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"My grandfather taught me basic camping things, he's the reason I have most of the gear that I do" he said, motioning to his bag, "I could use my waxed cloak as a make-shift tarp," he continued, rather cheekily in response "but if I didn't have that either, I think it would be much harder" he paused for a moment thinking "I suppose you'd be much more reliant in finding some sort of natural shelter. like a cave or fallen tree. Maybe you could dig under a log and lean branches up against it to kind of build a cave?" he paused for a moment longer considering "depending on how long you were there and if you had an axe you could build a proper shelter, I've built a sheds for the farm before, but you'd need something while you were building that."

Building a shelter from only the material available in the woods seemed like a daunting task "I guess the best answer is don't get caught without your kit" he said with a grin. Romeran was glad to hear that they might check the trap sooner rather than later. He wasn't hungry yet but he could feel that it was coming. He stoked the fire, trying to encourage the wood to burn to embers faster. "I brought some rations as well" he added, but also hoped that they didn't have to eat them, not that there was anything wrong with salted pork and hard cheese but it didn't sound nearly as appetizing as fresh fish cooked over a fire.

I wonder what Duinion wanted to say about a tree, Romeran thought, but he didn't bother asking, deciding that he would find out soon enough. Immediately after Duinion mentioned not wanting to find spiders in his bedroll, Romeran decided that was a good idea and rolled his up again and put it back with his things. "I hadn't though of that..." he admitted. After stoking the fire a few more times and, at this point his stomach was beginning to growl, quietly at first, Duinion got up and declared it was time to check on the trap. Romeran practically leapt to his feet in response. As they began to walk, Romeran's youthful impatience showed, "so what's this about a tree?" he asked, curiously.

@Romeran
Listening to Rome's answer, he grinned slightly. "Yes, that is one thing you could do," He answered, nodding. "Perhaps we'll have time to go over a few ways of constructing a shelter out of what you can find in the forest, while we're here." He thought for a moment. "After you've spent a little bit longer with weapon training, perhaps we'll schedule as much as a week to spend out in the forest. You can learn a great deal more, given more time." He smiled, thinking back on how anxious he had been to get out into the forest for some real experience, back when he was a recruit. "I know that not everything that you learn as a recruit will be something you practice regularly, but it's good to learn the basics in everything you can.. then you can apply more focus to the things you find most appealing to you. Some focus their efforts into learning skills like healing, or trap-setting, or spears.. there's a number of things you could make into your focused skill. I suppose that's one reason they often have us work together in groups.." He added thoughtfully.

A slight grin tugged at his lips as Rome asked about that tree he had mentioned. "I'm keeping an eye out for it." He told him, a little amused. "You mentioned you were unfamiliar with different kinds of tree. This one, we can use the leaves as an herb to flavor the fish.. provided we actually caught any." And there it was; he spotted it in the gathering dusk, and moved toward it. "This is a sourwood tree," He pulled off a leaf and offered it to Rome. "The leaves have a pleasant, sort of tangy taste, and you can eat them raw or cooked. Young sourwood leaves can be very nice in salads and other dishes, even stews. You can also chew the leaves to quench thirst. I think it's the tartness, it makes your mouth water. Anyway, I like to use these when cooking fish, because it adds a nice flavor. So, if we've caught anything in that trap, we can gather a few of these leaves to use as herbs when we're cooking it."

Going out for an extended period of time sounded appealing to Romeran who was already feeling more at home in the forest than he did in the city. “I’d like that” he said in response. Romeran hadn’t put too much thought into the specializations of each ranger. He didn’t know much about military formations, if the rangers could even be called that. He supposed he just assumed they were all ‘rangers’ and didn’t really think much more of it. “Ranger Pele also suggested that I be trained in multiple skills. She said that you never know when you might need it. Which makes sense, a ranger must always be prepared.” The lore of a ranger was exciting to Romeran.

“I didn’t realize there were specializations. Is it a formal designation or more informal?” He asked, now curious. When Duinion explained that’s why they were grouped he nodded his head “I see.” He replied.

The idea that they could use the leaves of the tree to flavor the fish was intriguing to Romeran, who enjoyed food to an almost hobbit like level. “I wonder if you can dry them” he thought out loud already wondering how he might expand his seasoning kit. When they arrived at the tree, Romeran looked at it curiously. It was a fairly unusual looking tree and not terribly large. He supposed it’s rather unique appearance would make it easier to spot and to remember.

Taking the leaf from Duinion, he sniffed it first before taking a small bit. It had an aromatic smell. It tasted mostly bitter, as leaves do, but also sour and a bit sweet. He hadn’t tasted any leaves quite like that. Although he supposed he hadn’t tasted many leaves before. “I can see how it we wrap the fish with some of these leaves when we cook it that it would add a nice flavor. I did bring some salt with me as well” he admitted, he rarely traveled without a bit of seasoning. At this point, Romeran dearly hoped that they had caught a fish.

@Romeran
Duinion paused to think how to answer Rome's question. "That would be a better question to ask Ranger Pele, I think." He answered. "To be quite honest, I don't really have much to do with all the formality," He admitted. "I'm just happy to be out in the forest and I don't think too much about formal titles and such things.." He shrugged. "Ranger Pele is right though, learn as many skills as you can.. focus on those which you're strongest with, and those skills which can save your life. Fighting skills, for instance, is definitely a priority. You'll want to have one kind of weapon as a primary, another one as a backup... but familiarize yourself with all sorts of weapons, just in case." He paused and added, "For instance, I wouldn't really say I'm proficient with a staff or spear, but if I lost all my arrows, this bow could easily serve in that capacity, as well. If I lost my bow, and all other weapons.. there are still sticks and stones.. and even my hands, if all else failed."

He looked back at the tree thoughtfully as Rome wondered about drying the leaves. "I imagine you could. If you're interested in learning more about herbs, I'd suggest speaking with someone at the houses of healing who can instruct you further. I can only help you so much, in that area." He knew how to find various edible plants, how to identify them from the ones that could kill you, and how to use them for cooking or basic first aid. "Let's go see if we have any fish to cook, shall we?" He grinned and set off again.

Arriving at the spot where they had left the trap, it took him a moment to spot the float on the water, as it was steadily growing darker and making it harder to see. There was no obvious sign yet to tell whether they had caught anything, but he had high hopes... he'd always known of there to be plenty of fish in this spot and it usually didn't take terribly long for them to wander into a trap, so he hoped there would be enough fish to provide a filling supper for them both.

“I shall ask Ranger Pele in my next training session” he said. He wondered if his father had specialized in something. Not that it really mattered. “I haven’t really thought of a primary weapon to focus on. Ranger Pele is teaching me the sword and obviously I’m learning some archery from you. I’ve always been quite partial to axes” he patted the head of his axe at his side when he said this “I suppose I will just have to keep training and pick what comes naturally as you said.” Romeran was beginning to wonder what that might be.

The Houses of Healing sounded interesting, he had never thought there would be an entire place dedicated to such a thing but Minas Tirith was a big city after all he thought. “I was thinking more for cooking rather than healing, honestly” he explained “I quite enjoy cooking. I think if I wasn’t an apprentice ranger I might be an apprentice chef” he said with a grin. He was only half joking.

