150 Years Ago
The strange little band had been traveling together for nearly a week now, by back roads and game trails, through the rains that seemed to soak Evendim every spring threatening to sweep the unwary into the sea-like Lake. Another few hours and the Eastern gates of Annuminas would be in sight.
Originally there had been no band...only Xandilif the Banshee. As she looked back at her companions she recalled their meeting and laughed gently to herself. "Isn't this a kick in the nethers..." she whispered to herself, still surprised at how all this had passed.
The young elleth had been making her way to the ruins of noble Annuminas as directly as she dared, bearing messages for those who struggled to defend the proud ruins of the ancient capital of Arnor. She had been focused mainly on haste, and being as stealthy as she might manage...not out of great fear, but simply because needless battle would slow her mission.
After making good progress for the day, she built a small fire under a makeshift shelter near the banks of the Brandywine, expecting she was three days journey from the city still. That should give her plenty of time to deliver the oilskin packet of scrolls as ordered. Soon after having the fire going and a fine looking coney roasting over it, she felt the clear sensation up her spine that she was not alone. The sound of a twig breaking...a shift in air nearby...and the elf was in motion
A quick roll to one side of the fire, twin blades drawn and crossed in front of her to face...three pairs of very frightened eyes staring at her from the edge of the fire's glow.
Menfolk, not locals from their colors...actually very small menfolk. No, not just small...certainly children by the look of them. The oldest could be nearly a man it seemed but not quite, while the other two were younger, and from their features, probably female. They huddled there shivering in the rain, the firelight tracing eerie shadows across their gaunt faces, wearing little more then rags despite the weather and seemed to be staring more at the sputtering coney then the elf, despite the menace of the drawn blades.
Xandilif paused...eyes wary as if still expecting a trap of some kind yet she could feel no direct threat. She circled backwards slowly, to put the fire between herself and the intruders just in case. The smallest of the two females darted forward and the elf tensed, prepared to strike with her dual blades...only the warrior was not her target. Instead she started pulling bits of hot meat off the spit, burning her fingers but not caring as she pushed them into her mouth. The other two, once they saw she was not being stopped, did the same and in the space of a few minutes had devoured the coney.
The elf sighed and sat..watching them nervously as they feasted and rose to drive them away. However as they whimpered and looked at her in terror, she stopped...caught by unfamiliar emotions. Finally she sat again in silence, staring at them...and then began to speak with them, hideous though they were in low tones, utterly amazed by them. So these were menfolk when they were fresh.
At first the children were terrified of this faerie princess in armor, but as the meal made them calmer and sleepy the words began to tumble out. The boy, who was indeed the oldest and not just the largest, was called Bram, and the two females were his sisters, called Ann and Tris though he was not sure how old either one was. Neither girl spoke much at first, but stared at the elf with enormous eyes, both with the red-brown hair of a more fertile land. The boy spoke of his fear, of the cold, or their parents, or how hungry they had been...all in a childish sing-song that Xandilif could barely understand but it didn't matter as she wasn't really listening. She was just watching them as if a frog could suddenly speak.
After a time, dawn began to lighten the cloudy sky and Xandilif had lost patience and broken camp, prepared to set out. She ordered the three children to return to their home...to be told tearfully by the youngest, called Tris, that that had no home. She went on to explain that they used to have a home called "Wee" according to her, which the boy corrected to Bree. However they had no idea how to get back to their home...and begged almost in unison to stay with the Xandilif.
"Like hell you will..." the elf scoffed and continued packing.
They begged louder.
"Feck off ya beardless dwarves!...." the elf shouted as she finished her preparations.
They begged louder still.
Xandilif nodding slowly and the three fell into step behind her as she told them that they could come along with her as far as the Way of Kings...then they would be the problem of the Wardens.
As they walked on that first wet day Bram explained in broken, struggling sentences that they used to live on a farm, but one day something had happened. It seemed that none of three of them knew what exactly happened...but one day they awoke to their farm in terrible condition, parts of it on fire, and their parents nowhere in sight. Instead there several men who frightened them, and one who the others listened to who seemed nice. He said they should call him Uncle and they would be going on a trip with him to where their parents were waiting.
The trip took them a long way he thought, locked in the back of a wagon, and they were told not to make a sound no matter what until finally they came to a port made of stone with a massive spire in the middle of it and lots of very short, very mean people...but their parents were not there after all. Their new Uncle left them there, collecting money from the mean short men and did not even say good bye, and soon after they were put on a boat with lots of strangers and sailed on a river for a long time. They had no idea how long they were on the boat, or where they were going, but lots of the other people died as it got colder and colder.
Xandilif nodded to herself..."Slavers..." she muttered. "Wonderful. This is so not my affair. I have messages to bear."
