Session Two: Dark for Dark Business
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Scene: Ost Baranor, a ruin in the Chetwood south of Bree, the night after the previous session
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As the group makes their cautious way after Maegdin, they come upon a few hooded and cloaked men, speaking softly and urgently to each other
Lenglinn says, 'Amdir could be anywhere. What makes you so sure it's here?'
Strider says, 'It is time for us to act.' He looks to one of the Rangers with him. 'Torthann, take the others with you and head to the main gate.'
Strider says, 'Lenglinn and I shall look for another entrance and press the attack from there.'
Torthann nods. 'Yes, sir.'
Strider says, 'Good. Lenglinn, let us go.'
Miandel shivers for a moment and whispers, 'What was that?' She shudders and looks around.
Miandel says, 'I guess it was nothing. It sounded like a voice in the wind.'
Maegdin looks around cautiously as if listening. 'It's too quiet,' he mutters. 'I don't like the look of this...'
Libmahtano says, 'Oh dear, I do hope the poor man will be alright. This doesn't look like a nice place for the sick, not a nice place at all.' He shakes his head.
Miandel peers into the distance and points. 'Is that a light over there?'
Maegdin says, 'It may be. Some brigands have made a camp here. It seems they've taken my friend.'
Miandel says, 'Well, let's see what we can find. We won't find him if we don't look!'
Maegdin walks up to Torthann. 'We are ready, cousin,' he says grimly.
Torthann says, 'Let us go! We must find Amdir!' He begins to walk down the hill towards the ruins, but he suddenly pauses.
Torthann says, 'Wait! Someone is coming. Let us see who it is!' Two brigands burst out the ruins, running madly into the darkness.
One of the ruffians says, 'What were those things? That dwarf has gone mad!'
Torthann says, 'Brigands! Get them!'
Maegdin rushes after Torthann as he charges down the hill, trying to stay between the Hobbits and the ruffians. He swings his sword at the man who stands up with a look of anger and shouts 'Die, in the name of the Blackwolds!'
Miandel stared after Maegdin, surprised at how fast he runs. Grabbing her knife, she followed as quickly as she dared, not wanting to be left alone with whatever was in these ruins.
Bartlem draws back an arrow, the feather brushing past his face in the dark as the brigands rush forward. He holds, waiting on the side of the hill until he sees their leader attack, then lets the arrow fly, immediately reading for another shot at the brigands.
Miandel catches up to Maegdin and stops, not sure how close to the waving sword it is safe to come. What if he doesn't know she's here and accidently hits her in the head?
The brigand ducks out of the way of Maegdin's swing and punches Torthann in the chest. As he turns to run, he falls over, Bartlem's arrow sticking in his throat. The other ruffian turns in terror and flees wailing into the darkness.
Miandel heads around the yelling Big Folk, but before she can get around behind them, one is lying on the ground not moving, and the other is running away. She starts running after him, almost by instinct.
Maegdin helps Torthann back to his feet and moves warily into the ruins. He quickly jumps forward shouting, though, as another group of brigands come rushing out of the camp, fleeing heedlessly towards the intruders.
Libmahtano turns and watches the other bandit run away into the dark looking scared, but leaves him unharmed as he doesn't appear to be a danger to anyone now.
Minabel lets loose an arrow that strikes a brigand on the shoulder. He cries out in pain but runs off scowling.
Miandel almost gets run over by a group of brigands. She is cold with terror at being attacked, but before she can even wave her dagger, they rush past her. Something behind them has driven them out.
Torthann shouts over his shoulder, 'Let them go if they wish! Cut them down if they give battle!'
Miandel stares into the darkness. Leaving the Shire is one thing, chasing after things that scare brigands in the dark is another.
Minabel mutters, "That one was for my father. Brigands have taken too much from the farmers of Bree"
Miandel inches towards Minabel. Farmers should stick together.
Libmahtano follows warily as Torthann approaches the next group, looking for an opportunity to settle this nonsense with a bit less bloodshed. He stoops and picks a stone, but before he can fling it, Torthann hits the thug, dropping him.
