Post by Tallaith on Apr 8, 2009 15:05:08 GMT -5
Because of several issues with log-in errors, server crashes, and scheduling conflicts, we decided to wrap up this story line with a small group of folks to resolve the conflict. This story will evolve soon into another.
Ceallian has finally grown tired of endangering her companions in their hunt for the Man behind the poisoned pipeweed plot. Coltsfoot has discovered his location after scouting the area for weeks and Cay is confident she can approach the Man alone. Cay begins in Tinnudir, hiring a boat to cross Lake Evendim. A familiar face is in the group of people gathered at the camp by the shore; she chooses to ignore Ealdread and sets off on her own.
Ceallian frowns and shrugs to Gil. She shows him a few coins in the palm of her hand, obviously frustrated with the haggling. She shakes her head. "I need to hire a boat, just for a short while, sir. It cannot cost more than ten silvers!"
Ealdread steps rather wearily toward the shore of the lake, looking quite haggard and bone-weary. He sighs, and casts his eyes toward the water then, and notices a rather familiar-looking woman haggling with the boatswain.
Ceallian smiles a bit to Gil as he agrees. She boards a rather unsteady-looking craft and begins rowing towards a distant shore.
Ealdread stops, and looks at the woman for a long while as she rows away, the light of the lake reflecting off of the water in shimmering, opalescent rays.
Ealdread hires a boat to follow the lass. Ceallian finally comes to shore on a small island a short swim from the grotto where the Man his hiding.
Ceallian strains to drag the little rowboat onto the shore, anchoring it to the brush. She pulls a few straggling boughs over it to hide it, dusting her hands on her leggings.
Ealdread follows the woman onto the banks of the small island, and easily pulls his own small boat out of the water. Slowly and carefully, he takes a few steps onto a higher embankment, so as to possibly get a better look at the woman he has followed.
Ceallian eyes the Man with a frown, concealing her recognition with a short nod of her head. 'Pleasant day for fishing, aye?'
Ealdread stops a few feet away from her as he nears her, and holds his hands outward from him as a sign of peace. "I know your face, eie faemne. What brings you to this place, in earnest?" He takes a few steps toward her, then.
Ceallian says, 'I come here often, to fish and swim. In fact, I am planning to make an attempt at gaining the far shore.'
She steps farther into the cover of the bushes as she takes off her cloak, rolling it into a neat bundle and packing it into her bag to keep it dry.
Ealdread frowns, and looks squarely at the woman before him. "Why do you act as though you know me not? Are you not the same woman I have known as a friend?"
Ceallian shakes her head. "There are many lasses who look as I do. I am half of this land, half of another. My blood is mixed into an easy face to recognise, or so I am told." She tips her head to the ground, so that her hair can fall before her face to hide it.
Ealdread steps nearer still to the woman, and smiles. "Your voice is like a spring wind over the plains, eie faemne; like a cool rain in summer. You cannot hide that with your hair, nor can you deny knowing me any longer.'
Ceallian glances to him and offers no reply. She takes up her pack and shoulders it, tying the straps securely around her shoulders. "You are mistaken, gehola. I am no one you know." She wades into the lake and begins a long swim to the far shore.
Ealdread follows, and with great haste, plunging headlong into the cool waters of the lake.
Cay gains the far shore.
Ceallian nearly doubles over, struggling to catch her breath. She darts behind a shrub, eyeing the lookouts posted around the shallow pool and waterfall.
Ealdread follows her from a distance, careful not to draw the attention of any onlookers.
Ceallian does not note the Man who follows her as she times her movements to those of the guards who watch the grotto. She moves from the brush to the cover of a stand of trees, making her way silently and with a determination that cannot be denied. She pauses behind a mossy tree trunk, measuring her possible foes. "Oy, time fer a ale, mate." The guard who is closest to the falls nods to his companion and they saunter off, leaving her a miniscule opening to use to slip into the grotto.
Ealdread follows her from a distance, careful also to avoid the gaze of any guards, and watches her disappear into the grotto.
Ceallian takes a deep breath and plunges inside. She shudders, soaked to the skin from the waterfall. She takes her time, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the grotto. She leaps to the next boulder, her feet splashing with resonance, at least to her ears. She cringes for a long moment, crouching nearly to her knees as she adjusts the dagger at her hip.
Outside the grotto, Ealdread has his hands full as the Angmarim guards discover him there. This is what happens while Cay in inside.
The deafening roar of the waterfall prevents Ealdread from hearing the shouts and movements of the guards who had left their posts only moments before. He sees them though, through a mist of the water spraying off of the falls, and meets the sword of the first with his own with a reverberating crash that slices through the thick, roaring curtain of sound around them.
Ealdread deftly parries the onslaught of blows with the blade of his greatsword, assuming a defensive stance that allows him to survey the skill of his attackers. He begins moving to his left, forcing the backs of his attackers to the waterfall as he prepares for his own attack. Then, and with a seeming suddenness, Ealdread lunges forward with a flurry of blows that pushes his attackers further back, and nearly into the waterfall itself.
One of the men stumbles then, and it is with a ruthless efficiency that Ealdread attacks then, leaping sideways to avoid the incoming blow of the other guard, and smoothly briging his blade down in a killing strike down on the fallen guards' neck.
