What lay for Ellaryn outside in the corridor was the innkeepers frame, cleaved at the collarbone but the wound bloodless. Thurin's ax had been sharp. After him fell his daughter cut next. The corridor echoed only the swing of the chain down nearer the stairs and the thud of the door behind Vamyr.
”They will rise!” cried Ofnir. ”They are lifeless already, but move like puppets. Only incineration will stop them, they must burn. Help Aelin, two of you,” he told Thurin and Ellaryn, and took the lantern from the wall. He looked at the few remaining embers that seemed like fiery eyes watching through a shadow. A scream came through his thoughts. He stepped back, but recollected himself, and with angered brow commanded the fire to burn. The shadow shrunk and the lantern flared strongly again. With an alien incantation he tossed it onto the bodies that were felled and saw them catch fire just as they were about to move again, feeling sorrow and anger -- as much as he could in such a chaotic moment -- for what his presence had brought them. Craven fiend! he thought looking at the shiny eye in which flames were bent and reflected, knowing the one looking through them would feel it.
The eyeball burst and Ofnir returned to the present. ”Let him out!” he said aiming his staff at Vamyr's direction.
Ellaryn was thankful she not only packed, but looked after her gear. Her times on the loney road meant she kneew where each piece of equipment was, she sheaved one short and grabbed the wooden shaft of the torch and pulled it from her pack calling over her shoulder,
"Quick Cal, we're out and after Aelin." and then stepped into the corridor, warily eyeing the flames as they licked the floorboards. The innkeeper and his daughter lay there burning, why? then she noticed the slash marks of a bladed weapon upon their flesh and wondered at the lack of blood. Fire the wizard said, Ellaryn thrust the torch into the flames and lit it. She took her remaining blade and sheaved that as well.
Vamyr had another trapped in his room did he, Ellaryn stood to the opposite side of his door, and prepared to strike with her flaming weapon.
Vamyr's head jerked when he heard the elf call out from the floor below, and again when splinters of wood and a man came flying past to crash into the living dead making their way up the stairs. The sound of splintering wood became obvious through the door, but he was trapped, stuck between the dead on their way up and the one in his room. He nodded in relief as the dwarf passed by and engaged the others in the hall, decimating the corpse of a dog in a strike. Vamyr jerked again as the hunter started using the crack between the door and frame as leverage. The dwarf made short work of the innkeeper and daughter's bodies by the time the halfling showed her face.
He was possibly one of the few there that had the time to spot the fight Ofnir had to put up just to make the fire burn. That put far more gravity to the situation than even the dead warranted. ”Keep in sight of eachother! We don't know what killed them!” Vamyr strained to hold the door, struggling to keep it closed against the increasing leverage from the other side, until Ofnir and Ellaryn came to his aid. With a single nod Vamyr let go of the handle and jumped to the side of the door in one motion, avoiding the blade that stabbed out where he had been bracing a moment before. He backed away from the fighting and grabbed his pack, hastily pulling clothing from under the top straps and yanking it on. It was freezing, and he had been standing around in linens for the last few minutes. He could feel goosebumps raising... and he wasn't willing to try and warm up over the corpses of their latest adversaries. Vamyr didn't bother to mess with his armor, just quickly grabbing his shirt and pants to pull on before belting his sword overtop. The man was finishing his shoelaces when a thought froze him. ”The horses!” Vamyr heaved his pack onto his back and ran towards the stairway. ”Thurin! Aelin! What of our mounts?”
While his comrades were busy fighting the dead, Aelin tried to get a hold of what was going on. Honestly, he wasn't even sure why the wizard wanted him for something like this - He was no fighter.
And that sorcerer behind all this, how much power does he hold?
The scent of burning flesh awoke the elf from his thoughts.
"Our mounts, yes.."
He followed Vamyr to the stairs.
"We can always hope for the best, but their condition depends on how much of the village has been.. Tainted. We can clearly see this evil affects animals as well."
He thought of the hunter's dog for a moment, and what dark magic had done to such an innocent creature.