Maegdin bashes a huge brute of a ruffian in the face with his shield, and he drops like a stone. As he moves towards the other ruffians, they turn to flee, one with an arrow sticking in his shoulder.
Bartlem listens to the Ranger, grudgingly. Leaving these people seemed like a risk, but he wasn't in a position to argue in the middle of a battle.
Miandel runs after the rest of the group, stumbling a bit in the dark.
Minabel looks at Miandel as they follow the others. "The Rangers have always looked out for the farmers. My father had nothing but respect for them. Anything that I can do to help a Ranger, I will."
Miandel nods, not having any idea what she is talking about. But she is at least a farmer, so probably knows what she's talking about.
Torthann moves forward cautiously, as there still seems to be a commotion further in. The group passes some bandits seemingly passed out or cowering in corners, but they leave them be.
Minabel shivers. "What could possibly be scaring them like that?"
Bartlem listens to the silence of the forest beyond the ruins. "Same thing that's scaring the animals. Something more than just bandits."
Miandel looks up at the older Man. 'Whatever it is, I have an inkling we'll be finding out soon,' she mutters.
Libmahtano chases after the group, wanting to be of assistance, but mostly landing any blows too late to be much more than an observer of the carnage.
Maegdin moves silently forward, keeping pace with Torthann as they penetrate further into the brigands' camp. As they pass a line of tumbledown pillars, another few bandits run towards them. They don't even seem to notice the group, as they are looking anxiously over their shoulders.
Miandel steps aside to let the bandits pass.
Bartlem stays towards the rear of the group, watching for any surprise attacks. His bow immediately shoots up with an arrow trained on the brigands when they show themselves. He never takes his eyes from them, but until they attack he lets them pass unharmed.
Maegdin moves into the shadow of a pillar as the ruffians run out of the ruins. He keeps a close eye on them until they disappear into the darkness before turning back to the path ahead.
Minabel tries to stay with the group. She had always hunted animals, not men and women, and it was proving difficult to get off the shots.
Miandel follows cautiously after Maegdin and Torthann. They are reckless and not worried at all about getting themselves and everyone else killed!
Libmahtano watches several of the bandits flee and has mixed feelings, knowing that it's likely the riff-raff will do evil again one day, but also relived that his companions are not so blood-thirsty to chase down fleeing foes.
Torthann leads the group to a large wrought-iron gate. He pauses for a moment, looking over them. 'If you need rest, then now is the time to steel your nerve!' he says.
Miandel moves a bit to the side as she runs, trying to stay in shadows.
Maegdin breathes deeply, but does not seem overly taxed by the events thus far.
Miandel stops, panting. She is winded from running, her heart is pounding from the excitement, and she is disoriented.
Miandel stops, out of breath. She is glad Torthann has called a rest.
Libmahtano gasps out to Torthann, 'A rest would be appreciated. Do you think there may be time to brew some tea?' He looks up hopefully.
Bartlem tries to hide it, but he is clearly old, and so much action so quickly is taking a toll on him. He takes a few deep breaths and nods at the Ranger, gripping his bow with white knuckles.
Miandel wonders if she has some cheese, or a biscuit or two, tucked into a pocket. Alas, she does not.
Minabel pants, 'I don't think it was a good idea to wear a dress on an adventure, but it was the only clothes I had.'
Maegdin peers at the others, a concerned look playing on his face. He shakes his head softly, as if regretting his decision to invite them. 'Courage, friends,' he says. 'My heart tells me this is almost at an end.' He nods to Torthann. 'Let us move ahead.'
Bartlem scowls, "Then let's end it." He holds three arrows in one hand and his bow in the other, ready to strike first at whatever they encounter next.
Torthann nods and opens the gate. As he does so, a cold wave of fear sweeps over the company. Torthann and Maegdin waver slightly, but press warily onwards, Maegdin looking over his shoulder at the others.
Miandel takes a deep breath, grips her club, and follows the two leaders. She murmurs, '"Almost at an end," he says. What kind of end, that's the question.'
