With its hills of verdant emerald and river glistening in the mid-afternoon sun, this so-called "island" was not a far cry from the familiar Orkney Isles. Another bump of land off the coast of Britain, another tract of untrammeled country to tame. Another adventure alongside the King of Camelot.

A boyish grin teasing his lips, Gawain thrust his face into the wind and leaned against the prow of Somerset Pearl, the second largest of Arthur's fleet behind the flagship. His lord and a small group of men-at-arms, eager to explore the beach, were already disembarking. He glimpsed the hoary bard, Myrddin, climbing nimbly over the side of a boat and couldn't help but shake his head. There was an elder not worth underestimating. The bruise on his shin still throbbed whenever he tightened his greaves - a not so subtle reminder of the last whack from that rowan staff.

As a supply ship, Somerset Pearl hung back as the rest of the fleet filed into the cove. Despite his best efforts, the customary impatience as red as his flaming hair nagged at his legs - how he longed to be off this deck! - but was replaced just as quickly by an image of his wife Ragnelle, laughing and gently chucking him under the chin, reminding him that the joys in life were always waited upon. He was just getting himself to relax, to enjoy the clear skies and panoramic view, when he glimpsed movement on a promontory overlooking the cove. His impatience blasted right back into his face, tenfold.

"When are we anchoring?" he demanded, drawing level with the captain and wheeling the other man around.

Fortunately for the knight, the captain was in good humor. He waved Gawain's hand away and continued striding on his way, toward the quarterdeck. "Soon, soon!" That, of course, was before he caught hint of the other's scowl. Gawain's glance at the headland must have given it away, for the captain shook his head. "Gareth is a knight and a grown man, you realize. Perfectly capable of looking after himself."

"Is he mad, going off alone like that? He'll get us all killed!" He shot another furious glance at the promontory, but his brother was gone. Gone recklessly exploring, he wagered.

"You're just envious that he's off with his men before you are," the captain said blandly, with a shrug. "Never mind that. Before you start waving around that shiny sword of yours, I say to let you disembark first, aye?"

No argument could counter this, and thus it was that Gawain jumped onto the first boat lowered onto the waves. Untying the front of his leather jerkin for better movement, he picked up the oars and rowed twice as hard as his fellows, so agog was he to feel dry land beneath his feet again. By the time he made the shore, both the brine-tinted wind and energy expended by rowing had placed him back in a considerably more agreeable temper. The supply lines were already winding their way through the hills and descending into what looked like a sheltered vale. Arthur and his men were nowhere in sight, but Queen Guinevere was, climbing out of a boat aided by a few ladies-in-waiting she'd brought with her. [hope you don't mind, Melda]

"Pleasant weather here, not so, my lady? Not so different from Britain," Gawain said brightly, leading two horses by their halters and handing one to the Queen's aids. "May I?" Flashing that same boyish grin - this time with a sprinkling of dimples - he went down on one knee, picked Guinevere up, and set her on her steed before mounting his own.

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"Permission comes a little late, I suppose," said Guinevere, but she smiled, and the grin waxed impish for a moment - she wondered if it would be harder to lift her so easily in perhaps two or three months, when she was beginning to show her child. The thought made her her search the rolling hills ahead impatiently. Arthur was far ahead by now, and likely would be too enamored by whatever discoveries he made to pay her a moment's attention at all, much less let her whisk him aside and kiss him and tell him of the baby.

But no matter. Guinevere shifted in her saddle, wishing to ride astride - Gawain would make light of it but the ladies behind her would be shocked. Tongue in cheek, she drew the reins up slyly and glanced behind her. "How unfortunate, to be lacking horses enough for us all," she lamented with a passable attempt at regret. "Surely you are content to follow behind? Sir Gawain, I'm sure, will escort me gladly."

