~ Dangerous Shadows ~ (Open)

[hades]

Drowsiness had only just begun to set in. She was tired, tired of the cold, the fighting and she could have sworn she had an empty stomach. She guessed that it had faded when the scare of being attacked took her mind from the thought completely. Tightening her quiver to her chest she held out her arm for Dénor to land. The large bird took the hint and to Ginger’s surprise he had her lost knife! There were some days when she was grateful for the owl. That made twelve knives in all; the other six were given to the kindly Rohirrim who had taken care of her while she recovered from… whatever had happened to her. Suddenly, to her dismay, Ginger picked up the sound of several approaching feet. It wasn’t until she looked in the direction of Casswyn that her mind fully comprehended that the warg pack was ridiculously large. As the grey beast came out of the darkness towards the black horse! For a moment Ginger thought it was the end, she and Casswyn would end up being eaten by these creatures, or captured by someone. Neither seemed like a good thing in this weather.

Dénor saw the giant warg as well, then he felt Ginger raise her arm and he took to the cold breeze again. The panoramic view wasn’t a very pleasant one to look at. Four dark brown wargs and the fifth a giant grey one. Dénor knew when he was bested. He circled slowly above them, adjusting to the wind currents, he watched as the black mare bucked and stunned the creature, and its’ master took hold of the reigns and leapt onto its’ back.

Ginger accepted the hand, seeing as the horse was moving in circles, fighting its’ master. She got behind Casswyn. “I must warn you, I’m not the best archer on horseback.” She said, stringing an arrow to her bow. Hanging on tight as they took off into the darkness, Ginger kept her eyes and ears open for any sign of being followed. Her own weight, she knew, wouldn’t hinder the horses ability to reach its’ full capacity. She was light, like her kind naturally was.

Dénor flew with the wind he came in as close to the horse as he would go. With a signal from his master he flew ahead to scout the way, gaining height so he could see as well as his eye sight would allow.

[Cindralic]

Cindralic watched as his warg was bucked backwards by the strong legs of the stallion. Well that must have hurt. His warg lay stunned for a few moments before bringing itself to its feet. Cindralic watched as the two maidens mounted the single horse and began to ride out into the night. Cindralic snarled, looking over at his warg which was ready to ride now. Cindralic took a few steps towards but saw out of the corner of his eye a warg leaping towards him. Cindralic snarled a bit as he let his body go completely limp, following straight to the ground which would cause the warg to simply leap over him. Such insolence would not go unpunished and as the beast leapt over it’s target, Cindralic drew his sword and felt the warm blood and some of innards of the animal splash onto his bare chest as his weapon cut clean through the creatures belly. There was no yelp or howl because the oxygen had been slipped out of the beast. Cindralic watched as the momentum carried the beast several feet past him, his carcass sinking in on itself as essential blood and organs seeped out of the enormous gash in its underbelly. Cindralic wiped his sword. Cindralic’s cold eyes matched that of the wargs. Cindralic was not a lone woman out of her element. He was a trained killed with his own taste for blood. The last three wargs seemed to sense that and did not have the stomach to give chase. Cindralic leapt to his warg and commanded it forward. Even if the stallion of the woman could outdistance his warg, they would not be able to outdistance their tracks, even in the snow, Cindralic could still track and the warg could still smell. This was Cindralic’s land and it didn’t matter where they went. He could track them. Cindralic, after a few moments of riding looked with his elf eyes ahead. He smirked as he still saw his roaring fire in front of him in the cave. Granted, it was just a glimmer of light in the night sky but it was something. He wondered if the two woman had seen it at this point as well. Would they go to an unknown light or would they stray ever farther into the darkness and the cold? Light meant warmth and perhaps even shelter from the elements; two things that Cindralic was rather sure the two needed. He continued to follow, but not at a pace that he could catch them outright. It seemed that the woman’s horse was faster than his warg. Cindralic was going to have to breed speed into them later. He could still follow at a distance and he was downwind from them so they could not smell him, but he had a beautiful scent of their flesh. Where would they go? Where would they try to run? Cindralic’s patience returned as now he began to stalk his prey.

[cassiopeia]

At Ginger's confession, Casswyn couldn't help but give a breathless, strained laugh.

“Any archer is better than none,” Casswyn said, quickly following up the assertion with a confession of her own, “I am glad to have found you.”