Libmahtano watches the gate open and wonders how his life has taken such a strange turn. He follows Torthann into the next court, but stops suddenly. Seeing this place make his heart ache. The outer court was a place of battles, but this inner one is a place of death. Bloody bodies are everywhere.
Minabel swallows. 'I know I must have courage if I am going to avenge my parents,' she says. 'I hope I'll have enough to face whatever is next.'
Miandel stops in her tracks and gulps. There is a stench like the butcher-shop, and bodies are lying around the courtyard.
Bartlem looks at the pain on the Hobbit's face. "Come on, Mister Lib. We won't be joining them tonigh-" Before he can finish a wave of fear sweeps over him and he breaks out in another cold sweat. He steadies himself as much as he can, but with fear digging into his heart, all he can offer is a sharp, "Come on, keep up."
Maegdin moves ahead into the darkness. A few torches waver in the middle distance, and low moans of pain and a deep, gravelly voice come out of the circle of torchlight. 'There, there now. There's no need for concern...yet,' the voice says.
Miandel stares in horror. There are horrible things, speaking in voices that freeze her blood. She finds herself crouching near the gate, hoping not to be seen.
Minabel cringes. This is too much.
Miandel covers her face with her hands. 'If I get through this,' she thinks, 'I'll go back to my cozy Hobbit hole and not ask any more questions!'
Minabel thinks of her parents. She is afraid, but she must not let their suffering be in vain
Torthann and Maegdin edge forward, keeping to the shadows. As they draw up in the shadow of some pillars surrounding a courtyard with a dais, they see a chilling sight. Mangled bodies lie strewn about in the court. A lone bandit lies on his back on the dias, moaning in pain and cowering away from a grim-faced Dwarf, who leans over him and menaces him with his blood-stained axe
Minabel looks at the dwarf in confusion. Every dwarf that she has seen before has been a merchant. Certainly not like this dwarf.
Miandel peeks at the Dwarf and the poor tortured bandit. It's too horrible to look away. She forces herself to slide sideways into deeper shadow. Moving is almost impossible, but the idea of being seen by that dwarf is worse.
Libmahtano shudders in fear as he watches a terrible sight: a Dwarf that acts like no dwarf he had ever seen before is simply slaughtering the bandits. He hides in the shadows, a bit of Hobbit-sense still remaining.
The Dwarf laughs coldly at the brigand. 'Did you think service to Angmar came without a cost?' Suddenly, the Dwarf looks up, peering straight at Torthann, Maegdin, and the others as if the darkness is no hindrance. 'Ah! I have found them after all. You are relieved of your obligations, Blackwold.' Almost casually, he lops the head off the bandit and turns to face the newcomers.
Miandel bumps into Lib, also deep in shadow.
Minabel screams.
Miandel jumps up, ready to grab Minabel, and then remembers that she is twice her size.
Minabel feels an overwhelming desire to run. This was nothing like hunting deer.
Bartlem looks at the circle of agony and death with wide, horrified eyes. This was... it was the most horrible thing he had ever seen. He can only stand, devoured by all the dark and terrible fears pressing into his mind.
Maegdin and Torthann step forward into the firelight with stony faces, brandishing their blades. The Dwarf laughs scornfully and turns away. 'Is this all? You are not even worth my effort. I have other business to deal with. My servant shall deal with you!'
Minabel buries her face in her hands so that no one could see her cry.
Miandel is shaking, but an odd calm comes over her. The Dwarf brings back the memory of being attacked by Farmer Bracegirdle's dog. They were "taking a shortcut" when it found them. Perkin Stubb turned and ran, and the dog ran him down. But Miandel stood her ground with shaking knees, waving her arms and yelling, and the dog growled and barked, but didn't attack.
Miandel knows, deep inside that the only way to survive this is to keep facing forward, and looking fierce.
Libmahtano, unseen, slips all the way around to the side wall, his going seemingly unnoticed by all.
