#mericc

  "When I first heard your' singing, I had thought you were perhaps Bombadil's wife Goldberry", Mericc said as he sat down beside her. "But, there is no mistaking elvish singing for anything else."

   Laralini smiled and opened a pack that she had behind her and pulled out an elixir of greenish liquid. "No, I am not her, though I do not begrudge you the mistake. She is a wise and fascinating person, I had great pleasure in meeting her when I came into these woods". She unstopped the elixir and the air was infused with a sweet aroma that unburdened the spirit and cleared the mind. "Drink this, but not too much, it is very potent". Mericc drank a little and almost instantly the weariness of the previous battle subsided and muscle and limb felt rejuvenated and fresh.

  "Well, I do hope that helps", she said, "though I am afraid it cannot do much for the look of you, there must be quite the tale of adventure to that!" Mericc looked himself over and couldn't argue the point, his armor bore the dents and scratches of the fight with the bears and he was coated in mud and grime. "Just a bit of a tussle with some of the fine denizens of these woods, a pack of foul looking bears that I had never encountered in here before", he replied.

"Goodness, whatever did you get involved with them for?" Laralini exclaimed.

"I wasn't exactly planning on it!", Mericc retorted. "I am in these woods on a mission and ran across the bears by a shallow pond. They attacked and I was forced to fight them off. It was fortunate that your bear friend came to help when he did."

  Laralini frowned at this. "I do hope nobody was hurt too badly...but", she looked off towards the direction of the pond, "I guess if you and Morko are here then the others must be dead. Still, I don't suppose you can blame them for attacking, you WERE trespassing on their grounds."

"They didn't give me much of a chance to leave", Mericc remarked rather annoyed.

   "I guess I can understand that though the loss of life is still saddens me" Laralini sighed. "There are some very dark places in these woods that I felt as soon as I entered and me and my dear Morko have steered clear of them as best we could. But I suppose one of your kind does not find it as easy to sense the ways of the trees as well as elves do."

"I assure you Lady, I do not kill if I do not have too", Mericc said. "But there are many times in my line of work where it is unavoidable."

  The elf maiden considered him for a moment before speaking. "I am afraid that my experience with the younger race is very limited and so far I have found myself disappointed. The men I have come across have seemed to me either brutish and coarse or weak-willed and cowardly, not at all like the heroes that I read about in the old stories. But you are different Mericc Angadraug and I wonder if perhaps I've just been exposed to the wrong sort in my journeys. To have taken on those evil creatures as you did was very brave." She paused and Mericc took the opportunity to ask what had brought her into the forest to begin with. She looked down at the flower that she had been studying earlier and began.

  She had been born in Lothlorien and for years uncounted had walked in the gardens and pathways of that most elvish of lands. But it was not in the flowers of the vales or the splendor of the mallorns that she found her love, but in books and tomes of lore was her heart ever given. She spent endless hours pouring over the many volumes in the library of Caras Galadhon, and learned much of the wisdom and knowledge that the elves had accumulated throughout the ages. But mostly she loved tales of the far off lands beyond The Golden Wood and stories of heroes and adventures in years long past. She delighted in passages about the glory of Gondolin, marveled over the love of Beren and Luthien and trembled at the might of Thangorodrim and the greatness of it's fall. Many a night she dreamed of the wide world and the many places and people she had only ever read about.

  But the journey is hardest that is never begun and whenever she would get it into her heart to leave Lothlorien, she would look around and see the beauty of the land and the glory of it's people and always she thought 'Maybe next year'. One day while she was reading about Ents and their search for the Entwives, she looked up and saw the Lady Galadriel before her.

"Long have I watched you study my books of lore and observed you starry-eyed as the minstrels sang songs of days gone by", She said. "It has not been difficult to see the wishes of your' heart and the fears that bind it. I think in this I may be able to help you Laralini, follow me."