Once they were both mounted, Uvaer needed no instruction, all she needed was her head – and Casswyn gave it to her, letting the reins slip rapidly through her fingers. With a loud snort the horse plunged straight into a gallop. Casswyn intended to let her steed set the pace, at least for the first while. The fear and tension had wound the beast up like a spring and she needed to run to release the stress. They moved with the horse's rhythm, with the great owl flying ahead and the snow and trees flying past at alarming speed. Casswyn didn't think Uvaer had ever run as hard and as fast as she did now. Fearing a fall, the young rider attempted to rein the mare back in but an impatient toss of the creature's dark head told her that her aids would fall on wilfully deaf ears.

It was around this moment that Casswyn noticed a light in the distance. There seemed little choice but to head towards it. After all, it could be that there was another traveller out here. Aye lass, and you're leading a pack of wargs right to them, she chastised herself. It could easily work the other way around though, they could already be in danger and need of help just as Ginger had been.

Casswyn couldn't help but feel deeply unsettled. It was a feeling that went beyond fear, it was more like intuition. The wargs had fallen behind, Casswyn supposed that they hoped to wait until the horse tired, but they would be waiting a long time. Uvaer was a horse of Rohan and could run for many hours if needs be, albeit not constantly at the great speed at which they were travelling now.

Still the unpleasant feeling lingered, who or what would dare light a fire in such a hellish corner of the world?

[hades]

The snow had lightened up, which made it easier for Ginger to see if they were being followed. Looking back as the horse sped on its’ way, she couldn’t help but think of the scent trail and the tracks they were leaving behind. Being a hunter herself she knew it was important to follow tracks, she also knew that most animals relied on their sense of smell to hunt. It wasn’t over; a hunt was never over until the prey was caught. Now that Ginger could think clearly did she conceive these thoughts! Concerned, now, she said nothing in hopes that Casswyn understood as well. This was important, no matter how much you denied it. Looking behind Ginger thought she could see a figure, but dismissed it as the wind took hold of some loose snow and made it dance. Like fire without heat! If she had been in a different situation she would have thought it beautiful. Narrowing her eyes and listening above the sound of the mares frantic hoof prints she listened again for the sound of pursuers.

Swift and silent, as his species was, Dénor noticed the light ahead. A fire would be good! Though he naturally hated fire, he didn’t detest being warm in this cold climate. His feathers would only do so much to keep him from its harsh results. Looking back, by ducking his head below him, he noticed that the mare and its’ rider had noticed the fire too. Looking back ahead of him his orange eyes peered into the darkness for any signs of the foul beasts that roamed this barren forest.

Ginger didn’t notice the fire until she looked beyond Casswyn’s shoulder. Nothing ever looked more welcoming! It was warm and probably damp where the light glowed. It danced and flicked in the night like a beacon lighting the way. It filled Ginger with hope and not a shred of unease could be felt. Being as cold as she was she didn’t care if a small band of trolls had built the fire, she would find a way to commander the flame! It wasn’t until she thought she heard something to her left side that she remembered why they were running and what they were running from.

Taking a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ginger pushed down the sick feeling that was starting to grow inside her as they came closer and closer to the glowing light. She knew the mare, probably being bred in Rohan, could go on for hours at the pace she was setting. Not saying what was on her mind she let Casswyn lead the way.

Dénor couldn’t help but notice that Casswyn had decided to go towards the fire. Very well! Adjusting his course the owl flew low to the ground this time, matching the pace that the mare was setting. As the fire grew closer he picked up his speed. Then veering sharply to the right he decided it would be best to linger in the back and see what happened next.

It hadn’t been but twenty minutes of hard riding before the fire was closer now. Then in what felt like a few short minutes they came upon a cave. As they reached the outside of the cave, the elf put her arrow back in the quiver and jumped off the horse and landed in the snow. A dark feeling entered her heart as she strode to walk beside the horse, bow in hand. “I think this is a bad idea.” She said, just above a whisper, “We should leave.” Ginger, now regretting not having said anything to sway the young woman’s mind, drew the arrow back into place.

There was no one in the cave, and all the snow that could have been there was melted and dried up. Taking a deep breath the she-elf walked close to the fire. Immediately she began to warm up, but as enjoyable as it was she looking for something, anything that could have been left behind by someone. Then, looking by the fire she noticed a black piece of cloth. Annoyed, Ginger put the arrow back into her quiver and slung her bow into its rightful place. Picking up the cloth she brought it close to her face and took in the scent it carried. The earthy cave, smoke, and something else… but what! Then it hit her, “Warg…” Turning to Casswyn with fear in her eyes she hurriedly said, “We should never have come!” And although there was no blood on the floor or on the dark cloth that she could tell, they still needed to get out, and fast!