Maegdin leaps after the Dwarf as he turns and walks calmly towards a long staircase behind him. As he does so, the Dwarf gestures strangely and utters words in a horrible tongue none of them understand. Suddenly, the headless body of the bandit shudders and rises slowly to its feet, brandishing a club. The Dwarf laughs and walks away.
Minabel is incredulous. This is not possible. The dead cannot walk.
Bartlem clenches his jaw. Was this how he died? Terrified and helpless before a monster?
Miandel blanches. Not entirely like a dog. She instinctively moves toward Maegdin and Torhann for protection.
Maegdin sets his face and falls into a defensive posture, looking towards Torthann. The other nods softly, and they pace forwards towards the revenant, seemingly untroubled. Suddenly, Maegdin raises his voice and shouts at the abomination, 'A Elbereth Gilthoniel, le nallon sí di'nguruthos, a tíro nin, Fanuilos!'
Miandel doesn't know what Maegdin is shouting, but she hopes it distracts the Whavever-That-Is. She runs sideways, trying to get behind it.
Minabel looks over, intrigued. What could Maegdin be shouting?
Libmahtano shudders with horror as he finds himself in a battle with the already dead. He tries to find some courage by quipping, 'Looks like that fellow went and lost his head, he was so angry,' but the words fail him.
At Maegdin's words, the body reels back as if struck by a blow, but soon moves forward again. Before it can strike, however, Torthann plunges his sword into its chest and cries, 'Gwanno, dae e-gorthad, awartho i gaew lîn! Ú-bresto Dôr-i-Guinar dan drego ned Gast ui! No goren i Innas lín, A Eru!' At that last, the body shudders and falls to the ground.
Miandel forces herself to run toward the clashing and shouting, but by the time she gets there, the horrible thing has collapsed and lies unmoving on the ground.
As Torthann pulls his sword from the body, a thin wailing cry comes softly to their ears but swiftly fades into silence. The feeling of terror lessens, but does not wholly disappear. Torthann and Maegdin look back at the others.
Minabel steels herself to move forward.
Miandel looks at the faces of the two warriors and gulps. She doesn't want them to know that she is a coward, so she nods and tries to look wise, squaring her shoulders and hefting her dagger.
Bartlem feels a hope rise up inside him against the fear. The old farmer questions just what these Rangers are, to be able to contend with such a monster. "If your friend is with these things, I'm afraid of what we'll find, but I promised you I would help you find him. Lead on and I'll follow."
Libmahtano looks in the direction the dwarf had gone. He shudders, knowing he will have to follow. If only there was another way, or at least some tea.
Maegdin moves back towards the rest of the group. 'I am sorry, friends. I expected nothing like this.' He looks at each one in turn. 'If you have the strength, I would ask you to come with us and find my friend Amdir.' He points up the stairs. 'I believe we will find him up there.'
Miandel is afraid to speak, because her squeaking and trembling voice will give her away.
Minabel hopes that they are in time to save him. She does not know how much more of this she can handle
Miandel realizes that staying here without the two of them will be certain death. She takes a step towards the stairs.
Bartlem nods at the one who first gathered them. "I still need to talk to your friend. And I gave you my word." He nocks an arrow in his bow and sets his foot on the first step.
Libmahtano with a determined sigh follows the company, but once he clearly sees the path, he can't help but mumble, "Stairs. It had to be stairs."
Miandel glances at Lib and grins. Just what she was thinking!
Minabel nocks an arrow. She cannot abandon the others now.
Maegdin smiles grimly under his mask and nods. He and Torthann take the lead up the stairs. As they climb, a cold mist flows down towards them, and with it, a renewed sense of fear.
Bartlem laughs at the hobbit. "Mister Lib, if I can make it up these stairs, I'm sure a young man like you will have no problem." He didn't feel the lightness he tried to put in his vocie, but he hoped the Little Folk did.
Miandel grits her teeth and follows. Lifting her legs feels unnatural, and the muscles start to burn, as much from the renewed cold and terror as the climb.
Libmahtano tries to look fearless at Bartlem's laugh, but fears it comes out more like a pale grimace. With minimal painting and a thundering heartbeat, he works his way to the top of the stairs.