Calariel busied herself with getting some gear on, throwing on a warmer long sleeved shirt before she secured her chainmail over it. She was busy buckling on her boots when Ellaryn called back to her. She might've been startled by being referred to as "Cal" but it occurred to her that brevity had value in a situation such as this. Throwing the rest of her things into her bag, she made her way out into the hall, bow in hand.
"I'm right behind you," she said to Ellaryn, taking a brief moment to listen and try to observe what was going on in the hall. She'd heard Ofnir mention fire was needed. From the looks of things they were battling against reanimated bodies. Calariel couldn't see quite clearly enough, but she could guess that those that now lay dead and burning were people they had eaten and listened to song with only hours ago. It left a heavy weight on her, but there was no time to dwell on it, not when they didn't know what had caused the tragedy.
Nocking an arrow into her bow, prepared to draw and loose it at any moment, Calariel's glassy eyes sought out the wizard. "How can I help?"
Thurin's corded muscles and axe strikes had hacked through the Inn keeper and his daughter cleanly. Pity too, for they seemed kind enough downstairs before he had venture above to see the Wizard and settle in his room. That was the second pity. He hadn't had proper rest in near a day. For anyone other than a Dwarf, that would have been bad news. But he was made of the mountain stone, by Aulë of the forge. He was wrought of sterner stuff than most.
”They are lifeless already, but move like puppets. Only incineration will stop them, they must burn. Help Aelin, two of you,” Ofnir told Thurin and Ellaryn. The Dwarf looked at the fallen corpses, and then saluted to the Wizard, striding over towards Aelin and Vamyr. He'd do what he could, of course.
”Thurin! Aelin! What of our mounts?” the man said, and that stopped Thurin in his tracks. His poor horsey! "Leonard!" he cried, having named his horse such. He then charged down the stairs, still barefoot and minimally armored as he ran. His Axe waved back and forth as his stout arms pumped along with his stocky legs. His horse better be ok!
"How can I help?" , Calariel said. "Head out, somewhere high, and see with your elf eyes if the path is clear; there shouldn't be more of these creatures lurking,” Ofnir told her. ”Their master will be weary, for he is far away, and his spell is tiring. There is more, much more to come up north, I am afraid... Much darker, too.”
With a gentle pat on Calariel's shoulder, Ofnir went back into his room and took his satchel, sword, and a small pouch of black leather, the only belongings he had, and was out past the burning corpses shortly. With a quick glance he noted that his sword was not glowing. No enemies nearby, at least. We should have enough time to head woodward. On his way down he saw the felon dead as well and burning already. Well done, Ellaryn! he thought. The smoke was gathering near the ceiling and dripping down ever slowly as the wood caught fire. ”The stables!” he said, thinking of all the hay that might burn and cause a havoc in the entire village. He rushed out through the door and shouted as if through a magical word filter for all to hear clearly: ”Wake the villagers! We have to stop the fire from spreading!” But he soon saw that a couple of them had already gone out with bucket in their hands, a pair of unfortunate souls who fortunately could not sleep well that night and were quick to react to the redness in the night. They immediately knew what to do.
And so, as he stood in the middle of the street, a subtle milky light came from his staff, and as if the moonlight had lent them a chunk of her pale lustre, an silvery phosphorescence was upon the night, warding off the retreating sense of dread. Ofnir untied the black pouch, revealing inside a set of ivory rings, smooth and fashioned in the simplest of designs, all warm on his palm.
Ellaryn knew she should have followed the wizard's command to head downstairs, but he words on the lifeless husks that were burning on the floor unnerved her. She made herself small, keeping the torch both away from herself and the wall behind her and waited. Vamyr soon opened the door and dodged the walking cadavar that lunged out from the room. At the same time she swung her torch into the corpses knee, Vamyr entered his room as the blow unbalanced it. The torch set the thing alight and it stumbled onto the hacked innkeeper and his daughter before it unnaterally went up in flames.
Ellaryn stared down and the three burning corpses, she'd never hurt anyone this bad before. She tried to tell herself that technically, they were already dead, but somehow it didn't help. She snapped out of her dark thoughts when the wizard spoke about the stables, and once more she mentally slapped herself, this time for not considering her pony.