[Cindralic]

Cindralic’s body was resilient towards the cold. His blood had thickened from the years of living in such a harsh climate. His body had grown used to resisting the cold wind, the frigid temperatures and the constant blizzards. Riding behind the two women was not a complicated feat for him, especially since, based on the turns and the direction they took, he was fairly certain he knew exactly where they were going. This was stalking made easy. There was a reason that Cindralic had get the fire burning when he had left, on the off chance that the woman, he had only assumed one at the time, would have gone for shelter and fire. He wondered if the women would find it at all odd that there was no one around to tend to such a blazing fire. That certainly wasn’t a normal thing. Cindralic needed to figure out a way to take both of them captive. One was an elf which made things infinitely more difficult. Cindralic smirked as he rode on, nearing the cave, one hundred yards or so away from the two women. Cindralic leaned down and whispered to the warg. “Find me Garthen. Cindralic muttered as he silently dismounted from the warg. He moved his hand through his hair, releasing the pony tail so that his hair hung down around his shoulders and over his eyes a bit, the hair damp from the snow. Cindralic struck the warg on the side and it bolted off into the night, fully aware of its job.

Cindralic moved forward, climbing the few rocks that were in front of him as he moved towards the mouth of the cave. The wind was still his friend in this instance because it kept his scent away from them for now. Cindralic knew that he was going to need to change his demeanor before he approached the cave. He was so used to having the eyes of a relentless killer, the hard features of someone that had no soul or care for the world. As Cindralic climbed his made sure to rub the blood from his body that had stained his chest from his encounter with the warg. He did his best to adjust his features, running through his mind how he would mask his voice, create emotion with his eyes and tenderness with his motions. It was a hard thing. He had come before people before as someone that brought good things or as someone that could be trusted but that was an age ago. Cindralic couldn’t help but snarl a bit at the thought but alas, he was going to have to change a few things before he walked into the cave. He still didn’t know what type of elf this woman was, how old, how skilled and the Rohirrim woman; she was also a mystery. Cindralic was too used to having everything planned to walk into a situation blindly the enemy. Oh no, he would be a friend first, enemy later.

Cindralic had reached the mouth of the cave but had purposefully climbed towards it from the left so that he did not approach straight on, but from the left, still blending into the rocks, still hidden. He needed to listen to see what the women were saying and as he had figured, they were beginning to question their surroundings. The elven woman declared the cave unsafe and she immediately issued the order to leave. Cindralic couldn’t allow that. Cindralic leaned over and unhooked his sheath and sword from his waist, placing them in a nook in the rocks near the mouth of the cave before he, rather on purpose, stumbled into the mouth of the cave in a half run. His eyes were wide, his breathing was elevated as if he was out of breath and running from something. He stammered for words in front of the two women. “Wh….where did two women come from?” he asked, half to himself, half to the ground, half to the two woman in front of him. “Was this cave occupied before I got here? If so I can leave, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Cindralic stammered on, his voice shaking and weak as opposed to the more normal penetrating and commanding voice he normally had.

[cassiopeia]

Arriving at the cave, Casswyn gave Uvaer a pat on the neck in praise. The mare had exceeded all expectations this night and Casswyn would not forget it. Ginger dismounted to explore but Casswyn remained on her horse, lingering near the mouth of the cave, the uneasy feeling in her gut rapidly multiplying now that they had reached their destination. Something about this place just didn't sit right with Casswyn and even Uvaer remained on edge, her ears swivelling to and fro, her hooves scraping loudly against the stone.

At Ginger's declaration that they should leave Casswyn gave a firm nod to concur, she was in complete agreement with the Elf. Already Casswyn was thinking through their options, quickly concluding that they would be best riding south through the night, away from this barren, forsaken land. With the light of dawn they would be better able to get their bearings and might even be able to spare a few moments to consider more thoughtfully which direction they ought to travel in. Casswyn was confident that Uvaer would be well up to the challenge, in this brutally cold weather the beast had barely broken a sweat and living a life on the road had provided the mare with a fitness and endurance that surpassed that of many other fine horses of Rohan.

It was then that Ginger had detected the scent of warg and Casswn's eyes had rounded with fear once more. They truly did need to leave, and right away! Casswyn tightened her grip on the reins, intent upon guiding Uvaer over to Ginger so that her newly-found companion could mount. Then they could be on their way again immediately. It was at that moment an apparently bedraggled figure had entered the cave. Already in an agitated state, Casswyn hissed through her teeth in surprise, her sharp green eyes quickly running over the individual's appearance. Taking in the figure before her, Casswyn's first instinct was that something was terribly off with him - just as there was something terribly off about this cave. Apparently Uvaer felt the same, for she tensed immediately, her ears flat back against her head and her nostrils flared. But there was a weakness in his voice that pinched at Casswyn's heart and, though her instinct told her to flee, she hesitated a moment, glancing over to Ginger, to see what the Elf's expression said of her first impressions of this newcomer.