The mist thickens as they climb, rising almost to the knees of the Men. As the company finally reaches the top, a wave of horror and terror far greater than the first overwhelms them. They have come upon an ancient graveyard, but that is not the source of their fear.
Maegdin stiffens as he sees what awaits them, his blood turning to ice in his veins. Five black-cloaked shapes, easily a head taller than the tallest Man, stand about an altar. On the altar lies Amdir, decked in strange red robes. As he watches in terror, one of the black-robed figures plunges a pale dagger into Amdir's chest before the five shadows turn to face the company.
Miandel collapses at the top of the stairs. Terror combines with worn-out muscles. She feels herself start to fall and thinks, "Fall forward! Tumble backwards here, my girl, and you wont stop for a long time!"
Minabel cries out. After all this effort, Amdir is dead.
Libmahtano finds it hard to move, like a heavy weight is dragging him down. The fear is overwhelming; for a long moment, he feels the fear alone would kill him. But then it gets worse! Strange black-robed figures are moving about. Did they just kill the Man they were trying to rescue?
Minabel sobs. This is too horrible.
Bartlem loses his grip on his bow and arrow as the wave of fear courses over them. But it is the sight of Amdir lying on the table, dead or near to it, that brings him to his knees in a despair deeper and more painful than the fear of the dark fiends before them.
Maegdin cowers back as the cloaked shapes turn to the company. 'Ai! Ai! The Nine! The Nine have come!' he whispers, his voice a moan of pain. Torthann cowers beside them.
Minabel cries some more. Why did this have to happen to this poor brave Ranger?
Miandel cannot think clearly. Amdir is dead? Is not dead? She wonders what are these horrible creatures in black? They look like men, but are clearly not, with blackness where there should be bodies. She can see no faces, no features at all.
Bartlem weeps. Fear and despair and stolen hope of seeing his son again all crash down on the man, breaking his old will against the cold grave earth.
The tallest of the figures lets out a laugh which pierces them like a dagger of ice. 'Weak fools! Did you think to forestall the plans of Mordor? This Ranger's change is complete, but you shall tell none of it!' As the figures draw swords and move towards them, suddenly a voice cries out from the darkness to the right, 'A Elbereth Gilthoniel!'
Miandel looks up, dazed. The words of the black figure had washed over her almost meaninglessly, but this new voice registers and she hears it almost in her heart.
Bartlem is ready to surrender to death when again he hears the cry. Whatever it is, an oath or prayer or something else entirely, it gives new strength to the old man, enough that his calloused fingers begin to gather up the arrows that fell from his grip.
Minabel sighs in relief to see Strider. Somehow she feels safer when he is around.
Maegdin stands again as the terror withdraws somewhat. Through the mist, he sees Aragorn and Lenglinn running towards the shapes, brandishing swords and lit torches. 'Begone, Nazgûl! This is not your place!' As the two newcomers charge towards the shapes, the black-cloaked figures withdraw, crying with wordless voices of terror.
Miandel crawls forward a few inches, gathering her legs under her and standing. She gapes at the withdrawing shapes.
Libmahtano finally begins to move again as the big man, that Ranger, the one they called Strider, suddenly arrives. Strangely, the black-cloaked monsters withdraw from him as if they feared him in some way. It lifts his heart enough that he can look around again.
As he passes the now-heartened group, Strider calls out, 'Torthann! Maegdin! Deal with Amdir! Let not the others come near him! We will drive these beasts away!'
Bartlem stands, hand still shaking and limbs still heavy as stone, but he stands nonetheless. In the burning light of the Rangers' brands, the dark shapes seem only shadows of their old power, and it is not enough to hold the company down any longer.
Miandel is stung at Strider's words. He clearly doesn't see them as worthy fighters, and the truth in the assessment stings.
Maegdin turns back from the fleeing shapes of terror towards the altar. He who was once Amdir is rising slowly. Or, rather, the robes are rising, shaped as if they shrouded a form, but no face is visible in the hood, no hands visible at the ends of the sleeves.