When they arrived at the river again Romeran could barely stop himself from running. Duinion spotted the trap float first and Romeran had to follow his eyes to see it. He felt immediately disappointed. He wasn’t sure if the trap had anything in it, but it didn’t look any different than when they had left it. He considered, however, that he didn’t know what it was supposed to look like if there was something there. “What do we do now?”

@Romeran
Duinion grinned, trying not to laugh. "There are people there who study herbs, that's why I suggested that. The herb-master there ought to be able to answer any questions you have concerning such things. I can tell you what I know, but I'm sure there are a good many things I have yet to learn. And, you will need to learn some healing skills, so I imagine they will either send you there, or Ranger Pele may instruct you personally, to learn healing." He watched Rome's enthusiasm, reminded of his own excitement on his first few ventures out here.

"Take hold of the float and pull it up, it's too dark to even try peering through the water to see, and I believe it was a little too murky even in the daylight, for that." He paused, then added, "If it's empty, just put it back and we'll check again in the morning." He stood back to let Rome do the work of drawing the trap out of the water, both to give him the experience of doing it, but also so that if there were fish, he could be the first to see his catch, a very exciting moment for a beginner. Or even for someone who was experienced but hungry.

It seemed Ranger Pele was a master of many things. He made a mental note to ask her about herb lore during their next lesson. He also wondered if he might earnestly take up cooking as hobby, he figured there ought to at least be a few professional chefs in the city. Maybe he would visit the marketplace when he got back or ask Sergeant Pete who ran the mess and kitchens in the ranger barracks.

The float lay a few feet off the shore. Romeran used a stick to fish it towards him before he was able to grab it. The trap felt heavy, heavier than it had done when they put it in the water. But water also increased resistance so he wasn’t sure. He got a firm footing on the bank of the river and hauled in the trap. As he did so he felt as if the trap was pulling against him. When he finally saw that it surfaced water splashed around as what looked like two medium sized fish thrashed around inside the trap!

The sight of the fish inside the trap made Romeran yelp on surprise “woah!” he called out, almost losing his footing before hauling it in. The two fish flopped around violently inside the trap as Romeran pulled it on to the ground. The fish inside were roughly the same size, about eight inches long, enough to feed one person each, although Romeran could probably have eaten both.

With excitement in his eyes he looked over to Duinion with a smile. “How do we get them out?” He asked. Once they had them out they would need to butcher them. Romeran had some experience butchering chickens and the like but not fish. He imagined it would be fairly similar “I’ve never cleaned a fish before” he confessed, “but I sharpened my knife before we left” he tapped on the handle of his survival knife which was sheathed horizontally behind his back to be pulled out with his left hand.

@Romeran
His grin widened as he watched Rome pull the trap up. It was a relief to see the two fish, he had hoped for about that much. That was one reason he had led the recruit to this area for this, because he knew the area fairly well and knew that this portion of the river usually yielded a good supply of fish. Duinion felt that it was good for the person learning to have a reasonable amount of success at the beginning, so not to leave them feeling discouraged.

"Let's get it well enough away from the bank first," He suggested. "We wouldn't want them flopping back into the river and swimming away." Once they had it far enough away, he showed Rome how to get the fish out. "Best way to kill them is with a rock to the head... seems a bit harsh maybe, but it's better to kill them quickly so they don't suffer." He answered. "After that, you'll use the knife and cut from here to here," He pointed but let Rome do the actual work, "and then just pull the insides out, it's fairly simple. We'll put the trap back in the water, and hopefully we'll have a few more in time for breakfast."

Once all that was done, he led the way back toward camp, eager to get the fish cut up and cooked. On top of being hungry, he was fairly tired and looking forward to getting some sleep, after supper. Stopping off at the sourwood tree to collect some leaves, Duinion only took what they would need for this meal. "These leaves aren't large enough to wrap the meat in, so we'll want to use something like burdock for that, but we can enclose the sourwood leaves in with the meat and it'll absorb the flavor, especially if we tear the leaves up into smaller pieces."

Hauling the trap further into the land as instructed, Romeran smiled as he saw that their trap had been successful. With Duinion’s assistance they pulled the fish from the trap. Romeran quickly killed them and replaced the trap in the river where it had been before. Maybe they would find some more in the morning.

Gutting the fish wasn’t that complicated after all. Romeran did the task on some rocks by the river. This allowed him to use the running river stream to clean the fish carcass as he went. It was different from chicken, not having to pull feathers was nice, overall he felt that dealing with the fish was considerably easier. With the fish gutted and cleaned they returned to the sourwood tree to gather some herbs.

A sharp knife turned the fish into fillets which Romeran cut in half to make them easier to wrap. Using a flat rock that he had found at the river, Romeran diced the sourwood leaves into smaller pieces with his knife. He sprinkled the fish with the diced leaves and a dash of salt. Duinion showed him how to wrap the fillet halves in burdock leaves which he had pointed out earlier.

Looking down at the finished job Romeran was quite pleased. The fire had mostly turned to embers by now and Romeran rearranged the hot coals until they had a relatively flat surface. “So just put the wrapped fish on the coals right?” He confirmed before doing so. A short while later the smell of grilled fish mixed with the sourwood began to permeate their small camp area. Romeran’s stomach growled loudly this time. He was getting hungry. While waiting for the food to finish cooking Romeran picked out a small fork from his bag which would make eating slightly easier. Of course it could be done with his hand but a fork also came handy in other situations so he usually carried one along with his pot (which could double as a bowl) for boiling, a small cup which could cover his canteen (useful for making char cloth), and a small folding knife which he ate with but was also a secondary knife in the dire case that he lost his main knife.

When it had been about fifteen minutes Romeran asked whether the fish was ready. He had been getting progressively hungrier especially as the smell of the food grew stronger. He was also quite tired, they had traveled a good distance already that day, and he was also tired from taking in all he had to learn. Nevertheless he was eager for the next morning and learning about tracking. Tracking seems to him to be of utmost importance to a ranger who may have to act as a forward scout and track and count the ranger’s quarry.

@Romeran
The fish turned out delicious, and Duinion could see that Rome certainly knew a bit about cooking. He was sure to improve his skills in that regard as well once he had learned more about herbs and things to cook with. He made a mental note to make sure he showed him a few plants that could be used for food as well, because one cannot always rely on catching meat.

Once the meal was finished, Duinion showed him about burying the bones and other unwanted parts of the fish, so not to invite troublesome 'guests' to their camping spot, and then it was finally time to lay down for sleep. They had a lot to go over tomorrow so he was hoping to get an early start. He was tired enough that it didn't take too long for him to fall asleep.

(Continued here)

Private with @Ercassie





Salty. The taste was overwhelmingly salty. Aran had to spit out a few times and was not convinced the sea water was suitable for drinking. He looked down and sighed heavily. He was wet! Next to him Fea was laughing like a mad maiden. Clearly she was amused in dunking her best friend just to satisfy her odd behaviour. Sigh.

He did not know how he'd gotten to this embarrasing position and was surprised as well at Fea's body strength, able to tackle him to the ground easily. Happy now? He chided her and got up from the waters. Wet. How he hated being wet. He vowed silently that the Sea and whatever that resembles water like nature would be avoided at all costs. Aran glanced at his backpack, glad that it was far and free from any contamination by the waves that seemed to rise bit by bit.