[hades]

Oh how the heat of the fire was starting to melt away the cold that was outside the cave! It was glorious feeling, and if Ginger had been alone she would have welcomed the warmth of the flame. She knew that Dénor would hang around the outside of the cave than get anywhere near the fire. The overall feeling of cave gave Ginger an uncomfortable feeling, and she could see it written all over Casswyn’s face. Her horse was even uncomfortable. Not bothering to remember that she still had the cloth in hand, she headed towards the mare after Casswyn had tried to bring it into the cave. It was no good to try and force a horse to do something it didn’t want, much like trying to get Dénor to do something. The stubborn bird didn’t know when to submit. Such a headstrong bird! So annoying... She thought.

Suddenly there was the sound of heavy breathing. Turning her brown/green eyes towards the other side of the cave mouth she beheld quite a sight! Shirtless, and slightly covered in snow was the figure of a tall man, but when Ginger took a closer look at the face she noticed that it had a different demeanor from that of mortal men. She had seen few elves herself; they weren’t exactly creatures she liked to entangle herself with. Her pointed ears and elvish looks gave them the impression that she spoke their language when it was quite the opposite! Strange… was all she thought. Her mind suddenly began to stager in thought as she took in how tall he really was. It made her shutter. She decided he must be elvish, for no mortal man she had ever seen looked as he did. When he spoke, declaring with his voice the idea of two women in the wilderness, she tilted her head slightly to one side.

Tearing her eyes away she looked at Casswyn to see if her face would give away thoughts. To her, almost, complete surprise Casswyn was looking at her. When the elf spoke again he apologized if he had intruded. Thinking quietly to herself, for she was sure that if her thoughts were any louder both of them would be able to hear exactly what she was thinking, she wondered at how unmarked he seemed, considering everything they had just been through. To Casswyn she said in Rohirrim, hoping the elf wouldn’t be able to understand, “If the wargs had smelled me but not him… do you suppose he came from a different direction?” She hardly believed that wargs wouldn’t miss the chance to take down any kind of prey they could, judging by her own most recent experience.

Still holding the cloth, which she thought nothing about, she clutched it tighter to keep from shaking all over. This definitely didn’t feel right! The idea, that he would have escaped Wargs without being traced was a miracle. It made Ginger feel even more sick every time she thought about it, but she kept her gaze steady as she observed the new comer, not daring to reply to anything he had said.

[Cindralic]

Cindralic had to be a good judge of character and he had to do it quickly or this wasn’t going to work. He had to determine if this was going to work or if he could pull this rouse off. He knew that he was going to have a few things going against him. He was abnormally tall which would cause him to be intimidating. He had a darker complexion, which just always set people on edge and even though he was doing the very best he could to portray a kind hearted face, he was still going to have his moments where that faded just a tad. Hopefully his long dark bangs would cover any of those mistakes. Thankfully, the one elf woman gave him a bit of a clue as to what she was thinking when she spoke to the other woman in a language, he supposed, she assumed he didn’t understand. He had been along far too long to not understand pretty much every language that was spoken in modern middle earth and even some languages that were no longer uttered. Cindralic had just a few moments to turn this particular situation in his favor. He needed to get them to not be on their guard, to trust him. No one had done that since, well, ever. He never asked for anyone’s trust because for the most part he didn’t need it. He usually just took whatever he wanted. Now as he looked at the two women he couldn’t help but wonder if he couldn’t just take it now. The elf with the bow was a little worrisome though. He knew that she may not have been the best shot but even an elf that wasn’t the best was an elf that could hit a person without much effort. Then there was the Rohirrim woman and she was probably the least dangerous of the two just because she was human. Humans just simply weren’t as effective. Cindralic, gaging his options, elected to continue the rouse if he could. Now at least, he had somewhere to go with the conversation. Cindralic turned his head out into the darkness behind him as though he was looking for something. He then looked back at the woman who had spoken. “I think I may not have been downwind to them actually. I have heard them all night. I think I might have taken over their cave perhaps, which is sort of why I left in such a rush, that and my horse is…well gone. She didn’t like the howls and I don’t think she is battle tested. I can’t catch her, or see her in this darkness for that matter.” Cindralic continued, trying to seem a bit helpless but also trying to have a legitimate reason for being out here in the night. “Then I started to freeze so I came back and here you are.” He looked back out into the night, stepping a few steps into the cave, testing out his luck. “I think some wargs are still out there though.” Cindralic told them as he leaned against the cave well, resting in the heated stone from the fire. He bent down on his knees, still letting his breathing be heavy as though he was exhausted from running. He needed these women to calm down a bit because right now they would probably think a bunny rabbit was trying to kill them.