Bartlem draws back his bowstring. He doesn't know if arrows can hurt such creatures, but he will not die here without trying. If they take him, he will not go weakly into the black. Each arrow is soaring towards the foul mockery of the Ranger.
Libmahtano moves forward, eyes locked on the red-cloaked figure that was once a man. There no room for Hobbit-sense or humor here, just the firm determination that something needs to be done and forward is the only possible direction. He charges forward heedlessly, swinging with knives in both hands, not knowing if any attack he could hope to make will be of any effect against such evil.
Miandel follows Lib, with an incoherent sense that together, they make a complete fighter. She tries to focus on Amdir. Looking at his face, she realizes that it isn't really Amdir, and it means to kill them all.
The red-robed wraith screams at them, its voice a pale echo of its masters'. It shrugs aside the attacks of the others and paces towards the Rangers.
Minabel fires at Amdir with tears in her eyes.
Libmahtano keeps trying to slip behind the red cloak, hoping to find a place where his knives would be most effective and where he would be most unseen. But the thing keeps turning so he can get only a few quick blows in, doing more damage to the blood-red cloak than to any flesh. If indeed there IS any flesh under that death mask.
Miandel sees the creature stalking toward Maegdin and his friend, and sees her chance. She runs forward as quietly as she can, and coming up behind it, stabs with her dagger at as high on its back as she can reach.
The wraith screams again, this time in pain, as Miandel's strike hits home. The blade melts away in her hand as she pulls it from the creature. As it wheels to face her, Maegdin quickly rushes up and swings his blade at the head of the mockery. As it passes through where the neck should be, several things happen at once.
Miandel recoils from the creature, tripping over her feet and falling backwards. She lands heavily, trying to scramble backwards away from it.
Maegdin's sword shatters into splinters in his hand as he falls back, clutching at his arm. The robes suddenly fall shapelessly to the pavement. As they do so, a thin wailing cry goes up before fading away on the west wind. Finally, the fear lifts from their hearts and the mist begins to clear.
Miandel flings the hilt of the dagger away from her. The hilt has turned cold and burns her fingers, and feels like it is trying to burrow under her skin.
Bartlem stops firing, worried about striking the Hobbits, and instead watches in confused awe as the wraith collapses into emptiness.
Libmahtano watches dumbfounded as Miandel's blow strikes home and the robes deflate like a popped balloon.
Miandel begins to cry, heedless of the others.
Bartlem rushes forward, dropping his bow along the way. Between Maegdin's arm and Miandel's hand, he isn't sure where to start, other than to call for someone who probably knows better. "Strider!" he shouts into the night. "It'll be alright, lass," he says, trying to help the crying Hobbit while looking to the Rangers for any guidance.
Miandel gulps air, trying to get herself under control. She grabs Bertlem's arm with her good hand and tries to pull herself onto her feet. She nods repeatedly at his kind words, but can't make any herself yet.
Maegdin sits down heavily on the ground, grimacing. He waves off Bartlem's attention, saying to Torthann, 'Help her. I will be fine.' He opens his belt pouch with his left hand and pulls out a small flask. He works the stopper out of it and takes a short drink.
Torthann nods to Maegdin and rushes over to Miandel. He crouches down and holds out his hand. 'Let me see your arm,' he says, lowering his hood.
Miandel holds out her right arm to Torthann. The hand is numb, and between the dark and her tears, she can't tell if it looks normal.
Miandel stammers, "Wha--, wha--" She stops and takes a deep breath and tries again. "What was that? Those? Them?"
Bartlem doesn't have any idea what he is supposed to do here. This is so far beyond farming or hunting or even killing, that all the Man can do is wait by the Hobbit and offer to help. "What can I do?" he asks Torthann, for the first time not sounding like he is drinking a bitter tea when talking to one of the Rangers.
The Ranger takes her arm and runs his left hand over it, his eyes closed. He nods once and opens his eyes. 'Not now,' he says softly to the Hobbit. 'Not here.' He pulls a similar flask to Maegdin's from his own pouch. 'Here. Drink this. It will help.'