He started to walk back to dry land and called on her behind him. Fea!. Let us be away, sis. Change to dry clothes and find ourselves lodgings and food. I'm starving!, he pleaded to her.

Drogon lowered himself down into the forest of Ithilien, into a small clearing. "Wait here," Daenerys whispered to him as she stroked the side of his head. "It is close enough. I will call out to you if there is any need." That seemed to settle him enough for her to set out in between the trees.

Soon, she came to a small camp site. The coin gleamed in the moonlight filtering in through the leaves overhead. One of the sleeping men (@Romeran ) caught her attention, and she slowed in her tracks. He was... much too young. And strangely dressed. Yet... his face. She stalked through the grass on her approach, to see more clearly. His resemblance to Drogo was unsettling. Half in shock, Daenerys reached out to touch his face.

She froze half an inch before her fingers could touch his bearded cheek. No. It could not be. This was a strange world. But it was not hers. It could not be Drogo. Ice pierced her heart as she reminded herself of her goal. The coin.

The leaves moved violently once she'd returned to her dragon and he took to the skies.

Trev tossed and turned, but he could not seem to find any position that was comfortable. Sleeping on the floor was beginning to make his joints ache, especially his legs. At first it had been his own stubborn pride that kept him from asking the boatswain for another hammock. But after weeks of sleeping on the hard floor, he had finally caved in and asked, only to be told a very emphatic "No". He sighed, wincing as he stared up at the wooden beams, listening to the creaking of the ship, mostly drowned out by the snoring of all the men around him. They had hammocks to sleep in. They all seemed to get enough sleep. They also got more to eat than Trevadir did. But he hadn’t felt much appetite lately even when they allowed him to have something to eat, although he wasn’t sure if he was just getting used to short rations, or.. something else.

Trying not to groan, he rolled on his other side, arms wrapped around himself. He had sewn his blanket back together, so he did have that at least, but it was smaller than before. It barely did any good. The Forochel tribe people had given him a blanket before things turned bad, but one of the other crewmen had claimed it, and there was nothing Trev could do about it. So he made do with this one. No one else wanted it, after it had been ripped to shreds and then sewn back together. Still, he could not get comfortable. He was just beginning to feel as if he might doze off, despite the persistent aching in his limbs, when Samroth began the yell for the crew to wake up and begin their work for the day. Trevadir groaned softly, struggling to his feet. He felt a bit unsteady on his feet, but tried to ignore the feeling, hoping it would pass, even though deep down, he knew it would probably only get worse. But he didn't know what to do about it.

He felt confused by his condition. He’d slept on the ground before, and in the treehouse, and even on the floor at home, back when he and Nal and Ryn might all sleep over at one another’s houses. He’d never felt like this as a result. Was it merely because he had never spent such a long time doing it, night after night? Or… was it something different? He couldn’t think of anything else that might have caused this persistent ache in his limbs. Sitting down at one end of the table in the galley, he propped his forehead in his hand as his elbow rested on the table, merely staring at the porridge in his bowl. He really didn’t want it. It was bland and flavorless, and he didn’t feel like his stomach would even accept it.

That, also made him frown. He hadn’t felt like eating any of his supper last night, either. And he was feeling weak, so he knew he should eat. He sipped some water, then forced a few bites of porridge into his mouth. After three spoonfuls, he ended up staring listlessly at the bowl with his head propped on his arm. And before long, someone else claimed it when it seemed obvious that Trev wasn’t interested in it. Strangely enough, he didn’t care. He felt like he dragged through the day. Several times, he was yelled at by various of his fellow crew, and he knew he wasn’t putting his best effort into his work. But it seemed the best he could do. The teen knew he had been putting less and less effort into his work for the past week or so, but he could hardly help it. He felt as if he had no energy, and when he tried to sleep, it was difficult to get comfortable. Over the next couple of days, he continued to feel worse and worse, feeling pain all over. He began to feel a little feverish, but feared to say anything about not feeling well, because they would probably yell at him some more, or something like that. After the stunt he'd pulled with the tribe in Narth Cam, he expected no one would be interested in his troubles.

After several days of enduring this miserable state, Trev was trying to keep from swaying as he worked on trying to tie the end of a rope down where Samroth had said to tie it, but he found it difficult to focus. He must have tried a dozen times to tie the most basic knot, and it wasn’t working out right, and he couldn’t really understand it. And he was starting to feel like the water must have gotten rough, for he suddenly, he found himself sprawled on the deck, confused as he tried to sit up again. Had the ship tilted unexpectedly? A groan slipped out as he pushed himself slowly into a sitting position. No, the ship was still, the waters quiet. A dizzy spell, then?

Then he frowned in concern as he spotted a smear of blood on the deck. Blood?! He brought a hand to his face, wondering if he’d hit his nose or something, but then when he looked at his hand, he realized that it was the source of the blood. His eyes grew round with alarm as he saw his left hand. It was bleeding. But it wasn’t the blood that alarmed him so much as where it was bleeding. The blood came from his scar, long since healed. It was as if the scar had broken open, but Trev couldn’t make sense of why it would have done so. It frightened him, and he stared at it in horror.

“Get back up, you lazy rat! Them sail’s aren’t gonna tie themselves down!" Samroth’s angry tones broke through his dazed senses. "Get back to work!” He ordered, moments before the man grabbed Trev and yanked him up to his feet.

Trev swayed, struggling to remain upright, but cringed in pain. It seemed like his legs were growing more painful by the day, and that also worried him. But this new thing.. that seemed scariest of all. “I.. I can’t,” He mumbled, feeling too panicked by this recent development to be as intimidated by Samroth as he normally would be. He looked up with eyes wide with fright, holding his hand close to himself. “I think something’s wrong with me,” He admitted at last.

“I’ll make something wrong with you if you don’t do your work, now get back to it.” Samroth snapped, shoving him roughly toward where Trev was supposed to be tying some sails down.

He winced, staggering as he fell against the mast. He barely managed to keep his hand from getting hit, fearing it might make his injury worse. The boy crumbled to the deck soon after, groaning in pain as he hit the hard wood. This launched the boatswain into another tirade of yelling, but Trev hardly heard him. He was far more preoccupied with his pain and discomfort, and the fear of what was happening to his hand. He continued to hold it close to his chest, determined to protect it as well as he could.


“What’s going on?” Jay spoke up, approaching with a frown. The noise of Samroth’s yelling was hard to miss, and he frowned at the sight of the captain's kid curled up on the deck, clutching his hand close to him as if it was in great pain. “What’s wrong with him?” He looked at the boatswain, who scowled.

“Slacking off, the lazy slob.” He reported, clearly annoyed.

“What’d you do to his hand?” Jay wondered, motioning toward Trev.

“I didn’t touch his hand.”

“He don’t look so good.” Jay observed, tilting his head curiously. He paused, recalling that Dev had said something about needing the boy ‘alive and unscathed’ not that long ago, in a private conversation. He waved Samroth back. "I'll handle this." He decided, and crouched beside Trev. “Hey, kid. What’s wrong with your hand?”

Trev looked up, eyes wide with worry as he tentatively held out his trembling hand, revealing the bleeding palm. “I-I don’t know.” he admitted, not even trying to hide how frightened he was. “It’s..it’s never done this before. I don’t know what’s going on. What’s wrong with me?”

