Hearts Return - Part 1

Late on their second afternoon of travel, with the westering sun shining in their eyes, the small party crests the last ridge. They look down toward the village that is their destination, nestled in a green valley along a gentle stream. Ceolfred dismounts and leads his horse a few paces to the left, out from the shade of the aromatic pine-trees over the path and toward the top of a steep tumble of worn rocks. He crouches down and lifts his horse's right foreleg.

"Stone?" Rastellion asks, sliding off his own mount and starting to reach for the hoof pick strapped to his saddle.

Ceolfred shakes his head. "Nah. Jus' an excuse t' stop. Though I don' reckon we're bein' watched. But take a look b'hind me, down th' slope a ways, to yer right. Tha's the villa where Immalaine's bein' held. Best view o'it we'll get. Ahead, th' road bends away an' only approaches the villa again from below. Take a look. Y' can see what I mean 'bout it bein' fortified."

Zandrianna's eyes follow at his directions. "Watched or not, we need a brief respite before we continue." She studies the compound carefully. "I've seen garrisons in Rohan less fortified than this place," she says with a worried tone.

Rastellion squints against the sunlight to look down as well. He nods, slowly. "I see." Two of the gates into the compound have been bricked over; the remaining two are well guarded, and a few men stroll lazily along the walkways along the top of the low walls.

Ceolfred nods. "Aye. An' it's much the same inside. Many o' the doors blocked up; t'others fitted with bars t' seal 'em from th' inside. Place is set t' withstand a siege, though it weren’t built tha’ way at first. Changes by th’ new owner, I reckon.”

Emrabeth dismounts and goes to study the compound, remaining hidden in the late afternoon's shadows. "Still if someone could slip past the guards at that gate," she looks at the gate further away, "They'd have a clear shot up into the stables." She purses her lips thoughtfully, rocking back and forth on her heels as her eyes light up in contemplation.

Zandrianna responds as she reaches out her hand to pause the young woman's constant motion. "Not sure that'd be the wisest move, Emrabeth. I well imagine they'd expectsomeone to try that. And the last thing we want is to alert this man that we're here."

Ceolfred nods. "You're right 'bout one thing; single person can slip in, if he knows what 'e's doin'. Did it meself. But there's guards watchin', and always guards on Immalaine. 'Swhy I had t' find another way t' speak wit' her." His nose wrinkles in disgust for a moment, as he remembers that other way. "No chance o' gettin' to 'er an' out again, over th' walls, wit'out bein' spotted. An' with her chains?" He straightens, shaking his head. "Nah, best we stick wi'the plan; get you two in as minstrels. B'sides, there's still Immalaine's friend she told me 'bout. Can't make any firm plans 'til I've spokin t' her; found out wha’ she can tell us 'bout the inside."

Emrabeth tosses her head, mimicking the movement of her steed; the pair of them bristling as though ready to charge inside. "Maybe. But when I get to the girl, those shackles won't be a problem. Locks are a bit of a hobby for me."

Zandrianna squeezes Emrabeth's shoulder. “Patience. We'll get you that chance. But Ceolfred's idea is sound."

Rastellion is still staring down toward the villa. "So close," he murmurs.

Ceolfred shoots his nephew a sharp glance. "Don' you get any ideas either, lad. We'll get but one shot at this. Can’t be spoilin’ it by rushin' in. We got a few days b'fore the wedding, an' I'm sure she'll be safe 'til then, at least." He stands and rests a hand on Rastellion's shoulder. "We'll get 'er out. Trust me."

Zandrianna's attention is pulled from Emrabeth, and she too studies Rastellion's tense form. "We will get her out Rastellion." Her attempt to sound reassuring falls short though, for she furrows her brow, a cloud of doubt in her eyes as she studies the compound once more.

"We'll get your girl out of there," Emrabeth echoes, as she cleans one of her nails with tip of her dagger. Rastellion turns to study her, a slight crease on his forehead, watching the young woman play with her knife.

Meanwhile, Ceolfred moves to the back of his horse and begins to unstrap one of the saddlebags. "We'll be splittin' up down the road a bit," he says, "an' you two women goin' on to th' village. Th' Stoat and Stout, mind; t'other inn’ a bit rough. Might as well shift th' packs while we're stopped."

Rastellion nudges Zandrianna's elbow as he heads back towards his own horse, which is carrying some of her extra baggage, instruments and outfits help with her disguise as wandering minstrel.

