* The following contains spoilers from Volume 3, Book 1. Don't read if you don't want to know, or really have something against someone poking fun at game stuff. Any complaints will be summarily ignored.*
Blaecwyn woke up after a heavy night of drinking, put her hand to her head and groaned.
Bloody cheap ale, she thought to herself, once more mourning the fact that she'd lost her still in the housefire over a year before. For the umpteenth time she made a mental note to buy a new one in order to start brewing her own beer again and promptly forgot it as she rolled her bulky frame out of the bed.
She wandered through to the main room, grabbed herself a pitcher of water and downed a good half of it before her single eye picked out a strange white rectangle on the floor near the door. Wondering why her home was being invaded by strange white rectangles, she stalked over to it, leant down and picked it up. A letter. In an envelope. A letter in an envelope. That must mean that it was not from Eovad since, like she had done to him several times, he would have just stuck a piece of paper to her her head whilst she slept or something similar. No. This was a letter in an envelope and they always meant someone was going to have a bad day. Usually her.
With a small growl of annoyance, she tore it open in such a manner as to give it no uncertainty about how sorry it should be for disturbing her, then squinted through a bleary eye at the elegant script.
She put the letter down with a heartfelt sigh, drained her pitcher of water, then stomped back through to the bedroom. In short order she had tamed her unruly red ringlets, subdued them into the tight twin braids she sported in public and donned her armour. A brief search of the room revealed that her eyepatch was missing. A somewhat longer search of the house resulted in her passing a mirror which revealed that she had been wearing it all along.
Stopping only to draft a note for Eovad and pin it to the most likely place he'd find it - the pantry door - she retrieved her spear, strapped on her shield and, grumbling about lazy buggers, stomped outside to begin her journey.
***
Some weeks later, cold, wet and annoyed, Blaecwyn arrived in Rivendell. It was a pretty place and should have done wonders to soothe her temper, but it never did. The only time she ever got called here was when someone needed her to do something, otherwise the inhabitants were as content to ignore her as she was to ignore them.
"You're here!" called an exuberant voice from near the entrance to the Last Homely House. "Wonderful! Wonderful! Go on in, Lord Elrond has been expecting you!"
"Yeah," she replied with a barely supressed sneer. "I know. He sent me a letter telling me to come. If he'd done that and then not expected me then that'd just be daft, wouldn't it?"
The elf simply grinned and nodded, waving his slender white hands to usher her along. With a departing glare she went on her way and, somehow, upon entering the wide double doors, managed to come face-to-face with the self-same elf she had left behind outside. Shaking it off, she quite failed to pretend to pay attention as Elladan sauntered up and had a chat with the nameless elf. He only bothered to turn to her for a greeting when he decided that his father had been kept waiting long enough and ushered her through to the Hall of Fire.
Sneaky bloody.... Blaecwyn silently grumbled as she entered the room and found, to her suprise, that Elladan, who had been behind her, was not only inside the Hall already, but also basking in the warm glow of the fires at the other end of the room.
Clamping her jaw closed in order to prevent a loud growl of general annoyance, she marched over to Elrond and his son, recieving infuriating calmness from the former and a cheerful smile from the latter. In turn, she regarded the pair with a stony expression and folded her thickly muscled arms across her broad chest.
"Ah, Blaecwyn, I'm glad you've come," Elrond said gravely. "I need you to do something for me."
"Don't you always?" she shot back. "Get on with it."
"Yes, of course," Elrond replied in an even graver tone. "Of course. First though, I'd like to waste half the day in a long winded and unnecessary explanation of circumstances and missives that are only tenuously connected to your task."
Blaecwyn rolled her eye and settled on her heels to listen. Previous meetings with the Wisest of the Wise had taught her that there was no escaping when he decided that he wanted to explain things. He smiled at her in a manner which would cause wights to wish for home and launched into his monolgue. She tried to listen, she really did, but she found her mind wandering after the first ten minutes. Still, he continued and even had her walk with him up the stairs and around the library to stop their legs from seizing up. Eventually he got to the point.