Jay looked at the hand with a frown, observing that the scar seemed to have cracked open. He frowned, having never seen anything of the sort before, either. “Uh. How do you feel?” He wondered, stalling from having to answer that question just yet.

Trev slowly tried to sit up, wincing. “I.. dunno.” He gave up as it seemed like too much effort. “I.. really don’t feel good.”

Jay considered this, and quite believed it, since he thought the boy didn’t look so good, either. As second in command, he made a decision, thinking about what Dev had told him in private. “Alright. You’d best get some rest, Trev. Come on.” He glanced at Samroth. “Get someone else for this task. The kid’s not fit for it.” Pulling Trev up, Jay pulled Trev's right arm around his shoulders, supporting him, as he headed to the cabin that would normally be designated as the infirmary, where he could rest. Unfortunately, the ship did not currently have a healer on board, so the ‘infirmary’ had no one to run it.

Trev groaned as he was helped into a bunk. “What’s wrong with me?” He asked faintly, pressing his right hand against the bleeding scar of his left, trying to hold the scar-skin down and keep pressure on it.

Jay hesitated, trying to think of a good response. “I.. can’t really give an answer to that, without knowing all your symptoms.” He pointed out. “Tell me what’s happening? And how long has it been going on?”

Trev shook his head slightly, trying to think. “I.. I dunno. A few weeks?” He really wasn’t sure exactly when this stuff started happening. “At first, I started feeling achy, uh.. a few weeks after we left Narth Cam, I guess. Now, I.. I just feel really..” he tried to think of how to explain. “like I have no energy.” He frowned. “I feel like I hurt everywhere. In my joints, bones, and muscles. Especially in my legs. I thought it was just from sleeping on the floor, but.. now…”

“When did you last eat?” Jay wondered, trying to think of what would explain the fatigue. He was aware that there were often times when Trev was denied meals as punishment. And Trev did get punished a lot... but Jay was pretty sure that he was done with any punishments, at the moment.

Trev hesitated. “I had.. a few bites this morning." He mumbled. "I.. I’ve tried to eat. I just haven’t felt much like eating for.. I don’t know. A while..”

Jay frowned at him.

“I’ve.. also.. felt a bit feverish the past few days.” Trev admitted quietly.

“Why didn’t you mention this to anyone?”

Trev sighed, closing his eyes as he rested his head back on the pillow. “Would anyone have even cared? Or believed me?” He muttered, frowning.

Jay shrugged, though Trev didn’t see it. The kid wasn't wrong, he mentally acknowledged. Most of the crew weren't very pleased with Trev, and he doubted very many would have cared that much. He sighed. “Well, it’s clear that there’s something wrong. Anything else? Besides the.. weird bleeding?” He asked, frowning.

Trev was quiet for a moment, thinking about everything he was feeling, even stuff he hadn't really given much thought until now. “My mouth hurts, and feels odd.” Trev mentioned quietly.

“Your mouth?”

Trev nodded slightly. “Feels sore, and.. I don’t know..”

“Right…” Jay frowned deeper and thought for a moment. “Alright. I’m going to go and tell the captain about this.” He decided at last, holding back a sigh. Trev did seem to have a knack for causing trouble, he thought with vague annoyance, but didn’t voice that thought. He started for the door.

“Can you ask him to come?” Trev asked quietly, looking hopefully at him.

Jay hesitated, pausing at the door. “I’ll..ask.” he promised, but didn’t make any promises about whether the captain would come. He knew, better than anyone, that Dev couldn't stand his own son. Why he wanted to keep him around was a mystery to Jay, but he knew Dev had something in mind for him. That seemed to him like the only reason Dev would even care that Trev wasn't well. With that thought in mind, he set off to find the boy's father.

After Jay had gone, Trev rested his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes and struggling not to let himself panic. This entire situation was scary. Possibly the scariest thing he’d ever encountered. It was a different sort of scary from most other things, because it was some sort of ailment or sickness of unknown origin, and he had no idea whether it was curable. He wished more than anything that he was home with his grandma. He thought of other times in the past when he had been sick, and she would take care of him. Suddenly, he wondered, what was that illness his grandpa had died from? Could this be the same thing?

Jay found Dev at the helm. “I thought you should know,” He said as he approached. “Trev’s come down with something, and I’ve got him resting in the infirmary. He looks…bad.” He frowned.

Dev looked up at him with a fairly expressionless face. “What’s he got?” The pirate wondered.

Jay shook his head. “I have no idea. This is.. like nothing I ever seen before.”

Dev let out a sigh and turned his full attention to his first mate. “Alright. Tell me. What’s going on with him?”

Jay repeated the symptoms that Trev had spoken of, and ended by asking with a frown, “Have you ever heard of anything to cause that stuff?”

Dev’s gaze grew more thoughtful as he listened. A small frown even came to his face. He gave a small nod. “I.. may know what it is,” He answered slowly, hesitant. “Never had to deal with it before, though." He frowned. "I think it’d be best if we keep this quiet. It’s not contagious, but,” he shrugged. “We don’t want a panic on our hands, you know?” He let out a sigh.

“Alright,” Jay’s frown deepened. “So, what do we do? is it..?”

“I’m not a healer.” Dev replied abruptly, cutting him off. He paused though, and added, “I’ve heard it can be cured, but.. I have no idea how.” He folded his arms, looking out at the horizon as he thought about this. “What about the others?” He asked, looking at Jay. “Anyone else showing any of these symptoms?”

Jay tilted his head curiously. “Not that I’ve noticed. But, you said it wasn’t contagious…”

“No, but,” he sighed. “I just wanted to be sure.” Dev explained, without properly explaining at all.

“Right.. So, what do we do? You said you wanted Trev 'unscathed', right? I suspect this.. might be a problem?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I'm sure it is, indeed.” Dev frowned. “I don’t know how to cure him. We need a healer,” he sighed.

“Where’re we going to get one?” Jay wondered.

“Where else?” Dev smiled. “We’ll find one somewhere, if we have to raid every ship we find, and every village along the coast.”

Jay nodded. “Alright. So, what should I tell the kid in the meanwhile?”

Dev sighed, and shrugged. “I don’t know. Tell him he’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” Jay answered slowly. "Will he, though?" he wondered.

Dev glanced at him and didn't answer right away. "We'll get a healer." He repeated at last.

Jay nodded, drawing his own conclusions from that, then recalled, “Oh yeah, he asked for you to come see him.”

Dev barely refrained from rolling his eyes, but he did frown. “What for? What good can I do for him? I'm not a healer. He’s not a baby. I have more important things to do.. like finding a healer for him. Just see if you can get him to drink something, I guess. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

---

Trev tried to sleep, but found that he was aching too much, and too frightened wondering what was happening to him. After what seemed like a long time, Jay came back in.

“Here, drink this.” He handed a glass to Trev. “I guess your hand oughta be bandaged, too,” he added, noticing the smear of blood on Trev’s shirt, and remembering about his hand.

With great effort, Trev managed to sit up, groaning as he did. He took the glass and took a small sip. It made his mouth burn horribly. With a weak cry, he put the glass down and brought his hand to cup around his mouth, eyes widening. “What.. is that?” He asked, with a pained look on his face.

