“Halt the wagons!” the call came loudly from up front and immediately Styri, the dwarf handling the reigns of the two horses pulling the wagon next to where Nihtwulf rode, pulled hard on them and stopped the small wagon, one of six in the caravan, “What now?” grumbled the dwarf, while Nihtwulf and the other flanking guards put hands on their weapons in preparation for any trouble that might occur. Master Granner, the owner of the caravan goods came walking down past the wagons, stopping to speak a few words when he passed every one of the wagons, as he came down to the one where Nihtwulf was waiting nearby he spoke with a weary tone of voice, “We’re nearing the northern forests, this areas is known to harbor brigands, so please be extra wary, if we are attacked and the order is given to abandon the goods, do so. Lives are more important than trade these days…”
Nihtwulf wondered at this sentiment, but Granner was not like most traders he had met, so he gave the merchant a nod in confirmation of the words, and glanced after him as he continued on towards the last two wagons in the train. He knew Granner had probably seen more than enough death along the way, he had the look to his eyes, the look that said he had seen things he would never forget. But so did most of the people in the caravan, from the guards to the drivers. The war in the south had touched them too.
He had joined the caravan willingly when he stumbled across it as he came south following the Hoarwell, master Granner had offered him a position on the spot, offering to pay silver even for his time. But he had declined the pay, asking only for food as he joined the guards, few of them as there were. Heading towards the Greyflood, master Granner intended to follow it south past Tharbad, and then cross into Eregion nearer the coast, so as to reach the Isen and cross it too, ending up in time at the gap in the mountains leading into Gondor and Pinnath Gellin. The wares carried in the caravan were mainly furs from the north, some artifacts, and Nihtwulf surmised a hefty lump of gold and silver, so as to buy wares in Gondor to bring back north. But master Granner didn’t speak of such things, least of all with newly hired help. The other guards didn’t say much, and it was primarily the dwarf, Styri, who was a source of information to Nihtwulf.
Apparently the caravan had set out from Bree sometime earlier in the summer, having spent the winter there, master Granner had traded for furs and other items with the trappers and local adventurers who roamed the countryside, especially the trappers were good trading partners, and Granner had been in the business of buying their furs for years, then selling them in Gondor for a good profit. Especially the winter furs of some of the northern wildlife were popular, the white coloring being a fancy to many down south. Likewise the fine gondorian metalworks were of particular interest in the north, so he had gained some profit along the way, and the caravan was deliberately kept small, so as to look unprofitable, and should they be waylaid, keep the losses to a minimum. This was though, but one of three caravans that Granner had going south, the last of the three.
As Granner passed them again on his way to the front he gave a curt nod to everyone then with a gruff voice yelled ahead “Move out!”. Soon the six wagons, each pulled by two stout workhorses were rumbling along the small dirt road again, the seven guards flanking the wagons with Byrin, the guard captain, in the vanguard of the caravan. The afternoon passed without incident, the only thing to happen was a slight shower of rain falling shortly before the caravan made halt for the night. Tents were raised and soon a cooking fire was burning, and Byrin was setting the schedule for the night patrol, there would always be 3 guards awake, one positioned with the lead wagon, the other two constantly roaming in circles around the camp, shifts of 4 hours would mean most got to sleep at least twice during the night. This suited Nihtwulf well, and he nodded in reply to being given the early watch. Stretching his legs he left Northanganga with Styri, who was tending the horses of his wagon, then began his roving patrol around the campsite. He knew food would be ready soon, but minded not having to eat once the first watch was ended. It would give him time to consider his options, going all the way south to Gondor was not a journey he was inclined to take, even though it might prove an easier path into Rohan, at least on the side of safety. No, he would probably stay with the caravan until it reached the Isen, then set out along the south side of the river, and head for the gap.
Guard duty passed slowly, and when he was released Nihtwulf made for the cooking fire, got himself a meal of roasted venison and headed for the wagon Styri was responsible for. Once there he sat down next to the dwarf, and they shared a few words while he ate. Styri had tended the horses, and made sure to wipe down Nihtwulfs steed as well. It was a fine gesture of the dwarf, but they had become if not friends, then at least good acquaintances during the past few days. The dwarf hailed from the blue mountains, but had left to seek work as a merchant, and through misfortune had lost all his savings on some bad deals. Ending up in Bree he had signed on with master Granner two seasons ago, and had tended one of the wagons ever since. Pay was decent, and Styri had found he liked the life on the road, every other winter he would return to his home and provide news and an income to his family, and he felt proud having found a way to make a decent living, even after his misfortune as a trader in his own right. It wasn’t a life Nihtwulf would have chosen, but he could see the merits of it none the less. Finishing his meal Nihtwulf pulled up his blanket and bid the dwarf goodnight, then crawled under the wagon to get an hour of sleep before second watch.