"So you see," he told her. "You're the only one in the whole wide world who we can count on to run around the entirety of Eriador to hand out these oh-so-very-important instructions to the Dunedain."
"What?" Blaecwyn half-sneered, half-shouted. "What's wrong with the bloody postmen?"
"They're on strike," Elrond replied with a dismissive wave of one finely manicured hand. "Besides, you're faster than they are. You have to do this, Blaecwyn, you're the only one in the whole wide world who is fast enough to get it done in a timely fashion."
"You tryin' to tell me that I'm the only one with a frigging horse?" she narrowed her eye, glaring at the pointy-eared antagonist. "You sure about that, 'cause I see plenty of people ridin' about on the things all the damn time! You even have a set of stables!"
"The fate of the world depends on your co-operation," Elladan cut in with a tone that would have made honey hang its head in the shame of failure. "You know how you like to help out in these things."
"Plus," Elrond added before she could shout at them some more. "You really are the only one we can count on. Now run along, there's a good girl!"
Deciding it best to go about her business before she popped a blood vessel from her now overwhelming anger, Blaecwyn snatched the proffered list of instructions from Elronds outstretched hand, turned on her heel and marched away.
***
A further day and half worth of travel found her in Thorenhad. She consulted her notes and arched an eyebrow. Surely that was a spelling mistake? Sighing deeply, she rode into the ruins and came to a dead stop. No spelling mistake. Not at all.
"There you are!" Elladan offered a bright smile. "I've been waiting. Now, what I need you to do is -"
"What," she growled lowly. "Are you doing here? And if I'm the bloody fastest person around, why the bloody heck are you here before me?!"
"Nevermind that," Elladan replied airily. "Now, what I need you to do is walk three feet to your left and ask the elf over there where the local Ranger headed off to about three months ago. Then I need you to find him and deliver the message that father told you about."
"You what?" she raged. "Why couldn't you have asked her before you left for Rivendell and then told me where I was supposed to go whilst you were still there? Why be at point A, have me meet you at point B and then tell me to go to point C when you could quite easily have known where point C was when you were at point A, thus missing out point B entirely?"
"Err..." Elladan looked about shiftily, then shrugged. "Just do it, will you? The fate of the -"
"I'll give you a fate, you pompous little jackass!"
"Now please," Elrohir interrupted in a soothing tone that did little to soothe Blaecwyn. "The sooner you get all this over with, the sooner you can... go back to whatever you were doing."
Snarling frustratedly, Blaecwyn took a few steps to the elf she needed to speak to who had been watching the exchange with some amusement, demanded answers and, upon recieving them, rode away.
A day later found her at a cave in the wilderness. Inside was the Ranger she had been told to find and so she went in to deliver the message.
"Oh, but I can't go yet!" exclaimed the tattily-clad woodsman, widening his eyes and holding up his hands in a warding gesture. "I have to wash my underwear! Oh, no, I'm so terribly sorry but all this riding out business will have to wait until I'm done with that. To keep you busy, though, would you mind running through this labrinthine cave system and slaughtering me some orcs? I was supposed to do it myself only, well, I spilled some sauce on my shirt and I've had a terrible time getting it out. I promise that, by the time you've gotten lost, found, lost again, found a second time, fell down a hole, worked out the best way to traverse the underground lake in all that heavy metal armour without taking it off, killed some orcs and then managed to find your way back here, I'll be done with my laundry and then I'll leave."
Blaecwyn did as instructed. Twice in fact. When she finally returned for the second time, the Ranger had only just gotten around to his socks.
***
Just over a week later found her in the Weather Hills standing in front of Candaith.
"Oh really?" he smiled up at her after she finished relaying the message. At least this one seemed enthusiastic. "Oh, that's great! Uhh.. right.. would you do me a favour? See that hill over there?"
Blaecwyn turned her sapphire gaze in the direction indicated, frowning at the hill in question.
"That one there?"
"Yes," the Ranger nodded.
"That there hill that's less than twenty feet away?" she asked.
"That's the one," he confirmed.
"What about it?"
"Well, whilst I gather my things together here at the camp, would you be a dear and retrieve something from there?"