“Rum,” Jay answered with a puzzled frown. “I thought it might give you a little sustenance.”

“It burns,” Trev mumbled around his hand. He didn’t even bother mentioning that Jay knew he didn’t like that sort of stuff, although he'd never told the guy his reasons for it.

Jay paused, considering this with a little puzzlement, and then moved Trev’s hand down. “Let me see.”

Trev reluctantly opened his mouth to let the man have a look at him.

Slightly startled by what he saw, Jay stepped back with a deeper frown. “No wonder it burned. Your mouth’s.. bleeding.” He explained, before thinking better of telling him this. “Uh, it’s not bad, just.. yeah.” He cleared his throat. “It’s probably best if you don’t try to drink that, then.” He said a little awkwardly.

“Don’t like that stuff anyway,” Trev grumbled, laying back again. “Shoulda told me what it was.” He frowned. Jay knew that Trev didn’t care for alcoholic stuff, and he thought it was kind of rude of him to try and push that stuff on him without warning.

Jay sighed and grabbed a roll of bandages from a cabinet. “Let’s bandage that hand then.” He motioned for Trev to hold out his hand.

The bandage wasn’t the greatest, but it served its purpose well enough. Trev lay back while Jay wrapped it, feeling too weary and weak to remain sitting up. “What’s wrong with me?” He asked, unable to help feeling like a frightened child. He suspected he sounded a bit like it, too.

Jay glanced at him and shook his head. “I couldn’t say,” He answered, quite truthfully. “But Dev says you’re going to be fine. Just get some rest, and try not to get too stressed about it.”

“Is he going to come?” Trev asked, hopeful.

Jay hesitated. “He..might, later. He’s at the helm right now, you know. It’ll be a few hours 'til he can leave. Just get some rest and try not to worry.”

Trev nodded, wondering how much of what the man said was even true. He sighed and turned his head away as Jay left the room quietly, leaving Trev by himself. The pillow felt soft against his cheek. He didn't have a pillow down below in his usual sleeping spot. He pulled out his flute quietly and held it close to his chest, fighting tears as he thought about his loved ones back home. Wishing he was there, with them.

Trev kept his flute in his hand while he lay there, waiting, listening. Feeling helpless and frightened. It was difficult to tell how much time passed, and eventually he managed to doze off after a long while, but he awakened again sometime later, and tried to get into a more comfortable position, but that seemed like an impossible task with how much everything ached. Giving up on that, he lay still and thought about his friends. Nal, especially. He thought about that terrible ordeal his friend had gone through. Trev had heard all the gruesome details about that horrifying experience, and now he wondered how his friend had gotten through it all. What had kept his ever-optimistic friend going even in those darkest moments when all hope seemed gone? He closed his eyes, trying his best to draw some sort of strength from that. Some sort of.. something to help him believe he would survive this.

It felt like a very long time passed... far more than just a few hours. Sometime later, Jay returned with a bowl of mush, and told Trev to eat as much as he could.

“How long’s it been?” Trev wondered, his voice feeling a little faint. He felt weary and bored, and longed for some sort of news.

“A while now,” Jay answered. “You slept off and on through the night and most of the day. It’s good for you,” he guessed so, anyway. “Anyway, eat that, and get some more sleep.”

“Where’s my dad?” Trev asked quietly.

Jay paused, holding back a sigh. “Busy.”

“He doesn’t care, does he?” Trev mumbled, his heart sinking.

Jay looked at him with a brief hesitation. “Yeah, course he does.” He shrugged. “He’s trying to get you to a healer.”

“I doubt it.” Trev mumbled.

“He is, really.” Jay insisted, though he didn't speak of Dev's reasons. “And, he was here, watching over you for a while. You were asleep though.” He made that part up, just to make Dev look a bit better in his son’s eyes.

“Really?” Trev wanted to believe it, but felt a little skeptical.

“Really. He didn’t sleep a bit, worrying about you. Anyway, I gotta go now,” Jay hurried out before Trev could ask him more about that.

Trev watched him go, thinking about that. A part of him really, really wanted to believe it. Another part felt sure that Jay was lying, just so Trev wouldn’t keep asking about Dev. He lay for a long time thinking about both sides of it, and eventually decided to accept the probable lie, if only just to believe something good of his father. He did his best to eat the porridge, but it wasn't very appealing, and it was difficult to summon up the energy to actually accomplish such a simple task as eating.

---

Sometime later, Trev awakened from a fitful doze, hearing sounds like a battle was going on in the distance. He frowned, but didn’t even try to move, as it felt too painful. He wondered who they were fighting. Probably some innocent merchant ship, he figured, based on the fact it sounded like the crew had boarded another ship and were trying to subdue them. He frowned at the thought of it. He couldn’t do anything to try and help whoever it was, and he felt frustrated at that. Dev would probably have a whole load of captives to sell now, and Trev felt more helpless than ever.

---

The sounds of battle had died down after a little while. A little time passed, and then the door opened again. Trev expected Jay to enter again. In fact, it was Jay, but there was another guy with him. Trev had never seen him before, and felt puzzled as well as curious. He looked from the stranger to Jay, but didn’t feel energetic enough to ask anything.

“Alright. What’s wrong with him?” Jay asked, leaning against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest.

The stranger glanced at Jay with a frown. “I’ll need a moment to inspect the patient before I can give a diagnosis,” He retorted, clearly annoyed. He came over to Trev and took a long look at him, then pulled up a chair to sit beside the patient’s bunk. “Alright, what seems to be the trouble, young man?”

Trev looked past him at Jay, and then at the stranger. He realized that this man must be a healer. And that he also must be a captive. He felt his heart sink at this revelation. “I’m sorry,” He muttered. “You shouldn’t have to be here.”

“Just tell the man your pains, Trev.” Jay said impatiently, rolling his eyes.

Trev felt as if his voice was faint as he explained his symptoms to the man, and showed him his mouth.

The healer unwrapped the bandage (which had not been changed since Jay put it on) and frowned at the wound. “I see.” He nodded as he listened, and sat back with a sigh. He went silent for a moment, thinking. “I suppose you pirates have claimed all of the goods we were carrying on our ship?” He asked with a displeased glance at Jay.

“Of course.”

The healer stood and went over to speak with the first mate a bit more quietly. “If you don’t want this boy to die, I’ll need some of those supplies.”

Jay tilted his head. “It’s that serious?”

“Indeed it is,” The healer frowned, glanced back at Trev who was listening the best he could, looking anxious. He lowered his voice as he spoke with Jay, their brief conversation kept to hushed tones.

Still, Trev heard something about scurvy, and he remembered hearing vague mention of it before, though he couldn't quite recall when or where. He knew little about it, only that it was not good.

They both left him for a while. Trev was fighting panic, trying to think about all that he could remember ever hearing about scurvy, but there were very few details that he’d heard. He just remembered it was apparently common with sailors who were at sea for long periods at a time. And they had been away from home for a long while, he recalled with concern.

A short time passed before the healer returned, this time without Jay. He had a mug in his hand, and returned to sitting beside the patient. “You’ll want to sip this carefully. It may be a bit uncomfortable to your mouth, but it will help, I promise.” He assured Trev as he helped him sit up, propping a couple of pillows behind his back.

