Ered Nimrais - The White Mountains (Free RP)

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

Had he known who he was speaking to, or at least that she was some sort of nobility, Trastion would definitely have been far more careful of how he answered her. But he had no idea, and he was trying to pretend that he was what Torthon, and other members of his family, would call a commoner. It gave him a sense of freedom, in a way, to be able to say what he liked without having to worry about what other people might think about it, or wondering if he'd said the proper thing or not. Just being himself. Except, he was not being his true self, but that was beside the point.

He was glad, however, to see a smile appear on her face after his slight sarcasm. Still, he was also a bit disappointed to hear that he'd gone past his intended destination. That meant he'd traveled much further than he intended to, and that also meant that it would take extra time to backtrack. And he was already out of food...

But there was no reason to bring up all of his troubles to her. Upon hearing the name that she gave, he had to think swiftly to decide whether a person of his assumed status would know of the tale, or not. It seemed a common enough story, so he allowed his smile to widen a little. "Aha, then the mystery is solved at last." He declared. "It has been much debated and wondered at, what ever became of Nimrodel after the passing of her beloved. Although, I have to say, I expected pointy-er ears, for an elf maiden." He couldn't resist a bit of teasing, but smiled after. "Pardon my joking. It is a nice name, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Nimrodel."

He was wondering what she meant about that the danger was not on the roads, but before he could ask, she'd asked him something that made him pause and glance at the bow in his hand. He had been thinking of hunting, but now he questioned whether he should admit to that, having just learned he was not where he thought he was. Could he be on private land? Leave it to him to find trouble wherever he went, he thought with vague amusement. "Who said I was hunting anything?" He asked, swiftly trying to come up with something that didn't make him sound bad.

Before he could think of anything better to say, a distressed sound somewhere in the distance caught his attention. He looked off to his left and frowned, his stance altering from relaxed to attentive. "Do you hear that?" He asked, keeping his gaze toward the direction the sound had come from. It sounded like an animal in pain or something, and by the sound of it, he'd guess a fox. "That doesn't sound good," He glanced briefly at Nimrodel, concerned by what he was hearing. "I'm going to check that out." Briefly forgetting he was not within the bounds of his family's land, which he had only recently left, Trastion took off without another word to find the source of the animal's cries.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

While Gaerlothriel tried to keep a straight face towards the stranger, she couldn’t help the flush of colour come up her neck and into her cheeks when Trastion began to joke about solving the ancient riddle of what happened to the old elf-maid. Really? Her? Was he relating Gaerlothriel to the majesty and grace of one of the Eldar? Well, she didn’t exactly have the pointy-ears that elves were known for and she looked down in a rush of shyness, at the same time lifting a hand to brush some hair that fell in front of her face at the same time, tucking it behind an ear. The young man was certainly charming.

She did look back up when he expressed it was nice to meet her. A pleasure, even. She inclined her head, something that high born ladies were known to do. Having a Sindarin name could also be proof of that. But the smile was soon gone and her brow furrowed in focus when Trastion asked why did he have to be hunting anything with his bow? That wasn’t fair. He wasn’t allowed to be vague and mysterious when she was trying to be. And only to protect herself! What did he have to hide from? He even had a bow. All she had was a big stick. And probably not even the strength to swing it properly.

She opened her mouth, ready with a flurry of further interrogative queries on why he was here. After all, she could drop who her brother-in-law was and have his people do a real investigation. Then any chance of being mysterious would be striped away from the young man. But the way his expression suddenly changed, alert and aware, caused the sound to die in Gaerlothriel’s throat before she had a chance to say anything. Did she hear that? Straining her ears, looking left and right, she…did hear something! Like little cries, of agony and anguish. From something small. An animal was in danger.

”Poachers.” Gaerlothriel guessed, knowing she had seen traps and other signs of their activity in the previous weeks. ”They’re everywhere in these woods. And they don’t care what they snag or hurt. Where are you going-” She started to ask, but Trastion was already moving off with a purpose. To do what, though? Rescue it? He didn’t seem like he fancied the idea of entrapping animals. Or liking the sound of them suffering. Many didn’t seem to care. It was the way of life, wasn’t it? The big consumed the lesser. And humans were above many animals. They needed to eat. But did they need to slaughter animals for senseless things like furs and trophies?

She found herself following after Trastion, several paces behind. What was he going to do? She was curious. All she knew was that she wanted to stop the suffering. ”It sounds like…a fox. A little one. A baby one.” Gaerlothriel guessed, as they drew nearer to the source of the cries. And soon enough they would see it.

A mother fox, caught dead in a trap. And three little ones, confused and discomforted, about her corpse. Gaerlothriel gasped and dropped her stick, covering her mouth for a moment. How sad! Poachers must have done this. They would take the mother fox and skin it for it’s furs and then sell it to some greedy merchant or rich wife. They might even take the cubs and do the same if they were still around. And judging by their confusion…they would be staying here.

They would barely be there for a heartbeat or two before a horn sounded off in the distance, followed by a second in a different direction. The poachers were coming, signalling each other from afar. Gaerlothriel suddenly grabbed at the young man’s arm, with a strength that even surprised her. ”We have to do something! Get them away from here, or something.” She pleaded, not even waiting around as she moved in on the ensnared corpse and the three little ones about. They looked up at her, all trustingly, and no doubt they would do the same to the poachers who would certainly violate that innocent trust of the cubs for their own gain.

Another horn blast sang through the air, much, much closer…they would not like someone stealing their kills. That was a lot of money here for them.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

Having very little idea what sort of things girls do, noble-born or otherwise, it never once occurred to Trastion that she was charmed by what he really meant as a slightly teasing joke. He had even less indication to think that she might be any sort of noble-lady, by the way she reacted with a small nod she gave. He was only just beginning to learn the way different people behaved, in various social classes, after all. There was little time to consider much about any of that, anyway.

His self-appointed mission now, was to investigate the cries ringing through the forest. It troubled him to hear some animal crying in what might be pain or terror, or both. Poachers, Nimrodel suggested. That was a possibility in Trastion's mind as well, and he couldn't help remembering a few occasions when he and Aearonor used to encounter men like that. It irritated him tremendously to think of this going on, even though he had to remind himself this wasn't Taurhebor land. Still, he wasn't going to stand by and do nothing about this. He idly wondered whose land this was, but couldn't quite picture the geography in his mind at the moment, and so disregarded that concern. Whichever nobleman was in charge of this particular region, they probably would not like to have poaching going on.

"You should stay back," He suggested in a whisper, glancing over his shoulder at the girl when she started to follow. But, seeing she wasn't likely to listen to that, he added, "At least.. try not to make any noise, alright?" He wasn't sure what they might find when they reached the source of the cries. It could be poachers, or it could be some animal being threatened by another animal. It was hard to tell, but he certainly didn't want the girl being endangered by rushing into a situation without knowing what that situation might be.

As they traveled through the forest, he heard her mention it sounded like a fox. A small one. He nodded, gravely. "Sounds like more than one," He added softly, gripping his bow nervously. And soon, he could see the reddish fur through the woods. He pressed against the side of a big oak tree, motioning to Nimrodel to stay back. He wanted to assess the situation as well as he could. Sadly, it appeared that the mother fox was caught in some trap, and he suspected she was dead, but from here he couldn't be certain. Her three cubs were crying pitifully. Trastion dropped his head lightly, sorrowing over the loss of the mother. How would the cubs grow up, now?

He lifted his head up again abruptly when he heard the sound of the horn, his heart clenching in a mix of anger and concern. Concern, because of the cubs, and for Nimrodel's safety. Anger, that the hunters had done this. A part of him wanted to confront them, and tell them off. In fact, he wanted to use whatever authority he had as the new heir of the Taurhebor estate, despite the fact he was not on Taurhebor land. But the fact that he was hiding his identity would make that a seriously bad idea. And therefore, confronting them at all would likely be a bad idea, since he wouldn't really have any sort of authority to tell them to go away. He was just a teenage boy who wasn't supposed to have any sort of name or authority or anything. He didn't have any weapons, save the bow, and on top of that... there was the girl to consider. He didn't want to endanger her in any way. So, no confrontations.

Before he had a chance to think of any course of action, however, Nimrodel had rushed forward to try and help the cubs. "Wait-" he tried to warn Nimrodel not to rush out there, but it was too late. He understood. The cubs were so pitiful and obviously frightened. He glanced around hastily, but saw no poachers yet. He hurried after her and dropped to the ground beside the trap with a soft grunt as the weight of his pack jolted slightly against his shoulders. He probably shouldn't have brought all of his climbing gear along when he left home, but he wasn't willing to leave it behind, and he definitely wasn't going to get rid of any of it. Laying his bow down for a moment, he took a few seconds to check the apparently dead mother fox, merely because he just had to be sure.

To his surprise, he found that despite the trap having closed around her neck and shoulders, the fox was still breathing, albeit very shallowly. She appeared to have lost consciousness, perhaps from blood loss, but she still lived! "Nimrodel, keep an eye out, if those poachers get within sight, warn me," he spoke urgently, while he inspected the trap swiftly. It was a style like he had seen before, and one of the foresters who worked for his family had shown him how to disengage the contraption, thankfully. Using the heel of one hand, he pressed down on the locking mechanism until it clicked. The jaws of the trap fell open easily then, and he let out a sigh of relief as he carefully moved the adult fox off of the trap. It was now set again, so he grabbed a stick and jabbed it down on the trigger so that the jaws snapped shut again, rendering it harmless until someone set it again. Unfortunately, he didn't feel that they had time to try and pull up the stake holding it in place, or he would have got rid of it completely.

"We better get out of here before they catch us here," he looked up at the girl who seemed to care as much as him about these animals. "You take the cubs," He suspected the poachers would care more about the adult fox than the little ones who had less fur, which would mean he would be their prime target to follow. That would put her in less danger, hopefully. He could hear the horns, and knew they were moving closer. He looked around hastily for something to wrap the injured fox in, hoping she wasn't beyond saving. The cubs looked like they might not be quite fully weaned yet, although he wasn't sure. He had his bedroll attached to the bottom of his pack, but it was rolled up all nice and tight. Otherwise, he would have grabbed one of his blankets. But that would take too long to untie it from his pack, unroll the bedroll, and separate one blanket...

"Can I borrow that?" He asked hastily, indicating her shawl. After receiving it, he vaguely noted that it seemed to be silk, but at the moment, he hardly cared whether it was silk, velvet, rough spun wool or burlap. He wrapped up the animal like his sister might do with a baby doll, paying special attention to the area of her injury, in hopes it would help to slow the bleeding and stabilize her neck in case there were any further injuries. Then he sat upright, buttoning up his jacket before carefully positioning the fox inside, nestled against him.

After pulling the straps of his pack back onto his shoulders, he picked up his bow and arrow again, struggling to his feet a bit awkwardly due to the injured animal in his jacket, one hand supporting the bulge in his jacket. He had a slightly awkward mental image, picturing how he'd seen mothers with small babies holding the infant up to their chest for nursing, and he hoped that was not how he looked right now. Trying to disregard that thought, he looked over to see if Nimrodel had the cubs securely stashed somewhere, hoping she'd worked out how to carry all three without too much trouble. They needed to get out of here quick, before those poachers arrived...

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

You should stay back…At least… try not to make any noise, alright? Gaerlothriel rolled her eyes at the commands. Of course, boys always thinking they knew more, could do more, acting like they could do and know more. She had been roaming these forests for a month and more. What did he know? How dangerous could it be? Wolves or bears would be making far more ferocious sounds. What they were hearing sounded like something small and innocent in need of a help. It could even be some little baby deer that fell into a pit or hole and couldn’t get out.

They had scarcely discovered the source, a trapped mama fox and three little cubs, before the call of poacher horns resounded about them. Again, she rolled her eyes when Trastion mentioned more than one horn. Yes, she heard it too! By the Valar, was he always so obvious and yet so vague? Where am I? In a forest, clearly. It was just infuriating. And maybe because of all that, added together, and mixed together, made her rather volatile and brash. She knew things too. She could do things too.

She crouched low, a few feet from the baby cubs who regarded her curiously, stretching out her palm. ”Shh, it’s alright. I’ll take care of you.” She whispered in Sindarin, knowing from experience that beasts, all of them, seemed to react more positively to that language than to the Common Speech. She ignored Trastion’s plea to wait. Wait for what? For the poachers to come and snatch them all away, to make into some greedy, grubby rich person’s mantle or cloak? If it came down to it, she would declare her true name and linage and hopefully the authority of her family and her brother-in-law might compel the poachers to take their work someplace else.

Trastion checked on the mama bear, perhaps knowing how the trap worked. He asked her to keep an eye out and in that, she was in agreement as she corralled the cubs. ”Okay.” She said to the young man, as the first of the cubs came forward cautiously to sniff at her finger tips. ”It’s okay,” she said to the cub, gently collecting it in her hands, ”we’re going to get you far away from here, me and Trastion.” She said, picking up one cub, then a sibling, but soon found two hands were hardly enough to hold two, let alone the third. Trastion was urging them to get out of there quickly and again she was inclined to agree. So she hugged those two to her chest and collected the other, hugging them closely to herself, while she rose back to her feet and glanced about her. Something heavy was moving through the foliage. As big as a bear it sounded! But she knew it would be a man.

Can I borrow that? ”Huh?” Gaerlothriel asked, as she was trying to balance and juggle the three cubs in her two hands, before Trastion snatched her shawl right off her shoulders. She had been using it to cover her head in case of rain or wind, though mostly she kept it around her shoulders in a fashionable way as some noblewomen did. She understood though at once Trastion’s purpose and agreed with it. Though…had any of her male relatives been around to see such an act, they might have beaten the snot out of him for such a trespass. She wondered how her betrothed might have reacted too.

But right now? It was for a good cause. She would have done the same. As Trastion wrapped up the mama fox, still barely alive and weak, the cubs began to coo and pander for their mother. ”Wait-“ Gaerlothriel[/b] tried to say to them. She had to put one down, lest the cub leap out of her hands and through the several feet to the ground and injure itself in it’s haste. Not even thinking, Gaerlothriel stuck one cub at the front of her tunic, it’s little head and ears popping out, tickling the underside of her jaw, while she managed to hold another cub in her hand. The escaped cub raced to the boots of Trastion and stood up against it, trying to reach the mother in the young man’s arms. Gaerlothriel caught up and scooped the remaining cub up as well. Now she had two in each hand, safe and secure, and a third in her tunic.

”Everything is going to be alright, mother included…” She said again in Sindarin and it seemed to halt the cub’s struggles, for a time. Now they could make their escape-

”What are you doing?” Exclaimed a furious tone, as a full adult male stepped out from behind the trees. He was tall and bearded, wearing a brown cloak and hood, over leather garments and dark, dirty boots. He held in his hands a bow, with an arrow nocked, and at his belt were various knives and a hatchet. For the purposes of skinning. Gaerlothriel had never seen an orc before, but she imagined one would look like this, not knowing that this poacher had in fact fought against orcs before at a point in his life. But this was different. This was his livelihood. And they were stealing it from him.

”Put that down, you miserable little toad.” He snapped at Trastion, thinking he could intimidate the young boy and girl into doing what he said, just by his voice and size alone. ”Who said you could tamper with my catch?” He growled, taking slow steps forward towards the pair. And Gaerlothriel took a few back, though not very large ones, feeling she shouldn’t run and leave the young man behind…

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

No sooner had he thought 'we need to go before they catch us' than the angry voice spoke up, shattering all hope of that happening. Oops, too late. Trastion turned, alarmed to see at least one of the poachers already there. He scowled at being called a 'miserable little toad', and vaguely wondered, wouldn't a toad be quite happy with its life? But there was no time to ponder on the leisurely life of a toad. "Do you always talk to yourself like that?" He wondered as if the man had just called himself a miserable toad, rather than Trastion... unable to resist a little insulting quip of his own.

The guy was definitely intimidating, he'd admit that. But Trastion, only about a year ago, had fought enemies invading his family's land, including orcs. This guy was nowhere near that scary to him. Unfortunately, he'd left his sword at home, and also hadn't really bothered practicing with it since the war was declared over. Well, more like.. since Aearon died. He straightened his shoulders, despite the heavy pack, and leveled a stern look at the guy. "What I want to know is, who said you could hunt here?" He demanded, right back. Sure, he may not be able to claim his rightful title here, but he could claim a fake one, right? That was the fun part of having to hide his identity; he could be anyone he wanted to be, now. Within reason.

"It just so happens," He informed the man, adopting an authoritative tone, "that I am an apprentice forester, training under Forester.. Leithor. And I happen to know that poaching is against the laws of this land, and the Foresters have every right to arrest you for illegal hunting unless you can provide written authorization from the owner of this land, stating you are permitted to hunt here." He narrowed his eyes. "Otherwise, you'd best get your traps and get off this land before I alert the other Foresters to come and arrest you and all your friends out there." He ordered, in his best 'in charge' type of voice. Alright, so there was no 'Forester Leithor', he'd just made that name up, but hopefully, the poachers didn't know that.

But he quickly realized that his bluff was not going to work, unless he his plan was merely to provide some humor and entertainment for the man. As the poacher burst out laughing, Trastion spun around, grabbing for Nimrodel's arm as he set off running, while his bow hand came up close to his torso, to both hold the bow out of the way from getting caught on trees and bushes, and also to help support the injured fox. "C'mon, Nim!" He tried to make sure she stayed in front of him as the teens made their escape. He might have considered standing his ground and trying to either reason with the man, or perhaps fight him, if he had been alone with no other persons or animals to consider. But the girl would be endangered, and since he had the adult fox in his jacket, he didn't want to risk putting her in danger. Her cubs needed her.

He had understood the girl when she spoke Sindarin to the cubs, but he decided not to let on, because he hadn't really taken the time to consider whether a person of his pretend position would know the language or not. It was something to think about later, when there was not a huge guy with lots of knives chasing them. His main focus right now was getting away from this guy, and not letting him harm Nimrodel or the foxes. He just hoped all this jostling around wouldn't be too hard on the poor mother fox under his jacket.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

While the two men faced off, Gaerlothriel continued to shift back ever so slightly, inch by inch, sliding her boots over the forest floor as discreetly as she could. The poacher who came upon them in the act of stealing his catch was not pleased at all. He was much taller than them and certainly more capable and stronger. Trastion didn’t stand a chance, yet he defied the man’s accusation with sass and recklessness. What are you doing?! She wanted to shout at him. Don’t provoke the man! Even Gaerlothriel knew the different between bravery and foolishness.

But what else could they do? What I want to know is, who said you count hunt here? The poacher scoffed with a half-grin. ”Who says I can’t?” He shot back, with a vulgar accent. ”What are you, the Forester patrol? He retorted, taking another step towards the two youths. They looked like naïve idiots who thought they were doing a good thing. Definitely naïve. If it wasn’t him who snared the fox, she would be taken by another poacher. Or, as the cycle of life went, eventually caught and consumed by some other predator. Why should this bother them?

