -."
But Gubbitch continued firmly, "Cos ah don't want to dig thee out again."
The idea of orcs having anything to do with his dead raised a hard knot in Darien's stomach, but Horus was looking at him again, his expression clearly asking that all simply return to the work at hand. Choosing to let silence be his answer, Darien nodded to Horus and one by one they clambered into the buried cavern.
Once in that dark, smothering space, neither Gubbitch nor his two companions so much as went near the bodies of Grady, Landis or Slevin. Nor did they appear to notice when Darien's knees seemed to come unhinged and drop him to kneeling at Landis' side. Instead, they found snuffed torches on the floor and relit them, upon which they joined Horus, Carrick and the others in the delicate business of carefully moving fallen debris from some of the company's gear. As the dead men's comrades solemnly bore the bodies out, the orcs kept their attention focused on ferrying out the packs and equipment not buried in the slide.
By the time all were outside, two more campfires had been lit to accommodate the many cold and weary bodies, and the elf Firnelin had by some miracle returned from the wood with two plump pheasants slung over his shoulder. Now that the gear of Darien's men had been salvaged, it would not be long before a kettle of soup bubbled cheerily over the flames. Russ the Beorning would eat no meat, but in a few gruff words gave instructions in the making of unleavened bread with broken cheese on top, baked in an iron pot set amidst glowing coals. The fare would be sparse, when spread among so many, but the soup at least could return warmth to bodies grown stiff with fatigue and chill.
And there were graves to dig. Darien spoke not at all, after Landis' body was brought out. Four men now lay shrouded in a row on the far side of the clearing, away from the cavern that had been the deaths. Grady, whose angry impetuosity had cost too many too much, Oren, who had simply met a foe too great for him, Slevin, a merry fellow to whom archery had been as much a sport as a tool of battle, and Landis ... Ancient Númenor's collapse beneath the Sea could have left no larger void in the world, than Landis' sudden death left in Darien's life. He felt the earth tilting under him, but when he reached out there remained nothing to steady him. Nothing but duty, which now meant laying his dead to rest and seeing the living warmed and fed and cared for. After that ... he saw only darkness.
"We'll help with the digging."
Darien started at that unfamiliar voice, and looked up to see the Ranger Elros standing before him, with Bob nodding solemn greeting at his shoulder. Each had picked up one of the orcs' rusty shovels.
"Have you chosen a place?" Elros asked, and then tilted his chin towards the tree-line. "If we stay out a bit from the woods, we should not find so many roots to get in the way."
Yes. That made sense. Darien nodded without speaking. He had chosen no specific spot. His mind seemed to have frozen on that detail. They stood in a snow-swept, frozen glade beneath the frowning brow of the Mountains of Shadow, with an orc's den not a hundred yards away, and this was not at all where he would have wished to have Landis rest for eternity.
"We didn't ..." Bob cleared his throat when Darien looked up sharply. "We didn't wish any of this. You know that."
Did he? Darien took a deep breath as he studied the man's honest face, and then looked away. Yes, he did. He had long ceased to suspect they were possessed. And his final fear, that they might turn upon his men once they had the woman and the uruk safe, had proven totally unfounded. Somewhere in the dark chaos of the past night's events, he remembered how these men and elves and their orcish comrades had expended every effort to avoid bloodshed. They had tried to stay the fury of the bear-man, and even he had only struck upon provocation. Oren had forgiven the Beorning before dying - yet another irony to lay upon the bitter burden that weighed Darien's shoulders. In the cold light of certainty, the decisions arrived at through doubt, were glaringly those of a fool. Now the fool had graves to dig.
"Here is good," Darien said, and nodded to the snow-laden yellow grasses nearby.
Elros lifted his chin in agreement. "This may be a comely place in the spring," he said. "Green grass above and a green wood around." His grey eyes met Darien's steadily, and there was only quiet understanding mirrored there. "I've buried men in worse graves."
Aye ... Long the Rangers had toiled in the grim and dark places of the wilds, and their blood had been spilled in fouler places than this. Long they had battled the same evil, the same ruthless, brutal foe that Darien had led his men against.
"We were not always wrong," Darien said. He could not justify all that had gone so desperately awry here, but somehow he felt a need to say something, at least for the men who had so faithfully followed him.
"No, you were not," Elros replied quietly. "And any other day, any other place, you would have been right. We would have stood and fought beside you."
Well enough, Darien thought. Perhaps this place's true enchantment was upon him. Perhaps his doom had been sealed the moment he turned his face north from Henneth Annûn and led his hunters upon a path that hitherto had been that of righteous wrath. Once upon a time they had avenged innocents slain by Shadow's minions; once they had freed the defenseless from depredations by a merciless foe. Yet somehow, caught in the unseen web of this place, they had strayed from justice and fallen into base tactics and fatal weakness. If only he could blame magic. The truth was he had not been wise enough to see or prevent their folly. Landis had wished to let his death be payment enough. Darien could not imagine how he personally could ever pay for Landis' death.
"I am glad the woman is safe," he said. "I am glad her friends are true."