“What is it?” Trev asked faintly, having learned after what Jay had him drink.

“Lemonade,” The man answered. “Or, well… the best I can do with what I've got." He grumbled. "It's lemons, mixed with water and sugar, though it might be a bit more bitter than you’d like, for I ground up the entire fruit, peel and all.” He warned. “More nutrients, that way. The acidity may bother your teeth and gums, but I promise this will help you feel better.”

Trev nodded, though slightly surprised, and braced himself for the burning sensation before taking a small sip. It was quite bitter, and he choked a little at first. It didn’t feel great to his mouth, either, but he tried to keep the liquid from touching his gums. “How’s this gonna help?” He wondered after he'd swallowed, wincing slightly.

“Mm, well, citrus is known to cure cases of scurvy, and prevent it from happening in the future.” The healer answered.

Trev considered that thoughtfully, making a mental note of this information. He took another sip, grimacing at the bitterness, and wondered how long it would take before he felt better. He managed a couple more sips while the healer waited patiently, ready to help him if he needed it.

“Who are you?” Trev ventured to ask after a little while.

The healer paused and let out a little sigh. “My name is Nóruiven.” He answered. “I was the ship’s healer, under captain Haustion, on the Gaeralagos.” He didn’t offer any further explanation, but he didn’t need to. Trev knew what had happened.

“I’m sorry.” Trev said softly.

Nóruiven didn’t answer, and quietly helped him take another sip. “How is it that you’ve ended up with such a bad case of scurvy, and yet none of the others seem to be afflicted with it?” He wondered.

“I dunno,” Trev made a face at the overly strong, bitter flavor of the stuff. “Does it have to have the peeling in it?”

Nóruiven chuckled lightly. “I know it doesn't taste too good, but it will give you a good boost of nutrients. Most of those are in the peeling, you know." He mentioned.

"I didn't know," Trev answered, wondering how anyone would know that.

"Well, once you’re a little better, we can make the lemonade like normal.” The man assured him, then paused. “What may I call you?”

“I’m Trev.” He answered. “Am I.. going to die?” He asked tentatively.

“Not likely, so long as you follow my instructions. Now drink all of that.”

While Trev was trying to finish off the glass of extremely pulp-y lemonade, the healer took some time to clean the wound on his hand, and bandaged it carefully. “How long have you had this wound?”

“Years.” Trev answered quietly, glancing at it. “It’s never done that before,” He added, frowning worriedly. “Is.. is it going to heal?”

“I believe that it should,” Nóruiven answered carefully.

"It isn't going to be.. um.. altered, is it?" Trev asked anxiously.

Nóruiven gave him a slightly puzzled glance. "Altered? What do you mean?"

"Well," Trev glanced at his hand, slightly awkward. "I just.. I'd kinda hate if it healed back to look different than before." He tried to explain. "I was hoping it'd look just like it was before..."

"I see..." The man answered slowly. "What's so significant about this scar? What caused it?"

Trev smiled a little sheepishly. “Um.. well, I did.” He admitted a little sheepishly. “My friends and I, anyway. We.. um.. we all did, years ago, when we decided to become blood brothers. And sisters.” He explained. "So, we've all got a scar like that, and.. so..."

Nóruiven scoffed. “That was a foolish thing to do. I'll bet it was deep, by the looks of it. You might have severed a tendon.”

Trev shrugged. “Well, we didn’t.” He answered. No sense dwelling on might haves, right? He held his hand still until the healer had finished wrapping it. Then he drained the last of his glass, made a face, and held the mug out to him. “How soon will I get better?” He wondered a little hoarsely, his throat protesting the bitter drink. He couldn’t help hoping for a quick recovery, because this was absolutely miserable.

“It’s hard to say.” Nóruiven answered, standing up as he took the mug. “You’ve clearly neglected to maintain a proper diet for months, or you would not have gotten this bad. It will take more than a few days to recover your health. Weeks, at the least.”

Trev thought about that with a small frown, and nodded slightly to show he understood. “Well..it wasn't exactly my fault,” he muttered.

“Oh? And how long has it been since you had any vegetables? Or fruit?” Nóruiven inquired, folding his arms.

Trev stared up at him for a moment, trying to think. “I.. don’t remember.” He answered, a little puzzled. Now the man was sounding a bit like his grandma. “Months…?” He could only definitely remember having stuff like that to eat back before he left home.. Grandma always insisted on that. But if he’d had any in the time he’d been with Dev, he didn’t remember it. Definitely, before they set off northward and got stuck in the ice. There had been food in Narth Cam, but it was mostly meat and fish, from hunting. A few other provisions, but there had been no vegetables or the like.

“Hmm. As I expected." He nodded. "And how are your teeth?”

The question was unexpected. Trev blinked, and considered for a moment. “I.. well, they hurt, or, my gums do.” he answered in confusion. “I thought a couple of teeth seemed… almost loose, and it scared me, but..” He hesitated. “I was hoping I was imagining it.”

“I doubt that you were imagining it,” Nóruiven frowned. “You’re very lucky you've not had any fall out, so far. Let’s hope that they strengthen again as you recover your health.”

Trev’s eyes widened, alarmed by the thought of teeth falling out, and nodded slowly. He gently ran his tongue over his teeth to check that they were all there.

“You’ll need to eat, too. I’ll have your cook prepare something soft and manageable for you. Cooked carrots, things like that. And you’re going to eat it, whether you feel like it or not, is that understood?”

Trev was mildly surprised by the healer’s forceful tone, but nodded with a faint smile. “Yeah. I’ll do my best.” he promised quietly.

"Good. You do that, and before long you'll be out of bed and getting healthy again. It'll take weeks, or even months before you're fully recovered, so don't go slacking off on your diet just because you feel a bit better."

Trev smiled and nodded again. After a moment, while the healer packed up his things, Trev asked, a little tentatively, "Why are you helping me get better?"

Nóruiven paused and glanced at him. "I'm a healer, young man. That's what I do." He paused and sighed. "Your captain also left me very little choice about working for him or not." He admitted, shaking his head. "I don't like being bullied into anything."

"The captain?" Trev was mildly surprised to hear this. "Captain Dev.. is making you help me?"

"No one is making me do anything," Nóruiven grumbled. "I was given a choice between being sold to someone in Umbar, or staying on as your ship's healer. Since someone needed healing, and I don't fancy the thought of being sold.." He huffed. "Well. As I said, I'm a healer..."

"My grandfather was a healer." Trev mentioned softly. "I never got to meet him. He died before I was born, but I've always felt like.." He smiled slightly. "like, I would have got along really well with him. My mom used to tell me about him, before she died too. I wish I could have known him."

Nóruiven smiled softly, hearing this. "I'm sure you would have gotten along very well." He agreed. "Now, you get some rest. I'm going to make up some more lemonade."

"Pulp-ade," Trev corrected, making a face. "Lemonade is actually good."

With a smile, Nóruiven nodded, accepting the correction. "Pulp-ade, then. You can have lemonade in about a week.. and it'll taste better, I promise." He smiled and exited the room.

Trev smiled slightly and watched him go, then rested his head back on the pillow, thinking. Dev really had gotten a healer for him. Although he went about it in a terrible manner, Trev was pleasantly surprised to hear this. Did that mean his dad really did care about him? He wasn't sure, but he really would like to believe that was the reason. Maybe, after Trev was well enough to get out of bed, he might try to patch things up with his dad. Maybe they could even get back to their attempt at deep-sea fishing from months ago...