The young man though blustered with a claim that he was indeed apart of the Foresters. An apprentice even, under some keener named Leithor. The poacher, having been pursued and prosecuted before, did not recognize the name. Clearly wasn’t someone to be worried about, he figured. ”Lawyer’s dribble.” The poacher spat back, snickering and on the verge of laughter, as Trastion tried to argue the rules to him. ”Go and get your friends then.” He dared the younger man with a laugh and made a step towards him. Just put down his snare and-

But Trastion was faster, turning about and seizing the other woman by the arm. Run, Nim! Gaerlothriel almost forgot that was her alias but didn’t need to think twice about the other word. Turning, awkward with a cub in each hand and one in her outfit, she raced as fast as she would dare without being reckless. The poacher shouted after them and seconds later, blew his horn, to summon his compatriots for the hunt. But from the sounds of foliage and thudding, the poacher was hot on their tail as well, crashing through the bushes and branches after them.

”That was smart!” Gaerlothriel shouted at Trastion. She couldn’t tell herself if she meant it sarcastically or genuinely. But right now, the poacher didn’t have the foxes and that was good, right? Trastion was behind him, she could hear him easily, but even his running footsteps seemed drowned out by the onrush that was the poacher’s pursuit. He was like a bear, impetuous and rumbling. But soon enough there was particularly loud thud, followed by curses Gaerlothriel would never repeat, indicating the poacher had tripped and gotten a face full of dirt and leaf. That bought them precious seconds to ponder their next move, as they couldn’t run forever.

But suddenly they came upon a ridge, dropping a handful of feet down, where it came to the banks of a fast running stream. It would come up to their chests in height, but wadding through it would be slow and tiresome. There were rocks and dead logs strewn here and there amongst the surface of the stream. Maybe they could hop across, if they were swift and decisive in their balance. Crouching low, she first sat on the edge of the ridgeline, before letting herself down the four or five feet drop to the river bank beneath, absorbing the drop in her knees, careful of her grip and hold on the foxes. She looked up to see if Trastion would follow.

He had to follow. ”Come on, come on. Trastion…!” She huffed at him. Don’t be stupid and try to take him on yourself, thinking you can buy time for me to get away. They won this by both getting away, with the mother and the cubs. Everyone. Together. Yet dropping down the ridgeline, with the stream ahead, looking back to the ridge showed several small nooks and dens and burrows, covered with foliage and bush. Maybe they could cross the river and continue to get ahead in the chase. Or they could try to hide here and fool the poacher into losing them.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

The pack thumped heavily against Trastion's back as he ran. It weighed him down, and slowed his pace. He was starting to wish he had left it somewhere safe, so he wouldn't have to be hindered by it, but then, he hadn't known he was going to have to do any running until he had to do it. He ignored Nimrodel's comment, unsure if she was angry or impressed, but it didn't matter. He had to let go of her hand at one point, and leaped over a log using his hand to help propel himself, and his extra weight, over the log. Ahead, he saw a cluster of young trees that he could see were not in good health. His immediate guess was that they were suffering from root rot, probably due to growing too closely together.

Grabbing the nearest with his free hand, he gave a sharp yank as he passed, and was satisfied with his success as the cluster easily toppled over. Hopefully, that would hinder the poacher. He sped onward, trying to keep the fox from jostling around too much. Keeping his bow upright as well as he could, so that it wouldn't get hung up on any trees or bushes. Behind them, he heard the poacher fall, and grinned to himself, hoping that was due to those little trees.

Suddenly, the ground dropped away in front of him. Trastion skidded to a stop, watching a few specks of dirt spraying down below. He was breathing a little harder, mostly from the effort of toting around his heavy pack. Nimrodel was already starting to climb down, and Trastion was intrigued to notice she seemed nearly as familiar with being in the forest as himself. She definitely didn't act like some fragile lady of the court, fretting about breaking a nail or something. If he hadn't known of the lady knight Isys, he would have assumed that all noble-women were all like that, except perhaps his little sister. But Linn was quite young still. This young woman though, she wasn't like those others, and so he could only assume she had no association with nobility. That was of some relief to him, although he hardly took the time to think about it.


He swung down the bank after her, landing heavily so that he fell forward briefly before regaining his balance. Straightening, he stopped to look around. "What now?" He asked, panting. "Can you swim? Or.. no, that won't work," he realized swiftly, glancing at the fox in his jacket, and remembering she had a cub in her clothing. He tried not to look at the front of her tunic where the cub formed a lump, not wanting to be misunderstood. He looked over at the river, noticing the rocks and other things poking out of the surface. "I think I could get across, but can you?" he asked, hopeful. "We could try to hide, but.." He hesitated, a little torn in this decision, and was relieved when she replied that she could. It would be better to do that, he thought. "I doubt that big guy could get across very easily, so let's do that," He decided, hoping the girl was not overexaggerating her abilities. "Alright, you go first."

While she set off to begin crossing, Trastion took the moment to shrug off the straps of his pack. It was too heavy, and he worried that the weight of it would throw off his balance. Once he had it, he paused to grab a small pouch and stuffed it deep in his pocket. Just in case something happened to prevent him from coming back for it, or someone found it before he could come back. After shoving the pack into one of the holes under the overhanging bank, he pushed some dead leaves and branches up around it, to conceal the area. Grabbing his bow again, he took a careful look around, trying to memorize the area.

Nimrodel seemed quite adept at crossing on the rocks, he noticed, watching her go across quite nimbly. The pun amused him briefly, but he didn't stop to dwell on it. She was far enough ahead now that he could start across, himself. Wasting no more time, he set off on his own journey across, holding his bow out horizontally, to help him balance as he hopped from rock to rock, to log, to rock, hoping he wouldn't slip and fall in. If he were only doing this as a game with his brother, as he had done many times back home in his childhood, then falling in would only be embarrassing and he would have lost the game and would then swim to shore. But in this case, he had an injured, unconscious fox tucked into his jacket, and if he fell in, she might drown before he could get out of the water.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

What now, indeed. The river was clear and pristine, allowing one to see right to the bottom, but it was deceptive. No doubt it was deeper than it looked, in fact coming up to the shoulder of a full grown man. Which for Gaerlothriel and Trastion was much above their heads. Can she swim… The question was ludicrous but there was no time to correct the young man’s wrongful assumptions. She could easily have swam it, but not with three cubs to look after. They would drown in the attempt. And what about Trastion himself? Could he even swim? She didn’t want to leave him. He was so ready to help her save the foxes. It was endearing. A little. Just a little.

What about hiding? It could work. But their pursuer, who was fast approaching, was a poacher and hunter. He would probably track them and corner them. The river then. If it was difficult for the young man and woman, the burly poacher would have double the hardships in crossing. ”Don’t fall.” She just warned Trastion, though also herself. Sucking in a rasp of air, she raised both cubs up a little towards her jaw. ”Wish me luck.” She spoke to them in the ancient tongue then she…leapt, one boot landing atop a slippery, pointed rock near the shore, before the other joined. Then onto the next. And next.

She didn’t think. Just acted. One foot first, to land and then the other, to anchor. One rock at a time. Not once did she feel her balance as precarious but there was a fire in her mind and heart that motivated her body to be decisive. She managed to make it across in less than a half minute, landing in the shallow waters near the opposite shore that went up only to her knees, before wading across to land. All three cubs were safe and sound, quiet for a moment as they felt their life in balance, but beginning to chirp and mumble in their little fox sounds when they were safe. Where was momma? And where was Trastion. She finally turned…and found a most comical sight, the young man leaping across while holding his bow over his head.

”You should have been a tight rope walker.” She teased as Trastion approached, forgetting their danger momentarily. She could have ran, she could have fled, but no, she waited openly for her companion to reach her. But her smiling expression dropped as she saw the poacher emerge from the woods on the far bank. Without hesitation he leapt down the ridge and landed on the far shore, absorbing the shock in his knees as he scowled at the river and his queries across. He had his bow and arrow in hand. And judging by the severe mud stains on his legs and torso, he was very much not happy about what these kids were doing to him.

”There he is, hurry up!” She said urgently to Trastion, but her concerned voice was cut off by the man’s shouts.

”When I catch you two, I’m going to skin the manes off your scalps!” He threatened them, intending to make both of them bald for this transgression. The least of his intended punishments for them. That was a lot of money in their hands and they almost lost it in the river! Gaerlothriel would gasp just as Trastion was reaching her, for the poacher nocked his arrow to his bow, raised it up, and let loose a reckless shot that flew by Trastion, over Gaerlothriel’s head, and struck a tree behind her, intending to hopefully frighten Trastion into falling into the river, the miserable little toads…!

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

With his pack stowed safely under the bank, Trastion hoped with all of his mind that it would not be discovered by anyone. Holding his bow out in front of him like a balancing pole, he leaped from one rock to the next, careful not to let his footing slip, and a slight grin found its way onto his face at the girl's teasing remark. "Who says I'm not?" He asked with a half laugh. His path took him to hop onto a floating log for a brief moment before hopping swiftly to another rock before it could turn over or dunk too far into the water. And just as he reached the last rock, an arrow whizzed past by his ear.

Whirling in place, Trastion didn't even stop to think before he put his own arrow to his string and fired back at the man, and he was inwardly very glad he hadn't slipped off of the rock. Although he wasn't sure exactly where he had hoped for the arrow to land, the green-and-brown fletched arrow arched across the river and stuck into the bank about an inch in front of the man's feet. Trastion glared across the water at him. "The next one goes into your knee, if you don't quit chasing us!" He warned, trying to pretend that was exactly where he had meant to aim it.

Hoping the guy would be too startled or something to fire back at him, Trastion took the last leap to the bank. Thankfully, having a longer leap span than Nimrodel, he made it from the last rock across to the dry bank without having to wade through the water. "Let's go, quickly!" he muttered urgently to Nimrodel as he set off running the moment his feet hit the ground. He didn't want to trust his luck that the poacher might not miss next time, and he definitely didn't have good enough aim to carry out his threat. Not to mention the fact that he had just shot the only arrow he'd brought along with him. But he paused to tug the poacher's arrow out of the tree with a little effort before he continued running. At least now he had another arrow, but hopefully, he wouldn't have to try to use it.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

Trastion’s rejoinder was both humorous and yet a stark reminder that Gaerlothriel was possibly escaping one cruel pursuer…and aligning herself with another potentially dangerous individual. She didn’t know a thing about the young man, except for their shared ideal of rescuing these poor foxes from the clutches of a poacher who would harvest them for profit. Trastion risked much in helping her, even severe injury it seemed, when the arrow thudded into a tree before her. She had never been shot at before and it caused her to falter somewhat. And turn to look.

And to see the young man already nocking his own arrow and loosing one back at the poacher, who clearly faltered by surprise and shock at the prospect and staggered back, as Trastion’s arrow landed at his feet. Any doubt Gaerlothriel had about Trastion seemed to dissipate then. He was a good stranger, how disbelieving as it seemed.

The poacher however was quick to compose himself, already reaching over his shoulder for another feathered shaft as Trastion urged her to continue on. Continuing up the slope, she darted behind a tree and entered the forest proper again, fearing the sudden, sickening jolt of an arrow coming through her chest. It never happened. Indeed, the poacher never fired a return shot, though he grabbed Trastion’s arrow out of the ground. Gaerlothriel and Trastion would be clear to run for several moments, before extreme exhaustion and the need for breath brought Gaerlothriel huffing next to a large tree. She paused and rested her side against it, cradling all three fox cubs under her chin, two in hand and one tucked in her collar, peering back. There was just Trastion and no one else.

”We lost him.” She declared, peering back into the foliage. The stream, the sound of running water, it was all left behind. Now it was just quiet woodlands. And the birds. If they were not alarmed by the vibe of death and hunt, then it must be safe. ”He almost shot us. You almost shot him.” She then pointed out, looking at Trastion. He could have killed the other man. They themselves could have been killed. It was discomforting to think either way. But she was glad they were both safe. Them and the foxes.

”The mother! How is she?” She said, stepping to Trastion and waiting very closely before him as she awaited, with a determined expression, him to check on the mother and report.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

He had caught a glimpse of the man reaching for another arrow, as he turned and set off into the woods with Nimrodel. Hopefully, the trees here were too thick for him to get a clear shot. He mentally prayed to the Valar that was the case. He tried to keep Nimrodel slightly ahead of him, just in case, though he realized that put him in further danger. But he'd rather have it that way than to risk the girl getting shot.

After running for a while, it seemed the girl was getting tired, and he tried to urge her to keep going for a while. But she finally stopped to rest against a tree, clearly exhausted. He tried not to feel too impatient, reminding himself she probably had difficulty running in that long dress, and.. well, who knows what else women were expected to wear, which might make running difficult? He didn't want to think about that.

As she declared that they had lost them, Trastion hesitated, looking back that way with a bit less certainty. "Maybe. For now," He answered tentatively, watching the forest as he waited for her to catch her breath. He turned back as he heard her mention that he could have been shot, or that he could have shot the other guy. Hesitating, he gave a small nod. "Yeah.." He hadn't stopped to think about what might happen with his arrow. He really shouldn't have loosed an arrow, especially not so hastily, but thankfully, it had gone harmlessly into the ground. "but that didn't happen." He added with a weak smile as he tried to console her, since she seemed a bit distressed by it all. Not that he could blame her... anyone would be rather distressed to have hunters shooting at them.

In fact, he was feeling a bit anxious about it himself. He'd left home to get away from the danger of being killed, and now here he was, nearly getting killed and now.. hunted? He swallowed and turned back to look the way they had come. He didn't hear their horns anymore, but he didn't feel comfortable just yet.

Nim's urgent reminder about the fox temporarily distracted him from that, however. He turned his attention down to his jacket, and carefully eased it open a bit to have a look. "I.. think she's alright.." he said, frowning, but hopeful as he found that she was still breathing. "But she'll need bandaging, I think. And I don't think we ought to stay here," He warned. "Those guys are hunters. They'll know how to track prey through the woods, a lot better than I can. And I don't know how many of them there are.. and they have dogs." He reminded her, not trying to frighten her, but to remind her they were not quite as safe as she assumed, just because they had outran the poachers for now. The longer they stood here, the more nervous he felt about being found again. "Let's get moving and be careful to keep from making any tracks. The leaves should help that a lot, but.. try to make sure you don't scuff the ground or step anywhere that'd leave a mark." While he was definitely no expert woodsman, he'd been around the foresters employed by his family enough to have learned a few things, at least. He was already trying to think of what he could do to throw off the dog's scent.

"Do you know of anywhere nearby that we could go to treat her, and keep hidden until those guys have given up searching?" He asked as he motioned for them to set off, at a walk this time, though he hoped to keep up a swift pace. He also couldn't stop worrying about his pack he had left under the riverbank, and he hoped that those guys wouldn't find it. He wasn't sure what he'd do if he lost any of his belongings, since that included his supplies and the case that his bow went into, and the rest of his arrows, not to mention his climbing gear, and bedroll, and everything that he needed to survive in the woods. For now, he thought it more important to focus on his and Nimrodel's survival in the present situation, however, and worry about that later.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

Yeah, it didn’t happen, because you’re a lucky, crazy, stupid little- Gaerlothriel had to mentally remind herself not to let her temper fly, especially with a man she was still so unsure of. And yet, why did it matter so much to her, to the point of fury, that Trastion could have seriously gotten himself hurt? An arrow, through the knee or stomach, could have been fatal. And then what? Leave Gaerlothriel to carry the fox cubs to safety on her own? No, she knew she wouldn’t have run to leave Trastion behind either. His bravado would have gotten them both caught. And who knows what would have happened then! If only he hadn’t been so…courageous. Recklessly so, too.

But there were more important matters at hand, as Trastion unfurled his coat and revealed the mother fox within. Gaerlothriel stepped near to him, allowing the noses and faces of the cubs to interact with their mother, who checked on them, despite her own injury. The cubs too gathered around her face, one on each side in her hands, another at Gaerlothriel’s neck, crying out in their little voices for their mother who no doubt wished to have a look at them back. ”All safe and sound.” Gaerlothriel whispered in the elvish tongue. Yes, Trasiton was right. The mother fox needed bandaging and a strong level of care, something they couldn’t provide out here in the forest wilds. The poachers would soon find them. Even now, they could be able to track Trastion and Gaerlothriel and every moment they lingered or remained added to their danger.

She looked up rather confused when he started talking about not making tracks. She never had to do that before. It never been a factor for her before, tracks and such. Trastion though sounded so serious, clearly aware of what he was doing. Had he done this before? Sneaking? She didn’t get any sort of malicious feeling about him in her gut. "I don't know how." She just admitted.

”Just a moment, let them see and smell their mother.” Gaerlothriel said quietly, even as Trastion asked if she knew any places they could be treated. ”I know…where we can find bandages and food for them. Near Ossarnen. Do you know it?” She looked up at Trastion and kept on speaking before he could answer, despite asking him a question. ”It’s north of here, few hours walk. They…wouldn’t go near there, right? The poachers. I know the Lord doesn’t appreciate their kind. We can find somewhere near the town to hole up in. You watch them. I’ll go get bandages and food.” For them as well as the foxes. All this hustle and running was leaving her famished and thirsty. She never undertook such a drive of exertion in a long time. But she didn’t feel tired yet. And she certainly didn't want to stop.

She didn’t explain how she knew the Lord of Ossarnen would not be kindly to any poachers. But that could be a common enough sentiment around the town right? In any case, with great reluctance after a moment or two, Gaerlothriel had to draw back and separate the cubs from their mother, as they did need to move on. She glanced up to the sky and caught a glimpse of the Sun and Her gleaming rays through the foliage and from Her position, Gaerlothriel was able to ascertain her bearings and sense of direction, before moving off northwards. The woods and ground would steadily climb as they moved northwards, into the lowlands of the Ered Nimrais in this region of Gondor. Ossarnen would be nestled in the valley there, a mining town with plenty of noise and activity. There would be plenty of signs to help draw them near to it. There was no danger in being lost.

”What about your bag? Are you going to go back? Was there anything important there or…?” She asked as they headed back north. If it was all easily replaceable, then maybe the reckless man didn’t have to venture back and risk danger and discovery. And save her a lot of anxiety. Nothing of course would happen to her if he got caught. He didn’t know her real name. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t feel the hurt and harm after the fact. He seemed a nice boy. Brave, too. Like her brother. Maybe she could hope her future spouse could be as brave and charitable, but Fate wasn’t as discriminating for such a thing.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

While he wasn't entirely surprised when Nimrodel said she didn't know how to cover her tracks, Trastion had somewhat hoped that maybe she would. Still, he only knew the basics, so he could hardly expect her to know all that much about it. It wasn't like she was likely to have spent a lot of time around foresters, much less bugging them with all sorts of questions about how to do this or that, as he had done growing up.