  She beckoned and Laralini followed, her eyes downcast, cheeks flushed. She had always been in awe of the Lady Galadriel who had never spoken directly to her. In a daze she wound her way through the streets until they came to the gate to Galadriel's personal garden. She walked transfixed by the loveliness of all that was around her. Here the beauty and essence of Middle-Earth stood sharper and more poignant than in anywhere else in the world. In the center was a basin of silver and it was to this that the Lady Galadriel made her way.

  "Look into the mirror Laralini and you will find all that you have dreamed of and more". She motioned to the young elf who trembled with anticipation as she ascended the few small steps to the mirror's edge. "You will learn much of things that will fulfill the yearning of your spirit and much that you might wish unlearned, but in both you will gain much profit in knowledge and wisdom. I cannot see where it shall end for you, but if you are strong enough to look you may be strong enough to make it through."    

  "And so I looked", Laralini continued. "At first there were only the stars overhead but then the waters opened up to a far green land of gently rolling hills that I had never seen before. As I bent down to get a closer look I saw to my amazement, a little people, the first people that I had seen who were not elves. I was completely enraptured. Suddenly as I got closer I felt the world close in around me, the garden fell away and the land before me came into sharper focus. I went into a swoon and when I woke up, I found myself in the land the inhabitants call The Shire. It was not long after that I came upon my friend here," she said smiling as she ruffled the fur on Morko's back. "We have been exploring the land ever since."

  A year ago Mericc would have found the tale unbelievable. But he had seen many unbelievable things, including The Golden Wood, so was inclined to believe this elf maiden, strange as her story was. Laralini went on, "I found the Halflings a fascinating race, there is nothing like them in any of the stories or books that I have read, I am sorry to leave their land behind. Our dealings with men have not been nearly as kind, I am afraid Morko had to deal roughly with a few unsavory ones that we ran across. I was beginning to think the promise of the younger race was all but spent until Morko found you. It is a shame the young man who crossed our path earlier was not more like you. I...."

  Mericc was up in a shot, "What other man?" All other thoughts vanished from his head, Morko growled in surprise at the warriors sudden movement, but the elf maiden calmed him.

  "He appeared to us out of the brush a couple hours ago", Laralini replied. "He was disheveled and unkempt and had a terrified look in his eyes. I tried to say something, but I am afraid he took one look at my Morko and went screaming off out of sight. I sent off my companion to find him but he must have lost his scent and come across you instead."

Mericc noticed the elf bite her lip and look towards the south, a worried expression on her face. "There are many dangers in this forest for the unwary and I fear the worst."

  Mericc looked over his armor and sword, preparing to head out. "I have been in many tight spots and perilous situations and have learned not to fear the worst until it arrives. I came into this forest looking for that boy and hearing that he is alive, or at least was a few hours ago, gives me hope that all is not yet in vain". The elixir he had drank earlier had healed him of much of his weariness and he felt that he was ready for what he thought would be the last stage of this journey. Laralini looked at him with wonder.

  "I consider myself fortunate to have made your' acquaintance Mericc Angadraug", Laralini said with a smile. "Perhaps there is some truth to the old stories after all." She picked up her pack and placed it on her back. "It would be a shame to part when I am sure there is much I could learn from one as traveled as you obviously are. I would be honored if you would accept me and my Morko's help in the noble task you have set before you."

  They watched him now as he prepared for their attack, shield held in front of him, his back to an old oak that they had used as a gathering place since time out of mind. In fact it was to just such a gathering that had brought them there that evening. Normally they lived and hunted further north in the forest in great dens dug into the earth and rock. The Oak was only for special occasions, and here in this sacred place they find an intruder, they were not about to let him make it out alive.

   Mericc surveyed the situation from the oak husk, it didn't look promising. The lead bear was only about ten feet away, the others, farther out in the glade, made their way nearer. Soon they would have him completely surrounded. The warrior took a deep breath and prepared to strike the first blow, he wasn't about to wait and let them make a coordinated strike against him, one that he had a very small chance of surviving.