Ealdread draws his dagger with his right hand and brings it forcefully up to meet the stomach of the other guard, who had undoubtedly seen it an opportunity to attack. He viciously rips the blade out of the man's guts, sending a spray of crimson droplets that even the mist of the waterfall cannot cover.
Ealdread leaves the two dead where they lay, and makes haste as he tries to follow the woman he knows as Maewynne.
Ceallian tries to move with stealth, her footsteps betraying her caution as she wades through the water. She creeps out of the rivulet of the grotto and into a narrow path made of lichen-covered stone walls. She halts, freezing as if she's only a statue, as she spots the Man sitting ahead. She moves forward with excrutiating caution, drawing her blade.
Krenet sits cross-legged infront of a very small firepit staring at a heavy iron cauldron filled half-way with a very thin bubbling liquid. He does not look up at the faint sound of footfalls, only glaring into the mixture and growling, "Is it done?"
Ceallian looks utterly lost as she gnaws her lower lip. She scrambles for a response and can find nothing that will not betray her. Instead she readies her blade and crouches low behind an outcropping of stone.
Krenet looks up when he hears no answer, scanning the cave entrance with a lazy look of curiosity. Shaking his head and muttering something about the bloody water, he returns his attention to the cauldron, though he does scoot his short sword a bit closer as if an afterthought.
Ceallian takes a deep breath and steels herself. She steps into the open space of the grotto, her blade gleaming before her. Her eyes fall on the Man with cold calculation. "So here you hide, like the coward you are."
Krenet looks up with a start, jerking his head to the cave entrance with a look of genuine shock. He leaps to his feet (foot and a half), snatching up the scabbarded short blade on the way. His startlement is soon replaced by a condescending sneer when he sees that she is alone in the cave. "You. You bloody wench, ye've come to apologize by impaling yerself on my blade, eh?"
Ceallian shakes her head, a placid smile crossing her features. "I owe you no apologies, *sir.*" Her reply is laced with uncharacteristic sarcasm and loathing. "I am here to finish this." She tenses, her blade flickering before her, ready to strike or be attacked in return.
Krenet draws his blade and drops the crude leather-wrapped wooden scabbard carelessly to the side. The blade looks filthy, though it's edge is honed to razor sharpness. "Oh girl, ye've no idea how much your bloody meddling has cost me. Ye'r gon'a be a long time dying. I'll accept that as repayment, I suppose," he says with a twisted snarl of a grin.
Ceallian snorts and grins at the Man, her expression alien and ugly on her features. "I doubt that. You are a coward and a weakling." She brandishes her dagger before her, ready for the strike. She silently lunges to Krenet, her dagger a flash of light blessed by the Valar. She makes no sound as her blade arcs towards him, slicing at his lower abdomen.
Krenet steps forward to meet Cay's thrust, a confident grin still on his features. He holds his blade almost carelessly, evidently thinking the lass will simply fall upon it's point. He is entirely unprepared for the agile attack, only able to react and stumble backwards far enough to avoid being completely eviscerated by the fierce attack. The knife rakes across his robe, laying open the fine material and flesh alike, his agility keeping the wound shallow enough to ignore for the moment. He holds one hand to his stomach, blood seeping between his fingers, and stares incredulously at Cay, stunned for the moment.
Ceallian almost cries out in victory, but stills her tongue. She swipes her blade before her, mirroring the motions of a serpent hypnotising it's prey. In the flash of a moment she darts in again, her blade aiming this time for the Man's throat.
Krenet reacts much better this time now that he is taking the woman seriously. He crouches slightly on the balls of his foot-and-a-half and when the strike finally comes reacts appropriately. He catches her knife-hand in his off-hand, stepping aside and twisting painfully with the intent to wrench the stabbing impliment from her grasp and ideally send her stumbling off balance as well.
Ceallian cries out at last as her blade is torn from her grasp. She watches in horror as the dagger flies into the pool at her right. She springs back, unarmed and unsure of her next move.
Krenet steps forward at the disarmed Cay, lithe despite his missing toes. He moves like a snake, his motions fluid and quick. He steps sideways and brings his blade around, feigning a slash and instead directing the butt of his short-sword in a fierce blow aimed at her abdomen.
Ceallian doubles over as the sword lands in her belly, nearly loosing her footing as the breath is knocked out of her. She looks up at the Man from beneath her hair with wide eyes.
Krenet shoulders Cay backwards now that the stunning blow had landed and certainly at least put her off balance. He pursues, slowed by the growing dark patch of blood staining the front of his robes. Regardless of his pain, he takes an abrupt step forward and drives his sword-brandishing fist upwards in a blow aimed directly at her jaw. It'd do no good to kill the lass outright when she'd cost him a near fortune with her meddling.
Ceallian instinctively winces back, hissing as she eyes the Man. He is armed and she has only her hands as weapons. Her fingertips suddenly burn with a brilliant golden light as she lunges towards him.
Krenet grunts as his swing misses and wastes no time as he sees the odd light growing at the woman's fingers. He leaps forward, throwing another balled up fist at her jaw with a similar intent as the first.
Ceallian gasps as the Man's fist connects with her jaw. Her vision clouds, and blinks suddenly into blackness as she drops lifelessly to the stone floor of the grotto.
Ealdread rounds the corner just as Ceallian's body falls limply to the stone below her, and he stops briefly and surveys the scene. Then, with a guttural yawp that reverberates fiercely off of the stone walls of the grotto, Ealdread runs full-on toward her assailant, his blade still wet with blood and raised above his head, ready to strike.