He tried not to feel too impatient as she insisted on letting the cubs see and smell their mother. She was too weak to be struggling to get out of his jacket, but he worried she might try it anyway. While she was fussing over the animals, he glanced back the way they had come, still a bit worried about those dogs. At least the current for the river had been fairly swift, so he figured that any dogs would have a difficult time swimming it. And that meant they, as well as the poachers, would have to find another way across before they could pick up their trail. Still, he was worried. He'd never been chased by dogs before, but knew that trained hunting dogs were excellent at following trails. And they would be looking for foxes, which Trastion and Nim happened to be carrying.

He frowned slightly as she mentioned Ossarnen, but before he could think of how to answer whether he knew it, she had moved on to explaining where it was. "I don't know whether they'd go there or not." He answered with a shrug, assuming she must be familiar with the place because maybe she lived there. Although it was surprising she would be hours away from home.. but he didn't ask about that. "Well,it sounds like a better plan than hiding out in the woods. At least, with plenty of people around, they wouldn't dare try to murder us.." He added, hopeful of that, anyway.

"Hours..." He frowned slightly, thinking of his pack. Should he try and go back for it now, or go off to this place, then come back tomorrow? He was trying to decide about that when Nimrodel finally began to set off. He buttoned his jacket up carefully around the fox and cradled her with one arm while carrying his bow, and the retrieved arrow, with the other. Almost as if she had heard his thoughts about his pack, she asked whether there had been anything important in there. He gave a wry little laugh. "Oh... only everything I own." He answered with a shrug, as if it was no big deal. He shook his head slightly. "I'll.. probably go back for it tomorrow." He answered after a moment, although really, he hated leaving it behind for that long. What if those poachers found it? What if he never got it back? He was already wishing he hadn't taken it off at all. But, then he remembered why he had done it; so he wouldn't fall into the river. And, it would have slowed him down, now. And they needed to move as fast as they could.

"It's fine. I hid it well." He assured her, and tried not to let on how concerned he was about it. "And I'll be watching out for any sign of them." He set off along with her, thinking about how he would manage that. After a moment, his thoughts changed to how they could try to avoid the hunters. He looked around, his gaze stretching ahead of them, and tried to think of what Forester Farion would have suggested. The old guy had been employed by his family since his father was a child, from what Anurion understood, and he'd always been very much like a grandfather to him, showing him and Aearon things about the forest, teaching them this or that.

"Wait," He stopped Nimrodel after a moment, spotting a chance to throw off anyone following visual tracks. "See over there, where it looks like a little narrow path, and you can see the ground from it being used so much?" He pointed where he was pointing. "It's a deer trail. I think we should go along that for a while, and make sure to leave some clear tracks. See how it veers off to the northwest? I'm hoping that'll throw them off a bit." He started in that direction, hoping she would trust him. "Once we've gone for a little way and made it seem like we went that direction, we can leave the trail and strike out northward again, but this time, making sure we don't leave any tracks." He explained.

He demonstrated how he could step into the dirt/mud, to make it look as if he was carelessly moving along the trail, making sure to leave fairly clear prints in the trail that even a child could follow. The only problem with this path, of course, is that it would be harder going, especially for her in her dress and all. But he held a slim branch back for her to make it a bit easier for her to follow along after him, and would continue to do that and similar things, the whole way that they traveled along this path.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

Neither of them seemed to know what the poacher would do, as neither of them really seemed to understand the criminal mind. But to Gaerlothriel, the town seemed safest. She had friends there. Allies. She might have to give up her identity but the reason for concealing it in the first place seemed to be rapidly deteriorating. Why continue to hide himself? The young man didn’t seem such a foul sort who might do a rude thing to a Lady. He even risked severe harm to rescue the foxes with them. But for the present moment, something in her mind seemed to scream at her to continue the deception. Or at least for a little while longer.

She gave him a frown when Trastion mentioned all he owned was in that bag. Really? That seemed such a sad and terrible thing. And he left it behind, sacrificing it for these foxes. And her. Gaerlothriel felt a deep pang of guilt and regret, as if making this young man lose it all just for this little act of humanity. She didn’t trust his laugh or his smile. He was hurt and she knew it. And it felt her fault. ”Well…maybe not tomorrow, but what if…there’s the river, I got you a little boat or something? You can go back, speedily, in the evening or something. Get it, bring the boat back…” She then suggested, wondering if he had enough skill in watercraft to manage a small paddle boat or something up and down a river. But this wasn’t Dol Amroth and the coasts of Belfalas. Not everyone was water-savy.

But Trastion said he hid it well and what more could be done, except risk discovery by the poachers every second they lingered here? The cubs were quiet in her hands, passengers to their discussion and actions. They hadn’t gone very far before Trastion called out to her, seeing something nearby. A well used path? By deer even! Despite how majestic they looked, her father warned they could be very territorial. And cause great harm if charged by one. ”I understand.” She just assented to his explanation, though she noted the mud on the well trodden path, where the grass and foliage had been roughed up so much from the constant passage of beasts. The bottom of her dress was certainly going to be stained and ruined. And worse, it was an outfit she borrowed from her sister…

She would never hear the end of it.

Anxiety riddled, at what lay before, and behind, she followed Trastion as much as she could. Holding the cubs, she could reach out to grasp the branch he held back, between two fingers, but it was difficult, and she often lost grip and staggered a step or two behind. ”What if a deer comes this way?” She then asked of Trastion. ”You’re not going to shoot it, are you? Would it get angry at us if we were in the way? Or beside the way?” She inquired, though it did seem unlikely. But the silence of the forest was proving to be ripe and fertile for feelings of doubt in her mind. She wanted to talk. He had been talking so much and it distracted her. She wanted more of that.

It would be so faint, but there came in the distant a horn call, followed by another horn call answering it. But it proved enough that they were making good headway and their pursuers were behind. Or worse, reinforcements had arrived at the original point of conflict, while closer by pursuers might be just around the bend behind them.

”Wait.” She did ask after a quarter-hour interval, so that she might make a change. The cub in her collar was becoming unruly and she needed to move them around, transferring that one out of her outfit and putting another there. She put one down to make the change and the paws on that little cub became equally covered in mud, which when returned to her hand, was pressed to her sleeves and clothing even more. "We should give them names. I'm thinking...Bara for this one, Anwar for this one, and Caran for this one," she suggested, indicating each one in turn. Caran, Red, because of the bright hue of that cub's fur. Anwar, Wonder, for his curiosity. And Bara, Eager, because this little cub was always trying to crawl free. It all seemed pleasing to her.

”Are you really a Forester then? You know so much about this stuff. Where did you train?” She asked him as they walked, or rather, he walked, and she stumbled along. Sometimes her boot sank too much into the path. They were all but caked and ruined in it as well.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

The girl's offer of getting him a boat was not only surprising, but very kind. He paused and looked back at her thoughtfully, considering how do-able that would be. "Well... it depends on whether there's any serious rapids along the way.. and how strong the current is." He mentioned uncertainly. "If it's really strong, I don't think I could row back upstream... but going downstream should be easy enough regardless." He gave a joking smile. One didn't have to have much skill to flow downstream... it was the thought of rapids that concerned him. He wasn't sure if he'd have the skill to navigate the boat through something like that. As for returning, he wasn't sure whether it would be possible or not.

Trastion glanced at her again when she asked what if a deer came this way. "No, I won't shoot it." He assured her. He further added, "I've only got this one arrow anyway, and I wouldn't want to waste it." He shrugged. "I don't plan on shooting anyone, but if those poachers catch up to us, I'd rather not be without any weapon at all." He explained quietly, his tone a bit more grave than normal. He did have a hunting knife, but would rather not have to get close enough to any enemies to have to use that. And, he couldn't help at least mentally rolling his eyes at her worry about a deer getting angry at them for using its path. "I wouldn't worry about the deer. They're more likely to run away than confront us, especially with the sound of horns and dogs in the distance." He pointed out with a slightly amused smile.

Actually, he was a bit nervous about that, himself. Already, he could hear the horns, though only faintly. The dogs probably could have easily swam the river, right? While the humans would have to seek another way around if they didn't want to swim, the dogs probably would just jump right in unless the current was too strong. He didn't exactly remember how the current was at the point they had crossed, but he was pretty sure it hadn't been too rough and rapid, else he would have been far more concerned about the girl going across as she did. And he might have taken a bit more pause before doing so, himself. Brief thoughts of how his brother died flashed through his mind as he lifted up a bough to allow Nimrodel to pass under it. He took a slow breath in, and let it out just as slowly.

They continued onward, as swiftly as he could get her to go, for a while. All the while, Trastion was feeling anxious, imagining a pack of hounds closing in on them, wondering how far away they might be. They really needed to lose them, but he wasn't sure how. He knew dogs were incredibly good at picking up scents, and they would be seeking the fox's scent. They would have surely become familiar with his and Nim's scents by now as well, and while there were probably all sorts of deer and rabbit scents all along this trail, he was hoping to find a good spot to leave this trail where the dogs wouldn't be able to follow. Leaving a false trail for the humans wouldn't do much good if the dogs were still able to follow.

As they traveled along the narrow trail, he had to frequently duck under branches that were not easy to just lift or move, and glanced to see whether she needed assistance or not. Mentally, he was frustrated to realize how easy it would be for the dogs to race along this trail, while they had to constantly duck and dodge under branches and underbrush, and occasionally even fighting with briars. He did his best to hold those out of Nim's way, but ended up with a few pricked fingers in the process. All the while, his stomach felt like it was gnawing at itself, reminding him that he had not eaten today, and had only one meager meal yesterday.

Her request to wait caused him to turn to check if she was needing assistance. As it turned out, she wasn't caught on briars or tangled in a branch, but just wanted to resituate the fox cubs. Trying not to feel too impatient, he turned to scan the surrounding area while he waited. Her suggestion that they ought to give them names made him laugh lightly. It reminded him strongly of his little sister, to be honest, and he wanted to tell her so, but thought better of it. "Name them whatever you like, Nim." He grinned. "Just let's get out of here, before those dogs catch up to us, alright?" He tried not to get too caught up with thinking up a name for the mother fox, and figured Nim would probably get around to that sooner or later.

As they continued on their way, she then began asking him some questions about himself. Trastion hesitated as he tried to think what would be safe to tell her. "Oh, I.. um.." He cleared his throat. "I only claimed to be an apprentice, if you recall." He corrected, partly to stall for a moment to think. He frowned as he went on a few steps. "I learned from a forester who.. well, was sort of like a grandfather to me." He explained quietly. "He lived in Anfalas, near Pinnath Gelin." That was true, Farion had told him that he'd lived there in his youth, many years before coming becoming a forester, and before coming to work for the Taurhebors. And if saying that made it sound as if that was where Trastion had trained, well... it would keep her from learning where Trastion really came from. "I miss him." He added sadly. While Farion wasn't dead, he did miss the guy a great deal, and it had been difficult to have to leave home without saying goodbye to those who meant the most to him. Linn was the only one he'd spoken to before leaving.

Hoping not to have any more questions from her for a while, so they could travel in silence, he continued onward. While his stomach didn't audibly grumble, he could hardly keep from remembering how empty it was, and after a while, he also became very thirsty. And then he remembered something else he wished he had brought along from his pack; his waterskin. He tried to ignore the hunger and thirst, and kept going along the path. He was already searching for a good place to leave the path and strike out more directly northward, but the forest around them seemed rather dense through here. The trail might have been the best choice after all, despite being a little too low for humans to travel with ease.

Still, after they had traveled along for at least another fifteen minutes, making it roughly half an hour that they had been traveling along this trail, Trastion began to get an uneasy feeling in his gut. He couldn't explain it, but the further along the path they traveled, the more that feeling grew. He kept quiet, but slowed his pace slightly and kept searching around for some reason to explain why the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, and he felt goosebumps on his arms and a knot in his otherwise empty stomach.

A few more minutes passed, and then he stopped abruptly. So suddenly, that if she wasn't paying attention, she might bump into him. He had finally seen something to explain that uneasy feeling, and it changed the unease into downright fear. An animal's paw print showed clearly in the mud before his feet. The size of the bear's paw made chills race down his back. Swallowing despite his dry throat, Trastion fought back a surge of panic. It was definitely time to get off this trail, but as he looked around, he found it harder not to panic. The bushes and trees were like walls on either side of them, hemming them in. They couldn't leave the trail just yet. He took a slow breath in and out, and looked again at the track in the mud. He couldn't quite tell how old the track might be, but just the fact that it was there made him very nervous.

"We'd better be extra careful," he muttered to Nim. "Keep as quiet as you can, and.. stay close." He tried not to frighten her too much, but honestly, the thought of running into a bear was almost more frightening than letting those poachers catch them. He wasn't really sure which would be worse, actually... but he stepped over the pawprint and proceeded with more caution, gripping his bow tightly while he tried not to make as much noise. Every dry leaf that crunched underfoot sounded suddenly as loud as a horn blowing to announce they were here. His mind frantically tried to go over anything he had learned from Farion about bears, and yet all the adventurous hikes into the forest with Aearon and Farion seemed like years ago, rather than months. A little ways onward, he saw a pile of droppings and wrinkled his nose at the smell. Suddenly, something the forester had once told him popped into his head. Something about the droppings smelling or not smelling, indicating whether the animal had been eating meat or vegetation. He was pretty sure that smelling bad meant it had been eating meat, and that meant more danger if they ran into it. "We need to get off this path as soon as possible," he mentioned, so as to let her in on a bit of his thoughts. Yet, that was easier said than done, since it would be very difficult to push past the thick foliage, some of which included briars. If only it was a little later in the year, they might have seen some blackberries, but alas, it was too early for that.

After they had gotten around the dropping pile, with Trastion helping her as best as he could to keep from stepping in it, he tried to listen carefully for any indication that they might not be alone. He heard nothing for a while except for their own noise, but after a while he could hear some crows in the distance. They saw a few more bear prints as they went, and a couple of trees that it had rubbed on, but so far, no sign of the bear itself.

After what felt like ages, there was a fallen tree lying across the path. The upper branches held it up off of the ground enough that the bear, and other small creatures could pass through easily enough, but what Trastion saw was a way off the trail. One of the thick lower branches was nice and thick, and formed a sort of ramp that they could easily walk up and get onto the trunk, and then follow that away from here. He paused and took a look around, making sure that there were no bears lurking around, then hurried to take the 'ramp' up onto the trunk. Then he turned to see if she needed any help following. He'd seen how nimbly she had managed to cross the river earlier, hopping from stone to stone, so he wasn't worried about her balance in walking on the thick tree trunk, but going up the sloping branch might give her some trouble, in her skirt.

Once they were both up on the trunk, he led the way down toward where the roots were sticking up out of the ground, a good chunk of the ground still attached to them. Once they were away from the trail, it seemed like the woods thinned a bit more, much to his relief. He stepped down onto the leaf litter covering the forest floor, and held up a hand to help her down, feeling relieved to get off of the path, yet, he didn't think they were out of danger yet. "Let's get away from here as quick as we can. You still know the way?"

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

Gaerlothriel thought she made an amazing suggestion of Trastion using a boat to get to his pack and back to safety. Only to be told about the rapids and other difficulties of such a voyage. Her face dropped a little as she was corrected. And did he have to do it with that smile? Maybe she could find him an expendable boat for the one way trip. He looked like he had been traveling in the wilds for a long time, the walk back to Ossarnen, following the river, wouldn’t be too laborious for him, right? But in the dark? So much could go wrong. Maybe his pack was lost forever then.

And who would pay for the boat anyways? Her sister? Gaerlothriel would have to explain everything and that would definitely get her shuttered up in her room, messing around with poachers and strangers in the wilds. What if her parents found out?

She wanted to ask in a dry tone exactly what Trastion would do with his one arrow against many poachers, besides make them mad? All they could do is hope they never had that encounter, but the sound of horn calls, always at a distance but always a constant presence, crafted a knot of anxiety in her stomach. They would definitely hurt Trastion. And take the cubs. And who knew what they might do to Gaerlothriel. If she revealed herself, what if they kidnapped her and held her for ransom? Maybe she should keep her mouth shut and hopefully only get a beating alongside Trastion. She could do that, she imagined. To save and protect a life, many lives. She thought herself brave enough to do that, right?

She perked up at the mention of dogs. She liked dogs. Who did not like them? But in service to poachers, it seemed a most cruel and twisted thing. So poachers chasing them, with dogs, and deer fleeing them. And no help but each other. But at least he was a skilled forester who was woodcrafty, right? Wrong. He only claimed to be. A lie. He lied to her. What else could he have lied about? She was running back all their conversations now in her head but he seemed…genuine. Mostly. His lie was only spoken to threaten a poacher. That…felt okay, now that she thought about it. He seemed alright to Gaerlothriel but she knew her family would never accept any such explanation if they found out. And if they found out, these sorts of adventures would be over for her. Forever. Her future betrothed would probably be the same. After all, her parents picked him too, like they picked and controlled everything about her life.

”I’m sorry about your grandfather.” Gaerlothriel said sympathetically to Trastion. She never knew either of her two grandfathers. They both died in the wars. She wanted to ask him about Pinnath Gelin, if he had been there often, to try and change the topic but she realized it might further give away her identity if she acted like it was near her own home. Certainly ships going to and fro Anfalas passed through Lond Col. Silence ensued and the music of the forest seemed to fill the air. Birds sang and wind rustled the leaves and it seemed like danger might finally be behind them…until a distant horn call, and many more to answer it, would suddenly resound in the rear. It would cause Gaerlothriel to turn and look back sharply, as if the poachers might round the corner behind that tree or this tree, and be upon them. But she saw nothing.

Weariness was starting to grow on her. Too much excitement. And it was indeed difficult to navigate the trail with all its obstacles, especially with her hands preoccupied to hold a cub in them, and another in her tunic which never stayed still. Every now and again, Trastion would hold a branch for her and she would mumble a thanks to him. He was really gentlemanly and she could appreciate that. When they came upon the paw print, she could fathom little from it. She had never personally seen a bear outside of a book. And her father’s men sometimes brought home very large stags. Since Trastion did not identify the bear print, Gaerlothriel did not interpret it as dangerous.

”I am keeping quiet.” She huffed, a little indignant at the reminder. Not like she was singing full volume or anything. And the cubs were all silent and observant now, themselves as tuckered out as their human saviors. Where were they going now? She did step lightly though. In fact she even made a little game of it, stepping where Trastion stepped, turning their dual foot prints into one. Her boots were smaller than his and her prints were completely contained within his. Eventually they got to the downed tree and she certainly needed help traversing it. Not with her hands preoccupied and the path so unsteady. The rocks in the water, she had adrenaline and the great motivator of fear behind her to act so decisively. Here, it was more difficult.