And with that Darien turned and paced away, to once again begin the weary work of digging. It was not remotely a surprise, when he looked up a while later to see both elves and orcs bent to their labor beside the toiling forms of his own men.
xxxxxx
Sev sat on a blanket with her face tilted up to look through the twisted branches of the trees before her. The sun was not yet warm enough to cast aside her cloak or even the blanket Anardil had wrapped around her before he left her sitting with an order to remain in her place. However, for a wonder, there was not a cloud in the sky and the day promised to be a fair one, with the remains of the night's snowfall certain to melt away quickly. She had to admit it felt good just to sit and look at the smiling blue sky, though there was little likelihood of her getting to sit for long. She had seen the looks exchanged by Bob and Elros when the tale of Grady's death had been told, and Russ' face had become even more set. No, this would not be a day of rest.
Nearer to the glowing remains of a fire, Evan lay propped against a saddle under the watchful eye of his older brother, Neal. Seeing Neal limp to the small pot that hung steaming over the fire, Sev started to rise.
"No, you don't. Sit back down," Anardil's stern voice came from behind her.
Glancing over her shoulder she saw him duck beneath a low hanging branch followed closely by Warg and Aerio. Warg's copper eyes held a glint of amusement that was decidedly absent in those of Aerio and Anardil.
"And just what do you expect me to do all day?" Sev pulled her cloak more tightly around her as the blanket fell from her shoulders to pool at her feet.
Anardil's jaw tightened a little as he pointed an imperious finger at the space Sev had vacated. "You are going to sit right there, until everything is organized for us to return. Then you will ride quietly to the Troll. Once there, you are going straight to bed."
"Really?" Sev arched her eyebrows at Anardil. When the Warg opened her mouth in that chuffing laugh of hers, Sev frowned down at the big animal. "Now you stop that. He doesn't need any encouragement."
Aerio's bright eyes flashed, as he said, "No, but if he requires any assistance, I have agreed to provide it."
"Just the two of you?" Sev said with a smile. "Are you sure you won't need a Ranger or two?"
Anardil did not return her smile as he took her cold fingers in his warm grasp and said, "No, my lady, because we have something you want. So you will do as you are asked."
The concern in his voice and the lines of weariness in his face almost convinced her to sit back down; but it was just not in Sev's nature to back away from a challenge.
"Just what do you have that I might want badly enough to do as you order?" Her chin lifted in that defiant gesture Anardil had come to know so well.
Aerio reached into a pouch at his side and displayed the three knives Darien's men had taken from her, as Anardil said softly, "One day of rest for each blade, my lady."
Sev looked from the man to the elf. Anardil's mouth twitched as she sighed heavily in resignation and said, "Oh, very well. But I expect them to be in perfect condition."
Aerio returned the knives to his pouch with a smirk. "It will be a restful three days for all of us. Knowing exactly where you are."
Sev reddened. While the afternoon of the previous day was still only remembered in brief snatches, her unfortunate departure from the Troll was only too clear in her mind. Pulling her hand free of Anardil's, she held it out to Aerio.
"I owe you an apology, Elf. I should not have been so impatient. If I had waited…."
Aerio took her hand and shook his head. "And if only I had been there a little sooner."
"Well, I am thankful enough that you keep coming to retrieve me, that I will forgive your tardiness. I think from now on, when it rains I will simply sit beside the fire with a large plate of Meri's biscuits." Sev squeezed the elf's hand tightly, then turned with a half-smile to Anardil. "Though you do meet the most interesting people in the rain."
Only then did a smile ease the lingering shadows from his eyes, as one side of Anardil's lips quirked in remembrance of their first meeting in a storm-swept alley of Pelargir. Then, as now, Sev had collided with danger, and the quick help of Aerio kept her whole and sound.
"Aye, lady, that you do," Anardil said, and reached up to lightly trace the bruise decorating her cheek. "But you must try to find a less strenuous means of making acquaintances. I'm not sure my constitution is up to the wear and tear."
"Poor lamb," said Sev wryly, and chuckled as his smile widened. Indeed, the ice of winter was thawing in those grey eyes and laughter danced within like sun on a northern sea.
Only then did Sev resume her seat, despite dust and dirt managing the airs of a noblewoman returning to her bower. She nodded grave thanks as Aerio gallantly swept her discarded blanket about her shoulders, and looked up to catch a faint smile from the young man, Neal.
Aerio patted the pouch containing Sev's blades. "I trust upon their return, you will endeavor to utilize them to greater effect."
"Believe me, I tried. Slipped in the nmad mud and only caught his hand," Sev replied with disgust as that memory clicked into place.
Shading her eyes, she glanced up at the two tall figures and caught Aerio looking questioningly at Anardil. When Anardil gave a slight shake of his head and jerked his chin at the Warg, who gave Sev an open mouthed grin and padded quietly to the other side of the fire, Sev sighed. Something would have to be done about all of these silent masculine exchanges. It would not do at all for any of them to get accustomed to giving her orders. For now, however, she was simply too tired to deal with it.
"You must rest now, Mistress Sevi," said Aerio, arching an eyebrow in imitation of his master, Celebsul. "Three days for three knives means you will receive them all at the end of the three days, not before."
With a smirk, he straightened and turned away - but not before giving Neal a hard look of warning.
xxx
TBC ...