Maegdin puts his own flask back into his pouch as he rubs his arm, muttering softly to himself. He flexes his fingers and shakes his hand out, as if he were working numbness from it. He looks at the shards of his sword and sighs.
Libmahtano watches the Ranger medicate his fellow hobbit. He starts to interject something about brownroot tea and his third aunt's home medications, but stops himself before anyone could hear it.
Miandel takes a drink from the flask and coughs. It burns going down and she nearly drops the flask in shock. But she feels the burning soften to warmth and travel down her arm to her hand, which starts to tingle slightly.
Torthann looks up at Bartlem as he takes the flask back from the Hobbit. 'For now, simply check on the others and make sure they are well,' he says softly. 'We will leave here soon.'
Miandel hands the flask back to Torthann, sniffles and rubs her face with her left hand. "That--" her voice shakes and she takes another deep breath. "That seems to help. Is it herbal tea? My cousin Myrtle makes different kinds, but none I know that taste like this."
Bartlem looks suspiciously at the flask. "I've known drink to do many things," he says slowly, "But healing wounds isn't one of them. What is that, some Ranger trick?"
Miandel looks at Bartlem in confusion. Somehow, she had forgotten in all the confusion how much Bartlem distrusts the Rangers. She looks back at Torthann. Should she have drunk it so unwarily?
Torthann smiles slightly as he rises to his feet. 'It's simply a cordial,' he says. 'It helps lighten the heart. Her hand is not wounded.' He looks down at Miandel. 'You should be fine after a meal and a rest with friendly company,' he says. He looks over at Maegdin. 'How are you, cousin?'
Miandel feels her ears perk up at the mention of food. "I could eat," she says, hopefully.
Miandel blushes when she hears Torthann's question. She was so focused on herself that she hadn't noticed that Maegdin was also hurt. Knowing his tendency to rush into battle, he was probably seriously wounded.
Maegdin sighs and picks up the hilt of his sword from the ground. He tucks it into his belt as he slowly stands. 'I will be fine,' he says. 'The coldness is slow to pass, but I should be well soon. If it does not heal, I will have our cousin look at it.' He glances to the others. 'If the rest of you are able, let us leave this sad place.'
Torthann looks down at the tumbled red robes with sorrow in his eyes. 'Be at peace, son of Númenor,' he whispers.
Miandel turns toward the stairs, then hesitates. She looks back at Torthann, who is kneeling by the red robes. She goes over to him awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Indeed, she isn't sure what she wants to convey, except sympathy for his loss, and gratitude for his kindness.
Minabel hugs Torthann
While everyone is starting to get ready to depart, Lib takes some notes on the place, making some quick rubbings from the stonework and does his best as a librarian to record the history.
Maegdin reaches a hand down to Torthann and helps pull him to his feet. 'Go on,' he says softly. 'Lead them away. I will follow behind.'
Bartlem watches the Rangers, and as they mourn the fallen man, he is brought back to his own grim truth. The best hope he had for finding his son had just died. Now all that he had left was vague rumors and not enough time. He would need to think, but for now he turns his attention back to the group. "I'm ready."
Torthann begins to walk down the stairs again. He beckons to the others to follow him. As the mist continues to clear, the stars begin to peep out, shining cold and bright in the black sky.
Minabel walks after Torthann.
Miandel looks up and sees the Swordsman of the Sky. For the first time, she feels a kinship with him. She smiles, with a rush of pride, and starts after Minabel down the staircase.
Libmahtano, seeing everyone already making their way out, grabs his notes and follows at a run, papers flying behind him like fallen leaves.
Bartlem looks back one last time at where the red robe fell. He gives a long sigh and unstrings his bow and unbelts his blades. He would not need them again tonight.
Maegdin looks off to the east where the shadowy shapes had fled, and shakes his head. Lifting his eyes to the sky, he sees the Sickle shining brightly above the trees in the North. He smiles grimly under his mask and follows the others down the stairs and out of the ruins.