(Private - solo flashback)

They’d had a delightful day today. The beach had been warm and bright, and the waves cool and refreshing. They had built a huge sandcastle for the boy's toy knight to defend against imaginary invaders. Little Blaise had wanted to bring it home, but Mae Wen explained that they could not really transport it back home to show his mother, father, and sisters, because it would crumble, and then the enemies would get in. In an effort to keep him from being too downcast, she had suggested that they might collect a lot of pretty shells to bring home to his mother and sisters, instead.

The shells they had gathered were contained within a box in the wagon. She glanced back with a little smile and saw that the small boy was fast asleep, curled up in blankets. Evening was drawing in, by now, and behind them, the sun was beginning its descent into the sea. The boy'd had a tiring day, but he had enjoyed it tremendously. It was too bad that the rest of the family couldn’t have come to the beach with them, but there had been some important business to attend to. Not only were there some urgent matters to take care of, in regard to the apple orchards, but there was also a prospective suitor for Alyssa coming to dinner, for the purpose of meet her, and the family meeting him, so they could discuss the possibility of a betrothal. Fortunately for the toddler, his presence had not really been necessary for this, and in fact, Amelina had expressed concern that he might bother their guests with his multitudes of childish questions and mischievous, rambunctious ways. So, Mae Wen had taken him to the beach to keep the small child from being underfoot. She would have taken his other sister along, too, for she was even more mischievous than the toddler, but she had been nowhere to be found. The family’s eldest son had already left home, and the thought of the next-oldest getting married and leaving home as well.. it saddened her a little. She seemed too young to be thinking of a betrothal, in Mae Wen's opinion, and she couldn’t help her thoughts drifting back to many years ago, to her own sixteenth year…



"Do not worry," Mae Wen smiled as she leaned a little closer. "My grandfather is one of the best Kalrondākō in all of On. He will come for me, and free all of us, when he finds us." She said with confidence. She was glad that she understood enough of the common tongue to be able to communicate with her fellow prisoners, though she had an accent from her own land. The captives were from a wide range of nativities, and some did not understand each other.

Amelina smiled wryly. "I don't know what that means, but my fiancé will be searching for me, too." She said softly. "He's a ranger of Ithilien..." She glanced around. "but, he's going to be vastly outnumbered."

"My grandfather will find a way." Mae Wen declared softly, quite sure of that. He was a great warrior, despite his age.

Amelina smiled. "So will Hal. But first, he has to find us. I don't know how long it will take for word to reach him that I've been captured."

"I think it must be taking Grandfather a very long time to find me." Mae Wen admitted sadly, feeling rather disappointed to acknowledge it. "It has been months since they captured me. His eyes are not as good as they once were, and he does not know much about following prints."

"Well, Hal shouldn't have much trouble with that," Amelina answered softly. "He's good at tracking, and I've been leaving him clues when I can." She glanced slightly toward the men riding nearby. "Mae Wen," She turned back to the other girl. "How is it that you can speak the common tongue, when you say your home is very, very far from here?"

Mae Wen smiled. "Grandfather taught me, because he said we should know how to speak with our distant allies, in case we ever met any of them." She explained. "He heard tales once of a man from far away in the West, who ventured into the East to fight the Shadow. He aided our people, but that was many years ago."

"Well, I'm glad you learned it," Amelina smiled faintly. "it's comforting to speak with someone who can understand me." She paused. “We’ll get through this, Mae Wen.” She assured her. “We just have to be strong. They’ll find us.. we’ll be saved eventually. We ought to.. do something, in the meanwhile.” The redhead frowned softly. “But what? What would Hal do?” She murmured thoughtfully.

“We will have to escape.” Mae Wen whispered. “Together. All of us.” She looked around at all of their fellow-captives, then back to the red-haired young woman.

Amelina hesitated, seeming to consider that possibility. “Do you.. think we can?”

Mae Wen considered their options. It was clear that they were both expecting to be rescued. But what would they do in the meanwhile? They had to survive, somehow, until their rescuers found them. And their captors were very cruel, heartless men. Mae Wen did not know their plans for their captives yet, but she knew they would not be nice plans. They did not bring all of these women from their homelands to the desert simply to invite them to tea. She tried to think of what her grandfather might say, and the thought made her smile wanly. “Grandfather says.. ‘Pearls don’t just lie on the seashore. You must dive to get one.’.” She answered softly. “We cannot keep waiting to be rescued. We must ‘dive’.. and rescue ourselves. What if Grandfather cannot find us.. what if your Hal cannot, for some reason? It has been months since I was taken from my home, and I have been thinking about how I might be able to escape. But I haven’t been able to do anything, by myself. Perhaps.. with you and those others to help...” She trailed off, feeling hopeful about the possibility for the first time in months.

Amelina nodded slowly. “Yes, I agree.” She answered softly. “Do you have a plan?”



Lightly flicking the reins to keep the horse going, Mae Wen smiled softly as she thought about how strange it was that, even though their planned escape hadn’t worked, she remembered that day with fondness, for it had been the start of a new, and better, chapter of her life. She had gained a friend that day. More than a friend; a sister. Little did she know, however, that today was the end of that chapter.

As she brought the wagon up a hill in the path, Mae Wen was alarmed to see smoke drifting up into the sky, from seemingly multiple sources. She frowned, stopping the small cart abruptly. Why was there smoke ahead? That was.. a lot of smoke, too. As if a forest fire had swept through the woods ahead. Her thoughts immediately went to the orchards, fearing the worst. What could have happened? She hesitated, glancing into the back of the cart, where little Blaise slept peacefully, worn out from his day on the beach. She looked ahead again, feeling a sense of dread. She had to investigate, but she didn't know if it was safe for the child.

She remembered Halberion once mentioning that their estate had once been situated across the Anduin, at the tail end of South Ithilien. But it had been destroyed by orcs, many years ago, back when his great grandfather was Lord. The family had fled across the river when Hal's grandfather, Himelion, was only a baby. They had built a new home, and new orchards, during Himelion's childhood, and Hal grown up hearing tales about the land they used to inhabit, dreaming of one day taking it back.

She frowned as she thought about the orc attacks she had heard so much about, which had left his former home in ruins. Could that be what had happened now? She looked around, unsure what to do. She stayed put for a few minutes, thinking about what to do. Her thoughts roamed back to that terrible year as a captive of the Sagath warriors. Halberion had come after them with the intention of rescueing Amelina, but he had also come for Mae Wen, in place of her grandfather. He had told her about his friendship with her grandfather, and how he had vowed to the man, as he died, that he would find and rescue Mae Wen as well. That he would give her a home and be family to her. He had never even met Mae Wen at that time, and he had kept his vow all these years. She owed much to him. Both Hal and Amelina had welcomed her in as a part of their family, and considered her as a sister, despite her being from another land and looking drastically different from the Gondorian family. They had been kinder to her than was necessary, and she was more grateful than she could ever express to them, for how they had treated her. She loved them all dearly. She knew what she must do, now.