[cassiopeia]

Whatever you desired to call it, whether a woman's intuition or basic instinct, it caused Casswyn's heart to continue its race and her stomach to twist with anxiety. She did not have the opportunity to answer Ginger before the man (was he even a man?) spoke. The young rider frowned as he answered, his story seemed unlikely but not impossible. During this night the very boundaries of possibility seemed to have been stretched already - Casswyn had, against the odds, survived thus far and had even found company out here in the most untamed wilderness. Most peculiar, when one thought about it. Briefly the young woman considered the distant possibility that this was all a terrible hallucination and that, at this very moment, she was in fact dying, deliriously, in the snow where she had once lingered patiently, waiting for the warg howls to fade away into the distance. Better a death like this than one in the jaws of a vile warg. But no, the wound on her right arm was real enough, the sting of the lacerations caused by the warg's ferocious teeth beyond the realms of a fantasy. Fortunately the bleeding had stopped now and Casswyn thanked her lucky stars that she had not severed an artery, for then she most would certainly already be dead.

Returning her attention to the newcomer, Casswyn frowned slightly, trying to read him but finding it impossible – long locks of dark hair obscured part of his face. Her heart was still telling her that something was wrong but, truth be told, she did not have the self-confidence to trust herself implicitly. Thus she considered the possibility that it was the traumatic events of the evening that caused her awful feeling now. It would be understandable, for Casswyn knew that once fear got into a person's heart they would spook at their own shadow. Besides, what else was to be done? Could they really ride out and leave him here? If they did, and her feeling was mistaken, they would be no doubt passing a death sentence on the man. Can you live with that? Casswyn asked herself. The answer was a reluctant no. But still her skin prickled and still Uvaer glared at the figure, ears back and muscles taut... if Casswyn's feeling was wrong, how did she explain Uvaer's poor reaction to his presence? The mare rarely took badly to anyone and Casswyn would sooner trust her horse's judgement of a person than her own.

“What is your name, sir?” Casswyn asked quietly, her voice still tainted with mistrust, but pulling the reins and giving Uvaer a firm nudge, forcing the mare a few steps further into the cave, “And what brought you to this hellhole?” It was then that the warmth of the fire finally hit her and it was like water to a man in the desert. It would be so tempting to pass the night at its side, to feel the chill leave her bones and to take the time to tend her wounds... but no, she must not be seduced by it. How had the wargs not spotted the light and made their way here immediately, in any case? Casswyn shot another glance towards Ginger, her suspicion of the man reflected in her eyes. Still she remained mounted.

[hades]

Downwind… right. Why hadn’t she thought of that? The she-elf wasn’t sure what to make of anything the man said. His facial expressions would probably be what would convince her that he had; unfortunately his dark hair obscured most of it. He was indeed intimidating to behold, it is what made Ginger completely uncomfortable around him. Glancing at the mare she noticed that she didn’t like him either. This made her think of Dénor. The owl didn’t much like anyone, good or evil. Where is he?

[/color] She wondered to herself, forgetting about the strange things that had happened and, she was sure, were going to happen. Her eyes drifted from the strange man to the stone floor as her mind wandered to other things, feeling suddenly at peace and in her own little world. I’ll have to buy some winter cloths the next time I venture anywhere near as cold as this. I should also visit Rohan again, but perhaps maybe later. It wasn’t until the elf moved into the cave that she snapped back to the present, alert and on edge.

Her keen eyes observed his movements like he was some sort of animal. The events of the past hour, or had it been hours, were suddenly fresh on her mind. She didn’t like this place, not at all. If Dénor ever came near this place he could fend for himself, she wouldn’t follow him into the unknown ever again! Her mind was made up. She didn’t care who this man was, they needed to leave, but at the same time her curiosity was peeked as he spoke of the cave like he had been here before. Glancing at Casswyn she wondered if she had noticed. If he had indeed been here before, then why would he assume that if she and the human had recklessly gone out into the night to hunt wargs leaving a nice warm fire for the deadly cold of the night?