"I'm coming Sandy, don't be scared girl." Whether it was the wizards words or the thoughts of the pony, she ran downstairs towards Aelin yelling "Awake! Fire! Fire!"
Calariel nodded immediately upon hearing Ofnir's instructions, and set out with her bow still in hand, the arrow still ready to be loosed at a moment's notice. She could sense that the immediate threat of danger had more or less passed, but she wasn't about to let her guard down. She'd done that once already tonight.
Letting the others handle waking the town, Calariel focused on finding a high place from which she could keep a better watch. Near the edge of the village she spotted a guard tower, entirely wooden in construction, with a moderate sized bell hung from the top of it. It appeared to be unmanned, and so Calariel made her way quickly to it. At its base she removed her arrow from the bow and placed it between her teeth. She climbed swiftly, pushing open the trap door and pulling her lithe form inside.
Her arrow back in hand, she looked over their surroundings. After checking that the horses weren't in immediate danger, she began to search out any threats, either in the village or approaching from afar. Here she was far from blind, and even in night could see better than any man. Nothing caught her eye immediately, but Calariel remained patient and continued to watch.
Reaching out, she gave the bell a few periodic rings of warning, to try to rouse more villagers to the threat.
Doors began to open and windows too. In black shapes of houses and in front of them now gleamed candles and lanterns as the villagers heeded to the bell sound. The loudest night the village has ever seen, Ofnir couldn't help but think, putting the hot rings into his robe pocket. Also, he felt, a tug of depression and surrender was jerking him from the inside, feebly, outside his own soul. It was the accursed sorcerer's little power that was left, he at once realised, fleeing from the dead and passing over and around him on its return to the north as its vessels went in flames. Ofnir was not a nut easy to crack, and such attempts were futile; and he knew that his enemy understood this. It was not an attempt of his of damaging Ofnir as much as it was an invitation to a trial of might. Years before, Ofnir might had been unquestionably confident in his supremacy over the man who was now poking at his spirit; now, on the other hand, his earthly body had begun to wither, at large due to his own carelessness. But there was no time to waste. He went towards the stables where he found his mount safe; the rest of his company were running to and fro, making sure theirs were safe too.
”Alright!” he said. ”Once you've, and hastily that is, made sure all's well and finished with your preparations, come to that watchtower from which the bell swings; Calariel will be waiting there.”
He turned and leaving added: ”I'll go and settle the matters with the villagers.”
Thurin huffed and puffed as he ran down the stairs, his black beard billowing behind him as his short legs pumped furiously. He'd need to head back upstairs at some point to get his boots and armor. Well, he didn't need to. Dwarf feet were tough as the rest of him. But it would surely be the smart thing to do. He'd risk bare feet now though. His mount had been a fine steed over the mountains. He wasn't one to leave a comrade behind.
Thurin burst into the stables past Ofnir and rammed through a lone undead wight like a freight train, bashing it into the ground before gathering his scrawny steed, as well as Vamyr's horse. He lead them out to the front of the Inn and told them to stay there, giving them a hard look and a wag of his stubby finger before making it back upstairs, pummeling a few more undead before getting his things set in order, and heading downstairs again with his items under his armpits. "Right! Let's go horsies!" he told them. He placed his items on his horse's saddle, then grabbed their reins.
He lead them over to the rendevous point where Calariel was stationed. His breath came out steamy puffs, and he looked over the two mounts very carefully to make sure they were in good condition. Seems Ofnir was right about that as well, blasted wizard eye. "Oi Elf! Ye see anything?" he called up. He hoped she wasn't as blind as she looked.
Ellarym looked about the common of the inn, her voice fading out when she reached the quiet room. Even though it was the middle of night and (she shuddered) the people in village slept like the dead, her thoughts became fixed on the prior evenings events. The happiness she had felt with her companions and the village folk bought tears to her eyes as the memory of their kindness and the following fight upstairs.