Krenet grimaces as his blow lands, the delight of striking the meddlesome lass far out-weighing the biting pain in his stomach as well as his knuckles. He has no time to savor the victory, however, as the stranger rushes in, blade arcing through the air has just enough time to raise his own blade and try to step back. He does a poor job, however, and the flat of his un-cared for short blade is shattered by Ealdread's two-handed strike. He cries out in pain as the tip of the sword slashes down the front of his body, laying open a long, yet somewhat shallow, gash from his forehead to his mid-chest.
Ealdread does not hesitate there, though, and sends his blade flashing upward in a half-moon shaped arc that sweeps from the floor toward the sky, and leaves him nearly facing the opposite direction.
Krenet is still wincing and stumbling backwards in pain from the initial slash when the second comes and catches him entirely defenseless, doing much more damage than the first. He is practically thrown backwards by the force of it, a spray of blood arcing through the air in the path of the bloodied blade. Krenet hits the ground hard, making only small efforts to rise along with a pitiful groaning sound.
Ealdread spins on his heel, blade outstretched, and has it on the Man's throat in an instant. "Speak, worm, that I can hear your vile tongue before I cut it out."
Krenet stares up at Ealdread, his eyes barely able to focus. He coughs, the sound wet with a bit of blood bubbling from his lips which soon twist into a pained grin. He tries to speak, but the best he can manage is a wordless mumble. He tries to speak again, his eyes finally finding some small amount of focus on the man standing above him. With the last of his strength, his right hand lashes out from his side, releasing a pouch of golden powder into the air, directly into Ealdread's face. The powder, while simply dust, may as well be flame itself for it's brief effect on bare flesh.
Ealdread recoils in horror and drops his blade, clawing at his singed face with his hands as he lets loose a pained scream. He stumbles backward, and his head crashes into an upraised rock with a sickening thud. Blood begins welling there, and his body lies suddenly in a lifeless heap.
Krenet breathes heavily from his position on the ground, trying to gather what senses he might have left. After perhaps the longest minute on record, he pulls himself to his hands and knees, crawling towards the entrance for a few paces before standing and stumbling the rest of the way, hunched over and frequently falling to his knees, finding it harder to rise and continue each time.
Ealdread struggles with consciousness, and watches for a brief moment as the man leaves the grotto before darkness once more enshrouds his vision like the coming of night. He regains his consciousness, if slowly, and blinks slowly in the dim light of the grotto. He attempts to sit up, and sucks in sharply as the bleeding wound on the back of his head reminds him of what has transpired. Then, with surprising and sudden quickness, he rolls over and half-crawls to where Ceallian's lifeless body lay. With slow and careful motions, he begins apprasing and then caring for the myriad wounds that have been inflicted upon her, and tears the fine wool of his cloak into shreds as he fashions bandages that he can use for tending to her wounds.
Ceallian stirs, her eyes blinking to half-wakefulness. "Deore." She mumbles, "Eie leofa ai..." She closes her eyes, her breathing shallow and slow.
Ealdread stops for a moment and stares at her battered face before wiping some blood from off of her lip. "I had a feeling you knew who I was, eie faemne. Where are you hurt?"
Ceallian smiles, her eyelids fluttering. "Nowhere."
Ealdread frowns then, despite the kindness in her face. "That is a lie, gehola. You must tell me so I might help you, if I may."
Ceallian does not offer a reply, though her breaths now come at a steady pace.
Dolen, ever the sneaky hunter, has tracked Cay to the grotto.
Dolen steps into the damp cave, sword in one hand held ready to apparently strike at the air should it prove hostile. He follows the broad trail of blood, his face grim as if he'd accepted a death sentence by investigating.
Ealdread looks up at the sound of footsteps, and rises in a flash, baring his steel and pointing his blade outward toward the man. "Stop, there, and state your name."
Dolen pauses in the mouth of the cave entrance, eyes focused on the two individuals laying apparently at the source of the bloody trail. His eyes fix on the blade, flicking between it and Cay. "They call me Dolen, what the bloody hell happened here?"
Ealdread looks at the man squarely for a long while, and then, reluctantly, he lowers his blade. "I know that name, I believe. I do not know who it was, but some bloody worm of a man attacked this woman, whom I have called friend. This is his blood."
Ceallian stirs for a moment, her eyes focusing on nothing. She whispers, perhaps to Dolen, perhaps to the Man standing nearby... "Min deore..." She sighs slowly and says no more.
Ealdread points to the thick trail of blood leading toward the mouth of the grotto's exit.
Dolen keeps his sword held ready, though not in any threatening manner. He looks at the bloody trail leading past him and nods once, "I noticed it outside, I thought..." he trails off, eyeing Cay again, seeming to check if she's been contributing to the pool of blood.
Ealdread follows his eyes, and shakes his head. "Not her blood, gehola, and thankfully. Come, if you are truly a friend, you will help me get her to her feet. My own legs are a bit unsteady at present, I fear.."
Dolen steps forward cautiously, like a cat approaching a mysterious morsel of food. "Are there more about?" he asks, preparing to replace his blade in it's scabbard
Ealdread shakes his head again. "I think not. There are two I had to slay before making my way in here. Come, we must make haste, in case I am wrong."
Dolen nods quickly and sheathes his sword, kneeling down at Cay's side to take one arm over her shoulder and help lift her to her feet.