She wobbled unsteadily as she surmounted the ramp, holding the fox cubs aloft, but slowly she made it up to Trastion and let him continue to lead her on. They turned off the trail and into a different segment of the woods. ”I know the way. There’s just one more little valley we need to cross, over that ridge in front of us. The ground will descend, then slope up again. It’s not steep or anything. After that, we should be able to see the plumes of smoke and such from the town. Another hour.” She explained to him. And the thought of shelter and protection renewed her vigour and she was even walking past him, ahead of him, with confidence towards their locale. Well, they would have to find a spot to hide the cubs, as she couldn’t just take them, and Trastion, to her home.

But she could bring some of home to them.

”The road is a little bit west of here but we should stay off it. The poachers might be on it.” She suggested as well. And hopefully she won’t be recognized with this young man. Who really was he? ”You’re really good at this. You should honestly become a Forester. Actually, if your work goes good around here…have you ever thought of going to Minas Tirith?” She then inquired of him, feeling bold enough to spark up a conversation as they neared the safety of town.

”My brother is there now. There’s a headquarters for the Rangers there too. And did you hear? The return of the King!” She said excitedly, turning to face him, skillfully walking backwards, though that could end at any time if an unfortunate root or rock caught the back of her heel. ”You don’t look like you fought in the great battle. Did you, though? Or did you hear anything about it? No one really tells me anything except rumours. They say it was a tremendous battle. My brother fought in it. All we know is that he’s still alive, but the King needs him and other warriors to continue the fight, so he’s not coming home anytime soon. You should go there if you can.” She suggested with a smile, turning back around but falling back a little to walk beside him.

”I hear all sorts of things. They say there were flying dragons and wizards and armies of elves and dwarves and all of the Rohirrim came and their King too. Two Kings, in one space, can you imagine?” She chattered off to him, as they came over the first ridge and saw the land slope downwards before them, before going back up to a distant slope. Indeed, the faint smudge of smoke from various forges and fires of the town of Ossarnen could be glimpsed. So close. ”And the Shadow was beaten back.” She whispered the word quietly, as if felt dangerous just to invoke memory of that…place. A place of nightmares, it was said.

”They say the King has an elfstone – Elessar is his name actually – and he healed and mended all the hurt men. He knows elf magic, even.” She mused on the rumours she had heard so far, but here in this corner of Gondor, it was unlikely the truth would be coming anytime soon. Everything was so inflated and overexaggerated that who knew what was true and what was extra spice throw into the tales. She sighed. ”I want to see the White City one day. You ever been?”

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

He was glad to hear that she did still know the way. He'd worried, for a moment, that she might have gotten a bit turned around, after following that game trail. And he figured the poachers would be following pretty closely, though so far they had yet to catch up. Maybe, hopefully, the bear signs would deter them. He could only hope. And he could also only hope that the bear, or bears, would be far away. As Nimrodel described the terrain they should expect to see, Trastion nodded and kept glancing around warily as they walked.

As they walked, he was a little surprised to hear her compliment his forest skills. He smiled faintly at her. "Thanks." He hesitated, unsure what more to say in reply to her suggestion that he should become a forester for real. He couldn't really tell her that he wasn't really allowed to do what he wanted to do. That his choices in life were not his to make. He shook his head slightly to himself, about the time she'd asked if he had thought of going to Minas Tirith. As a matter of fact, he had not ever given it much thought. He'd wanted to come along when his stepfather was going with all the men at arms to fight in the battle brewing up that way, but he had been denied.

As the girl began to chatter about the war and her brother going to fight in it, and all the things she must have heard, Trastion listened in silence. He thought about his own sister, and what sort of rumors and, mostly watered down tales she was probably hearing as well. And then her question about whether he'd fought in the war, that made him think of his brother. He fought back the ache of loss, and remained silent for a moment while he tried to think of how to even answer that without revealing who he was. As it turned out, she seemed, for the moment, more interested in talking about everything she'd heard, rather than hearing what he would say. But she would probably expect an answer before long. And sure enough, she'd just asked whether he had been to Minas Tirith.

Since she had gone silent this time, as if to wait on a reply, he looked at her with a small smile as she walked beside him now. "So, I take it your brother is a soldier or something?" he guessed. He decided against mentioning his own brother. "So, what does a person look like, who has fought in a war?" he wondered, curious about that. He grinned at her briefly before lifting up a branch to raise it above her head, so as to allow her to pass under easily. And at the same time, the grin faded and he grew more solemn. "I was not there in the great battle, no. I was fighting a smaller battle, at home." He explained, a little bit self-consciously. In fact, he had not been allowed to come along to the big battle in the Pelennor. Nor had Aearon, but they'd managed to find plenty of enemies to fight, regardless.

"There were orcs, and men from Harad, trying to burn down the forest where I lived." He explained quietly as he walked, frowning slightly. "The foresters and lumbermen and common folk who lived there.. they were all that were left behind after all the important Lords and knights and such had taken their warriors off to the battle. So," he hesitated, thinking how to word this, "the man who was left in charge, where I lived at the time, he gathered up those who remained, and led an attack against the invaders." He smiled wryly. "None of us were any great warriors. Just a bunch of men with axes and bows, but.. well, we survived, and the enemies did not." He shrugged, as if to indicate it was nothing. "Anyway. No, I've never been to Minas Tirith," he answered.

Looking ahead as they stood at the top of a ridge, Trastion could see the distant smoke and signs of a town in the distance, just as she had promised. He looked back, still not quite satisfied that they had lost their pursuers. He looked around thoughtfully, then pointed off a bit to their left, heading slightly away from the town, where a rock-face rose up from the ground. He inwardly sighed in frustration, wishing he had his pack with him, but there was nothing he could do about it, now. Still, from here, he estimated it to be about the same height as himself, though it could be a little taller. He felt sure that he could get up there without any gear, and he could certainly help her get up to the top without any trouble as well. The foxes might prove troublesome, but hopefully the two of them could manage it alright. And it would give the illusion that they had veered away from the town ahead, if the poachers were still following them. Then, they could change their course again once they'd reached the top.

"Let's go that way," He suggested, then set off for a few paces toward it before turning back to her, figuring she might want an explanation for why. "I think we could climb up to the top of that little cliff, and then follow along the ridge for a ways, heading toward the town. The poachers' hounds will lose our trail, because they won't be able to climb up there." He smiled, thinking it seemed like a good plan. "Think you can climb it, if I give you a boost up?"

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

”My brother is a knight.” Gaerlothriel responded to the query, with a measure of pride. But the next response gave her pause and she frowned. What did a man who had been in a war looked like? She hadn’t seen her brother since he went off to Minas Tirith. There was still her father, and others close to his age who had served in some battles. What did they look like? ”Old.” She just shrugged. Older than they look. It was something about the eyes. And when Trastion told her about his own battles, the danger to his home, she felt certain…he had that look in his eyes too.

A very serious look. Of danger. And she was here. Alone. With this very dangerous young man. What was she doing?

He didn’t feel wicked or foul though, even if he looked it. Something just felt right about him.

”I’m…sorry about your home. Men of Harad chased me and others from our home too, a year ago. I’m still waiting to go back.” She admitted quietly about her own circumstances. No, she was not a native of Ossarnen or this region or province. She was from the coastlands. And judging from Trastion’s story, he must live too, somewhere in the south or east, towards the Great River. ”So you fought orcs? You must be really brave, then. I’ve heard they are terrible and ruthless in battle. I’ve never seen one, though.” She asked, unable to restrain the small bit of morbid curiosity that came over her. Her father knew. Her brother knew. Even her kinswoman across the river knew. Gaerlothriel was tired of being sheltered. Trastion seemed willing to talk about things that others might have scoffed at her for asking. And hurriedly shut her down from asking about it again.

Their movement though was soon halted as they came upon a tall ridge, barren and rocky, that rose up before them out of the treeline. ”Oh.” Gaerlothriel said with some surprise. ”It’s not like this over yonder…” she looked a little westwards, over slope and thicket of trees, where the land was more even. But the road was over there. And the poachers could be on that. It would take too long and pose serious risk if they went in search of more leveled ground. But it seemed the only way. Surprise then followed, along with shock, when Trastion outright stated they would keep going this way.

”How?” Came the obvious answer from her lips, in utter confusion. She looked at the rock-face, then back at Trastion. He would help her up and she could pull herself up, then turn and pull him up, but… ”I…can pull myself up with a boost and all, but how? Not with carrying three baby foxes.” Gaerlothriel pointed out, finishing up with a little pout, as if Trastion would dare to think they should leave the foxes behind here. No way. Never mind that foxes grew and lived naturally in woods, there was just something about these particular ones she feared for. Not until their mother was healed and back to full strength would she even begin to feel confidence about letting them go. She certainly wouldn’t be allowed to keep them, unfortunately.

But what about Trastion? Trained and worked with foresters, who defended his land against orcs and wicked men, and now faced off bigger, badder, meaner poachers with just a bow and one - one – arrow, he had to have the answer for this too. How were they going to get the cubs up with them? The rock face looked steep, with no vines or anything to help pull up. She would need all her strength to get up and over, then even more to pull Trastion up after her. ”I can put them all in my tunic. I just hope I don’t squish them too much against the ridge side. Okay, I’m ready.” She said, tucking all three foxes into her garment, between her outer tunic and gown. The belt at her waist prevented the cubs from slipping further down. The way they scrambled and moved though…was immensely ticklish.

Stepping towards Trastion, she put her hands on his shoulders and moved to vault herself up, one boot at a time into his hands, then stepping up onto his shoulders. Her boots were…so very muddy. And she promised herself she would find him a nice mantle or cloak to cover it up when all this was done. Standing on his shoulders, she was able to reach the top of the ridge and heaved herself over. It was not very ceremoniously, especially with having to pay attention to the cubs in her garments. But with a strong pull, she managed to drag herself up and over the edge, getting her knees up and finally atop. ”I made it!” She called back. ”Just…one moment, please.” She said down to Trastion, pulling the cubs out of her clothing and settling them down. Hopefully they didn’t wander too much or far away while she turned to help Trastion now.

Laying on her stomach, she crawled back to the edge of the ridge and extended one of her hands down. He could probably ascend all on his own but she felt she had to help someway, even if her meagre strength wasn’t even necessary to pull Trastion the rest of the way. ”We made it.” She declared with a smile, moving to collect the cubs again, who were meandering in the nearby grass at the base of a tree. ”Can we regroup them with their mother now, you think? Just for a quick moment.”

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

The news that her brother was a knight, that rather surprised him. Trastion blinked and glanced at her, but didn't reply to that for now. He vaguely wondered whether he would have heard of her brother, but then he reminded himself that one, he was supposed to be a commoner who didn't know anything about knights and nobility, and two, there were plenty of knights who weren't really known. He guessed that was probably the case here. And, it also suddenly made more sense to him that she would have a shawl made of silk or something; her brother probably managed to get that for her. And now he felt a little bad that it would probably be stained with the blood from this fox, and it was probably the nicest thing she owned. He wished he knew how to get blood stains out of cloth, but laundry was not anything he'd ever thought about before, and so, he had no idea.

He was disrupted from his thoughts about that when she spoke up and said she was sorry about his home. He gave a small nod, trying not to let his sadness show too much. But he really missed his home. Already. He'd only been gone a short time, but it felt like ages. Probably because he knew it would be a long time, if ever, before he could return. "Thanks." He muttered softly, then glanced at her sympathetically when she mentioned having been forced away from her home. A year? He felt a little ache inside, wondering how long it might be before he could return home. Probably a lot more than a year, but he wasn't sure. "I'm sorry, that must be awful." He said softly, but genuinely.

He held back a little sigh, frowning a bit. "Be glad you've never seen one." He told her. "They are terrible. And terrifying. Sometimes I wonder how I even survived that," He let out a little laugh. "They're also extremely ugly." he added with a little grin. As if, joking about them might make them a bit less frightening. "That poacher guy is almost as ugly as one." he added with a little smirk.

Soon, they arrived at the rock face, and he looked up. Yeah, it was just a bit taller than him. He should have no trouble lifting Nimrodel up so she could pull herself up. He grinned when she asked how they would get up there. "Climb, of course." He answered with a shrug. Too bad he didn't have his pack, he thought again with an inward sigh. But it was fine. He could easily climb this without gear. And it wasn't so tall that he had much to worry about, if he should slip. He was about to offer to hold the fox cubs while she climbed, when she came up with the thought of putting them all down her tunic. Well, whatever works, he thought with a bit of amusement. But then she seemed worried about how well that would work. "Well... Would it help to moved them so they're at your back?" he wondered, when she expressed concerns about squishing them.

While she was figuring out how to arrange the cubs, he carefully took the mother fox out of his jacket and laid her gently on the ground. "You'll be going up next," he promised her quietly. Then Nimrodel seemed ready. He cupped his hands together to form a sort of stirrup, as if helping her onto a horse, and then positioned himself so she could climb onto his shoulders. From there, he was very careful to keep his head, and gaze, downward. He had no intention of being accused of looking up her dress or anything of the sort. He was very careful to keep his gaze aimed downward until she called down that she'd made it. Only then did he relax and glance upward. "Alright, I'm sending the momma up next," he called to her.

Now, how to actually accomplish that? "Wish I had some rope.." he muttered to himself, and sighed under his breath. He did not have rope, unfortunately, so he had to think of something else, and use what he did have. He paused and considered for a moment, then knelt and redid the shawl wrapped around the fox. He fashioned it into a sling of sorts, still supporting her body, but with two ends reaching upward and knotted together. This part, he hooked over the tip of his bow, making sure it wouldn't slip off, then he held the bow upright and used it to raise the contraption up as high as he could toward Nimrodel. "Here, take her... take the bow too, please?" he asked. He waited until he was sure that she had it before letting go of his end of the bow. It was a bit harder than he'd expected, trying to balance a swinging fox from the tip of the bow while holding onto the bottom of it. But he'd managed. And now, it was his turn to climb up and join them.

The only hindrance was the arrow. He looked around briefly for where he could put it, then placed it between his teeth. Now, his hands were free to seek out handholds along the way. Who would've guessed that his favorite hobby would end up being so useful someday? He was pleased by that thought as he pulled himself up, found a good foothold, and then proceeded to climb a little higher.

Nimrodel reaching down to help him was a bit of a surprise. He very much doubted that she'd be able to help very much with pulling him up, but what she could do, was take the arrow. It did make things a bit awkward for him to hold it in his teeth, as he couldn't turn his head very well without one end or the other bumping into the wall. And he didn't want to break it, as it was the only one he had. If only he'd taken the time to get the rest of his arrows out of his bow case...

Holding onto a depression in the rock with one hand, he took the arrow from his mouth and held it up toward her reaching hand. Thankfully, he had both feet in footholds. "Can you get this, please?" He asked, as that seemed the best way for her to help, in his opinion. "Uh, it'll be a bit slobbery in the middle," He warned her. But once he had gotten rid of it, he was able to look around a little better and find the best handholds more easily. Soon, he was pulling himself up over the top of the ridge with practiced ease, having done this hundreds of times before. Usually with Aearon... but he tried not to think about that.

He shifted to sit on the ground once he was at the top, and looked back the way they'd come. The poachers were not yet in sight, but he thought he heard a distant baying of hounds. "Sure, just for a bit," he agreed to her request. "How is she, by the way?" He asked, glancing worriedly toward the fox. "I hope I haven't jostled her around too much."

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

The young man could not have been more than a few years older than Gaerlothriel, judging by his looks and stature. And yet he seemed to have all the wisdom of a fully grown man and veteran of the world. He knew about orcs and poachers, knew about bows and tracking, strove to rescue even the smallest animals, was a refugee, out in Middle-Earth all by himself. Who was he and where did he really come from? If only asking pointed, direct questions about one’s origins weren’t considered rude or overtly intrusive in polite society, she’d be picking his brain.

Getting up and over the ridge was a chore and some change, but the pair of them managed. She still frowned about having to put her muddy boots on Trastion’s clothing and shoulders. He didn’t seem to have much, and had abandoned more, all for this endeavour. It didn’t feel right to add to his burdens. Mama fox was soon passed up and Gaerlothriel gently took her, taking care not to aggravate her injuries. The mama fox was soon put down off to the side while she turned to help Trastion. First his bow, then the young man himself. And a promise to herself to surprise him later with some rope. There always seemed to be lots of it, coiled up, in a mining town like Ossarnen.

It was true though. She was entirely useless in helping Trastion up. She just didn’t have the strength or much of leverage to pull, but she tried. And despaired at her incapability. But when he asked her to take the arrow, she offered a little smile, seeing something she could make herself useful with, and took the arrow by the point, careful not to touch the…slobbery bits, as he put it. What a vulgar word, she thought. Trastion managed to get up the rest of the way mostly on his own and rock-climbing was another skill she was adding to Trastion’s fast growing list of abilities.

At his assent, Gaerlothriel reached into her tunic to draw out each fox cub, one by one. At first they had scurried endlessly within her garments, threatening to tickle her endlessly, but soon they fallen still, except for an occasional kick or tug of the paws. She feared she might have injured them, but soon enough, the aptly named Bara, Anwar, and Caran were reunited with their mother. Despite her injuries, she took care to inspect each of her cubs, while they nestled about her. ”I think she’s doing well. Better. She’s more concerned about her cubs, as mothers tend to be.” She noted to Trastion and looked at him, hands on her hips. How are you doing, though? She could tell.

”Look at you, though.” Gaerlothriel then said, coming to Trastion and grabbing him by the shoulders. She then began to wipe at the smears and clots of mud clinging to his shoulders, her hand half beating away the mud, dusting and brushing it off where she could. She just…felt bad about it. ”I’ll get you a new cloak when we’re in town. And a new pack. Come on, it’s not that far.” She said, turning back to the cubs to collect them up again. Bara and Caran in her hands now, Anwar tucked back into her clothes, between her outer tunic and gown. More and more she was revealing herself to be someone of important, a noble, definitely a rich girl with things to give away…

”I know a spot, near the edges of town, we can hole up and see what the situation is. Maybe the poachers or their friends are in town and could…see us.” She explained, leading the way again. The trees were still dense and thick here, but the town would show up within the hour. Very soon. Might even be able to hear the sound of wagons, hammers, and the din of conversation. ”So we – you – will lay low, and I’ll go and get some food and fresh clothes. It shouldn’t take me very long.” She said, hoping Trastion would linger and not be discovered by their pursuers. There was so much she wanted to ask and pick his head about, the rules of polite society be damned. She didn’t say it like a question or suggestion. She was demanding it. Lay low, eat, recover, talk. And see what they can do about the foxes and finding them a safe home.

”So you know how to climb, huh. Are there a lot of mountains by your home?” She inquired, unable to stay disciplined enough with the questions before they got to town.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

Hearing that the mother fox might be doing better came as a surprise to him, but he was glad to hear it. Trastion watched the foxes nuzzle up to their mother, and he smiled slightly to see that the cubs seemed alright, at least. He hoped the mother would be able to heal well enough, but he was still worried about the wounds in her neck. He had only the most basic knowledge of tying a bandage for simple scrapes and cuts, and this looked a bit more like something for someone who knows what they're doing.