Zandrianna gives Ceolfred a glance, then follows Rastellion to his horse to gather her bag from him. "It's alright," she whispers to him reassuringly. "We will get her out Rastellion. Your uncle doesn't seem the type to overestimate our chances."

Rastellion glances back to where Ceolfred and Emrabeth are shifting saddlebags to Emrabeth's small grey, which whinnies in irritation, stamping her feet and dancing sideways. "This girl, Emrabeth," Rastellion says, quietly. "Are you sure about her? I scarcely know her, and I don't think Immalaine does either. Never mentioned her to me, anyway. So why's she even here?" He studies Zandrianna's face, his back toward the others. "I know you said Rossiath vouched for her, but..."

"I don't know her much better," Zandrianna's eyes pause on the young brunette before she turns her attention back to the bags. "But not only did Rossiath vouch for her, Merry insisted the girl has skills we’ll find useful. And she's been fairly quiet on this trip. Hardly the troublemaker I expected from the stories I'd heard."

Rastellion 's mouth quirks in a wry half-smile, but his eyes remain shadowed. "That's not what I'd call a ringing endorsement, Zandrianna." He darts another quick glance over his shoulder. "But my uncle seems to accept her, and he's a fair judge of folks." He takes a deep breath and returns this attention to his borrowed roan. "Well, let's get this lute and other stuff of yours back onto your horse.”

Zandrianna briefly grins back at her old friend and together they carry her bag and instruments back to join Ceolfred and Emrabeth.

"Seems that the inn we're to stay at has quite the reputation for its fine ales," Emrabeth comments with a chuckle. "Hope their whiskey lives up to the same reputation."

Ceolfred gives her a sharp look, but his eyes twinkle. "Don' go gettin' too much into yer part, now. Keep yer ears an' eyes open." He gestures Zandrianna and Rastellion closer. "We'll go our separate ways at th' fork in th' road, ahead. There's a few spots Rastellion an' I could camp."

Rastellion kicks at the pine needles underfoot. "I'm sorry 'bout this, Ceolfred," he begins, but his uncle cuts him off. "Not yer fault, lad. For all we know, they ain't even circulated your likeness or description this far yet, but best t' be safe." He looks at the women. "Remem'ber, if we cross paths in th' village - not that that's likely, much - you two don' know us. Jus' in case." His grin flashes. "B'sides, it's always good, goin' in somewhere new, not t' show all yer weapons at once. No harm if folks don' know we four are t'gether, eh?"

Emrabeth gives Ceolfred a grin, the expression briefly erasing the cynicism from her eyes and making her appear carefree. "I'll try not to cause too much trouble," she chuckles before stepping to mount her horse.

Zandrianna shakes her head, then hugs Rastellion before turning to Ceolfred. "You sure the two of you will be alright, camping? It's not the same as the North Downs here. There's no telling what you might have visiting your camp at night. I could stay behind and help you set up at least." A faint line of worry creases her forehead as she appraises the situation.

Ceolfred chuckles and takes her hand to squeeze it briefly. "Don' you worry yourself 'bout us, Lady Zandrianna. I've camped in more places than th' Downs, an' worse ones. This gentle countryside'll be a pleasure." He rubs his chin. "E'en got a fresh stream t' use my bit o' razor at. Downright luxury." His expression turns more serious. "Remember, tell 'em at th' Stoat that you want a room on th' top floor. It'll be easy 'nuff for me t' get across the roofs unseen an' into th' windows there, if we need t' confer."

Zandrianna holds Ceolfred's hand a moment longer before letting hers drop back to her side. "Should be easy enough to attend too." She still seems worried about the two men, but seeing that Ceolfred was nonchalant about the arrangements, her shoulders relax and she heads to her rented steed to mount it. "And I'll make sure to leave a candle burning in the window for you to find it."

Ceolfred shakes his head, emphatically. “Nay! I'll find you sure 'nuff. Candle woud jus' draw attention. Don’ want that."

Zandrianna uses a small rock as a stepping stone into her saddle. "Alright then, but be careful out here ... and when you have to come into town. Both of you." Nudging the horse forward, she motions to Emrabeth to follow as they head to the town below.

The two women soon vanish into the sparse forest, as the path winds down the back side of the ridge. Ceolfred turns to his nephew, grinning. “She’d offer t’ cut meat for a butcher, that one,” he quips. “Now, best you and I getta move on. There’s a good spot I scouted when out here b’fore." With the ease of long practice, he swings himself up into his worn saddle. "An' t'night I'll show you how t' cook a proper meal o'er a campfire."