Ealdread slides his arm under her other shoulder, and nods.
Ceallian murmurs to herself as she gains her feet. Her eyes do not focus as she lets herself be dragged out.
The friends retreat to the Kin House. Cay tends to herself for a few days, and is as good as new except for a sore jaw and headache. Dolen and Ealdread come to speak with her in the upstairs bedroom.
Ealdread speaks in hushed tones. "She seems to be recovering well enough. I am glad; she has always been sturdy, if nothing else."
Dolen nods once at that, resting his hands on the bow held upright in front of him like a walking-stick. "She's from good stock."
Ealdread nods, and eyes the man for a moment at that. "Does not the blood of Eorl course in your own veins, gehola? You have the look of an Eorling about you, unless I am truly a fool."
Dolen nods once, "Aye, you're not mistaken. Though, it has been long since I've put hoof to the soil of my home land."
Ceallian rolls from her back to her side, blinking through the fog of her vision. At last her eyes begin to clear. "I can hear you, you know."
Ealdread nods, and frowns inwardly, but introspection gives way to a grin as he looks down upon Ceallian. "Ah, eie faemne. I hope we did not wake you?"
Ceallian smiles a bit. "No. It is time I wake up. Are you both well?"
Ealdread nods, and unconsciously rubs the painful welt that has risen on the back of his head.
Dolen turns his attention back to the bed as well at the voice, though he fails to smile as the others do. "We're well enough. How do -you- feel?"
Ceallian laughs softly. "I am a bit tired, eie geholan." She rubs her eyes and curls her arm beneath her pillow. "After this headache I shall be well and whole again. I do not recall much of what happened." She pauses for a long while. "Did... we win?"
Dolen nods slightly, but looks to Ealdread to give a more credible answer.
Ealdread nods. "I would have to think so, aye. I made quick work of your attacker, though he blinded me with some kind of powder, and he was gone when I woke. He was bleeding badly, though, and likely did not make it far."
Dolen says, 'Aye, there was much blood outside the cave's mouth. I did not look too close, but it would seem to me he was heading towards the woods. With that much blood lost, he'd have bled out within minutes. If not eaten by bears, that is.'
Ceallian looks into the glowing hearth. "Aye, min deore. I cannot thank you enough. And Dolen, I cannot thank you enough for coming to our aid, though I did not wish it."
Ealdread arches a brow and looks at her for a moment. "You call me beloved, now, and freely? Once I was naught but a forthought, a... 'ghost', as you called me." He crosses his arms over his chest, and scowls slightly.
Ceallian smiles to her pillow as she pulls the covers over her shoulder and up to her chin. "Do I look as if I am in a position to be anything but truthful? Your presence is a glad sight to my eyes."
Dolen looks between the two, about ready to reply that he'd just as soon not come to anyone's aid, but holds his words.
Ealdread holds her look for a long while, and remains silent. Then, his voice low and gentle, he says, "Your voice is like the wind on the plain; like a cool rain in summer, and your eyes shine like the gold of Meduseld, eie faemne... But I will need to think on words such as the ones you have used to call me. I am not quick to act, nor shall I be now."
Ceallian nods, her smile unfading. "The words of a woman are like the ripples on a still pond. The query is this... Do they speak of what lies on the surface alone? Or do they reflect what is deep beneath the surface, where the touch of Man and the sun do not reach? It is only your choice now as to what to believe. You should know more of the heart of me before you judge if I am false."
Ealdread smiles then, and finally, and it splits his face and alights his eyes with mirth. "I know what is beneath your waters, eie faemne, and long have I desired to slake my thirst therein. But I cannot, now, until I know my own heart is as true as once it was before."
Dolen grimaces and looks as if he wants to spit, "The words of a woman are a bloody nettle-bush," he mutters under his breath, "Or a hornets sting, more often than not. I, eh, best be takin' my leave, aye?" he says, speaking the last part a bit louder.
Ealdread grins at Dolen at that, and winks, if ever-so-slightly, and then offers a nod. "My thanks are with you, gehola. Brem holca!"
Ceallian shakes her head a fraction. "Eie leofa ai." She goes silent for a long while. "That is what is below the ripples on the skin of a pond. It is your choice alone if you dive below this." She looks to Dolen, her eyes dark with weariness. "No. We shall not speak more of these matters before I can settle my business with you. It seems that now I am in your debt, gehola."
Ealdread yawns behind a balled fist, and nods to both of them. "Forgive me, I am weary from the journey. I shall hope to speak with you both on the morrow." He looks at Ceallian for a long while again, and nods resolutely. Then, turning on a heel, he makes his way out of the room and down the stairs, and slides out into the cool evening air.
Dolen returns a polite nod to Ealdread and glances back to Cay, "I'd gladly accept a mug of ale somewhere that I don' need to worry about sprouting a coat of arrows."
Ceallian nods to Ealdread. "Find your rest, deore. If I can call you such. I shall call on you at dawn, if you are able."
Ceallian looks to Dolen now. "There is plenty set in the hall below. Will you come back to me once you have found your refreshement?"
Dolen nods, "Aye, get yer rest, and clear your bloody mind."
Dolen takes up his bow and steps out as well in search of a mug of relaxation.