That night and the following three passed without incident, the train of wagons kept going south, the weather held, and they were not subject to any rain, though a shower now and then would have been nice.
On the fourth day as the noon meal was eaten, Byrin called Nihtwulf and another guard to the front, the caravan was nearing a wooded area, and Byrin wanted the two of them to ride ahead and scout the road ahead, he wanted to know if there were any signs of brigands and asked them to find a good spot for the caravan to camp during the night. Nihtwulf and the other guard, a young breelander named Soren, filled their waterskins and then rode off towards the forest, the horses going at a swift pace compared to the lumbering wagons behind them. They soon reached the outskirts of the woods, and decided to split up, with Soren remaining on the road, while Nihtwulf flanked him on alternating sides, checking for signs of activity amongst the trees. Spurring Northangana on, Nihtwulf entered the left side of the road first, not much underbrush to speak of, the going was easy, even on horseback. There weren’t any signs to be found for quite a bit, and switching from roadside to roadside it became clear there was no apparent threat to the caravan. After a few hours the two riders reached a small glade, just adequate to circle the wagons, it would prove a decent place to camp the caravan for the night. Nihtwulf remained in the glade, while Soren headed back to the Caravan. Nihtwulf spent the time before the arrival of the rest by chopping wood and preparing a few places where fire could be set without danger of setting the surroundings ablaze. Soon enough the caravan arrived without incident, and with wood already prepared, fires were soon going, and food was soon being prepared. Byrin assigned Nihtwulf to the mid-watch, asking that he and Soren scouted ahead the next morning as well. The night passed without incident, and the next morning, stifling a yawn as he mounted Northanganga, Nihtwulf set out with Soren again. This time it would be the Breelander who scoured the sides of the road, while Nihtwulf stayed on it.
The day passed slowly as they made their way along the road, birds chirping in the trees were about all that interrupted the calmness of the forest, though at one point he did spot a deer off to one side. Perhaps a hunting party should be formed, to replenish the food stores of the caravan. Something to suggest to master Granner that evening. A midday meal was shared with Soren, and switching tasks, Nihtwulf began surveying the woods on each sides of the road again, there were more abundant plants in this part of the woods, so the going was more slow, and oft at times he had to dismount his horse in order to examine patches of bramble and other bushes. Still, it seemed animals were all that roamed here, that is until he came across a marker set on the side of a tree.
Carved into the bark facing away from the road was a strange symbol, it resembled mostly a V shape, with a line stricken across it. However, of more interest than the mark itself, was the fact that it was mere days old, the wood laid bare beneath the bark not yet having faded in color was a good indication of the recent carving of the strange mark. Nihtwulf, already dismounted, slowly examined the ground around the tree for clues, but besides a single clear footstep, there was no indication of the size or the person or persons responsible for the strange marking. Still, this did not bode well.
Returning once more to the road, Nihtwulf met up with Soren, and asked the younger man to head back to the caravan with haste, to warn them of the strange marking, and to put the guards on alert. Soon Soren vanished along the road, having spurred his horse on in an exited frenzy, in time perhaps, Soren would come to realize that all it would gain him would be a more tired horse, and the caravan still being an hour or two from reaching the spot, he would only tire it even more on the way back to where they had parted. Nihtwulf led his horse slowly ahead on the road, walking on foot, he stopped now and then, tied the horse to a nearby tree and spent time searching for more signs in the nearby woods. He found none though, which struck him as even more odd.
An hour passed, before Nihtwulf was surprised to hear hooves thundering down the road towards him from the north, readying his sword, Nihtwulf turned to face the approaching horseman, it was Soren, gesturing wildly and screaming his lungs out even before his words could make any possible sense.
“FIRE! FIRE! There is smoke!!!” were the first words Nihtwulf made out, and he quickly mounted his horse as Soren finally reached him, panting as much as his horse did. “Nihtwulf!!! There is fire!!! I think the caravan has been attacked!!”, Soren was frantic and excited at the same time, but Nihtwulf knew if an attack had happened it would be over before they got there, still he spurred his horse, and with Soren in two made his way fast back along the road towards the caravan. Soon enough the truth of the young mans words stood clear, as black smoke became clearly visible a few miles away.