No need to wait for an answer. Guinevere exchanged halfway amused glances with Gawain opposite and flicked the reins to canter ahead, keeping her seat only by dint of long practice. The supply lines were ahead, but close enough to know the general direction in which to proceed, and she happily aimed herself in their direction until a curve of verdant hill hid the pair of them. The moment she could not be chided for doing so, Guinevere swung her other leg astride and carelessly let her skirts bunch about her knees, distinctly apathetic as to modesty and the like.

----

"It's not proper!" fussed Gwien, staring with an extremely cross expression after her queen rapidly disappearing into the expanse of greenery. She was a stout woman, short and rather round, her hair just beginning to be streaked with grey. "Gawain's manners are flawless, I'm sure, but the moment my lady is around the crest of that hill - "

"I fear we cannot know until we meet with the Queen," murmured one of the younger ladies, this as close as she dared to come to defending the errant Guinevere.

"No horses for the women?" inquired Agrivaine carelessly, dexterously reining in his own mount as he listened to the exchange. He cast a glance ahead, feeling less eager to help than faintly contemptuous of opportunistic Gawain. He was ever anxious to gallop ahead. A thought occurred, and raising one eyebrow inquiringly at Gwien, Agrivaine swung smoothly off his horse. "Would my lady be content to ride behind me, and thus catch up to your queen?" he offered smoothly. The horsed tossed its head, made skittish by the stiff, invigorating wind and the previous departure of its fellows.

Gwien looked doubtful. "Horses are such undependable beasts," she opined with a sniff. Their eyes both flicked to Ettard, who had spoken earlier, and Agrivaine offered her his hand instead. She glanced once at Gwien, who looked still less than pleased but acquiesced with a stiff nod, and smiled timidly at Agrivaine, letting him toss her up before him and then mount behind her. She clung a little unsteadily when Agrivaine wheeled. "Oy! Mordred! The Queen's lady would appreciate a lift!"

Once more he turned carelessly to Gwien. "Sir Mordred's mount surpasses mine in calmness, I assure you."

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As he waited for the captain of the citadel guard, Aragorn leaned back in his chair, replaying in his mind what Arwen had told him earlier that morning.

She'd taken him out to their private garden; she always felt more comfortable amid the twining plants and foliage. They'd wandered, arm in arm for awhile, content to share the silence with each other. Finally she had spoken.

"I had a dream last night."

He was tempted to make light of the sentence, but something in her tone was grave. "Just a dream?"

"No, not just. Yet it was not a vision; a premonition, perhaps."

"This premonition, then - what was it?" No matter what he might personally think of it, he'd be wise, for the sake of preserving marital harmony, to take her seriously.

"It was rather dim, but I remember a gate. It opened, and we - you, I, Master Gimli, and Master Peregrin - stepped through it. On the other side was a forest, but not in Middle-Earth, and not in the Undying Lands. There there were many delightful things; but also many that were hideous. I do not know whether the gate was for good or ill, but, oh, take caution!"

He had looked at her, considering. "This is no ordinary dream, then."

*******

Eowyn, White Lady of Ithilien, swept the blade through the air, guarding against an imaginary attack in her sword-dance. The practice drills developed speed and reflex, something she didn't want to lose. She was a healer now, aye, living in the Ithilien seat of her husband, the Steward, but swordplay still had its value. When she didn't accompany him to Minas Tirith or to the wilderness ranges, the task of managing their estates fell to her. Sometimes, a girl just needed a break.

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

(That was pathetic, I couldnt even remember my characters name.)

Aermorian merely glanced at the page boy, before he left swiftly to the King's chambers. The man hated people being late, and he could tell that the page was in no hurry to deliver him to the King.

Aermorian entered the hall, sweating slightly in his ceremonial garb.

"Sir." His voice was rich and deep. He bowed low to the king, who looked positively nonplussed with his current situation.

Faramir then come through the doors to Aragorn's chambers and he bowed low. His dark green cape was muddy and wet from the hide-outs features but Faramir himself looked presentable.

"My Lord." He said simply, bowing once more and finally standing straight up. "I have come, as you requested, My Lord."