The next moment, his thoughts were distracted from the foxes when Nimrodel suddenly started brushing at the mud on his shoulders. Fussing like a governess or something. He gave her a somewhat puzzled look. "Hey, I thought we were getting along alright, but if I was wrong, there's no need to attack me." He joked, because of the way she was half-beating at his clothes. He just couldn't resist saying something a bit silly, partly to try and get a laugh. After being chased by angry poachers and venturing into bear territory, and then discussing war and orcs.. he felt it might be nice to lighten the mood a tiny bit. "Don't worry about the mud, Nim," He laughed, with a half-hearted brush at his shoulder. "It'll wash out. It always does."

Her words about getting him a new cloak and pack brought a small frown. "No. There's no need to do that," He insisted as he watched her begin to gather the cubs. He went to wrap up the mother fox and tucked her into his jacket again. Picking up the bow and arrow, he again held them both in the same hand. "I don't need another pack; I've already got one, and it's got all my stuff in it. Including a cloak and everything I'll need. And I told you I'm going back for it, first chance I get." He reminded her. His pack, as well as the contents, meant too much to him to just leave it behind for good.

As for laying low, he nodded in agreement with that plan. That was exactly what he ought to do, he figured. While he wasn't sure how long he could do that, it would be nice to have someplace he could hide for a day or two at least, while he figured out where to go from here. He was feeling the effects of not having eaten since yesterday, but he felt encouraged by the thought of having something to eat soon. And something he wouldn't have to hunt and prepare himself, which was even better.

For a few moments they walked together in silence. Trastion wished that he had at least brought his canteen, since he was feeling very thirsty after all this walking. If only they hadn't been in such a rush, having to escape from those poachers. If only he hadn't had to leave his pack. He held back a sigh, then glanced at Nimrodel again as she asked about whether there were mountains by his home. He hesitated, swiftly trying to think of a good answer, then he smiled softly. "A lot of big rocks and stuff, mostly. Like that," He pointed back behind them with his thumb, indicating what they had climbed. "After all, 'Gondor' wouldn't be a proper name for this kingdom, if there weren't rocky places and large stones everywhere within the borders. Right?" He smiled at this logic, and hoped to remain vague as to where he actually came from.

"What about you?" He wondered, hoping to deflect some of the questions away from himself. "You said you'd been sent away from your home, and that you'd not been back in a year.. what do you miss most about your home?" He wondered. "Do you think you'll miss anything from where you're living now, once you get back there?"

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

Hey, I thought we were getting along alright, but if I was wrong, there's no need to attack me.

Gaerlothriel didn’t reply, but the jest made her smile. As if she could really hurt anyone. Often she took it as some sort of insult. Saying that she was weak? Incapable? Yet from Trastion it felt a genuine attempt at humour. Maybe it was just a show of relief from the tension and intensity of their escape and pursuit. She had never gotten into anything like this. Dare she say it, with all the danger and risk, it had been fun. Trekking, climbing, jumping across a river, being shot at.

Well, she managed to beat clean as much as the mud clot as she could, but it would take a more thorough wash to return the cloak to a state of cleanliness. And Trastion sounded like he was used to it. Most travelers and wanderers must be, she assumed. It was Gaerlothriel who was the odd one out in that. Trastion said he had all he needed already, but she didn’t care. She was going to get him something to help in his journey. She owed him that much, for his bravery. On behalf of the foxes at least. They were not capable of giving back, so Gaerlothriel would.

”There’s rock and boulders everywhere in the world, I never understood why the rocks here are so special to have a land named after them.” She quipped back with her own logic and seemingly accepting his dodge of where he was from again. There was an eerie familiarity that was growing in her mind that she couldn’t quite place, but she assumed it was just a shared comradery from the mutual dangers they had endured and prevailed over. Trastion then asked about her own home and what she missed and at first, Gaerlothriel gave a long, mournful sigh as she debated the answer. There were many answers to that question. It was just deciding which one was the most important to her.

”My family, I suppose. My mother, my brother…my father.” She listed at first. ”And the sea, mostly. The river is so quiet here. The ocean can be thunderous. It’s not frightening. It’s…awe-inspiring, in a way. There’s more water in the world than stones and rocks, certainly. I wonder if the lands under the waves have any names. And what they would be.” Besides old Numenor, if it had ever existed. She then thought about the second half of his question and raised her eyes above the height of the trees to the mountain peaks above, large snow-capped grey smudges that rose up to dominate half the skyline further northwards. They were new and nice to look at it. ”It gets ghastly cold here. I think I’ll miss the mountains. They are like old grey Kings with white crowns. And they been there since the making of the world.”

”Look,” she suddenly cut into her own statements, ”the town is coming up.” She pointed ahead and there, cutting through the trees, would be a fence. Not very high or formidable, just to keep the local domestic animals from wandering off the farms. On the outskirts of Ossarnen were some cultivated fields and farms, to feed the town, though most foodstuffs were imported from down south. The main road passed by many of these lowland farms and pens before coming to the main market town, with its collection of large wooden homes and halls. At the fence, the trees gave away after a few more feet and it would be clear sight after that, the pair able to look up a stretch of farmlands before the road went up a short slope to the first row of buildings of Ossarnen. The bustle of the town, with wagons, horses, workers, and the smoke of smelters, could be seen.

”This is the very edge of town.” Gaerlothriel pointed out, but fell silent after that, looking at Trastion while she held the cubs. What did he want to do? The poachers could very well be in the town as well, around some corner or in one of the two taverns there. They could be leaving any moment or arriving any moment. And who knows how many numbers. If they saw Trastion, they would…do something horrible to him. Did he want to risk it? Or maybe she could find him some shelter nearby. Somewhere they could nurse the mama fox back to health and figure out what Trastion was going to do. And how she could help in that. Because she was determined to, and not just be some damsel-in-distress.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

Trastion shrugged at the question of why their land had been named after rocks. "Maybe it's because they're so abundant here? Like, more than other places?" He guessed, though he had no idea whether other lands were so full of stone. "I mean, seems like everywhere you look, there's stones somewhere. Even here in the forest. See?" He pointed to a cluster of stones half-buried in the ground, as it to make his point. "And many of the cities are built with the stones." His own family's manor was not built with stone, but the majority of them tended to be, he knew.

As she answered his question about what she missed, he could hear the sadness and homesickness in her voice, and he went quiet as he listened to her talk about her family, and the sea and river. He decided not to ask anything further. When she wondered aloud about the lands under the sea, Trastion thought immediately of the sunken land of Numenor, of which he had heard tales all of his life. But he said nothing. Was that something common folks knew about? He wasn't really sure, since he knew that his own education had been far more extensive than what the average person would have received. Holding back a sigh of his own, he followed her gaze up toward the snowy tops of the mountains before them, frowning slightly as she commented on how cold it got here, in the land beneath their shadow. Though she may not have meant it that way, he took that as a warning; he would have to make sure he could get firewood, whenever he did find a place to stay. And to have plenty of blankets at night, to keep warm.

A faint smile tugged at his face though, hearing her talk about the mountains being like old grey kings. "Perhaps they have been here that long." He suggested with a little shrug, agreeing, although he wasn't sure. Hadn't the land changed significantly after the sinking of Numenor? He couldn't quite remember if this portion of the land had been altered, though. And his thoughts about that were interrupted when she pointed out the approaching town. Or rather, the town that they were approaching.

As Nimrodel stopped, so did Trastion, and looked ahead at the town. "So, what now?" he wondered. "You said something about some shelter where we could hide the foxes?" He reminded her, wondering if it would be difficult to find. She had also said something about food, but he didn't know if it would be polite to remind her about that just yet. But he was definitely anxious for something to eat. "I hope you know where to get medical stuff, too," He added, taking a cautious look down at the fox in his jacket. He also hoped she knew how to wrap bandages.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

”Dwarves build with stones too, how come they aren’t here?” Gaerlothriel fired back at Trastion, when he mentioned the abundance of stones being significant more than usual. Dwarves loved stones, or so they said. Not that she ever met one. Moreover she had to still her tone, talking about such mythical things could really send her off on a tangent. And right now wasn’t the best of time for that, considering the danger to their persons and the foxes. Maybe later she could pick the young man’s brain again.

So, what now? She still had a plan. Maybe she should have shared it more indepth but she felt it was better to just show Trastion. After all, he seemed the better expert and guide when it came to the wilderness. ”Come on, I know a place you can stay. Roof over your head too.” She said, gesturing for him to follow as she followed the edge of town, staying in the treeline, skirting around the outer perimeter of the town. If they entered, Trastion might be spotted by the poachers. If Gaerlothriel entered however, she might be able to pass without scrutiny, being who she was. She was counting on that in order to get the right supplies.

Which she held to be…foodstuffs. And maybe a spare blanket. But medical stuff? She had…no inkling of what was necessary. ”What do you think they need?” She inquired as she led Trastion around, staying in that neutral zone beyond the fenced cultivation of Ossarnen’s outer edges and the creeping wilderness all about. The town seemed sleepy and passive. It was still day, perhaps early evening, and most people would be indoors at their work or in the mines. She needed Trastion tucked away before people started to move. And it wasn’t long before she came on her query.

”The farms this side of town are abandoned. They’re worked seasonally.” She explained, repeating something her brother-in-law said to her sister. Something to do with cash-crops and only being able to grow them in certain months of the year. ”So no one really comes here. There are some buildings there, a barn and a…shack, where some farmhands and laborers stay when there’s work, but there isn’t now. It’s not the best, but you’ll be covered from the elements. And of course, from them.” Gaerlothriel said, leaning by a tree and pointing across some fenced off ground, with wide patches of dirt and some weeds, to some slightly dilapidated structures on a small grassy knoll.

She felt rather bad, stuffing her guest in there, but not like she could bring a dirty forester stray home. The look on her sister’s face would be priceless, though. She turned to face Trastion, holding the cubs in her hands, both content and quiet in her protective grasp. And the third, it’s head poking out under her chin. ”We can catch our bearings there. I’ll have to leave you there alone though, for a hour or two. I’ll come back with food and whatever else we need. I promise.” She informed him, first speaking like it was a command and order, but finishing up like she…needed his permission for it. After all, they were a team, right? They did this together. And he proved to be trustworthy and gallant. Now she had to repay him.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

He grinned when she asked about dwarves loving stones. "I've always heard they love caves and mines," He pointed out with a little shrug. "I haven't really seen a lot of those around here, have you?" He wondered if there were any caves here. "Not that Gondor couldn't have any," he actually did know of a couple of those, near the edge of his own land, "just.. I don't think they're very well known or anything. So, the dwarves probably don't even know about them. If they did, maybe they would be coming here in droves." He laughed slightly at the thought. As if dwarves would have much interest in Gondor. He had heard tales about the dwarves who lived off in the north, in the Lonely Mountain. The things they made were incredible. He used to have a toy that had come all the way from Dale, and had later passed it down to Linn.

As she set off, leading the way toward the place she knew of, Trastion followed gladly. "Roofs are good," he commented. "Do I get walls too?" He couldn't help asking with a little grin. While it would be nice to have protection from rain, it would be even nicer to also have protection from the wind, so having both was definitely a good thing. He was becoming more and more regretful that he had left his pack behind, since his tent supplies were all in there, too. All that he had was a small pouch with useful things, a hunting knife, and that bow and single arrow.

He looked down at the fox in his jacket when she asked what he thought they'd need. That question made him hesitate. "Umm," He looked back up at her and shrugged. "I'm not sure. Bandages, obviously. Maybe.. some stuff to clean the wound, and.. uh," He took a moment to try and remember what sort of things he could about this. "a healer, if you know one you can trust." he concluded with a little laugh, because he had no idea what else they'd need. "I know very little about treating wounds, unfortunately." he admitted.

As they arrived at an abandoned farm, he was a little puzzled that the place was not being used right now. "I thought spring was the best season for planting crops," He mentioned, being quite inexperienced with that sort of thing, personally. Thankfully, his disguise didn't require him to know things like that. "Well, anyway, lucky for me, I suppose." He smiled and looked around briefly. "Thank you, Nimrodel." He was very grateful for a place to hide from the poachers. He wondered how many of these abandoned farms there were, and whether the poachers could actually be using one of them for their base of operations. The thought made him mildly concerned. "You're certain no one will be around?" he checked, looking around carefully in case there might be any signs that someone was secretly using the place.

Seeing nothing that appeared out of place during the time that they stood there looking at the place, he decided maybe he was just being a bit paranoid. "Let's get the foxes inside then," He suggested, hearing that she had to go for a bit. He started toward the nearest building, which seemed to be the barn. While Nimrodel spoke as if she was about to take off, he hoped she'd realize that he couldn't carry all four of them, however small the kits were. "We'll do what we can to make them comfortable, then you can go get some supplies and things. I can try to check the mama fox's wounds in the meanwhile. I haven't really been able to look at it since we freed her from that trap." He worried that she might have lost a lot of blood or something, since he didn't feel her squirming very much in his jacket. He hoped she hadn't become too weak.

Entering the barn, he took a moment to pause and let his eyes adjust to the dim light, then glanced around. "I think.. the loft," he decided, figuring it would be easier to stay hidden up there, and besides, there looked like there was a lot of hay. He could use that to make them a cozy little nest, and it would be more comfortable for him to sleep there, too. "I can get the mama situated, then you can pass the cubs up to me, if you don't want to climb up there?" He offered, unsure. She had done a lot of running and jumping, balancing and climbing already. She might be tired, and besides, it would probably be difficult to climb with a fox cub in each hand. He could put the mother down and then get the cubs, and save Nimrodel a climb up and down the ladder.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

Roofs are good, do I get walls too? ”How can you have a roof without walls?” Gaerlothriel retorted, rather quickly, before her mind caught up and realized that Trastion was only joking with her. She had to turn back forward, eyes on the trail, in order to conceal her blush of embarrassment. He got her good. Not fair. She’ll have to think of a way to get him back.

She tried to make mental notes of all the things Trastion was listing, in addition to her own ideas. Bandages, food, water for drinking, water for cleansing, maybe some sort of…herbal medicine? She didn’t know much about herblore, though she had an inkling that what was good for humans may not be good for animals. So, she just couldn’t grab anything. Asking a healer though, there was one who served in her brother-in-law’s household, but he might relay Gaerlothriel’s remarks to his master, and thus to Gaerlothriel’s sister. And that might bring everything crashing down. But the poor mama fox might be in terrible pain.

”Mining towns import most of their foodstuff anyways. I think.” She explained with some hesitation. She was rather inexperienced about it too. She just knew this particular section of farmland was abandoned as workers moved to other fields, or into the mines. With most able-bodied men away at the wars or the frontier, a local lord had to be efficient with their remaining labour force. She knew that from listening to her father enough. ”You’re welcome!” She beamed at his gratitude. ”No, we should be left alone here, for a day, a week, months…” she rambled on, unsure of how long this little…team-up of theirs might last. Until the foxes were cured and strong enough, no doubt. And then…what?

Trastion chose the barn and Gaerlothriel followed with the cubs. Her nose immediately wrinkled at the smell but it had to do. There were several stalls, with lots of hay on the floor, and a loft which could be surmounted by a ladder. Trastion listed off more instructions and she nodded, following him to the loft which he chose as his shelter. Made sense, being elevated and all. Smart place to hide if anyone came looking. Which…she honestly could not guarantee wouldn’t happen. But surely they would have a day or two to get settled and see what the lay of the land was, what the poachers might be up to. She was definitely going to warn her brother-in-law about them. He could send proper patrols to ensure the safety of the woods. Or laugh at her instead.

In any case…the barn was no place for a well-brought up lady like herself. But…it was exciting. In a way. ”Okay, you go up first. Be careful, that ladder might be old!” She pointed out, and while she was indeed exhausted and fatigued, she was also determined to see this to the end. It was, overall, a very exciting day for her. The best she had in a long time. The danger, the thrill, the rescue, so many new emotions and sensations. Trastion was kind enough to make the clamber up and down the ladder, taking a cub or two each time, until all were situated up there.

Gaerlothriel remained on ground level, looking up. ”Are they okay? How is mama?” She asked, showing concern in her face. If everything was all settled in and comfortable, she could go on her own mission. She just hoped and prayed nothing happened in the meantime.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

Trastion tilted his head in mild surprise as Nim asked how to have a roof without walls. "Easy, haven't you ever seen a pavilion?" He wondered. "A roof with naught but beams to support it?" he shrugged. "Anyway, thank you." He was very grateful for the use of a building in which to stay. He should be able to stay here for a couple of days, at least, perhaps more. While he loved camping, hiking, and all of that.. it was a bit different when he had a nice comfy home to return to when he wanted. He'd never thought about how much different it would be, not having anywhere to go.

As she warned him that the ladder might be old, he paused as he was about to climb up. After giving a little tug to test each rung, he was able to get up without any trouble, then went exploring for a little bit to find the best spot to put the little fox family. After he had transferred the whole family up there, he took a moment to check on the mother fox. As he was no healer, he had no idea how badly injured she was, but he thought she needed some better care than what he could provide. "Uh.. I don't know," He answered Nim's question.

Leaving the mother to cuddle her babies, he went to the ladder and sat at the top, looking down at Nimrodel. "Her neck and shoulders are cut up pretty bad, I'm not sure if she just needs bandages or what. But I don't have any way to clean the wounds.. and I don't really know how to handle wounds like this." He frowned, unsure what they could do. "Any ideas?"

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the mention of a pavilion. Of course she’d seen one. Gaerlothriel wanted to argue the semantics, that it was not a roof but a canopy, and roofs and ceilings were particular to permanent structures. But Trastion wasn’t her sister or brother who would understand her particular idiosyncrasies. It wasn’t Trastion’s job to do that.

She listened to Trastion’s diagnosis of the mother-fox and frowned. She had some semblance of what they had to do. Just not what they needed in particular. ”Water cleanses, but does not heal. I know that basic knowledge.” She said back thoughtfully at first. ”Herbs to prevent infection and…other decay. But I don’t know which ones exactly. You think, if I asked the local healer, say for a human cut, would it be the same for foxes?” She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the question was rather stupid. Or would come off stupid. Or make her look stupid.

Regardless, she had her own mission to do. Leaving the barn, she noticed there was an old bucket, hidden beneath overgrown grass and moss, nearby. That would work for fetching water. She might have asked Trastion to do it in her absence but…who would watch the foxes? She felt like they would try to get down from the loft and potentially hurt themselves more. No, she would have to do everything. And after all Trastion risked for her, and the cubs…it didn’t feel like enough still. But on she got, on her hidden assignation.