Blaecwyn swept her gaze pointedly about the campsite. It sported a small fire and a log or two upon which to sit. Nothing else. No tent, no bedroll, no bags or personal effects of any sort. She then looked back to the Ranger, arching an eyebrow.
"I can't go without them," he added plaintively.
"Fine," she sighed and walked away to let him get on with packing some pebbles into an invisible bag.
A few minutes later she found herself at the summit of the small hill standing in front of a rather smug looking half-orc.
"Hi there," he said and gave a little wave.
"Yeah," she sneered.
"You like my new sword?" he asked, waving it about a little to show her. "And my gloves? And these boots? I found them. They were buried right here where I'm standing. They're in darn good condition too! Surprising that Candyass would throw them away, but one mans folly is one half-orcs good fortune I always say!"
Blaecwyn stood in silence for a time, regarding the half-orc and his new possessions quizzically. She then looked over her shoulder toward the empty camp of Candaith, closed her eye and took a deep, calming breath to prevent herself from errupting as the pieces clicked into place in her mind and turned her attention back to the smug half-orc.
"Lovely," she rumbled as calmly as possible. "Good find. Only, I'll be needing them back from you. Right. Now."
"Oh? That's a shame," sighed the half-orc, his smugness fading away to be replaced by a solemn regret as he looked down at his shiny new possessions. "Guess you'll have to fight me for them."
Taking that as an invitation, Blaecwyn rushed forward and, not bothering to take her spear from its holster on her back, simply used the hapless half-orc as a theraputic punchbag for the next two hours. There wasn't much left of him to strip of gloves and boots when she had finished, but she felt a lot better.
***
The next stop on her little tour of Eriador was Bree-land.
Saeradan greeted her with a mournful smile, listened to her news and then shook his head.
"That's all well and good," he told her quietly. "But I can't go right now. It's sunday tomorrow and I have to make my sunday lunch. It's my weekly tradition."
"But," Blaecwyn shouted frustratedly. "Fate of the damned world, your bloody high cheif gonzo needing you, that frigging arty-farty-fairy Elrond sending you messages..."
"Oh yes," he interjected in a calm, measured tone. "That's all very important, I agree, but my sunday lunch comes first. Sorry."
Blaecwyn clenched her fists, a dangerously low gnarr working its way up out of her throat and through her lips. She had had more than enough of all this messing around and, by now, was very much prepared to push this Ranger head-first through his own closed door.
"But maybe we can come to a compromise," he said quickly, perhaps sensing how close she was to snapping. "You run along to the Prancing Pony and get yourself a pint, yes? Calm down a little. Then, if you can get Butterbur to cook me that lunch and have it delivered first thing in the morning, I promise solemnly that I'll leave as soon as I've eaten it."
Blaecwyn did not bother to reply. She simply turned on her heel and stalked away towards Bree. If she had been a cat, her tail would have been lashing from side to side at a frantic rate.
A pint of terrible ale and a short chat later saw Blaecwyn running back and forth on behalf of Butterbur, aiding him in running the tavern for a few hours whilst he stood and contemplated the best way in which to cook a roast dinner.
And so, Blaecwyn the Barmaid, did a very poor job of her job and was soon told to just go and tell Saeradan that he'd have his dinner after she made a point of pausing in her serving to smack the Southerner in the face with a dinner plate before proceeding to use his body to break a few windows.
***
Blaecwyn rode on. Now she was in the Shire. The little folk eyed her with deeply xenophobic suspicion as she went by, which she returned with sneers, glares and general contempt for all things hobbity out of a general sense of beligerance.
She found her quarry hiding in a stand of trees in the middle of nowhere at the back end of beyond. He smiled uncertainly at the news and shook his head.
"Oh no, no I can't possibly," he said. "It's the hobbits, you see. I can't leave the hobbits. I have this friend..."
"Bugger your friend," Blaecwyn snarled.
The Ranger gave another little smile which hinted at the probability that he did exactly that on a regular basis. Blaecwyn said nothing, choosing instead to thin her lips in an effort not to lose her lunch.