Faramir awaited a reply from his good friend.

~~~~~~
Bewdyr came up beside King Arthur and Cai, his lame arm still tucked under his tunic overcoat. Bewdyr had lost his hand completely in battle, when it was cut off by an enemy Saxon, but he still felt ashamed of his disablilty, dispite the fact that he had learned to fight completely with his left hand, with a decent accuracy. Bewdyr stayed silent and simply looked around the campsite, ready to be put to work by the king he served.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Myrddin smiled to himself as Arthur rode ahead to the camp. The king's eagerness was beyond visible--it was contagious. Everyone he passed seemed to gain extra vitality and excitement. There was still a place in Arthur that was full of boyishness.

Just as Myrddin reached the first tents, he staggered and leaned hard on his staff.

It was night. Dark figures rushed past with tumultous cries in a strange language. In the flickering light from soaring flames, their weapons were merely dark silhouettes. The smell of smoke, burning wood, and blood filled his nostrils; the screams of the dying created a horrific background.

None of the warriors seemed to see him. He looked around, and saw the bodies of fallen defenders, pierced by arrows or hewn with swords and axes, lying in great pools of blood.

Wrath filled him--fury made his vision go almost red. The dishonour shown to the slain was like unto that which the Sea Wolves were known for, or the Picti or Saecsens. Yet this was no place in the Summer Kingdom. These walls were white, the defenders' armour was adorned with the emblem of a tree. These were not Britons.

Myrddin gasped, looking around. His head seemed to spin, and he clutched his staff hard. What had he just seen? A vision, obviously, but of what? It was of no place in the Summer Kingdom. That left two options--it was on the mainland, or this new land.

He stood motionless in deep thought.

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Bewdyr came up beside Myrddin and asked quietly, "Are you alright?" Bewdyr had seen Myrddin stumble, if you will call it that, and wanted to make sure that he would be okay before he went into the Council.

_________________


Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

As the two men arrived in his study, Aragorn lost no time in acquainting them with the situation. This Rhunic incursion - if indeed it was that - was both urgent and delicate.

"Reports say that they are most likely moving towards the mouth of the Anduin, the Bay of Belfalas. (sp? sorry)" The king turned toward his Steward. "I'd like you to ride out and take personal command of the Rangers. They're your men, and in this case we need complete obedience and trust. This is no ordinary search-and-destroy. We need information above all else. Take as many alive as possible; bring them for questioning to Osgiliath. And you," he addressed the Captain of the Citadel Guard, "I want you to personally supervise the preparations at Osgiliath. Everything that Faramir needs: logistics, support, interrogation rooms - you are to oversee. Your men will be handling the prisoners, and again, complete obedience to a superior is necessary."

Seeing that they understood, he dismissed them. "Now get out of here." There was just the slightest twinkle in his eye. "They're moving fast, and they're not waiting for us. I have complete trust in you."

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Faramir bowed low and replied, "I swear it will be done, My King." Faramir turned and then wished the Captain good luck before departing and going to gather the Rangers and find out the information.

_________________


Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

(should I follow Faramir? since I'll be taking orders from him?)

Myrddin emptied his lungs in a long sigh, and regained his composure. "I do not think I should say anything in such a place unless it is positive, Bedwyr, and I will not lie." He smiled, though it was somewhat shaky. He wasn't used to getting visions so suddenly. Normally they came after quiet meditation, and in solitude.

"Come, let us go to the Bear," he said, gesturing to Bedwyr to go first.

---------------

I can't believe I just made a post that short, but there's not that much to say right now. I'm currently afflicted with Writer's Block.

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Bewdyr raised an eyebrow, but he knew not to ask question to this man, and then he smiled. "You are the wisest riddler I know...how do you live with yourself, knowing that you fool men everyday with your words and also knowing that there is an meaning and actual wisdom in them at the same time?" He asked, jokingly, and then, nodded his head, started to go to the Bear.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly