If the internet connection were a small child, I would chastize it for being so faulty and unreliable.

Again. Again with the running off. Traipsing across the orc ridden land like she was having a party in a field of daisies. She was going to get herself killed! "You thick-headed, limping whelp of a mule." He growled as he watched her stealthily approach the fortress. As quickly as he could he untacked his mare, incase this "excursion" took longer than expected. "Deawen!" He hissed as he crept up to her. She couldn't hear him, he was still too far behind her. She dissapeared into the cover of the forest. Fearan growled again, and followed. "Deawen?" he whispered, keeping his voice as soft as possible. "Deawen!"

Suddenly an arm reached from behind his back and shoved a knife at his throat. Without thinking he allowed his training to take over. He flipped the man to the ground. But before Fearan had the chance to attack, the man had icked himself up with what seemed to be inhuman speed and launched himself at Fearan. Fearan tumbled to the ground, and the man quickly took the opportunity to rest his weight on Fearan and again hold the sharp knife to his throat.

"Friend of foe?" The man asked.

"Ah, the age old question." Fearan muttered sarcastically. "I am whatever keeps me alive." He answered. He glanced the man over, trying to learn as much about him as he could. The man was dressed in all black. The clothes were well made, but for outdoor use. And, on his hand, a telltale tatoo. A Phantom. "Do you know Deawen?" He asked. "She is my friend. I was following her. She is a Phantom as well." He spoke before he could stop himself. What if exposing himself as Deawen's friend got him killed? Or her killed? Or even both.

The man glared at him. "Up." he ordered. "And no tricks. There are others hidden in this forest should you try to escape. You would not make it far." Fearan nodded and rose slowly to his feet. The man walked behind him, marching him towards the fortress. Fearan had an uneasy feeling kreeping up in his gut. The full extent of this feeling was explained as he was pushed clear of the forest. There he could see that the Gondorians had been defeated. Many laid dead, and a few were tied up as captives. He thought he spotted Arandur, but he was shoved along before he could get a better look. All around him the black dressed Phantoms roamed around as if they belonged. In fact, a couple were actually talking to orcs. Fearan suddenly understood what was happening.

"Coward!" Fearan growled to his captor. "Can't even fight your own battles? Invaders, you lot, power hungry, greedy, violent, mindless brutes. No better than the scum on my shoe!" He would have continued, but his captor whapped him onthe back of his head with the hilt of the blade. For a moment his world spun dangerously. He stumbled to regain his footing. But, the moment he steadied himself he was shoved back down to the ground.

"Find some rope." his captor commanded. Tie him up, and bring him to see Thorgar." Fearan looked up angrily at the Phantoms that littered the camp. As he had thought, Deawen was there as well, though she could not see him because her back was too him.

Deawen stood proud, not cowering like a child, she stood before Thorgar as if he were just a mere shadow and not the towering man he was.
"Seems you think it fit to betray us, Deawen." He spoke with authority and harshness. Deawen stood silent her gaze fixed on a golden clasp on Thorgar's shoulder.
"At first I thought that maybe you had some trickery planned to lure them to us but instead I find out that you befriended them instead, cowered down to them like a whipped puppy..."
Deawen's face hardened at his words, true she did befriend them, but she found something the phantoms could not provide. Comfort. "A phantom's code is to escape at all costs, or take death.. not be a captive." he continued
Deawen looked at him squarely, she wanted to show him the wound on her leg, but thought better of it.
"I did what I deemed right." she said casting away all childish pretenses. " You did what you thought was right?" Thorgar taunted, but his face was pure rage. " Almost betraying to the enemy our whereabouts?! Need I remind you what the likes of him did to your beloved friend?" Thorgar pointed to Fearan who was behind Deawen. Deawen spun around and faced Fearan. "They killed him, simply because he protected you..." he taunted again " Stop it..." Deawen whispered. Deawen whirled around and faced Thorgar, "Stop it!" she shouted.
Thorgar glared and struck her acros the face. " I do not tolerate a traitor to command me!" He grabbed her hair and then pulled a knife out and held it to her throat, prepared to slit her throat.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Fearan watched with unfolding horror as Thorgar yelled at Deawen. For a brief moment when she turned to him, thier gaze met. But it was quickly whipped away as she turned yet again to face Thorgar. Suddenly he grabbed wer by the hair and drew his knife. Fearan could see it was headed for her throat. Without thinking he stood up and shouted "STOP!" Thorgar halted, with his hand still holding the dagger. Though time seemed to stand still, Fearan knew he was loosing precious seconds and he paused. He had to say somthing, anything, to keep her alive. "You would have her killed? When you do have not even heard her story?" He challenged. "The Phantoms are skilled, yes, but do not flatter yourselves. You are not all seeing. You cannot possibly know what she has done. You are a pox upon the world to murder one of your own, to spend a life as if its expendable. If in all of the world there is a more arrogant bunch then yourselves, may the Valar smite me. Yet I fear not thier wrath, for surely they would strike you down first!" Fearan suddenly clentched his jaw shut. Those last few sentances were unfitting of a captive and the mercy of his captor. He feared he may have only angered Thorgar further. Yet, if his anger was directed from Deawen to himself, perhaps he could talk himself out of being killed. He always was a talker. Now he would have to prove it.