An hour later, she had everything she needed in a wicker basket. She had lied to the healer, said a servant in her sister’s household suffered a bad wound and they needed something to help with the pain and blood loss. And she had been given a bundle. On her sister’s credit, something she would have to deal with down the road. She obtained a flask of drinking water for Trastion and plenty of food, from bread topped with oats and cheese, some pears, minor vegetables like carrots and tomatoes, and even half a lemon.

She made her way through town directly to get back to him. And she saw them.

”Tras? I’m back.” Gaerlothriel announced as she entered the barn, hoping he was still here and not having been taken, along with the foxes. When it was confirmed he was, she felt relief, bringing the basket to the base of the ladder and raising it up with her hands. ”Are they still okay?” She asked first. ”There’s a bucket out back. I’ll fetch some water for cleaning. There’s water for drinking in the basket. And food for you. And herbs for the little ones.” She explained rapidly, waiting for him to take the basket. When he had, she turned without waiting, going back outside to grab that bucket and head back into the woods to one of the many ponds and streams, with fresh mountain water. She filled the bucket half way, as it would be too heavy for her to carry, and brought it back to the barn.

This time she was panting and feeling sore in her arms as she carried it in. It was heavier than she thought! It was not labour she was used to. Trastion would have to bring it up the loft if he wanted to do the healing up there. ”I saw them in town. The poachers. There were like six of them, with their dogs. They were talking and in their own little circle, in the town square. They might be looking for us.” She explained in the meanwhile. ”My…there was no one I could tell who could do anything about them. Not yet, at least.” She said, but it wouldn’t be like that for long. She would tell her sister and brother-in-law about the poachers the moment she was home and saw them. And then the town guard would get them. Right?

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

"You think, if I asked the local healer, say for a human cut, would it be the same for foxes?”

The question made him pause to think. "I.. think so, maybe?" He answered uncertainly. In fact, he had no idea, but it seemed logical enough, right? He tried to recall what people would do whenever he had a cut or scrape. "Bring some soap too," He called when she went to leave. Soap and water to clean the wound.

After she had gone, he spent some time arranging the hay into a sort of corral around the fox family, so that the cubs couldn't wander off too far. He patted more hay into a sort of bed for the mother fox to lie on, so that she would be more comfortable. "There, it's alright," He assured her softly. "We're going to make sure you and your babies will be fine," He wasn't sure if the fox understood, but she seemed calm enough, anyway.

Having done all of this, Trastion then stretched out not far away, and waited. There was no way to know how long Nimrodel would be, but he didn't doubt that she would return. She was more worried about those foxes than he was, so she would be back. Just as he was beginning to feel drowsy, he heard her calling back up to him. Sitting up, he shook his head to get rid of the sleepiness, and came to the top of the ladder. "Yeah, they seem alright," He replied, and reached down to take the basket she was holding up for him. Food! At last. He was quite glad for that, and then wondered.. what do foxes eat, besides chickens? Belatedly, he caught what she'd said about the bucket and water. "Oh, do you want me to.." He started to say, but she had already hastened out. He shrugged to himself, figuring maybe she did that sort of task all the time, and maybe it was no problem for her?

He set the basket down on top of a hay bale, out of the cub's reach, and sat down again at the top of the ladder, with his legs hanging over the edge of the loft. He started eating a pear while he waited on her to return with the water, glad to have something in his stomach at last. He was just finishing it when she returned, and tossed what little bit was left of the core off to one side so he could free his hands. As it turned out, he had to climb at least halfway down before he could grab the bucket's handle, and then carry it up the ladder very carefully. "I would've gotten the water for you," He mentioned, once she had relinquished the bucket to him. He had noticed how much trouble she had seemed to have, carrying it.

What she said about seeing the poachers, however, very much alarmed him. He set the bucket down at the top and frowned as he glanced back. "They didn't see you, did they?" He asked, worried that they might have recognized her, or that the dogs might have recognized her scent. "You made sure you weren't followed, right?" He had to ask, to be sure.. but then, would she have even noticed, if they were stealthy and stuff? He cautiously peeked out of the loft window, checking that no one had come up the path after her or anything. "Well... looks clear," He muttered, before turning to see if she had climbed up to the loft with him. "Do you have to go home now, or.. could you stay for a while, and help me with this?" He asked, unsure he'd know how to treat the patient on his own. All he could think of was to wash the wound and hope for the best, but maybe she knew how those herbs should be used?

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
Year 3020 of the Third Age

”Water is not for me though. It’s for you and them.” Gaerlothriel remarked, trying to put a brave face on it despite how exhausting it had been hauling the water bucket all the way here. It had been heavier than she expected, but it was done, and not like the sores of her arms could be drained right out now.

They didn’t see you, did they? You made sure you weren’t followed, right? ”Well…um…” she stammered at first. ”I would not even know if I was being followed or not. I have never been followed before…” she said awkwardly, now fearing that a dozen poachers might burst into the barn and take away the foxes and Trastion. She would have to reveal her identity. But would that save her? Not like her brother-in-law and all his men were nearby either. ”I don’t think they saw me. They were in a group and they were talking to each other.” She just explained, as Trastion went to look outside and check. The barn was surrounded by open fields and it would be very obvious and evident if anyone was coming towards them. It was clear all around though.

Trastion said it looked clear and only then did she climb up the ladder to join him, smiling and beaming at the foxes as they all seemed enthused by her return. She had never been in a barn loft before. She could see how it was…not appropriate for a Lady like her, and yet the taboo of it made it all the more thrilling in a way. And by Uinen, if her father saw her in a loft…with a boy no less! It almost made her giggle, as she sat to one side, knees bent to her chest, picking up one of the cubs and placing it in her lap to caress and pet. But after making her remark about seeing the poachers, Trastion’s concern pervaded her own mind.

”Oh, home? I have a curfew, at sunset.” Which was probably in another hour. ”But I’m close to home, I can stay a little whiles. Will you be okay, alone here? If you stay here, that is. There's a small blanket for you in the basket too.” She pointed out, before looking at the foxes. And what about them? They would have to return to the forest. Face all sorts of risks and dangers, from natural predators and poachers. The pair of them couldn’t protect the foxes forever. But…wouldn’t that be nice? Felt very elvish to consider something like that.

”Okay, let’s get to work…” Gaerlothriel said, getting on her knees, taking some of the cloth she brought as bandages. She folded one and dipped it into water, which she would use to cleanse the mama fox’s wounds. ”We should…clean first, right? Then rub some of the healing herbs in, then bandage it up. That sounds…right to me, but I don’t really know…” She trailed off, looking at Trastion like he might know. While the theory might be, mostly, correct, she had no clue about how to put it into actual practice. Not like the mama fox was going to stay still or understand what they were doing.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

He could have argued about the water, saying how it was ridiculous for her to try and carry it, when he could have done it much more easily. And the fact that it was for him gave all the more reason why he should have been the one to carry it! But, seeing as there were other more important things to worry about, he let the matter drop with merely an eye roll. He was just glad he'd at least had a chance to eat a pear. He'd have more to eat later, now that there was a basket of food available. For now, he was content to wait until he was certain they were safe, and the mother fox was treated, before enjoying any more of the food she had brought.

He didn't see anyone approaching when he looked out of the window, so that was a good sign. He really hoped she was right in that they had been too busy talking among themselves to notice her. Taking another look out of the window, he watched for a moment while Nimrodel kneeled down to get started on cleaning the wounds. He couldn't help being worried that they might have followed her, but after what seemed like several minutes, he still had not seen any sign of them. So, that was a good sign, right? He turned away from the window when he heard her asking a question.

"Uh," He paused, hesitating as he came to join her beside the fox. "Well, I know if I ever got a bad gash like that," He paused and kept vague about who used to help him tend such wounds, "someone would wash the cut out with soapy water, and make sure there's no dirt or anything in there." He figured that should be the first step. "And then.. put some sort of salve or poultice or something on it.." He looked to see what she had brought, hoping it was an already-made thing rather than something they'd have to make themselves. "And, after that, a bandage." He looked at the patient thoughtfully. "Do.. um, do you think we need to trim a bit of her fur from around the wound?" He wondered, unsure if the fur would get in the way.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, hiding out in a barn.
Year 3020 of the Third Age

Gaerlothriel heard Trastion’s advice and antedote to match, imagining that tripping or falling in the woods could garner quite a nasty cut or bruise. She never got anything too severe herself throughout her years. And didn’t think Trastion suffered any sort of grievous injury that wasn’t accidental. Right? She took a mental stock of their supplies. ”Let’s see…” She reached for the mama fox and when the creature seemed to assent to being held by Gaerlothriel, she gently raised it and turned it over, so that the fox lay on it’s back, paws tucked in, the gash on its neck visible. She wouldn’t allow that to be so easily inspected.

The fur around was bloody, but it didn’t look like the blood had spread. It had clotted naturally, but was still very exposed and who knew what it had come in contact with since being ensnared. Gaerlothriel pouted and frowned at the poor thing’s predicament. What a nasty device it walked into.

”She might not understand we’re trying to help with the cutting. She might see a bladed edge and fear for her safety. We don’t want to panic her. Look, she’s so tranquil.” Gaerlothriel pointed out. The fox cubs all explored and walked over Gaerlothriel’s and Trastion’s limbs and legs, where they could. Occasionally they would check on their mother, sniffing each other in turn. ”And…I don’t have any soap. I should have grabbed some. But if I go back…” I might not make it back this night. Tomorrow, she made a promise to find some and bring some. Knowing what to ask and look for, she could do better with a more informed supply run. Surely the mother fox wouldn’t…pass away this night? They could save her. They had to save her. Do what she could now, tomorrow would be better.

”Can you hold her? Like this?” She asked Trastion, while she pulled the bucket of water closer and got one of the spare clothes she had brought, folding it over and over into a neat arrangement. She dipped half of it in the water and when Trastion had the fox held, Gaerlothriel tried very gently, gently, to touch the mother fox near its neck and start dabbing and cleansing the mottled blood and fur around the injured gash. If the mama fox showed any signs of pain or defensive posturing, she would withdraw.

”It’s okay, we’re only washing you, it’s okay…” She repeated over and over in Sindarin, looking up once to see if Trastion understood the old tongue. Gaerlothriel’s family spoke it day to day as their first language, more so than westron sometimes. ”For a salve…maybe we can crush the herbs and seeds into a powder or something, mix it with water, then clean the wound more directly?” She inquired, looking for Trastion for his thoughts on that suggestion. Cleaning a wound, she was confident enough to get that right. Same with the bandaging. But the salve was something she never done before.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

"True," Trastion agreed, when Nimrodel mentioned that the knife might alarm the fox. "I've only got a hunting knife, anyway, and I guess it'd be difficult to cut the fur with that." he had been thinking of scissors when he made the suggestion. As she pointed out how tranquil the fox was, he couldn't help wondering if she was tranquil, or lethargic from blood loss, but he didn't comment.

Hearing that she hadn't brought any soap, he frowned slightly. She must not have heard him when he called after her to bring some. "Too bad. I don't know any other way to clean the wound properly." He tried to remember if he had any of it in his pack. Not that it would do them any good, of course. Because his pack was somewhere far downstream, hidden under an overhanging river bank. He held back a sigh, wondering when he would get a chance to go back for it.

As she asked him to hold the fox, he nodded and did the best he could. "Sorry about your shawl, by the way," He added, catching sight of the silky thing with blood stains on it, now that it had been removed from around the fox's neck. "I'd offer to clean it for you, but I have no idea how to get stains out." he added, a little guiltily for having grabbed it to use as a makeshift bandage, but he hadn't really had much else to use.

Quietly, he watched Nimrodel dab at the wounds, and he tried to hold her still while also trying to keep her in such a position that Nim could do what she needed to do. He heard her speaking to it in Sindarin, but kept his expression as impassive as he could, as if he didn't know what she was saying. He figured, even if common folks could speak Sindarin, it might help with his disguise if he claimed not to understand it. Because while Anurion would know how to speak the language.. Trastion wouldn't.

While she was working on cleaning the wound, he glanced around to keep an eye on the cubs and noticed one of them had found the pear core he'd tossed away, and was gnawing on it as well as it could with its tiny teeth. He smiled slightly, hoping that was a good sign that they would eat stuff like that. His attention returned to Nimrodel when she asked him about the salve. "Umm," He hesitated. "I guess? I don't know. I um, I've never made a salve before, but isn't it usually like, a cream or something that you smear on? It's usually already made whenever someone uses those on me." He frowned. "Why didn't the healer just give you already made stuff, instead of herbs and stuff that you have to crush up yourself?" He wondered, puzzled why they couldn't have had the easy stuff instead of this. "I don't know how to do make this stuff," He admitted. They didn't exactly have a mortar and pestle handy, nor any other sort of supplies of that sort, either. He was beginning to wonder if they'd be able to help the fox mother very much at all.

Taking a slow breath to keep from feeling overwhelmed, he tried to think. "Let's see... what do you have?" He asked, trying to recall what the forester had taught him about plants. "I believe yarrow is supposed to be really good for healing cuts and bruises.. do you have any of that? And, um, something that sounds like calendar, but I can't think of what the actual word is..." He turned his eyes upward as he tried very hard to remember anything else that might be helpful here. "Sorry, that's all I can think of." He wondered if this healer had given her any instructions on how to use the herbs he'd sent.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, hiding out in a barn.
Year 3020 of the Third Age

She didn’t care about the shawl much. It was replaceable, if even a little pricey. To save the life of a mother fox though, that was worth something. Yet it seemed like Gaerlothriel was not very good at that either. She didn’t want to fail into despair though, thinking that ultimately there was no other outcome. Even if they managed to save this mother fox, wouldn’t there be some other end? It was a tragedy that unfolded in all the forests of Middle-Earth. The strong devoured the weak. Such was the animal kingdom. But that was her father talking. She was still going to try.

A flush of colour crept into her cheeks when Trastion asked why the healer didn’t give them something like a salve from the get go? ”I…maybe I should have asked. I’m new to this. I apologize.” She confessed quietly, accepting blame, maybe even a little fearful of a stern rebuke. Her father would in a situation like this. She should know already, he would say. Well…how could she know if she was never allowed to do stuff like this anyways? It wasn’t Trastion’s fault but…she felt a cold anger suddenly, that she struggled to push down. ”Besides, I couldn’t exactly say what it was for. What if the poachers go to him? What if he tells them?” What if he tells my sister and brother-in-law what I’m up to? A troop of men coming here to take her and Trastion seemed a worse outcome than being found by the poachers.

She paused in her cleansing to check the pouch of herbs they got. She pulled a few out – one of which was indeed yarrow – but she had no inkling about what Trastion meant by a word that rhymed with calendar. ”You know more than me.” She waved off his apology. He was the forester, remember? ”Let’s just…clean it, and maybe rub some of the crushed herbs into the wound, and bandage it up? With the shawl?” She suggested, wetting the folded cloth again and leaning in to begin cleaning some of the bloodied fur. It was becoming cleaner and cleaner of mottled blood, the clots of fur splitting up.

”Can you cut it up with your knife? Just a small, slender strip. And then would you let me use the handle like a pestle to grind up the herbs?” She then suggested, offering to do most of the work because of the guilt she felt about…not knowing. ”Shh you’re okay.” She paused to tell the mother fox, who was looking up at her very intently, seeing if Gaerlothriel might be a threat or not. She re-wet the cloth and continued to clean, leaning over the fox. ”You should eat more, I can do this.” She offered up a smile, wanting to feel useful after her mishap with the herbs and healer. In the meanwhile, she would continue to whisper soothing words to the fox, in the Sindarin language, while gently cleaning and dabbing away most of the blood.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

As Nimrodel admitted she had forgotten to ask for something like that, Trastion suddenly hoped she hadn't thought he was annoyed at her. He glanced up from holding the fox while she worked on cleaning the blood from around her neck. "Sorry, I'm new to this too," He admitted. "I just sorta thought the healer guy would've given you something more.. um, I don't know. Ready to use?" He shrugged. "The um, village healer where I came from, he would've given you a jar of salve or something, and told you how to apply it.. so, I just sorta assumed this other healer would do the same sort of thing." He explained. "I only know about the yarrow because I've been around folks before who suffered bad gash wounds.. like from where an ax or saw slipped and got someone's leg instead of the tree, or whatever, and I've seen them bandage it up with some of that plant mashed up so the juice gets into the wound.. and it heals it up super fast." He had been quite impressed with that, and had made an inquiry about what sort of plant it was. "The forester I told you about, he taught me some about that." He added quietly.

He wasn't really sure why she thought the poachers might go to the healer, but then.. maybe she was right. Maybe they would ask questions, trying to find out where he and Nim had gone. He was glad that she had not said too much, but didn't quite understand why the healer hadn't given her something more useful. But he tried not to dwell on that too much. They had yarrow, she said. He had used that for cuts before, it was incredible with its healing abilities, he knew. Or, it was when fresh, he wasn't sure about dried, but it couldn't be that much different, right?

When she asked about cutting her shawl up into strips, Trastion blinked. She wasn't serious, right? He looked at her though. She did look totally serious. He looked at the basket she had brought, slightly puzzled why she hadn't asked for some bandages, or.. something. Getting her fancy silk shawl bloody had made him feel guilty enough, but cutting it up? He couldn't help wondering if she really had such lack of regard for expensive things, or if she didn't realize that something like that was that costly. "Aren't you supposed to use clean bandages for a wound, though?" He asked, pretty sure he'd heard that before. "I can cut it, but.." He sighed. "I wish I hadn't left my pack behind. I've got stuff we could've used, in there."

Her following inquiry made him hesitate even more. Loan her his knife? He thought swiftly. "I can do that," He volunteered, instead. "You just worry about cleaning the wound. She seems calm enough not to need to be held," He hoped so, anyway, as he gently eased the fox out of his arms and positioned her so that Nimrodel could continue working. Then he moved a little away from them, so he was out of the fox's line of sight, before pulling out his knife. He carefully cut off the cleanest strip of fabric from the shawl, near one of the edges where it hadn't been as close to the fox's wound. Then, moving on to dealing with the herbs, he paused. He could use his knife handle as a pestle, but what could he use for a 'mortar'? How was he going to crush up the herbs if he had nothing to put them on? He frowned thoughtfully at this dilemma, and then shrugged and instead, gathered a few of the dried flowers and leaves into his hands and started crumbling them up between his palms, as well as he could that way.