Calariel shot past her moving swiftly to the front door. Ellaryn's head slowly turned to follow her movements, but too slowly, it was like she folowing her shadow behind her, and even that escaped her gaze as the door was flung open in her haste. Her gaze fell on the bar and spied something glinting as the moonlight shone inside.
Ellaryn (too herself at least) moved slowly, her small size meant she did not even clear the top of the bar. At that point Thurin stomped downstairs, his huffing and booted footfalls could not be mistaken for any other man, elf or hobbit in the village. Her dazed thoughts were lost into a deepening spiral of darkness she hadn't felt for a lifetime. As her thoughts turned to a past memory she tried to rid herself off for years following, she focused her eyes on the glinting object infront of herslef.
The delicate glass dome had cracked sometime during the night, gently removing the glass she uncovered the removing cake she and her companions had shared. Not everyone had taken a piece. She carefully cut a slice, as neatly as possible, placing on a plate and putting on the bar counter.
"For you innkeeper, may you enjoy it in your next life."
She cut a second slice, putting on a seperate plate beside the first.
"For Nora, so you you can be together."
Then she hesitated, and decided to sut a third and final slice.
"Because good cake should be wasted, for the stranger to share, because three makes for company."
She wiped her eyes, the smoke from upstairs was getting thicker and from somewhere outside a bell began to toll a hurried tone. It snapped her into action and she left the inn. Thurin was outside leading two of the mounts away, he seemed to be going in the direction of the ringing bell. At least, thought Ellaryn, he had the right idea. This village was going to be getting dangerous and her thoughts were on the fact that all of them could be getting the blame for the burning inn and its occupants.
Ellaryn spend into the stables, she quickly got her own pony ready and then thought it prudent to take Calariel's own mount with her. She had to close her eyes and remember which was hers but she soon found it and prepared it travel as well. It? she thought, she looked at the horse but couldn't tell if it was male or female.
"Let's go and Sandy, girl, be on your best behaviour."
Her pony shook its head and gently butted her shoulder. As Ellaryn led the pair outside the moonlight clearly showed her own pony was male.
”Good, good! Assemble here!” Ofnir said as the gang members began appearing at the randezvous point. He found it appropriate to sit on a rock and light the little weed he had remaining, as if I haven't hand enough smoke for tonight!, he thought filling his lungs with the heavy weed smoke. With the first puff he wished for a passing hobbit merchant to ride in from the south carrying a satchel of the fragrant, dry weed just for him. It was actually not his favourite substance. He remembered how during his travels in the east, he and his brother -- who was not as fond of intoxication as Ofnir became -- came in contact with plants that would bring otherwordly experiences to those who chewed on them or smoked them. The spices and seeds of the east were in some places worth more than any dwarvish gem, and the use of them was wide: he met oracles and seeresses who prophesised and looked into the future of those who sought them, he witnessed men occupy the minds of their animals from snakes to elephants and control them, he visited temples to false gods wrought with magic where illusions materialised on the altars filled with aromatic dust. How far seemed the issues of the Middle-Earth in the warm lethargy of the desert and the steppe... But the Shadow always lingered behind him. Whenever he'd turned back to see the sun set in the west, its disc would fix on him like serpent's eye and then sink into the darkness.
He poked his horse with the tip of his staff and the animal stirred. ”You won't be moving far tonight, will you? Poor frightened beast.” With a sigh of a weak old man he rose and looked around. Hmmm... We should better make camp somewhere not too far away. Better to rest a bit than drop dead-tired tomorrow.
”Come down, Calariel!” he said looking up at her. ”I've got something for you! And for all you others, too!”
He brought out a pouch from his robe and shook it in his hand, making the contents rattle within. ”Gather around, gather around!”
"Nothing threatening," Calariel answered Thurin, continuing to keep her watch. She'd stopped ringing the bell, as the town was certainly awake by now and probably annoyed with her, if they didn't yet know what was happening in the village. Relatively certain that her lookout was no longer needed, Calariel slung her bow across her back and returned the arrow to its quiver.