Ceallian takes the small moment of privacy to make her way to the chair by the hearth, her head spinning. She settles down and waits. She stares into the hearth, watching the placid embers glow and fade before gleaming to life once more. Her head throbs but she cannot do anything else for it.
Ceallian has finally grown tired of endangering her companions in their hunt for the Man behind the poisoned pipeweed plot. Coltsfoot has discovered his location after scouting the area for weeks and Cay is confident she can approach the Man alone. Cay begins in Tinnudir, hiring a boat to cross Lake Evendim. A familiar face is in the group of people gathered at the camp by the shore; she chooses to ignore Ealdread and sets off on her own.
Ceallian frowns and shrugs to Gil. She shows him a few coins in the palm of her hand, obviously frustrated with the haggling. She shakes her head. "I need to hire a boat, just for a short while, sir. It cannot cost more than ten silvers!"
Ealdread steps rather wearily toward the shore of the lake, looking quite haggard and bone-weary. He sighs, and casts his eyes toward the water then, and notices a rather familiar-looking woman haggling with the boatswain.
Ceallian smiles a bit to Gil as he agrees. She boards a rather unsteady-looking craft and begins rowing towards a distant shore.
Ealdread stops, and looks at the woman for a long while as she rows away, the light of the lake reflecting off of the water in shimmering, opalescent rays.
Ealdread hires a boat to follow the lass. Ceallian finally comes to shore on a small island a short swim from the grotto where the Man his hiding.
Ceallian strains to drag the little rowboat onto the shore, anchoring it to the brush. She pulls a few straggling boughs over it to hide it, dusting her hands on her leggings.
Ealdread follows the woman onto the banks of the small island, and easily pulls his own small boat out of the water. Slowly and carefully, he takes a few steps onto a higher embankment, so as to possibly get a better look at the woman he has followed.
Ceallian eyes the Man with a frown, concealing her recognition with a short nod of her head. 'Pleasant day for fishing, aye?'
Ealdread stops a few feet away from her as he nears her, and holds his hands outward from him as a sign of peace. "I know your face, eie faemne. What brings you to this place, in earnest?" He takes a few steps toward her, then.
Ceallian says, 'I come here often, to fish and swim. In fact, I am planning to make an attempt at gaining the far shore.'
She steps farther into the cover of the bushes as she takes off her cloak, rolling it into a neat bundle and packing it into her bag to keep it dry.
Ealdread frowns, and looks squarely at the woman before him. "Why do you act as though you know me not? Are you not the same woman I have known as a friend?"
Ceallian shakes her head. "There are many lasses who look as I do. I am half of this land, half of another. My blood is mixed into an easy face to recognise, or so I am told." She tips her head to the ground, so that her hair can fall before her face to hide it.
Ealdread steps nearer still to the woman, and smiles. "Your voice is like a spring wind over the plains, eie faemne; like a cool rain in summer. You cannot hide that with your hair, nor can you deny knowing me any longer.'
Ceallian glances to him and offers no reply. She takes up her pack and shoulders it, tying the straps securely around her shoulders. "You are mistaken, gehola. I am no one you know." She wades into the lake and begins a long swim to the far shore.
Ealdread follows, and with great haste, plunging headlong into the cool waters of the lake.
Cay gains the far shore.
Ceallian nearly doubles over, struggling to catch her breath. She darts behind a shrub, eyeing the lookouts posted around the shallow pool and waterfall.
Ealdread follows her from a distance, careful not to draw the attention of any onlookers.
Ceallian does not note the Man who follows her as she times her movements to those of the guards who watch the grotto. She moves from the brush to the cover of a stand of trees, making her way silently and with a determination that cannot be denied. She pauses behind a mossy tree trunk, measuring her possible foes. "Oy, time fer a ale, mate." The guard who is closest to the falls nods to his companion and they saunter off, leaving her a miniscule opening to use to slip into the grotto.
Ealdread follows her from a distance, careful also to avoid the gaze of any guards, and watches her disappear into the grotto.
Ceallian takes a deep breath and plunges inside. She shudders, soaked to the skin from the waterfall. She takes her time, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the grotto. She leaps to the next boulder, her feet splashing with resonance, at least to her ears. She cringes for a long moment, crouching nearly to her knees as she adjusts the dagger at her hip.
Outside the grotto, Ealdread has his hands full as the Angmarim guards discover him there. This is what happens while Cay in inside.
The deafening roar of the waterfall prevents Ealdread from hearing the shouts and movements of the guards who had left their posts only moments before. He sees them though, through a mist of the water spraying off of the falls, and meets the sword of the first with his own with a reverberating crash that slices through the thick, roaring curtain of sound around them.
Ealdread deftly parries the onslaught of blows with the blade of his greatsword, assuming a defensive stance that allows him to survey the skill of his attackers. He begins moving to his left, forcing the backs of his attackers to the waterfall as he prepares for his own attack. Then, and with a seeming suddenness, Ealdread lunges forward with a flurry of blows that pushes his attackers further back, and nearly into the waterfall itself.
One of the men stumbles then, and it is with a ruthless efficiency that Ealdread attacks then, leaping sideways to avoid the incoming blow of the other guard, and smoothly briging his blade down in a killing strike down on the fallen guards' neck.
Ealdread draws his dagger with his right hand and brings it forcefully up to meet the stomach of the other guard, who had undoubtedly seen it an opportunity to attack. He viciously rips the blade out of the man's guts, sending a spray of crimson droplets that even the mist of the waterfall cannot cover.