“What is your name, sir? And what brought you to this hellhole?” The most hellish Ginger had been too since… well she couldn’t remember! Since she had woken up in a strange land – Rohan – she didn’t remember much of her former life, and although she didn’t know it, it would take something tremendous to trigger her memory. And when that happened her life would change dramatically, though she didn’t know it.

Moving closer to the mare the she-elf, confident, took one of her hands and laid it on the velvety black nose. She could feel its uneasiness just as much as she could see it. Taking her hand away before the horse did something over dramatic she listened for the response from the stranger; completely aware she herself hadn’t said anything that was directed towards him at all. Was she wise to let Casswyn do all the talking?

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Cindralic]

Cindralic was making some progress if they were willing ask him his name and other information about him. Cindralic would have assumed that things were going wrong if they continued to be weary or untrusting. The fact that they were at least willing to speak with him instead of aiming or pointing their weapons was a good thing. Cindralic could see they didn’t fully trust him and he hadn’t exactly given them any reason to as of yet. How many people were really going to fall for the man in distress type of act? Usually it was the other way around. Still, Cindralic had to play with what he had already started and so when the Rohirrim woman asked him what had brought him to this particular hell, he needed to figure out an answer that matched. “To be completely honest, I am traveling down from Frodowaith and this happened to be where I lost my horse. I had to take cover in this warg cave because of the storm. It’s cold where I am come from but even people who have grown up in that sort of weather know not tangle with it.” It was a viable answer and it served another purpose for him as well. He had spent some time in Frodowaith so if they actually asked him any questions about it, he would be able to answer them and secondly, very few people had ever been that far north in middle earth and very people knew what the people of that land looked like. Cindralic had a feeling that he might put them at ease a bit more because that, for all they might know, would just be what people in his country looked like. Cindralic could mask a lot of things about himself but masking his height and his dominating presence was something he couldn’t dictate. Cindralic paused, walking closer to the fire. “I’m glad that my fire is still going, to be honest, that’s how I got back here after wondering in the dark after my horse. Probably not the best idea to start a fire with wargs nearby but it’s that or freeze to death. Freezing would be a bit more painful I think. You are both more than welcome to the fire.” Cindralic offered. That had seemed to already have taken to the fire but he figured he would let them see the good gesture of at least offering it as well. He wondered how much time he was going to need to buy with these two women, but he knew that he could probably at least keep their guard down for about an hour or so, pending the pack of wargs didn’t end up coming back up here to sniff around. This was, after all, their den.

[cassiopeia]

At Ginger's approach, Uvaer nickered softly but urgently, as if to ask whether the Elf could detect the same scents and fears that she did. The mare settled a little as Ginger cradled her nose and, when the Elf moved away, Uvaer stretched her neck to snuffle her clothes and give Ginger a slight nudge. Casswyn watched this in awe, for it was most unusual to see her mare take such a kindly an interest in a person other than her mistress. But still the warm, soft ears swivelled forward and back in agitation and still the young rider remained in the saddle.

Casswyn blinked uncertainly after the man had spoken. She knew only that Forodwaith was a barren realm of ice and snow to the North, a place so bitterly cold that the winds gnawed on flesh, biting a person to the very bone. It was a place Casswyn had no intention of ever visiting and, unfortunately, she had no way of knowing for certain whether what the man was saying was true or not. Perhaps Ginger would be better educated in this subject than she and Casswyn cast her eyes over to the Elven figure now.

The young rider said nothing immediately after the man had spoken but nodded at his offer of the fire then, out of manners, murmured a low thanks. Casswyn had noticed that the man had not given her his name when she had asked for it. Would Ginger have picked up on this too? Casswyn did not intend to linger here long and yet she was reluctant to confess this aloud, her heart telling her to hold her tongue for now. Part of Casswyn wanted to begin tending her injured arm, she could do so without dismounting for all she needed was in her saddlebags, and yet she dared not allow herself to become distracted. The wound, the blood and the torn sleeve could wait a while longer yet.

[hades]

Well this was all fine and dandy but they really had to be going before more wargs showed up; which would be back for all parties in the cave! The elf before them seemed unarmed and completely unprepared for an attack. Unless, of course, he would use his bare hands which was all together foolish, imprudent, insane, irrational, zany… and several other adjectives that could make for a very long list. The she-elf couldn’t agree more with the mares urgent nicker and when she took her hand away to focus on the – seemingly – gentleman they were conversing with, she felt a little nudge. Looking back, she smiled. Even though she didn’t have her own horse, there was something about these creatures that could be so calm and gentle even in places like this!