"Alright," the Ranger eventually sighed. "But.. could you go speak to him for me? He's in the tavern in Brokenborings - a very aptly named town I might add. I need to know what he thinks about all this before I make any big decisions. I'd go myself, but I hate upsetting him."
Blaecwyn sloped off, grumbling under her breath all the while. A short conversation with the hobbit in question revealed that not only was this "friend" a male hobbit, making the whole situation that bit stranger, but he was supportive of the Ranger leaving for a while, even if he did need a pink frilly hanky to blow his suddenly runny nose and eyes as he said so.
"Well," the ranger said sadly as she reported back to him. "If he's alright with it, then I suppose I really should go. Could you do something for me first, though? There's some trouble-makers wandering about the place trying to push the hobbits around. Could you deal with them for me?"
Blaecwyn readily agreed. At last! After all this uncomfortable touchy-feely business between same-gender men and hobbits she needed a good bath and what better way to get rid of the feeling of her skin trying to crawl up out of her armour than to cleanse herself in the blood, her own or otherwise, that would be spilled in a good fight. This was something she could get to grips with!
***
The next stop on her Grand Tour of Everywhere she'd Already Been saw her arrive in Esteldin. Again. As if she didn't come through this grotty little pile of rubble every few months anyway.
The Ranger she needed to see wasn't there. he was, she was reliably informed, lurking in a cave that hadn't been there last month, so she should go find it and speak to him there. This, with a heavy sinking feeling, she did. She knew what would be next - some stupid task to distract her from the fact that the ranger was too much of a spinless, traitorous cad to ride to his lords aid without getting something in return from someone, anyone, else first. Such as a large metal-clad boot to the backside.
She found him, as she had been told, hiding behind a rock and looking all terrified and shifty just inside the entrance to the cave.
"Oh but," he embarked upon his flimsy excuse, as had all the others. "I have this task of monumental importance to do before I can go anywhere! The Angmarim, see, they have these statues and it's vitally important that they be destroyed!"
"Why?"
"Because..." he faltered a moment, then waved his arms like a lunatic trying to describe the indesribable with his hands alone. "It just is! They brought them down out of Carn Dum with them and anything they brought from there has to be bad, therefore it has to be destroyed! I can't go anywhere until that happens!"
"How long," she asked with as much patience as she could muster. "Have you been here in this cave?"
"I forget," he replied with a shrug. "Since we discovered it, really."
"And in all that time, the furthest you've gotten is just inside the entrance? Why, exactly - and this had better be a very very good answer - have you not already completed this task yourself?"
"Well," he looked around shiftily. She was beginning to get sick of shifty looks. "I've been.. uhh... scouting. Yes, that's what I've been doing. Watching their movements and... and... discovering their plans! Reconnaisance, see?"
Blaecwyn sighed, tightened the arm strap on her shield and marched further into the cave system. A cursory glance about told her that either the Angmarim were amazingly industrious or else they had been in this place for a long time indeed for, somehow, they had managed to contruct a small town reminiscent of their now-destroyed Carn Dum.
"Screw this," she grunted.
She turned on her heel and, ignoring the protests of the Ranger, straight back out of the cave itself.
A rampage through Dol Dinen and some supply gathering later found her back at the cave. She made several trips to carry in all the things she needed, then wasted no time in knocking the Ranger out cold before dragging his unconscious, but regrettably living, carcass back out into the light.
She disappeared inside once more, fiddled about a bit and came back outside just in time to see the Ranger sit up. He gave her an astonished look as she sat herself down behind a nearby boulder and counted to ten beneath her breath. As she hit the last number, she levelled a grimly satisfied smile at the man whilst behind them came the sound of a series of explosions. Beneath them, the ground bucked and rocked in a wonderfuly theatrical manner. A crack appeared in the sheer cliff face causing a lot of stone to break free to tumble to the ground.
"Goblins sappers come in handy if you kill them enough," she explained when the rumblings had died away. "There. Job done."
***
Next came Tinnudir and Calenglad.
He was very willing to go on his way to Aragorns aid if only she would aid him in clearing a tomb first. Reluctantly she agreed, although her mood improved drastically when it became clear that what he required of her was to kill as many tomb robbers as possible along the way.