Day by day the threesome followed the elf as she moved closer to Annuminas through the rain, which helped to hide their trail at least. Several times she told herself she was going to slip away and leave them with some cram and a warm fire....that they were slowing her down too much. Somehow she never did leave them behind...and each day they would tell her more of their memories, the girls now chiming in but being even harder to understand than the boy. They explained that when they got off the ship they could barely walk and there was snow everywhere. Almost everyone else on the boat was dead by the time they arrived and the sailors were very mad. They they were locked in wagons again but now wagons with metal bars, by men like their Uncle but wearing robes the color of blood.
They described another long trip...until one night the man in the red robe fell off the wagon with an arrow in him, and the ox who pulled it went crazy, dragging the wagon over a cliff and killing lots of red robes. When the wagon hit the ground the metal bars broke and they were hurt but not dead...but they were able to crawl away into the brush. They saw men in green masks with swords looking at the wagon, but they were afraid and stayed hidden...and when the green mask men left they started to walk. They had been walking a long time when they came upon the elf and her fire. She did not look like the men in red robes or green masks so they trusted her, Tris told her...and as Bram admitted on the fourth day, he knew they were running out of time. It was too cold and they were too hungry and the little ones would die soon like the people on the boat.
"You saved our lives..." the boy said, and the elf could not disagree.
And so a week had passed, Xandilif walked along with Tris on her back, gripping the shoulders of her cloak with both hand singing a song about ducks, as Bram carried Ann.
"Leaf?" asked Bram..."Are there fish in the big lake.."
The elf shrugged..."I suppose boy child...likely fish that would eat all three of ya for second breakfast and not need to miss a meal."
Tris laughed and pulled on one of Xandilif's ears. "I no wanna be et by a fish, Leaf...kill the bad fish if it eats me...."
The elven champion laughed, pulling the child off her shoulders and hugging her against her chain hauberk. "I'll kill the bad fish but good, don't you worry yourself..."
Both little girls cheered at the thought and the Banshee smiled...oblivious to all save the little band marching to Annuminas, waiting so close at hand.
That was when the arrows began, with a guttural shout from the ridge about the roadway. The flat harsh tones of the Angmarim were unmistakable. "THIEF!!! Die with the goods you despoiled, she-elf!"
The first hail of shafts struck Ann in the back and head...she died without a sound, small body twitching as her brother screamed and tried to pick her up. Xandlilf spun as Tris began to scream as well, drawing a sword with her one hand free as she slashed at the first two of the slavers to leap into the road, cutting one down and forcing the second back into the water. "The tombs..make for the tombs boy!!!" Xandilif leapt easily over the water onto one of the ancient stone bridges, Tris howling against her chest in fear as she turned to see where Bram was when the second fusillade arrived.
There was nowhere to hide, she had been stalked and ambushed like an amateur. The predator was now prey.
And still the arrows came.
Xandilif grunted in sudden, startled pain as a viciously barbed arrow bit deep into her shoulder, cleaving through the heavy mail...and through Tris.
Stunned from the impact the champion looked down into the child eyes as she opened her mouth. Pinned to the elf's chest by the shaft, she whispered "Kill....the bad fish, Leaf..." before only blood came forth and she was gone.
Gone? No....
The Banshee raged, screaming...and rashly pulled the arrow free, taking a fair chunk of her own flesh out with the barbs as she held Tris but the little body was already going cold. Still trying to carry Tris she ran desperately for the tomb at the end of the stone bridge, arrows striking the stones behind her...until another caught her in the back, spinning her around hard to see the Gertheryg swallow the last bite of Bram...and lift it's heavy club for a long, slow swing.
The massive club slammed into the bridge behind Xandilif, throwing the elf and Tris's body in two different directions. The tiny corpse splashed into the shallow water, but the Banshee flew further and slammed hard into the stone wall of the tomb at the end of the short bridge. The Gertheryg laughed, or it may have been a laugh, and took three long steps to close the distance as the elf lay crumpled, struggling back to her feet, lifting a now broken sword in her hand feebly.
The club swung again and the elf rolled, grunting from the pain as the impact drove the arrow in her back deeper, blood running down her fair chin. The errant swing however, smashed the wall of the tomb and the elf tumbled through the gaping hole and down, and down, and down...until she landed with a powerful impact on a pile of decayed tapestry, knocked senseless, sheets of lake water pouring in all around her. High above, the slavers shouted and fought to get their troll beast under control, content that the thief died with her prizes.
Hours, perhaps days, perhaps years passed, as Xandilif wavered on the edge of shadow and death. However, all the while a voice seemed to be calling her, pulling her away from distant shores. As she slowly regained her sense, she still heard that dream like voice calling her, a voice from somewhere deep in the depths of the flooded tomb. Slowly, painfully she rose in the darkness..the wounds already having begun to heal as she fumbled in her belt pouch for healing droughts for the pain. Still that voice calling her...was that...Tris? No...not Tris...Tris was...no. Mother? No...it was...it was something else.
Step by step Xandlilf the Banshee descended deeper into the dark, seeking that voice. Alone again and grateful for the darkness and the falling water...so she would not have to feel her tears.