Spurring on Northanganga, Nihtwulf outpaced Soren on his now fatigued horse, and came soon close to the remains of the caravan. The horses were gone, several of the wagons were burning, and the slain littered the roadside beside the wagons. Nihtwulf dismounted and drew his blade, hefting his shield he walked closer to the scene, the first thing he noted was the lack of the guards amongst the slain, but perhaps they were in pursuit of the brigands. The first wagon was almost burned to a cinder, the driver, a middle aged man with a name Nihtwulf never got to know, lay slain alongside the blackened remains of the wagon, his throat slit with what looked like a dagger or small sword. The next wagon stood untouched, the driver sitting still on the bench in the front, an arrow protruding from his chest, the front of him covered in the blood that had gushed out of the mortal wound. The only sounds to be heard at the grim scene were those of the flames roaring and the wood of the wagons giving way as it was being consumed. Nihtwulf slowly made his way along the wagons, checking each for signs of survivors he found none until he approached the rear of the caravan. There, some movement could be seen alongside one of the burning wagons, and Nihtwulf rushed forward, sword at the ready, only to find it was Styri trying to pull another driver away from the burning husk of a wagon, this one had been laden with furs, and the smell of the fire was overpowering, Styri was bleeding from a deep gash on his back, but still he was dragging along the man on the ground before him, not even noting, that life had already passed from the companion.
“STYRI! What has happened??? Where are the guards and master Granner???”, Nihtwulf rushed up to the dwarf and sat him down, pulling his cloak from his back he used it to staunch the bleeding on the back of the dwarf. “The… guards… betrayal!”, Styri was clearly in a bad state, short of breath and in apparent shock, so Nihtwulf let the questions rest as he tended to the dwarf, the wound on the back would need stitching, and soon, so he carefully lay down the wounded dwarf and told him to remain there, then ran to his horse to grab the saddlebags, before rushing back to the side of the stricken dwarf. Styri was panting through the pain, but the wild expression had left his face and a semblance of calm had settled on it. Nihtwulf knew this was a bad sign, and that he was probably too late, so he knelt down and took the hand of the dwarf, “Tell me what happened Styri! Tell me who did this?” he asked.
Styri looked up at the rider and with slow, deliberate words told the tale, how the guards had suddenly at a signal from Byrin turned on the drivers, had killed them off and left him for dead after he was struck in the back by an axe. He had seen as they had dragged master Granner along the carts, Byrin over and over threatening the merchant with torture, unless he opened the strongbox in the last of the wagons. The merchant had succumbed, and as two of the guards had dragged it out of the cart, had taken the key from an inside pocket and handed it to Byrin. The guard captain had laughed around at the others and called out “See? Told you this would be easy! And those two idiots we sent off ahead, not even suspecting anything!”. Rage filled Nihtwulf at this.
Suddenly hoofbeats could be heard coming from the front end of the caravan, Nihtwulf flew up from the dwarf and readied his sword, ready to smite whoever it was should they not be friend. It was Soren, the eyes of the young man filled with tears at the gruesome sight of the caravan remains. He dismounted and rushed up to Nihtwulf and Styri and with a trembling voice asked what had happened.
“Wait Soren… I must attend to Styri, I must know the rest.” Nihtwulf replied as he once again knelt down by the dwarf, “Go check on the last cart!”. Soren went off towards the last cart, it also being almost consumed by flames now burning low. Turning to the dwarf Nihtwulf saw there was still life in him, “Styri, what more?”, the dwarf looked up and said in anger “Then they tied him to the cart Nihtwulf, they tied master Granner to his cart! And burned him alive…”. Nihtwulf was shocked when he heard of the cruelty of the guards that should have been loyal, such betrayal should not go unpunished, “Styri, where did they go?” he asked the now quite pale dwarf, “Horses.. eats with the horses..” voice fading, Styri looked up at Nihtwulf and suddenly in a clear voice spoke out “Avenge this.. tell my family!”, then he closed his eyes for the last time, and the rider knew, that Styri the Dwarf had passed away.
Soren and Nihtwulf spent the rest of the afternoon burying the remains of the drivers, of master Granner only the bones remained, but these too they laid at rest alongside the road, finally Styri was buried in a grave next to the others, and a mound of stones they gathered was set above the grave of the dwarf. Nihtwulf shed few tears that afternoon, his rage towards the guards consumed him, he was too angry to give in to grief at this time. Yet Soren cried freely, the young man was stricken with grief and almost inconsolable, he was bewildered and knew not whence to turn, or what to do, so the task of digging the graves was as much to calm him down, as that it had to be done, for honors sake.
As evening broke the two men sat nearby the road and mulled over what to do now, Soren was keen on setting off north, towards breeland and home, Nihtwulf knew he had some unfinished business to attend to, ere he could resume his trek south towards Rohan. So in the end the two parted, Soren with a promise that he would get word to the blue mountains and the family of Styri, Nihtwulf with one that he would seek down the treacherous guards. They parted in sadness, wishing each other well in the future, yet both knowing the roads ahead would be wrought with danger, for both.