Ealdread leaves the two dead where they lay, and makes haste as he tries to follow the woman he knows as Maewynne.
Ceallian tries to move with stealth, her footsteps betraying her caution as she wades through the water. She creeps out of the rivulet of the grotto and into a narrow path made of lichen-covered stone walls. She halts, freezing as if she's only a statue, as she spots the Man sitting ahead. She moves forward with excrutiating caution, drawing her blade.
Krenet sits cross-legged infront of a very small firepit staring at a heavy iron cauldron filled half-way with a very thin bubbling liquid. He does not look up at the faint sound of footfalls, only glaring into the mixture and growling, "Is it done?"
Ceallian looks utterly lost as she gnaws her lower lip. She scrambles for a response and can find nothing that will not betray her. Instead she readies her blade and crouches low behind an outcropping of stone.
Krenet looks up when he hears no answer, scanning the cave entrance with a lazy look of curiosity. Shaking his head and muttering something about the bloody water, he returns his attention to the cauldron, though he does scoot his short sword a bit closer as if an afterthought.
Ceallian takes a deep breath and steels herself. She steps into the open space of the grotto, her blade gleaming before her. Her eyes fall on the Man with cold calculation. "So here you hide, like the coward you are."
Krenet looks up with a start, jerking his head to the cave entrance with a look of genuine shock. He leaps to his feet (foot and a half), snatching up the scabbarded short blade on the way. His startlement is soon replaced by a condescending sneer when he sees that she is alone in the cave. "You. You bloody wench, ye've come to apologize by impaling yerself on my blade, eh?"
Ceallian shakes her head, a placid smile crossing her features. "I owe you no apologies, *sir.*" Her reply is laced with uncharacteristic sarcasm and loathing. "I am here to finish this." She tenses, her blade flickering before her, ready to strike or be attacked in return.
Krenet draws his blade and drops the crude leather-wrapped wooden scabbard carelessly to the side. The blade looks filthy, though it's edge is honed to razor sharpness. "Oh girl, ye've no idea how much your bloody meddling has cost me. Ye'r gon'a be a long time dying. I'll accept that as repayment, I suppose," he says with a twisted snarl of a grin.
Ceallian snorts and grins at the Man, her expression alien and ugly on her features. "I doubt that. You are a coward and a weakling." She brandishes her dagger before her, ready for the strike. She silently lunges to Krenet, her dagger a flash of light blessed by the Valar. She makes no sound as her blade arcs towards him, slicing at his lower abdomen.
Krenet steps forward to meet Cay's thrust, a confident grin still on his features. He holds his blade almost carelessly, evidently thinking the lass will simply fall upon it's point. He is entirely unprepared for the agile attack, only able to react and stumble backwards far enough to avoid being completely eviscerated by the fierce attack. The knife rakes across his robe, laying open the fine material and flesh alike, his agility keeping the wound shallow enough to ignore for the moment. He holds one hand to his stomach, blood seeping between his fingers, and stares incredulously at Cay, stunned for the moment.
Ceallian almost cries out in victory, but stills her tongue. She swipes her blade before her, mirroring the motions of a serpent hypnotising it's prey. In the flash of a moment she darts in again, her blade aiming this time for the Man's throat.
Krenet reacts much better this time now that he is taking the woman seriously. He crouches slightly on the balls of his foot-and-a-half and when the strike finally comes reacts appropriately. He catches her knife-hand in his off-hand, stepping aside and twisting painfully with the intent to wrench the stabbing impliment from her grasp and ideally send her stumbling off balance as well.
Ceallian cries out at last as her blade is torn from her grasp. She watches in horror as the dagger flies into the pool at her right. She springs back, unarmed and unsure of her next move.
Krenet steps forward at the disarmed Cay, lithe despite his missing toes. He moves like a snake, his motions fluid and quick. He steps sideways and brings his blade around, feigning a slash and instead directing the butt of his short-sword in a fierce blow aimed at her abdomen.
Ceallian doubles over as the sword lands in her belly, nearly loosing her footing as the breath is knocked out of her. She looks up at the Man from beneath her hair with wide eyes.
Krenet shoulders Cay backwards now that the stunning blow had landed and certainly at least put her off balance. He pursues, slowed by the growing dark patch of blood staining the front of his robes. Regardless of his pain, he takes an abrupt step forward and drives his sword-brandishing fist upwards in a blow aimed directly at her jaw. It'd do no good to kill the lass outright when she'd cost him a near fortune with her meddling.
Ceallian instinctively winces back, hissing as she eyes the Man. He is armed and she has only her hands as weapons. Her fingertips suddenly burn with a brilliant golden light as she lunges towards him.
Krenet grunts as his swing misses and wastes no time as he sees the odd light growing at the woman's fingers. He leaps forward, throwing another balled up fist at her jaw with a similar intent as the first.
Ceallian gasps as the Man's fist connects with her jaw. Her vision clouds, and blinks suddenly into blackness as she drops lifelessly to the stone floor of the grotto.
Ealdread rounds the corner just as Ceallian's body falls limply to the stone below her, and he stops briefly and surveys the scene. Then, with a guttural yawp that reverberates fiercely off of the stone walls of the grotto, Ealdread runs full-on toward her assailant, his blade still wet with blood and raised above his head, ready to strike.