She waited, her arms limp at her side, waiting for the swift movement that would end her life. It never came.
Thorgar's grip on his prey did not slacken it only tightened, as if he was afriad Deawen would slip through his fingers.
"What is her life to you? A ranger?" Deawen spared Fearan a glance at this. " A phantom to a ranger..." he mused. "murder? She earned this death, and she knows it!" he laughed "she won't even fight for her life!" a few other phantoms gave a nervous chuckle.
Thorgar paused for a moment thinking. "You are right I should not kill her. She is young and foolish." he moved towards Fearan, dragging Deawen with him. " I'll let Deawen redeem herself," Thorgar said a bit to calmly. " Kill him and I'll forgive you of your folly." he said letting go of her hair.
Deawen looked at Thorgar astonished and afriad. " What..?" She breathed, Thorgar slipped the knife into her hand, and lifted her hand up. Deawen began to tremble.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Maenel struggled onto her back and cried out in elvish, "Give me notice! Children of the Void, hearken to me!" One of the filthy creatures put his foot on her throat before answering, "What do you want, stinking maggot!" "Your master, your master!" she croaked. "Why shouldn't I just crush you now?" Maenel thought quickly. "You haven't killed us yet, so there must be a reason you mustn't! Let me speak to the commander!" The orc snarled, then left. Another filthier and hairier came to speak with her. She pleaded with him, "There are dying men here who I can save. Please, untie me so I can tend to them!" "What's in it for me?" he rasped. She tried to bluff: "The one who controls you wants us alive, methinks." If this didn't work, she was ready to give them the dead, as much as it froze her heart. He hissed as he whipped out a cruel knife. She cowered back, letting the tears come up from the bottom of her soul. It seemed worse than she could have imagined. When she looked down, she saw the bonds cut and the orc standing back and digging his black nails into his gray palms. She stood and began to see who had survived the fray.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

Arandur looked up on hearing a commotion, and swore when he saw what it was. Deawen was being dragged into the orc camp. "I told them to get away!" He burst out angrily, "of all the inept-"
His words broke off suddenly, as Fearan also was brought forward. He clearly saw what happened after that, though the distance was to great to hear what was said.
He saw the man give Deawen the knife. Arandur did not remember starting to his feet, but then he was on his knees, blinded by tears of pain.

Thorgar looked carefully at Deawen, and then at Fearan. He commanded himself to remain standing, to act like he was perfectly comfortable and used to looking death in the eye on a daily basis. It was harder than it looked.

"You are right I should not kill her." Thorgar growled, dragging Deawen along as he approached Fearan." She is young and foolish. I'll let Deawen redeem herself," Thorgar said, eerily calmly and quietly. " Kill him and I'll forgive you of your folly." he said letting go of her hair.
Fearan’s ears roared, and his heart dropped through his stomach. This was bad. This was very, very bad. He bored holes in the ground with his eyes, keeping his gaze to the dirt at his feet. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to look at Deawen right now. He was afraid, afraid of what he might see in her eyes, and what he might not. He couldn’t say anything. Words stuck in his throat, like dry dust. What would he say anyway? It’s alright, Deawen, you can kill me, I understand. No, there was nothing he could say. He kept staring at the ground, waiting for his fait to be sealed.