She responded to Ofnir's call, climbing quickly down the ladder and arriving at the bottom to see that Ellaryn had brought her horse along with the smaller one that no doubt belonged to the hobbit. "Thank you," she said, barely above a whisper, as she took her horse's reins. He snorted softly at her, and she patted his neck gently.
There was little to do other than wait and see what Ofnir had inside the pouch. Knowing he was a wizard, she felt somewhat like a child, waiting to receive a treat from an elder.
In his dash out the door, Vamyr barely caught sight of Thurin entering the stables, and shrugged his pack from his shoulders, turning to head out past the inn and towards the main bulk of town. ”Fire! The town is on fire!” The moment the flames hit the thatch of the inns roof, it would make a pyre visible for leagues, both a good and bad thing. He stopped to slam a fist against a door here and there before slowing, pausing to lean against a building and pant as some of the men and women of the village came out of their homes in varying states of dress, most armed with buckets and pots to fight the fire. As people passed, he bent down to tie his boots feeling the shock of the night wear away. I failed.
...
Vamyr came back out of the night at the sound of Ofnir's call, tying off a piece of cloth ripped from one of the inn's curtains around his left arm and pulling his sleeve back over it. He nodded in appreciation towards the dwarf and silently tied his pack and replaced the saddlebags on poor Fred who glared at him in response to the weight. Turambar pulled his cloak around himself more tightly and guide the horse closer to the main group. He put a foot up and mounted his horse, using the extra height to more easily watch their immediate surroundings. He was already sore and tired from the fast pace he had taken to come this far north so quickly, fighting and running about, and now willpower was just enough to keep his eyes open. Hopefully they could be done with this business quickly enough to find a decent place to rest.
In the void above them could be seen paraselene, but if Ofnir noticed it he hadn't spoken of it, perhaps leaving its magnificence to describe itself for no words could do it justice. That same void to the south was ablaze with the heat of the fire but to the north the woods and the hills lay cold blue under the starlight and the mountains in the far northern reaches only crudely shaped in the night sky by silent lightning above them. Between the two extremes was the fellowship, weary and already spent, their journey scarcely having even begun.
Ofnir did his best to act confident in his stoicism, puffing smoke from his lungs and tilting his head left and right to the sound of the wolves barking. In a half-circle in front of him gathered his companions, a company the likes of which had never been seen in that country. When the rustling and clanking of their gear stopped he stretched his arm forward and turned the palm towards the moon revealing in it for each one of them a pure white ring of the most simple design fashioned from tusks of the beasts that roamed the east by nameless sorcerers.
”Take each one,” Ofnir said. ”I may be late in this, now that I ponder upon the events of this night. I am grateful it has all turned out well.”
When the rings were taken from his palm he leaned upon his staff and on his finger was seen one just the same. He spoke again. ”These are a set, each bound to the rest with an intricate spell of unseen subtlety. When you put them on, you will feel them burn. They burn because they are close to each other. That way you will know they are close and you will know it is your friends who are there and not illusions or specters of the enemy deceiving you. It should be useful in the frozen chasms we are about to tread. That is if the enemy does not steal them from you, of course. The further they are, the colder they become. If one wearing a ring dies, the rest will bite your finger with cold and you will thus know your friend is no more.”
Ofnir turned and with a hasty motion gestured them to follow and mount as he did. ”We camp at the foot of the nearest hill to the north and depart with sunrise. Get some rest, new chapters await.”
A lot of things had happened during the night, and Aelin was barely keeping up. Before finding his horse he had taken five bottles of wine and some bread from the tavern, figuring they wouldn't be missed. The entire village had gone to chaos within a few minutes, and there was nothing Aelin could do to help. Instead, he rushed through the streets to meet his group.
Everyone seems to be alive and intact, thank the Valar for that..
The elf stretched out his pale hand and accepted Ofnir's gift with a sad look on his face. There was no turning back now, and he would follow this man to death if it ever came to that.