"Here," He offered her the handful of mostly crushed dried herbs. "This should go in the wound, I think, and.. then you bandage it." He wished he knew more about this stuff, but it was the best he could offer. Maybe tomorrow, they could have better supplies and could do a better job of treating her wounds. Once he had finished with the herbs, he watched for a moment to make sure she didn't need any more help, before moving to the basket she had brought. He was definitely hungry.. the pear had helped, but not quite enough. He grabbed the bread, and cheese, and some other things to make a sandwich. "How'd you know I was hungry?" He wondered curiously, before taking a bite.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, hiding out in a barn.
Year 3020 of the Third Age

As Trastion began to speak of his own experiences with healing wounds, Gaerlothriel gazed up from where she cleaned the mother fox to watch and listen to the young man intently. Not once did she blink or avert her gaze, absorbing every bit of detail and information of Trastion’s story that he told. Hearing it made her feel better about what she was doing. She had…rather the same idea, as she couldn’t make a proper salve or juice as Trastion called it, but she could get the grinded up herbs into the wound. Only when Trastion concluded that he learned this from his forester mentor did she finally look back at the mother fox, removing the somewhat bloodied cloth she had been using – the first of many – and saw she had managed to remove much of the initial debris and clot around the injury. It looked very horrid, a glistening red, with the fur angrily lined away from it. Terrible.

”I’m not saying we should use the bloodied parts of the shawl. The parts that aren’t touched. Enough for a long lasting bandage after we’re done cleaning.” She explained back to Trastion. The other cloth she had fetch, a mixture of table cloths, bedding, just squares of white cloth, were of a more softer and less durable nature. With all the roughness of forest living, as she presumed for an animal, they would not last very long and would expose the wound to possible infection or greater harm. The silk, the clean parts of it, could survive longer. That was her thinking at least, from what she knew about garment qualities from her wardrobe.

But still, kind Trastion offered to grind up the herbs as well as make due with the shawl, what he might be able to salvage from it. Gaerlothriel would say she forgotten it or something in the woods after a hour of daydreaming. Might earn her ridicule from her sister for a time but it would be a good cover story. Why did it matter to lie to her sister and brother-in-law? Gaerlothriel might receive stricter limitations if it was told that the young Lady of House Dimaethor was off messing around with wild boys of the woodlands. Not good for public perception. She had to keep quiet, but it restricted so much what they could do for the foxes.

At Trastion’s remarks, Gaerlothriel gently took the mother fox and transferred it into her own lap, while she cradled it like a young infant. She ran her hand on the fox’s belly, wondering if she would have the same affinity for a rub that a puppy or dog might have. The mother fox continued to be polite and calm, paws tucked in, peering up curiously at Gaerlothriel. Something in the elven words she occasionally murmured had a soothing effect on it. And the cubs gathered around hers and Trastion’s legs, exploring the loft but seeming wise enough not to wander too close to the ledge.

Trastion finished up and gave some final instructions, reinforcing Gaerlothriel’s belief in her plan of action. ”Okay…” she nodded, her brow knitted in fierce determination and concentration. ”This might sting a little, but it will help you mend,” she whispered in sindarin to the mother fox, before taking some of the crushed herbs and sprinkling it into the wound. The mother fox…did not like it, and made a sound of protest and tried to wiggle. ”Sorry, sorry, sorry, hush, it is no danger to you, shhh,” Gaerlothriel quickly lulled the fox and when it seemed still again, she added just a miniscule more. She wanted to use more but it was clear the mother fox was growing defensive towards it. How much more could she risk?

Then Trastion said something about the food and for a moment, her mind skipped a beat. ”Because I was hungry too.” She replied to him, casually, forgetting or not thinking that he may not know the ancient words of the high tongue of Numenor, that her family and other nobility in Gondor still employed as daily speech.

Her attention was back on the fox and after some more soft words, she added just a bit more of the dried, crushed herbs into the wound, until it all seemed covered and spread. She then took the cleanest length of silk and began to wrap it around the fox, gently at first, but tightening it with every pass, being careful not to choke or impede the fox’s throat, but enough to be firm. She tied a little knot at the side and hoped it would stick. And help. And most importantly, lead to long term survival and prosperity. ”Heh, it looks like a little ribbon. She’s going to be one pretty lady to all the papa foxes out there. Aren’t you?” She cooed, in a tone rather fit for appeasing toddlers and babies. The mother fox just observed her sullen and tired. Gaerlothriel let her continue sleeping in her lap, which was also taking on shreds of fox fur.

”I…I’m sorry to ask again, can you maybe pass me a bit of the lettuce? I can try and feed her, and the cubs.” Gaerlothriel asked Trastion, apologetic for interrupting his meal. She thought she was being a good host, letting him have his fill, and then her other guests, and finally herself. She of course was in no haste, while she was hungry, she knew there would be a bountiful table at her brother-in-law’s home when she returned. She could sacrifice more here for Trastion and his foxes. Their foxes.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais,
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

While Nimrodel worked on bandaging the fox, Trastion was quite content to begin eating, since it seemed that he was no longer needed to help her. And, he might have insisted on helping anyway, except he was really hungry. Still, when she responded.. in elvish.. he blinked and looked up at her. He had to be careful not to let on that he had understood her. Having decided, a while ago, that his 'new self' was not familiar with Sindarin, he would have to be careful to maintain that act. Which meant, he could not let her know he knew what she'd said. He decided that she looked as if she could have been speaking to the fox, rather than answering his question. "What are you saying, anyway? When you talk to her." He asked with a nod to the fox. "Do you think she understands you?" He asked, his tone genuinely curious, rather than criticizing.

As he watched her wrap up the bandage of silk, he gave a little smile as the girl talked about it looking like a ribbon with a bow. Typical girl, he thought with amusement. He swallowed the bite of his sandwich before commenting on what she had said about 'all the papa foxes out there'. "She obviously already has a 'husband'," he joked, with a nod to the fox kits. "They choose one mate for life, or so I've heard." One of the things he liked about foxes; loyalty. This brought a small frown to his face though. "I wonder where their dad is." He had a worried feeling that perhaps those poachers had already gotten to him. If that was so... then the poor kits would be fatherless. Therefore, they would be entirely reliant on their mother to care for them. "Usually, the father will bring them food, guard them, and teach them how to hunt." He wasn't sure whether she knew that, and he only knew it from one year when he and his brother had observed a family of foxes who lived near where they had been camping for a few days.

When she asked for some lettuce, he reached for it. But, hearing her reason for it, he hesitated and glanced at the fox. "The kits seemed to like my pear core, earlier. It might be softer for her to eat... I could cut up one of those for them?" He suggested, instead. "And, what about you? Want me to make you a sandwich for when you're done there?" He asked, pretending as if he didn't know she had said she was hungry.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, hiding out in a barn.
Year 3020 of the Third Age

She quirked her eyebrows when Trastion asked what she had been saying in the elven tongue. Did he not know? Yet he knew who Nimrodel was, from the tales. But of course, while Gaerlothriel might know of the lay of Nimrodel in the elven tongue, there must surely be common tongue renditions of it sang somewhere in the provinces. ”I…don’t know if she understands me. I’m just saying stuff like…apologies and an explanation of what I need to do and why. My mother used to tell me that elves taught language to all the creatures of Middle-Earth. And then from there, all our tongues divulged and separated. But somewhere in the old elvish words, there is still some shared meaning and understanding.” She explained softly, before blushing and shrugging. ”Probably just fireside tales for little girls, huh?” She laughed nervously.

The news of foxes mating for life certainly was new information to her. ”They do? I did not know that. Her husband must be worried.” She said with a frown. And, unknowingly sharing the thoughts of Trastion, she assumed something terrible must have happened to the husband and papa fox. Like the poachers got to him first. Poor critters. And they mate for life?

”if they already like it and are eating it, then yes give them more! I was going to experiment and try each one with them.” She said, returning to a smile. They couldn’t help the one that was lost already. But they could do all they could for the little ones and their injured mom, who seemed more restful and relaxed now that she was bandaged. The mama fox continued to lay, upside down, in her lap, leaning over with her mouth and face to check on each of her cubs as they trailed about the two humans, in that narrow loft, in some abandoned barn on the edge of the town of Ossarnen.

”A sandwich for me? I would love one, but…I can make it. You’re my guest, you’re not supposed to do any work. Don’t touch it. I’ll make you another.” She said, both light heartedly and with a measure of authority in her voice. She grabbed the basket, intent on being the gracious host for the real savior and workhorse of this show. Trastion. He faced down the poachers and was almost shot for it. He lost his pack. Probably diverted off his trail for a day or two because of this. Poor fellow. She would make him a tremendous sandwich for his troubles. The least she could do.

And thinking about his pack… ”When you go back, tomorrow, or the day after, for your things…can you keep a look out for the papa fox? He might be looking for them or wondering where they went. If you can get him to come with you,” she said, taking out a bun of bread, which split easily at the middle and began placing layers of ingredients in it, tomato, lettuce, cheese, ”bring him here. But if he, for obvious reasons, will not come with you, maybe we can bring the family to him.” She suggested, operating under two very unlikely suggestions; that the father fox was still alive and that Trastion would be here for another day or two or more.

Then she handed him a second, completed sandwich, with a wide grin. Whatever he couldn’t eat, she would have the leftovers. In any case, she could always eat more at home when she got there, which should be soon, as the last rays of sunlight were still peeking over the mountain tops and hills.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, Ossarnen
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

Trastion nodded thoughtfully as Nimrodel spoke of the elves having taught languages to all creatures, and how her mother had taught her that. He shrugged at her comment about it being fireside tales for little girls. "Perhaps not. She does seem awfully calm, doesn't she?" He nodded toward the mother fox. She was being very still and peaceful, and he wasn't sure whether it was all from the weariness brought on by the blood loss.

As she agreed to the pear idea, he grabbed one and began cutting it into pieces. "I'm not really sure what they actually eat, except I know they've got a bad reputation for sneaking into chicken houses," He mentioned. "But I think, if I'm right, they usually forage for stuff in the woods, and only resort to chickens if they can't find anything else." He wasn't really sure about that, but shrugged slightly to himself as he continued chopping the pear.

When Nimrodel declared that she would make the sandwiches, and even ordered him not to touch it, Trastion glanced up and grinned at her. "How're you going to stop me?" he joked, but he didn't move to try and grab the basket back from her. He continued cutting; only a little bit left to go and he'd be done. By the time he finished, she began asking him if he could try and find the father fox, when he went back for his pack. He tilted his head and considered her request as he divided up the pear pieces, one section for the momma, and the rest for the kits. "I can try," he answered a little hesitantly. "But, I sort of doubt that I'll be able to find him. He wouldn't know that I can take him to his family.." If he even found the fox alive, which he doubted.

As Nimrodel handed him a large sandwich, Trastion blinked and took it, but glanced around. "Where's yours?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "You said you were making yourself one. Or did you already make it and wolf it down and then make this one for me?" He asked teasingly. "Should I cut this one in half?" he offered, more seriously. He had already had one, and while he felt like he could easily eat this one without much effort, he also didn't want the girl to go hungry while he ate a second sandwich.

[Romeran]

Ranger Trainee Romeran
@Rillewen

The camp that he had begun to construct was near to where Duinion had been. Luckily for them there was a nearby clearing, a shelter of trees within the otherwise dangerous thicket through which Romeran had trudged. The sparse trees in the area provided sufficient scaffolding for his tarp and a small campfire area. As Romeran put together the shelter he looked into the sky for any sign of rain. The few clouds were light in color and the air was not heavy. At least the chances of imminent rain were low, as far as Romeran would wager. He felt comfortable as a consequence setting up an open fire and starting to boil some water. They would need that, regardless of what they would eat. Luckily Romeran had at least some foraged roots and vegetables to make a reasonably stew even if he could not find any source of protein. Trapping food would take too much time and would be unlikely to yield food for this night. But if he had time, fishing by a nearby river seemed like the best bet. Romeran decided to consult Duinion on the matter.

With a small campfire going and water gathered to start boiling, either for sanitization for drinking, or food, Romeran felt it was well past time to seek out Duinion. Luckily, it did not take long for Romeran to return to where he had left his mentor. Romeran had intentionally sought out a shelter area that was near, at least as far as he could discern, to where he had left his master, knowing that Duinion would be unable to travel a great distance so soon after his injury. A pang of guilt washed over Romeran even as he thought of the injury his mentor had suffered.

“Duinion” he called quietly at first as he came toward where he believed he had left the elder Ranger. Duinion had mentioned making crutches and Romeran had listened for the sound of a knife shaving bark but eventually assumed the elder Ranger had already completed his task.

“Duinion!” He called again, this time louder. He was beginning to wonder if he had returned to the wrong place or if, despite his injuries, his mentor proved more than capable at camouflaging his presence. Romeran shook his head. Why had he even considered disobeying his masters orders? Who was he to question the elder rangers vast experience? Eventually he settled on the conclusion that he hadn’t actually decided to disobey Duinon and that instead he had simply acted it was no more conscious thought than breathing. Romeran was unsure if this was a comforting or unsettling thought.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, hiding out in a barn.
Year 3020 of the Third Age

Gaerlothriel had to agree, the mother fox was amazingly calm despite the sensitive touching upon and around her injury. She had reacted to the human touch but the elvish words had put a spell of calm on her, or so it seemed. Gaerlothriel didn’t want to see it confirmed or denied, thinking she might jinx it into uselessness somehow. ”I’ve heard about their propensity for chickens. I imagine they must hunt…rabbits or other ground critters, smaller than they. Or do you think they know to forage for root and berry?” She asked Trastion, since he was a forester apprentice and should know more than her. But not all the information in the world.

But the talk of sandwiches suddenly changed the energy in the air. How’re you going to stop me? The young man said so seriously, yet there was something in his tone, in his eyes, that just had Gaerlothriel…disbelieving his challenge. Who did he think he was? This was her home. ”Because I told you to stop.” She jeered back at him, though her mouth broke into a half-smile. But the commandment had no effect on Trastion, who continued to cut. To his credit, he stopped soon after at least. And if he didn’t, what was she really going to do to stop him?

”Maybe if you knew some elvish words you can talk to him.” She replied, in the elven tongue, to his remarks about not being able to convince the papa fox of anything, if he was found. Now she was just teasing Trastion and he probably didn’t even know what she said, so she continued on back in westron. ”They’ll find each other, I’m sure of it. Fate wouldn’t let them be separated so cruelly like this.” She said, half in a prayer, as Trastion separated the pear pieces to each of the foxes. And Gaerlothriel finished the sandwich for him.

Where was hers? She should make one for herself too, he already had one. He could cut this one in half… ”I’m a proper lady, I don’t wolf down anything. No, you eat. You did so much today, you need it.” She argued back at him, shaking her head, her locks flying, in refusal to his offer. ”I can wait. You did so much. You found the foxes. You carried the mother. You got shot at by the poachers. You let me stand on your shoulders with muddy boots. You lost your pack and a good many things. No, you eat. I insist.” She surmised, jabbing her finger at him as if to warn him not to refuse her generosity and charity.

”You eat that one and I’ll make myself another one…” she reiterated, reaching for the basket by Trastion. But there was only one slice of bread left, which was hardly sufficient for a full sandwich, and not the best bits of ingredients left to top it.

[Rillewen]

@Romeran

Ranger Tirdinen Duinion Raedor
A meadow in the mountains
(sometime in March)

A long time passed, and despite his attempt at staying conscious, Duinion slipped off for a little bit. The pain in his ankle and foot seemed to be getting worse, and trying to shift even a little bit seemed to make it hurt all the more.

It was the sound of his name that drew him out of unconsciousness, or at least some sort of 'zoned out' state. He had the crutches completed, or as much as they could be, and held them both against one side, together. His hand which held the knife had dropped down along his other side, and as he roused slightly, he realized this and put it away. "Over.. here." He called back weakly, as he was unable to take a deep breath. The blow to his side must have cracked some ribs, he was fairly sure of it.

Eventually, with much effort on both of their parts, and no small amount of pain, Duinion and Romeran had both relocated to the new camp that the trainee had set up. Duinion was in a great deal of pain after moving, and having to make use of the makeshift crutches was even further unpleasant. But it allowed Romeran to be able to help him move, without the young man having to literally carry him. Rome had also been injured, if Duinion recalled correctly, but he seemed able to still move around and do things, so that was a great relief.

In fact, though it would have probably been better for him to get to a healer right away, Duinion couldn't see much way possible for him to get back down the mountain in his current state, even with Romeran's help. Being.. perhaps foolishly stubborn, in that he did not like to admit to being as badly hurt as he believed he was.. the man instead insisted that they ought not leave the mountains without having gathered the plants that they had come for. It was fortunate that Duinion had seen some of those plants the day before, while gathering firewood, for he knew the general spot where they could be found, and therefore could direct Romeran on where to look for them. Between that, and the descriptions he gave, it would be difficult for the young man to not find the plants.

He struggled to maintain the appearance of being mostly fine, trying to convince the both of them that his ankle was only sprained and would be fine if he just kept off of it for a while, and yet, he could not bring himself to take the boot off and take a look at how bad it was. If he took it off, he might not be able to get it back on, after all.. so instead, he directed Romeran on how to splint it so that it wouldn't get jostled about as much. And also, to bind his ribs where he felt that they were cracked.. and if Romeran had any similar injuries. He further instructed him on what sort of symptoms to watch for, and what to do about it, in case his condition took a sudden turn for the worse. What to do in the unlikely event that Duinion got to the point that he might not be able to tell Rome to do; like shock or severe infection or anything of the sort.

Thankfully, in the next few days that passed, none of these things happened. Duinion did what he could to supervise and verbally instruct the trainee to do this or that, but for the most part, Rome had most of the responsibilities fall on him. Gathering enough of the herbs to be useful to the healers back in the city took several days, but once Rome found and brought the plants to Duinion, the latter was able to at least make himself useful by prepping the plants for transporting back down to the city, so that nothing would get damaged or lost between here and there. Eventually, he deemed there to be enough. But the next step of the journey would be much more difficult. Getting back down the mountain with his ankle as it was... he had no idea how he was going to manage that, and yet, they were going to have to get there somehow.

As they finished up supper, Duinion discussed with Romeran about the matter. They had enough herbs to last the healers quite a while, thankfully. But it would be a slow, difficult journey to go back down the mountain with Duinion using his makeshift crutches. Any little stumble and he could go tumbling and be much more seriously hurt. He was curious if Rome may have any ideas on how to manage it more easily.

---

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, Ossarnen
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

Hearing her question about the foxes eating roots and things, Trastion glanced at them thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe?" He had never tried to keep one for a pet before, and in fact, this was the first time he'd ever gotten this close to one, and to actually hold one. "I know raccoons and possums eat anything," He thought for a moment. "Maybe foxes do too? Anyway, they like the pears, so that's a good start." It seemed hopeful, anyway.

As Nimrodel pointed out that she had told him to stop, he gave a playful little smirk in return, but focused on giving the foxes the pear pieces for now. He glanced up at her with a puzzled look when she spoke of using elvish words to talk to the fox patriarch. Though he knew what she said, he couldn't let her know that he knew. "Yeah.. I'm sure." He replied quietly to the rest, about the fox family finding each other. He brought his gaze back down as he focused on wiping his knife blade clean of pear juice. 'Fate' wasn't always so kind as to work that way, but he couldn't bring himself to burst her bubble with such a sad thought.