Listening to the conversation at hand Ginger wondered at the direction it was taking. Though many didn’t know it, she had a pretty good memory for all kinds of things! Puzzled now, she wondered if Casswyn had keeping up with his story the whole time, how he acted when he entered the cave, what he had said and what it had suggested. If he had been here before we got here, wouldn’t the wargs that seem to inhabit this place – as he seems to be saying – scented him, attacked him and at the same time scared off his horse? Or perhaps he arrived after they had left; perhaps they were the ones that attacked me… us in the snow! Ginger wasn’t an expert hunter, but the whole thing just seemed odd now. She wanted to say something about it but didn’t bother. She was going to remain silent this whole intercourse if she could.

He had built the fire in the middle of a warg den!? Curious, insane and ill advised. Ginger shot a Casswyn a look of suspicion and hoped the human would catch on. She also noticed that he hadn’t given his name; perhaps he didn’t trust them enough with it? Names were powerful things. It wasn’t until Ginger folded her arms that she remembered her wounds. Glancing at them she winced, her shirt was bloody – she was sure it was a mix of her own blood and the many hellish hounds. She didn’t even want to know what hair looked like.

Without a word Ginger turned and mounted behind Casswyn, “We should leave this gentleman and his hospitality behind and get back to our route.” She advised calmly, and low enough for Casswyn to hear to her, “I don’t like this cave, I don’t like him… I don’t like how he feels.” By this she meant his overall appearance and the way he was acting, “And, if you remember, he has already implied that we might have been here before…” Ginger relied on her memory a lot for getting out of situations, whither lost in the woods or lost in a tavern trying to find the door to get out! She would have to debate this with Casswyn on the way out if she wanted to discuss what the she-elf meant by that last statement.

Suddenly, Ginger felt something in hands, looking down she realized she had never let go of the black garment that she had found. “Look…” she whispered, holding it out for Casswyn to see. It was up to Casswyn to make her deductions from the cloth; Ginger had gone as far as she dared to go. Even now her suspicions were now completely uncontrollable. How uncharacteristic of you, Ginger!

[/i] She thought.

[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Cindralic]

They were catching on, Cindralic could tell simply by their hushed tones and their looks back and forth to one another. Cindralic didn’t like it when his plans didn’t work. He didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t deceive these people like he used to be able. It just went to prove that he wasn’t ready yet. He liked the fact that he could come to that realization but he didn’t like that he needed that realization. He wanted to be ready to control and to rival the necromancer but he couldn’t, not yet. Stupid elves and their senses. Cindralic didn’t like dealing with things like this but he would. Cindralic looked away, his nostrils flaring a bit when he did so; his casual and kind demeanor quickly fading away. He took in a few deep breaths and his smile greatened as he caught a familiar scent. His warg had returned which meant one thing and one thing only, Garthen. Garthen, although he was human, barely, was one of Cindralic’s most ruthless warriors, a general that guarded the fortress of Carn Dum when Cindralic was not in the country. Cindralic had taken leave of the fortress two days ago, which was a day longer than he was supposed to have been gone. It would surprise Cindralic if Garthen had come looking. Garthen was ridiculously loyal for being such a ruthless individual. It was probably because Cindralic had raised the boy after killing his parents. Garthen knew nothing but what Cindralic had told him, nothing but the war and the hatred that Cindralic had literally bred into him. Cindralic, without thinking, rolled to his right where he had placed his weapon and was gone in a moment into the darkness. Cindralic took hold of his weapon, gladly accepting his cool feel, its weightlessness and its deadliness. With one movement, he was back in the mouth of the cave before the women had completely left, his demeanor changed to what it normal was, cold, hateful, aggressive, his eyes piercing, his features set. “Now let’s not pretend my pretties.” They were right. There was a reason the wargs didn’t come near him or didn’t follow him. It was because of who he was and the warg he rode. They would not challenge such a creature or Cindralic, except for the dumb ones.

There was a slight pause between Cindralic’s words and the great grey warg leaping into the mouth of the cave, growling angrily at the horse that it hadn’t yet had a chance to feast upon. Its time would come. Riding the warg was Garthen, a torn and mutilated man, a man hardened by hatred, especially of elves. A large sword was strapped to his waist, a monstrous and brutish weapon, not the most the most dangerous thing in his hands though. He also carried and enormous black bow, arrows already notched and drawn, two to be exact. He was no elf but shoot with the skill of any. Garthen’s eyes were fixed on the two women and the horse, one arrow would go into the horse, slow it, make unable to run. Garthen reveled in the chance to have the she-elf shoot him with her bow, he reveled in the opportunity to endure pain and prove himself capable. “Should I kill them now sire?” He asked and Cindralic smirked, walking forward, careful of their movements. He was curious to see what their reactions would be to this new threat. To kill all three of, Cindralic, Garthen and the large warg would be a feat worth seeing, one that, given the circumstances, didn’t really seem possible. Cindralic was pleased that Garthen had been close by, probably drawn by the howling of the wargs. Cindralic took a moment to look over his work, the creature he had created. Yes, ruthless indeed.