Krenet grimaces as his blow lands, the delight of striking the meddlesome lass far out-weighing the biting pain in his stomach as well as his knuckles. He has no time to savor the victory, however, as the stranger rushes in, blade arcing through the air has just enough time to raise his own blade and try to step back. He does a poor job, however, and the flat of his un-cared for short blade is shattered by Ealdread's two-handed strike. He cries out in pain as the tip of the sword slashes down the front of his body, laying open a long, yet somewhat shallow, gash from his forehead to his mid-chest.
Ealdread does not hesitate there, though, and sends his blade flashing upward in a half-moon shaped arc that sweeps from the floor toward the sky, and leaves him nearly facing the opposite direction.
Krenet is still wincing and stumbling backwards in pain from the initial slash when the second comes and catches him entirely defenseless, doing much more damage than the first. He is practically thrown backwards by the force of it, a spray of blood arcing through the air in the path of the bloodied blade. Krenet hits the ground hard, making only small efforts to rise along with a pitiful groaning sound.
Ealdread spins on his heel, blade outstretched, and has it on the Man's throat in an instant. "Speak, worm, that I can hear your vile tongue before I cut it out."
Krenet stares up at Ealdread, his eyes barely able to focus. He coughs, the sound wet with a bit of blood bubbling from his lips which soon twist into a pained grin. He tries to speak, but the best he can manage is a wordless mumble. He tries to speak again, his eyes finally finding some small amount of focus on the man standing above him. With the last of his strength, his right hand lashes out from his side, releasing a pouch of golden powder into the air, directly into Ealdread's face. The powder, while simply dust, may as well be flame itself for it's brief effect on bare flesh.
Ealdread recoils in horror and drops his blade, clawing at his singed face with his hands as he lets loose a pained scream. He stumbles backward, and his head crashes into an upraised rock with a sickening thud. Blood begins welling there, and his body lies suddenly in a lifeless heap.
Krenet breathes heavily from his position on the ground, trying to gather what senses he might have left. After perhaps the longest minute on record, he pulls himself to his hands and knees, crawling towards the entrance for a few paces before standing and stumbling the rest of the way, hunched over and frequently falling to his knees, finding it harder to rise and continue each time.
Ealdread struggles with consciousness, and watches for a brief moment as the man leaves the grotto before darkness once more enshrouds his vision like the coming of night. He regains his consciousness, if slowly, and blinks slowly in the dim light of the grotto. He attempts to sit up, and sucks in sharply as the bleeding wound on the back of his head reminds him of what has transpired. Then, with surprising and sudden quickness, he rolls over and half-crawls to where Ceallian's lifeless body lay. With slow and careful motions, he begins apprasing and then caring for the myriad wounds that have been inflicted upon her, and tears the fine wool of his cloak into shreds as he fashions bandages that he can use for tending to her wounds.
Ceallian stirs, her eyes blinking to half-wakefulness. "Deore." She mumbles, "Eie leofa ai..." She closes her eyes, her breathing shallow and slow.
Ealdread stops for a moment and stares at her battered face before wiping some blood from off of her lip. "I had a feeling you knew who I was, eie faemne. Where are you hurt?"
Ceallian smiles, her eyelids fluttering. "Nowhere."
Ealdread frowns then, despite the kindness in her face. "That is a lie, gehola. You must tell me so I might help you, if I may."
Ceallian does not offer a reply, though her breaths now come at a steady pace.
Dolen, ever the sneaky hunter, has tracked Cay to the grotto.
Dolen steps into the damp cave, sword in one hand held ready to apparently strike at the air should it prove hostile. He follows the broad trail of blood, his face grim as if he'd accepted a death sentence by investigating.
Ealdread looks up at the sound of footsteps, and rises in a flash, baring his steel and pointing his blade outward toward the man. "Stop, there, and state your name."
Dolen pauses in the mouth of the cave entrance, eyes focused on the two individuals laying apparently at the source of the bloody trail. His eyes fix on the blade, flicking between it and Cay. "They call me Dolen, what the bloody hell happened here?"
Ealdread looks at the man squarely for a long while, and then, reluctantly, he lowers his blade. "I know that name, I believe. I do not know who it was, but some bloody worm of a man attacked this woman, whom I have called friend. This is his blood."
Ceallian stirs for a moment, her eyes focusing on nothing. She whispers, perhaps to Dolen, perhaps to the Man standing nearby... "Min deore..." She sighs slowly and says no more.
Ealdread points to the thick trail of blood leading toward the mouth of the grotto's exit.
Dolen keeps his sword held ready, though not in any threatening manner. He looks at the bloody trail leading past him and nods once, "I noticed it outside, I thought..." he trails off, eyeing Cay again, seeming to check if she's been contributing to the pool of blood.
Ealdread follows his eyes, and shakes his head. "Not her blood, gehola, and thankfully. Come, if you are truly a friend, you will help me get her to her feet. My own legs are a bit unsteady at present, I fear.."
Dolen steps forward cautiously, like a cat approaching a mysterious morsel of food. "Are there more about?" he asks, preparing to replace his blade in it's scabbard
Ealdread shakes his head again. "I think not. There are two I had to slay before making my way in here. Come, we must make haste, in case I am wrong."
Dolen nods quickly and sheathes his sword, kneeling down at Cay's side to take one arm over her shoulder and help lift her to her feet.
Ealdread slides his arm under her other shoulder, and nods.