He looked up again, his mood raising slightly with amusement as she insisted that he should eat the sandwich. His blue-grey eyes rolled as she reminded him of all that he had done today. "You got shot at too," He reminded her. Well, technically the shot had been fired at them both, and probably more aimed at him but she had been there and could have been shot, too. "And you carried the kits. And you gave me shelter and food," He pointed out. If she was going to play that game, he could play it right back. "And I already had one sandwich," He grinned and snatched the basket away from her, just as she reached for it. "You take this one, I insist." He offered out the sandwich that she had made, but he couldn't help grinning as she insisted that she did not "wolf down" food.

"A proper lady indeed.. complete with mud-covered shoes, and sticks and leaves in her hair, and moss clinging to her dress." He teased with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. There were not actually any sticks, leaves, or moss.. at least none that he could see.. but he was hoping for a laugh at the reminder of them running through the woods together, without caring about their appearances. He'd never known any 'proper lady' who didn't care way too much about her appearance at all times, and so, he found it very unlikely that this girl was one of those stuffy noble girls. Which was quite refreshing, since he'd never met any other kind before today. "I'll make myself another half sandwich.. I'm not so greedy as to need two and leave you with only half. You take that one." He declared, equally determined as he nodded toward the full sandwich. "Unless," He raised the basket over his head, smirking playfully, "you can get the basket from me?"

[Romeran]

Ranger Trainee Romeran
@Rillewen

Romeran was no healer, but he could tell Duinion was more injured than he was letting on. Romeran had done similar himself, feigning that he wasn't in pain or that the injury wasn't that bad to avoid any undue attention or concern. But Romeran had no skill as a healer and could hardly protest, what was he going to do if he convinced Duinion to remove his boot and found out that it was much worse? Romeran decided it was simply best to follow whatever the older ranger suggested they do. Romeran's own ribs still ached dully, but the pain was manageable, he had cracked ribs in the past and there wasn't much for to it, other than waiting out the recovery, and he was glad that it hadn't meaningfully impacted his abilities or dislocated any ribs, as it was, he was quite used to pushing through discomfort.

The makeshift splint that Duinion had instructed Romeran to construct seemed to help, at least as far as he could tell. The instructions on what to look out for and the discussion of shock or severe infection made Romeran nervous and he hoped dearly that it wouldn't come to that. Romeran went over the directions, regardless, almost as if a mantra, in fear that he would have to execute on this alone with a worsening Duinion. Luckily, that didn't come to pass, at least over the next few days and while Duinion wasn't exactly spry, he didn't appear to be getting worse.

Despite Duinions clear instructions and descriptions of the herbs and flowers they were seeking, Romeran had struggled to pick the right ones consistently and relied on Duinion to help sort out the right ones from the wrong ones. Over several days he grew more proficient at identifying them and spotting the nuance between the different but similar looking flowers. By the third day, Romeran was no longer bringing back the wrong plants. The remaining tasks such as maintaining a fire, gathering and cooking food, and keeping the shelter in good form were considerably easier to Romeran than identifying medicinal herbs, partly because he had more instruction from Duinion and experience with these tasks. If nothing else, he was glad for the practice and looked to Duinion for advice or guidance on how to improve his skills in these areas. Romeran felt he had made some reasonable progress and by the time Duinion had suggested they consider leaving -- having gathered sufficient herbs -- he was almost disappointed to leave their camp.

On the fifth day, Duinion declared that they had enough herbs to bring back and that they should find a way down the mountain. While the older ranger had constructed a reasonable pair of crutches, they were hardly well designed for navigating up or down a mountain trail, and as Duinion had pointed out, especially if he fell and got more injured.

Duinion was tall but not quite two ranga in height and considerably lighter than Romeran. Romeran also guessed that the ranger may have also lost weight over the last week or so since the battle with the troll, while Romeran had done a reasonable job gathering food, eating while considerably injured -- especially the ribs -- can be challenging. Romeran had a great deal of experience carrying large objects and even people over distances and he was confident that Duinion would prove manageable, even if it meant taking more breaks and a longer time to get down.

"Why don't you let me carry you, Duinion" he offered "I know how to perform a proper rescue carry. And while it might mean stopping a bit more to rest, that seems better than you tumbling down or navigating with crutches" Romeran suggested. The younger ranger didn't expect that Duinion would take the suggestion very well considering how self-sufficient Duinion was, but Romeran spoke reasonably and after all Romeran was nothing if not large and strong surely he could put those qualities to effect. Duinion reluctantly agreed, presumably seeing that there was not much else for it.

The journey down the mountain side took nearly twice as long as it had going up. Not only was Romeran's burden considerably heavier, but navigating downward slopes was always more dangerous than upwards, presenting more chances to trip and fall. The last thing Romeran wanted was to exacerbate Duinion's injuries by tripping and both of them tumbling down. Consequently, Romeran had made patient and calculated steps as they made the slow return journey. They stopped often, Romeran carefully placing Duinion down to rest his legs and back. At first the burden had not felt that great, lighter than some of the large trees and hay bales he had carried on the farm, and encouraged by determination to prove himself to the older ranger. As the days wore on, it became more difficult for Romeran without a large breakfast and several meals to fuel him and with several past days of carrying the weight of another person to tire his muscles. But Romeran showed no signs of stopping, even if their pace slowed down and the rests increased in frequency. Romeran and Duinion had become practiced at getting up and down from the rescue carry, but Romeran was convinced that the older ranger must be getting sore from being held over his shoulders, not that he expected him to complain about it.

Half way through the fourth day on the way down, nearly twice as long as up, the thick woods near the base of the Ered Nimrais slowly began to thin and the change in pitch became flatter and flatter. Looking back, it seemed they had made most of the journey down the mountains, although they still had to trek back into the city proper, or at least the Pelennor.

"Nearly there now" he said over his shoulder to Duinion.

[Rillewen]

@Romeran

Ranger Tirdinen Duinion Raedor
A meadow in the mountains
(sometime in March)

Duinion was quite satisfied with Romeran's performance in taking up the mantle to complete the tasks which Duinion could no longer manage, and keeping them both fed, warm, and dry, while also managing the job they had come to do. The upside to their having to stay put for several days, was that at least Duinion's minor wounds had begun to heal by the time they set off to return. Most of his scratches and bruises were fine, even his ribs were less sore, though still painful. Still, the thought of traveling down the mountain was extremely daunting. He was dreading it, yet, he knew it had to be done eventually. He had only cleared a couple of weeks to have the trainee gone, and he also knew that Eryn and the others would be getting worried about him by now. They had already been gone longer than they should have been.

The crutches were awkward, and he felt extremely unsteady trying to walk with them. He constantly feared he would lose his footing, or trip over some plant or stone, or that the layer of dry leaves underfoot might prove slippery. As much as his ankle hurt even just while he was resting, he didn't want to think about how badly it, and his ribs, would hurt if he went tumbling down the mountainside. Duinion was feeling a much better appreciation, these past several days, for what Addhor had once endured, although he also had the added trouble of having to constantly worry that he would bump his wounded foot on something, and send yet more pain shooting through his foot and leg.

The early spring morning had started out cool and crisp, but by noon, it was warm enough that Duinion had broken a sweat as he carefully crutched his way after the trainee. Although, part of that sweat may have been from nervousness about falling, or the aching in his leg that he was keeping to himself. He was a bit caught off guard, when Romeran turned to him and made a rather sensible suggestion. While he didn't like having to admit needing the aid, and also worried some about Romeran's own injuries, he had to admit that the trainee was bigger and stronger than him, and far less injured. And it would go much slower. After a moment of frowning as he considered the offer, he gave a nod. "Fine." He agreed, with a grumbly sort of tone. "But only until we get to level ground again." He added, determined that he would return home without being carried, even if it meant using crutches.

It was definitely not the most comfortable way to travel, and Duinion had to force himself to simply focus on keeping his breathing steady, and keep from trying to squirm and look around them as they went. He ended up having to close his eyes for most of the journey, or he would be too tempted to scan the forest around them, or else be staring at the ground as they traveled. It felt like the days stretched on for twice their usual length, and yet every time Romeran stopped to take a break, Duinion asked the trainee how he was doing, having not forgotten that he had also sustained some injury during the troll fight. Nights felt even worse than the days, as they were unable to move on, and he felt a tiny bit paranoid about trolls and orcs rushing out of the dark woods into their camp. Thankfully, this didn't happen, and they went on when morning came at last.

He was half-dozing when Rome's voice drew him back to alertness, and glancing up, he saw that they seemed to be finally coming out of the mountains. He let out a small breath in relief. He had no idea how long it would be still, before they reached the dairy farm, but he was glad to feel as if they were surely within a day's journey. They should reach it by evening.. right? He hoped so, but he wasn't sure what sort of pace he could manage with those crutches. "When you stop again to rest.. from that point on, I'll return to the crutches," He declared quietly. It might not be the best way to travel, but he was extremely weary of being carried, and they were done with the dangerous downward mountain trek, so he was quite ready to return to 'walking' on his own, however he could.

[Romeran]

Ranger Trainee Romeran
@Rillewen

Every time that Duinion had asked Romeran if he was okay he nodded, grunted, or otherwise indicated quietly in the affirmative. He could tell Duinion was still uncomfortable and that his injuries were more severe than he was letting on. But if Duinion was being stoic throughout the struggle then so would he. Truth be told he was tired, sore, and aching but every step was one step closer to home and he kept that in mind as he trudged onwards.

When Duinion had suggested that he walk on the next time he took a break he was sorely tempted to stop then and there. He continued walking, however, for another hour or more before stopping at a more reasonable cadence compared to the last few days. He put the older ranger down carefully, the two of them now used to this song and dance. Romeran had to admit to himself that he was glad this portion of their journey had come to an end. Going back of course he would have made the same decision but he felt considerably lighter now.

“We should be at the Pelennor by this evening do you think?” He asked Duinion, both somewhat unsure of the distance or the pace that they would be able to set. Romeran sat down on a large rock and rested his legs, rubbing his shoulders to help bring back the blood flow. While they may not make considerable better timing, what with Duinion moving on crutches, the flatter land should help considerably and Romeran would himself feel much lighter.

“Do you want to lead the way?” He asked, figuring that would make it easier to set an appropriate pace and find the quickest way back.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Gaerlothriel of House Dimaethor,
Ossarnen, north of Calembel, Lamedon, hiding out in a barn.
Year 3020 of the Third Age

Trastion fired back his retorts almost like he prepared for all of her points. She rolled her sea-grey eyes at the reminder she had been shot at too. No, I was ahead of you. And she carried the cubs. And gave him food and shelter. Each time, she opened her mouth to try and say something, to tell him no, you did just as much and more! But he wouldn’t let her. She found herself either looking like a fish or pursing her lips extra tight, growing redder by the moment. He stuck out the sandwich to her. She…resolutely refused to touch it. He was a growing boy, he needed the nourishment more! He had to…live out here.

Felt like that could have won her the argument but it would have been cruel to remind him.

”You clearly don’t know much about ladies then!” She snapped back, like being covered in mud and twigs was normal. For her, it was usual seaweed and seawater. This was not her usual choice of design. Subconsciously, she ran a hand back of her hair, as if there might be a little twig or leaf still clinging to it. And he would have let her sit here, go through the village and back, and not tell her?! Once more, Trastion reiterated that she take the next sandwich and he would have the remaining half one. It was really no concern for her. She would go home soon and have available to her a small feast if she wished for it. She should have just sat there and silently refused. What could he do, force-feed her?

But the remark about mud and sticks and leaves in her hair, the idea that he would have let her look like that and not tell her, had her redder than before. And then he had to rub salt in this wound by lifting up the basket over his head. Her eyes flashed suddenly with a fire and her hands curled into fists, as her lips quirked into a smile. ”You’re going to be greedy when I’m done with you.” That didn’t even make sense. But the blood was flowing to her limbs, not her brain anymore. He raised the basket up. It left his midsection vulnerable. Like a cat ready to pounce, she got on her hands and knees, rearing back, as if to retreat while she gazed at his face. ”Give me the basket and eat your food like a good boy…or else.” She warned him one last time. The foxes were all regarding them curiously now. Even the mama fox. She knew what it was like when two cubs fought over nothing.

Gaerlothriel did not wait for his reply as she leapt, hands stretched out, but not for the basket. She went for his shoulders, his arms raised. She pushed him back flat, knowing the basket would thus return to the loft platform, making it easier for her to try and scramble by Trastion to seize it. And the moment the struggle began, she found herself shrieking…and laughing.

[Rillewen]

@Romeran

Ranger Tirdinen Duinion Raedor
At the base of the mountains, at last
(sometime in March)

He was very glad to be put down again, and also extremely weary of being carried in such a manner. Yet, he wasn't sure how much longer their journey would have taken, had he insisted on using crutches. Or if they might not have had some further accident. That would not be good at all. So, after being placed on his foot again, he placed his handmade crutches under his arms to help himself balance so that Rome could step away. Then, he managed to get over to take a seat on the other side of the large rock, glad that there was room for them both.

At the trainee's question, he smiled wryly. "If neither of us were injured, I would say we would likely be home before nightfall. But as it is.. I have no idea." He sighed softly. As much as he wanted to hurry home right away, he felt a bit reluctant to set off too soon. Perhaps, it was some instinct telling him to rest a little bit, first. He paused, considering Romeran's question for a moment, before answering. "Let's wait a few more minutes. Catch your breath. Do you still have water in your canteen?" He asked, checking, since he didn't want the young man to not be hydrated enough.

After they had rested for a few minutes, he decided it was probably about time to move on. "I have a better idea," He mentioned. "Instead of either of us leading the way, what if we walk together, and I could just lean on your shoulder a little bit?" He suggested. That would both help Duinion to not have to put his full weight on the crutches, which was quite uncomfortable.. and also keep Romeran from moving too fast for him. And it might help Duinion to move a little faster. He wasn't sure. While Romeran was about a head taller, he thought that it should work out well enough that they could manage it. It ought to be much less taxing for them both than the way they had traveled down the mountain, at least.

---

@Lantaelen

Trastion
North of Calembel, Lamedon, Ossarnen
April of the year 3020 of the Third Age

Trastion blinked, mildly surprised by her snapping reply, and noticed the reddening of her face. Had he angered her? He hadn't meant to actually upset her. He was only teasing, trying to make her laugh... but just as he opened his mouth to apologize and assure her that he had not meant any insult, she said something that didn't make a whole lot of sense, and ordered him to eat his food 'like a good boy'. He grinned, trying not to laugh. "Or what?" He asked. He just couldn't help it.

He was not expecting her to suddenly.. lunge at him. His eyes widened in surprise as he toppled backward, and for a quick instant he tried to recall how close he had been to the edge of the platform, before he fell back on the floor. Thankfully, he was still a safe distance from the edge, but now he had other concerns. She was going to get to the basket! He let out a laugh as he recognized that the girl was also laughing. Then, he swiftly twisted around to try and pull the basket close to him, as if he could protect it from her with his torso. "Noooo! I shall never surrender!" He exclaimed overdramatically, but he was laughing as he did. The full sandwich quickly disappeared into the basket so as to free up both hands to clutch the basket protectively like it was some sort of treasure.

[Romeran]

Ranger Trainee Romeran
@Rillewen

Romeran shrugged, unsure what to make of the indeterminate amount of time it would take them to get back, he had walked all this way already what was another half a day or even a day? It was better to get back safe and together than even more injured or worse not at all.

"I'm okay with taking a few more minutes to rest" he agreed. At first, Romeran thought that Duinion needed water and he quickly retrieved his water canteen, still about one third full, and held his hand out to Duinion. Quickly he realize that the ranger was asking if he was drinking enough water. He chuckled, "I'm doing okay" he said, but took a drink of water anyway as they rested. While the prospect of less weight to carry was enticing, he was still tired and could use the rest.

"That sounds like a reasonable enough plan to me" he agreed, getting up for them to go. "You can put your arm over my shoulder, if it makes it easier" he said, having seen farmhands assist an injured worker in such a fashion. Even with Duinion's injury, Romeran felt they might make a reasonable pace at least, now that they at the base of the mountain where there were fewer rocks and a less steep incline. But still, they would be moving considerably slower than they otherwise would have.

"Well I guess this trip didn't go exactly as planned" he said, in a half-joking half-pained manner, as they began their walk back home.

[Rillewen]

@Romeran

Ranger Tirdinen Duinion Raedor
Traveling (slowly) through the Pelennor, at last
(sometime in March)

He laughed faintly, though it was cut short because of his rib pain. "Not quite, no." He agreed, shaking his head slightly. He used one crutch to aid his walking on one side, with Romeran on his other side, holding onto his shoulder. It wasn't pleasant to travel like this, but it wasn't so great being carried, either. It seemed better than trying to use both crutches to hobble along on his own, anyway.

Their progress was slow, but steady. It was clearly much easier on Rome, not having to carry Duinion. Eventually, the area around them was looking more familiar, and Duinion could recognize the landmarks that allowed him to easily navigate his way toward home. And home was definitely where he planned to spend the night, even though it was evident that it might be pretty late by the time they got there.

"You're welcome to spend the night at the farm, if you like," He mentioned to Rome as they traveled slowly along. "I'm guessing it'll be late by the time we arrive.. possibly well after midnight at this rate. And I'm sure you're exhausted.. though all I can offer is another campsite." He smiled a bit apologetically, guessing the trainee might rather sleep in a bed after so many nights at camp. "But, if you'd rather go up the six circles to your dorm, you can do that as well. Your choice." He left the choice up to Rome. "Either way, I'm looking forward to sleeping at home tonight." He absolutely had no intentions of going up any circles anytime soon, with his ankle as it was.

[Romeran]

Ranger Trainee Romeran
@Rillewen

The closer they got to the city, at first Romeran was feeling excited, happy to return home without further issue. But then he started to feel nervous at the prospect of having to explain what happened. When Duinion offered for him to stay at the farm, it seemed a perfect excuse not to go up to the city yet.

"That would be nice." he agreed. "I'm not sure I'm ready to go back up the circles just yet" he finished, feeling both nervous but also physically exhausted at the prospect of climbing six circles to his dormitory.

"I'm definitely looking forward to sleeping" he said in reply. Carrying Duinion had been tiring and he had use his will and determination to continue onwards, not wanting to show any weakness. But now that the end was nearly at hand he felt it all suddenly hit him, like a sickness that is held at bay. Romeran felt glad that they were making a slow pace, he wasn't sure how confidently he could have moved much faster, now that the exhaustion was beginning to set in.

The sight of the farm as they drew closer, almost had Romeran start to run as he felt the urge to cross some sort of 'finish-line'. For his and Duinion's sake he did not run and managed to suppress his desire to race to the gate. Instead he looked to Duinion.

"Is that offer to stay at the farm still good?" he asked, hoping that Duinion had not forgotten and dreading having to go up the six circles alone and running into other rangers and having to explain what had happened. Romeran sorely hoped Duinion had not changed his mind.