( Garthen looks like this: i7.photobucket.com/albums/y278/tyler_jacksparrow/cindralic.jpg )

[cassiopeia]

The warning in Casswyn's heart continued to grow, something about this situation was very, very wrong. Some of the rider's agitation must have transferred to Uvaer, or perhaps it was because Ginger had moved a little distance away, as the mare began to shift her weight from foot to foot and champ loudly on her bit, clearly anxious to move. And I would have to agree, Casswyn thought to herself. But how to communicate that to Ginger without the man knowing? Though she could not explain it, it seemed desperately important that this man did not realise their intention to bolt.

Casswyn caught Ginger's eye just then and saw her own doubts and fears reflected there. The Elf wanted to leave, just as Casswyn did - so let them have done with it! And, for a moment, it seemed that they would, for Ginger swiftly approached and mounted Uvaer once more. The Elf's urgent words summarised Casswyn's thoughts exactly and the Rohirrim woman couldn't have been more agreeable. Then the black cloth was thrust forward to where Casswyn could see it. Her face paled, not from blood loss this time, and her mouth formed an 'o' of shock and fear. They ought to have never approached this place, they ought not to have lingered so long and, most of all, they ought to leave immediately! Casswyn picked up the reins and Uvaer tensed, eager to at last be leaving this godforsaken place. Then the man vanished and, for the briefest moment, Casswyn was sure this would be their chance to escape - but then things took a sinister turn. Casswyn's anxious green eyes fell on the man as he reappeared and her blood ran cold, but not because of their icy surroundings. Clutched in the man's hand was a lethal, brutal and cruel-looking blade. Worse than that was the expression of sheer hatred on his aggressive face. What in the name of the gods does he want with us? The fearful thought flew Casswyn's mind as fast and as fragile as a bird. Her hand flew to, and hesitated, at the hilt of her sword. Whatever the answer to that question was, it was surely nothing good.

It was then that the great grey warg leapt into the mouth of the cave. A slight cry of fear escaped Casswyn's lips and Uvaer gave a great bellow, the sound reverberating uncomfortably off the cave walls, and reared a little - both in fear and in a desire to protect those that she carried on her back. But the man, oh gods have mercy, the man that rode on the warg's back made Casswyn feel physically sick to the stomach. He was monstrous with hate and rage, mutilated not only on the outside but inside too - Casswyn could tell just by looking at him. What did your master do to you? Casswyn wondered vaguely. Whatever had happened to this creature that was once a man, he was a soul that could not be reached, could not be saved and most certainly could not be reasoned with. The arrows were directed at them, one clearly aiming for Uvaer. A cold fury prickled Casswyn's heart. They would not have her steed, she would not let them. But what could she do?

Then, suddenly, there was at once a great commotion as Ginger's immense eagle owl came tearing through the sky, his sharp talons raking the already mutilated face of the newcomer. The arrows were released, flying wide of their target, but still too close for Casswyn's comfort - they sang close to her ear, whistling past at great speed. There was no time to think, no time to speak, as Casswyn leapt from Uvaer's back. Ginger had done the very same thing almost simultaneously and it seemed that, at this moment at least, they were of the same mind. Raising her hand, Casswyn landed a smack on the mare's powerful shoulder, sending Uvaer plunging past the two men and that ghastly warg, and out into the chilly night. The horse would be even faster without riders and would have the intelligence to outmanoeuvre and the endurance to outdistance the wargs - and any other horrid creatures that lay hidden in the darkness. Uvaer would be fine. They would need the horse later to escape this land and Casswyn was confident they would be able to find her. After all, they had always found their way back to each other in the past. Casswyn was much less sure, however, of the immediate safety of herself and her Elven companion.

There was no time, no other option - Casswyn bolted into the cave. It was dark and there was no telling how far into the cold ground this tunnel went... but back, back, back it seemed to go. Their footsteps echoed and the air grew perceptively colder. Perhaps, in the darkness, they would be able to escape the two beasty men.