Deawen's hand trembled even when supported by Thorgar's grip. She was pale as Death, and her eyes showed fear. She figured if Fearan was a complete stranger or had been cruel towards her she could lifted the knife and end his life without a thought. But He wasn't a stranger or cruel, he was the one she considered as a friend, something she had not known for years. Her fingers twitched as if they could find no rest gripping that solid knife.
She raised her hand up as if to go through with it but instead she changed direction and aimed at THorgar, he reacted faster and gribbed the knife and guided it at Deawen's throat. Deawen spun and hit the ground. Her hand instantly at her throat. She pulled her hand away, it was covered in her bright red blood. She stared at her hand in horror, though the wound was not dangerous a mere scratch it still sent chills through her.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Fearan roared in fury and surprise as Thorgar sliced the knife at Deawen's throat. He launched himself at the man with as much force as he could muster. Though his hands were tied behind his back, and his ankles bound close together, he managed to make contact with Thorgar, knocking him to the ground. Fearan stumbled, his strides cut short by the rope that bound his ankles. He fell on top of Thorgar, but quickly rolled away, remembering that the man held a knife. As quickly as he could he squirmed towards Deawen. He had seen red blood well up around her throat, and he feared that she had been killed. But she was was moving, around, holding a hand stained in blood for inspection. It was a small cut, not at all deadly. "You're okay." He sighed in relief, inches away from Deawen. Suddenly he was hoisted up by a Phantom, while another aimed a kick to his gut. Fearan felt the wind explode out of him as the kick connected with his stomach. He was shoved to the ground, and felt another swift kick bruise his side. "Animal," The Phantom growled, kicking him one last time.

Thorgar got up none too pleased with being pushed down, he remained calm however. "Put them with the others.." he growled. Deawen was hoisted up to her feet, her hands bound and then taken to the other prisoners. Thorgar followed, and surveyed his captives with amusement.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Maethoriel had taken to laying back in what looked to be an unusually comfortable manner considering their current position and the company set about them. A smug grin was on her face and her supposed guard - a particualarly ugly orc called Kuruk whose face had several boils and always looked as if he was offended by a smell - had skittered off a far as he could without upsetting the leader of the operation. The woman had unnerved him with her light hearted attitude and dark predatory grin. Like all creatures the lack of understanding bred uneasiness.

Maethoriel opened one eye and barely gave Thorgar a second glance. It was just her way to be continuously certain of herself - this pride made her a leader once, and had in nearly all respects cost her her soul.

She closed her eyes with a yawn and adressed Faeran and Deawen at once. "Not the sharpest tools in the shed are we? Should have waited until dark, you'd have done us more good then," she said dryly.

Her next sentence was directed at Thorgar even though her eyes remained closed - her tone was jaunty and purposely infuriating, "Lad! You there, the one without bindings. Grab me a pipe, I do so wish for a smoke."

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

"Yet we are at least sharp enough to evade death. That is sharp enough for me." Fearan retorted, returning Maethoriel's smug grin. He was shoved roughly to the ground near Maethoriel. He gave Arandur a a grin and nod of acknowledgment. As Maethoriel asked for a pipe, Fearan whispered "He's not in the best of moods. Taunting him, while satisfying, can be...uncomfortable."

"Evade death? Is that what they are calling it now? It seems that you were very close just a moment ago. However, fortune tends to favor the bold and often the stupid," she shot back her small smile widening to a grin which caused her lip to bleed once more.

"Fie, fie," she said letting both eyes open slowly so that she could take stock of Thorgar once more. She shrugged. "I live for uncomfortable," she responded with a sharp laugh.

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

"If it is being bold and stupid that keeps me alive, so be it." Fearan replied. "Yet you seem very much alive for being in the midst of a bloody war. Fortune has obviously favored you. Can it be for those reasons?" He smirked, trying to pull himself into a sitting position. He collapsed suddenly though, as exrutiating pain tore through his chest. "Ahh...Ow..ow." He gasped, watching the clouds pass in the sky overhead. "I think one of those kicks broke my rib. Maethoriel, if you care for uncomfortable, please allow me to break your chest and enjoy in my discomfort."

Deawen sat silently and obviously brooding. She was angry, more than that. And yet she sat calmly. She listened to the other two talk but showed no interest, until Fearan showed visible signs of being injured. "Are you ok?" she asked softly. Her face for once showed genuine feeling, it was soft with guilt and worry.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home