Ceallian murmurs to herself as she gains her feet. Her eyes do not focus as she lets herself be dragged out.
The friends retreat to the Kin House. Cay tends to herself for a few days, and is as good as new except for a sore jaw and headache. Dolen and Ealdread come to speak with her in the upstairs bedroom.
Ealdread speaks in hushed tones. "She seems to be recovering well enough. I am glad; she has always been sturdy, if nothing else."
Dolen nods once at that, resting his hands on the bow held upright in front of him like a walking-stick. "She's from good stock."
Ealdread nods, and eyes the man for a moment at that. "Does not the blood of Eorl course in your own veins, gehola? You have the look of an Eorling about you, unless I am truly a fool."
Dolen nods once, "Aye, you're not mistaken. Though, it has been long since I've put hoof to the soil of my home land."
Ceallian rolls from her back to her side, blinking through the fog of her vision. At last her eyes begin to clear. "I can hear you, you know."
Ealdread nods, and frowns inwardly, but introspection gives way to a grin as he looks down upon Ceallian. "Ah, eie faemne. I hope we did not wake you?"
Ceallian smiles a bit. "No. It is time I wake up. Are you both well?"
Ealdread nods, and unconsciously rubs the painful welt that has risen on the back of his head.
Dolen turns his attention back to the bed as well at the voice, though he fails to smile as the others do. "We're well enough. How do -you- feel?"
Ceallian laughs softly. "I am a bit tired, eie geholan." She rubs her eyes and curls her arm beneath her pillow. "After this headache I shall be well and whole again. I do not recall much of what happened." She pauses for a long while. "Did... we win?"
Dolen nods slightly, but looks to Ealdread to give a more credible answer.
Ealdread nods. "I would have to think so, aye. I made quick work of your attacker, though he blinded me with some kind of powder, and he was gone when I woke. He was bleeding badly, though, and likely did not make it far."
Dolen says, 'Aye, there was much blood outside the cave's mouth. I did not look too close, but it would seem to me he was heading towards the woods. With that much blood lost, he'd have bled out within minutes. If not eaten by bears, that is.'
Ceallian looks into the glowing hearth. "Aye, min deore. I cannot thank you enough. And Dolen, I cannot thank you enough for coming to our aid, though I did not wish it."
Ealdread arches a brow and looks at her for a moment. "You call me beloved, now, and freely? Once I was naught but a forthought, a... 'ghost', as you called me." He crosses his arms over his chest, and scowls slightly.
Ceallian smiles to her pillow as she pulls the covers over her shoulder and up to her chin. "Do I look as if I am in a position to be anything but truthful? Your presence is a glad sight to my eyes."
Dolen looks between the two, about ready to reply that he'd just as soon not come to anyone's aid, but holds his words.
Ealdread holds her look for a long while, and remains silent. Then, his voice low and gentle, he says, "Your voice is like the wind on the plain; like a cool rain in summer, and your eyes shine like the gold of Meduseld, eie faemne... But I will need to think on words such as the ones you have used to call me. I am not quick to act, nor shall I be now."
Ceallian nods, her smile unfading. "The words of a woman are like the ripples on a still pond. The query is this... Do they speak of what lies on the surface alone? Or do they reflect what is deep beneath the surface, where the touch of Man and the sun do not reach? It is only your choice now as to what to believe. You should know more of the heart of me before you judge if I am false."
Ealdread smiles then, and finally, and it splits his face and alights his eyes with mirth. "I know what is beneath your waters, eie faemne, and long have I desired to slake my thirst therein. But I cannot, now, until I know my own heart is as true as once it was before."
Dolen grimaces and looks as if he wants to spit, "The words of a woman are a bloody nettle-bush," he mutters under his breath, "Or a hornets sting, more often than not. I, eh, best be takin' my leave, aye?" he says, speaking the last part a bit louder.
Ealdread grins at Dolen at that, and winks, if ever-so-slightly, and then offers a nod. "My thanks are with you, gehola. Brem holca!"
Ceallian shakes her head a fraction. "Eie leofa ai." She goes silent for a long while. "That is what is below the ripples on the skin of a pond. It is your choice alone if you dive below this." She looks to Dolen, her eyes dark with weariness. "No. We shall not speak more of these matters before I can settle my business with you. It seems that now I am in your debt, gehola."
Ealdread yawns behind a balled fist, and nods to both of them. "Forgive me, I am weary from the journey. I shall hope to speak with you both on the morrow." He looks at Ceallian for a long while again, and nods resolutely. Then, turning on a heel, he makes his way out of the room and down the stairs, and slides out into the cool evening air.
Dolen returns a polite nod to Ealdread and glances back to Cay, "I'd gladly accept a mug of ale somewhere that I don' need to worry about sprouting a coat of arrows."
Ceallian nods to Ealdread. "Find your rest, deore. If I can call you such. I shall call on you at dawn, if you are able."
Ceallian looks to Dolen now. "There is plenty set in the hall below. Will you come back to me once you have found your refreshement?"
Dolen nods, "Aye, get yer rest, and clear your bloody mind."
Dolen takes up his bow and steps out as well in search of a mug of relaxation.
Ceallian takes the small moment of privacy to make her way to the chair by the hearth, her head spinning. She settles down and waits. She stares into the hearth, watching the placid embers glow and fade before gleaming to life once more. Her head throbs but she cannot do anything else for it.