Urging the horse onward, she continued onward more slowly, cautiously. The nearer she got, the more she began to be sure that there was great destruction here. A terrible fire appeared to have swept through the orchards that once grew along each side of the road through here. The fire had calmed by now, and only smoke and ashes, and the charred remains of orchards seemed to remain, but it had clearly been devastating while it lasted. Mae Wen felt her heart sinking further and further the more she saw. All of the apple trees were destroyed. This was going to be devastating for the family.

Finally, daring not to drive the cart any further, Mae Wen stopped the cart and carefully climbed into the back. She picked up the sleeping child, then looked around for a moment, seeking somewhere to hide him. Spotting a little hollow under a rock overhang, which she had thought was nearby, Mae Wen climbed down from the wagon and gently put him into the hollow so that he would be hidden. After checking that he would be relatively safe, she pulled a dark blanket over him, then stepped back. In this dim light, which was rapidly growing darker, he was as good as invisible so long as he didn't wake up and climb out of his hiding place to look for her. Hoping he would stay asleep, Mae Wen hesitated, then got back on the cart before quietly urging the horse further down the road. Stopping again several yards from the place she had left Blase, she set the brake, then grabbed her sword from under the seat, and set off to investigate with more stealth. Her hope was that, should anyone come upon the cart while she was gone, they would not find the child as well.

She had no idea what could have caused this horrible tragedy, nor whether the family was alright. She hoped they were. Hal was certainly a great fighter, but he could have been outnumbered. Moira was also very good at it, but she was only a little girl. Had she even been home? She wondered about that.

Mae Wen looked around warily as she approached the house. Had orcs done this? She was not the most skilled in tracking, but Mae Wen had learned a bit from her ‘adopted brother’ over the years that she had been with the family. He had once been a ranger, and she had picked up a bit, at least. She had helped him to continue training with the ways of Magtāl-Leñ, and he had taught her some of his ranger skills in return. It was too dark to find any tracks, but as she neared where the house had once stood, Mae Wen stopped and stared in dismay.

The house was utterly destroyed. All that remained was a charred shell. The stones that had made up the walls still stood, scorched and crumbling. Her dark eyes scanned the scene as well as she could in the fading light. Nothing appeared to be alive, and her heart clenched. The scorched stone walls bore marks as if they had been purposely attacked, knocked down as if the enemy had wanted to make sure it was ruined beyond repair. She saw many ugly marks of a sword slashed across anything that such a mark could show up on. Tree stumps, the wood from the stables that once stood there, the charred bodies of some animals that had been trapped in the barn. One of the woman's hands drifted upward to press against her mouth as she blinked away tears. This.. this looked like the work of orcs.

What if they were still there? The thought occurred to her in a panic, and she hastily glanced around, but all seemed quiet. After she had assured herself that there were no orcs lingering around, Mae Wen drew in a shaky breath, then reluctantly stepped toward the house to inspect the ruins. The roof beams had caved in, making it difficult for her to learn very much. The upper floors had collapsed onto the lower, and she struggled just to get inside the building. There was too much structural damage for her to try and get much further, and the upstairs no longer existed. Tears began to stream down her face as she searched for any sort of indication that her family may have survived. But, all hope began to leave her when she came across the charred remains of a man’s body, half-buried beneath the debris from the upper level that had collapsed. What she could see of him appeared to have been slashed and disfigured, just as orcs were known to do. Partially collapsing against a sooty beam, Mae Wen let out a sob. "No.. my brother, no.." She covered her face with one hand, struggling to compose herself. What about the others?

Further search was difficult, but eventually, she found evidence of three female bodies, trapped in the debris. The bodies had been slashed and hewn before being burned; that much she could tell. Therefore, she couldn't be absolutely certain whether these were the remains of Amelina, Alyssa, or Moira, but logic told her that it must be them. She wept at this discovery, and wished she could somehow learn more about how this terrible thing had come to happen.

After Mae Wen had managed to stem her flow of tears, she fought her way back out of the crumbling house, wiping her eyes, which only smeared soot all over her face, and around her eyes. The moon had taken the place of the sun, by now, and a breeze had cleared most of the smoke away, making it easier to see around her, now. She stood for a long moment, taking slow, shuddering breaths as she struggled to control the want to sob. And then.. as she stood in what had once been the front porch, she noticed something even more shocking. Carriage wheels. Horse prints. As well as boot prints, clear in the ashes. And something else, right by her feet.

She frowned, crouching to pick up some charred pieces of pottery, and sniffed. Oil? Lamp oil.. she turned and looked at the house, pondering the meaning of this. Then she turned back to stare at the footprints, feeling a chill down her back. She followed the footprints until she was sure of where they were heading. All along the path as she walked cautiously beside the prints, she observed deep scars slashed into tree trunks that once lined the driveway. As if the person to whom the prints belonged had been using some blade to leave the prints. This continued all the way up until the footprints met up with the side of the carriage, and then the wheel tracks set off along the road, heading toward the river. She felt a chill run through her as she came to a realization. This was not the work of orcs, after all. Those carriage tracks had come after the burning. This had been done by a man. A man with a carriage. Someone rich, perhaps?

If she had been on her own, Mae Wen would have followed the tracks all the way to wherever they went, as far as she could follow them. She wanted to do it, hoping to find out who had done this terrible thing, and why. The breeze was picking up, and already beginning to stir the ashes covering the ground. She had a feeling that by morning, the tracks would be gone entirely. But right now, she realized that it was more important that she get the child somewhere safer. His older brother had gone missing several months ago, and even Hal had failed to find any trace of him. Which meant that the small child was the last surviving member of the Veranis bloodline, and therefore, Blaise was now the new Lord Veranis. And if someone had come here with the intention of wiping out the entire family.. for whatever reason.. then they might be searching for Blaise. He would need to be kept hidden.

Wiping at the last of her tears, the young woman from distant lands ran back to where she had left the cart and horse as fast as she could. She turned it around, returning with all speed back to where she had left Blaise. To her relief, he was still where she had left him, still sound asleep. She was very gentle as she lifted him and placed the small boy back into the cart. She softly brushed an unruly lock of red hair from his face as she settled him back among the blankets, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

The poor child had just become an orphan, as far as she knew. And she had no idea where to take him that would be safe. To Macardil Himhathol? That was the proper thing to do, of course, since Hal had appointed his closest friend as his choice for who he wanted to take care of his children if anything should ever happen to him or Amelina. The Himhathol estate was not terribly far from here, and she knew the way. But no.. if this unknown enemy was seeking to destroy the entire family, that would likely be the first place they would look for him. They would expect to find him in the care of his Valar-father, right? Which meant she couldn't take him there.

Instead, she decided to go to in the other direction, although she didn't yet know where she would go. As she drove through the night, Mae Wen thought long and hard about it. Ultimately, she decided that it would be best to take Blaise far away from here, where no one would know who he was, nor who Mae Wen was. Where neither of them would not be associated with Lord Veranis or his family. Where, hopefully, no one would think to seek for a Gondorian child who may be have survived this tragedy. She didn't know yet what she would do, nor how she would care for the boy in a foreign land, but she had moved to a foreign land before and had adapted well enough. She could do it again.

With her decision made, Mae Wen set her course toward a mountain passage which would take her into the nearest country of Gondor’s allies; Rohan.


(Excerpt taken from this story
Continued here)