A good few hours of pleasantly exhausting bloodshed later found Blaecwyn trying hard not to laugh as Calenglad quite failed to declare his undying love to the blue-skinned bint with the snotty attitude. He tried but, Blaecwyn noted with a great degree of amusement, the stuck-up arrogant watery tart told him in no uncertain terms that she refused to listen because there was no way this side of Worlds End that she could ever love something with the lifespan of a mayfly.
A lot of dead people and some heartbreak later found Blaecwyn back on the road yet again.
***
The next port of call was Forochel. Blaecwyn stood in the glaring white freezing waste and glared right back at it. It was times like this that she was glad for the leather jerkin and trews she always wore beneath her scale and plate armour.
The Ranger this time was a little more forthcoming about the task ahead.
"The Lossoth," he told her. "Are a fierce warrior people who, whilst perfectly capable of living in such an inhospitable land and slaying cats with giant teeth, freaky white monkey things or giant fluffy oilphants with more tusk than body, are seemingly incapable of taking care of their own food stores.
"As the Ranger assigned to this lovely snowy waste, it's my duty to find out what they're so scared of and go kill it so I can leave. Care to join me?"
Blaecwyn reluctantly agreed. Slaughtering animals wasn't her idea of fun, but at least it would keep her warm and get her out of this forsaken place sooner.
Together they travelled to a vast cavern that, amazingly, no-one had known existed up until now. Fot a while they travelled through it together causing a a great decline in the population of worms, snow beasts and white bears along their way until suddenly the ranger stopped.
"You'll have to go on without me," he told her with a smile. "We have to find this screaming terror and put a stop to it. Or rather, you do. What I need to do is go over there and stare at that big sheet of ice for a while."
Blaecwyn, too angry to argue, simply went on her way, slaughtering anything that looked at her funny. Eventually she came across a thin, wasted looking little woman next to a pitiful campfire.
"Hey, ain't I seen you before?" she demanded of the girl.
"What? No!" protested the woman feebly, trying to hide her face behind her stick-thin arms as the ranger finally decided to stroll along to join them now that the hard work was done and the fascinating sheet of ice had recieved suitable scrutiny.
"Sure I have," Blaecwyn insisted.
"Who are you?" the ranger asked.
The woman, sobbing and gibbering, gave a short account of herself to which Blaecwyn nodded sagely.
"Oh aye," she said with a predatory smile. "I kicked your arse back in Angmar."
"I'll kill you!" the woman shouted, jumping to her feet and moving to attack the much larger, much stronger and far more heavily armoured Blaecwyn. A few good slaps and the angmarim woman lay on the ground crying like a baby whilst the ranger stood over her begging mercy from Blaecwyn.
Disgusted at the angmarims weakness, the rangers wish to let an enemy of the Free People go on her merry way - and with supplies no less! - and all of her errands so far, Blaecwyn acquiesced, growled something uninteligable and left.
***
Blaecwyn arrived in Aughaire some weeks later.
She smiled a smile of peace. It was like a homecoming for her. Soon a lot of things would try to attack her and she would fight back and thus the world would once more begin to make sense to her.
A short conversation with the Ranger she had come to seek informed her that she needed to depart from Aughaire and go further North-east than even her second home in Nan Gurth. Some other ranger, stricken with grief at the death of his daughter and unconsoled by the revenge he gained shortly afterwards, had decided to go fling himself into a pit called the Rift.
It's dangerous, she was told, full of big nasty things with sharp teeth and even sharper weapons. It's deep, dark, dank and deadly. Once someone goes in, they don't come out. It's terrible, it's terrifying, it's hell on middle-earth! Would she mind going in to have a poke around? The Ranger would have gone himself, he said, only he had to wash his hair.
Blaecwyn grinned her most wolfish grin. This, she decided, was going to be the best fun she'd had in a very long time!
A good ride, a good rest and a good meal later, Blaecwyn ran head-long into the fray, her shield up, her spear levelled, a gruffly hearty laugh trailing behind her and a wide, nasty, predatory smile on her lips.