After arriving to the campsite and unsaddling Valko, Aelin lit a lantern and placed it on the ground. It would be a long and cold night, but he'd do his best to keep the group warm - Both physically and within their minds. Soon, a song filled with serenity and harmony begun echoing in the darkness.
Thurin nodded to the Halfling lass and Man as they approached. He'd never been one to say 'oh goodness I am glad you're ok! Oh me oh my!' but they seemed decent folk. He merely patted his horses side, glancing toward the fire that was increasing down the hill. "Dark sorcery. What would cause such a thing." he lamented in a mutter, clearly both angry and slightly perturbed at the raising of the dead and the burning of men now that he had time to reflect.
He took this new ensorced ring gingerly and suspiciously. He trusted Ofnir enough, but such things did not often sit well with his sensibilities. Still, he barreled through his unease and slipped it over his thick and burly ring finger, flexing his hand. Good, it didn't seem to mess with how he could grab or wield his axe or shield it seemed.
The Dwarf headed off with the rest of his new Fellowship, feeling a bit of trepidation and righteous fury embarking upon this new quest. His only regret was that his tired steed still hadn't had much rest or warmth since their journey into the mountains. He made sujre to place a thick horse blanket atop him and let him sleep through the night with the rest of them. Good horsey.
He took a ring curiously, eyeing it before sliding it on and wincing at the flash of heat that seemed to encircle his finger. What the wizard's words implied made the brief pain seem pleasant though. Illusions? Vamyr clenched his fist and flexed his hand, thinking. This was a great safeguard, but maybe a weakness as well. He swayed in the saddle slightly while waiting for his companions to mount up before wearily following Ofnir. The guards thoughts were preoccupied for the short ride, hazily spinning between the idea of keeping watch at night and the merits of sleeping on a snowdrift versus the ground.
When they reached the spot, he didn't bother setting the tent up all the way, instead having his horse lay down and wrapping himself up in his blanket- draping them both with the canvas of the tent. Hopefully the horses would wake them if something was amiss- that was as much thought as he could muster before passing out.
Trudging along, Ellaryn barely noticed that Vamyr was with her. She followed the bell rings but her her thoughts remained on the inn, the pair reached the belltower and Calariel recieved her horse with thanks.
Ellaryn's thoughts were on her past alone on the road, barely any company before arriving at Angfort. Now, just as she had found a fresh start with interesting people that didn't cast her away, her dreams of finding a place to call home...literally...burnt to the ground.
Ofnir's words bought her back to the present, she took it and placed it on one finger. though plain, it's pure metal shone to brightly for her liking at this time. The warmth that spread from it as the companions also wore their gifts, it made her think. Perhaps, after all, she was welcome with company. She could maybe think that all of them could very well be the first friends she had in such a long time.
In a better mood since the fire, Ellaryn rode with others away from Angfort, she fished about in her bags along the way, eventually finding something and tucking in her belt. At the camp she following Thurin's lead and also gave comfort to Sandy, leaving her with a blanket to keep warm. Even if she thought about it later, she could never remember way she followed Thurin to his place of rest that night.
Ellaryn knew her only blanket was given to sandy, could it be in those cold climates that she needed warmth? Calariel, nice as she was though thin. The same went with Aelin, though his songs could keep her entertained. Ofnir and Vamyr were both so tactiturn, that they keep her awake in worry. Thurin though, she could use his beard as a blanket.
She sat next to the dwarf, not saying anything and took from her belt a small strip of leather. carefully, as Aelin began his soothing music, she cut it into three strips and started weaving them together. Ther was enough for two, she braided the leather and made two oversized rings. She slipped one on her finger, over the the bright metal and covered it. The other tossed over the camp toward Aelin.
Ellaryn looked at the dwarf long long and hard, the stare went on before she finally broke it and took at her tent. She was too tired to put it up and just wrapped herself up and lay next to Thurin.
"If you snore once, I have a short sword that will cure it." having said her piece in light tones and soon her eyes drifted closed. There wouldn't be any danger with her drawing the blades. She slept far to close to Thurin's side. Only her face remained free and it seemed she left plenty of excess tent canvas for Thurin to use if he needed.