  Suddenly, before the first bear could react, Mericc charged and was upon him, his blade slashing across one of the bear's powerful shoulders. The bear roared in pain and lifted itself up to it's full height, the claws of it's good arm came down in a revenge stroke, looking to put an end to this man who had dared give it battle. But the experienced soldier was faster. As the beast brought his arm down, Mericc swung his spiked shield up under its' guard, fracturing it's jaw and sending it reeling into the shallow pool. Before it could recover, Mericc's sword struck a mortal blow, and the great bear fell dead.

  Growls, now angry and fierce, shook the glade as the other bears saw one of their number fall and they rushed at Mericc from all sides. He meet them as they came, injuring one, but as the rest got within striking distance, the guardian found himself hard-pressed and was forced to retreat backwards towards the oak stump. Fighting animals as big and strong as a fully grown bear had it's particular disadvantages, even a blow blocked with a shield jarred the body and risked knocking you to the ground if your footing was not solid. And a warrior off his feet very quickly becomes a dead warrior.

  Soon Mericc found himself with his back once again at the roots of the oak tree, he was bruised and battered but had given better than he had got, slaying another of the evil bears during the last exchange. The remaining bears prepared another attack and Mericc braced himself as best he could when a sound at the edge of the glade drew the attention of both bear and fighter.

  A roar, like to a bear and yet greater rang in the glade and Mericc saw one of the biggest bears he had ever seen come crashing through the brush. It was at least half again as large as the biggest of the evil bears, it's fur was a light brown and free from the scars and marks that covered those of the forest, and it was heading right towards them. Mericc sighed at his misfortune, and prepared for this new foe, things were looking grim.

  Feelings of foreboding turned quickly into those of shock, instead of attacking Mericc, the giant bear smashed into the nearest of his foes, sending it flying into the water. The other bears turned towards this unlooked for betrayal, attacking the newcomer with a fury, but soon found themselves vastly overmatched. Fur and claws flew as the giant bear fought with the three remaining bears, wielding his paws and teeth with ruthless efficiency.

  Recovering from his momentary shock, Mericc made a quick decision. This new bear might not be his friend, but he was definitely no friend of the bears of the forest. It might attack him as soon as it finished off the last of it's current foes, but somehow Mericc didn't think so. At the least, he felt honor-bound to help since the newcomer had gotten him out of immediate danger. Mind made up, he charged into the fray, engaging the dread bears who were occupied in deadly conflict with the massive one. Soon the last of them lay slain on the field and bear and man stood facing each other.

  For a moment they stood, both seeming to size the other up, experienced warrior and giant bear. Finally after pondering Mericc for some time, the bear turned around and headed back into the trees where it had come from. Before it made it to the edge though it looked back at the guardian and then back into the forest and Mericc wondered if it meant for him to follow. It wouldn't be the strangest thing he had done and since he had failed to find any leads as to where his lost worker was, he might as well see where this latest development would take him.

  The bear stood at the edge of the glade waiting and repeated the motion towards the trees. Warily Mericc followed, hand on the hilt of his sword, it didn't do to let your' guard down, even amongst apparent allies, not until you saw what their intentions really were.

  They travelled a little ways, the large bear in front leading the way, it was clear he knew exactly where he was heading. Mericc brushed a cobweb from his face and followed through the brush, keeping his eyes on the animal before him. As they walked a sound came to Mericc's ears, first faint and then louder as they went on, and Mericc felt his heart lighten at once. A soft and melodious female voice, obviously elvish, sang quietly and as he got closer to it's source, Mericc could make out words.

        "Oh! Flowers of the ancient wood          Whose trees once spanned now faded lands          Whose beauty passed all reckoning          And all things made of mortal hands

         Speak of those who loved you dear          And tended petal, leaf, and stem          Then fled, to whither none can say          Though in the breeze the wise still hear.

         Of Merillif, beloved of all          Whose gardens rivaled elven gems          Fair Neldorlas the nurturer          Her flowers wondrous to recall

         Silloth laughed beneath the moon          Unwearied hearts of fear and doubt          While Rhosthorn ever vigilant          Stood watch against the mounting gloom.                    Tell of Lenhwest's love and passion          Never dimming through the years          Of Dorollin whose branches skyward          Spread to heaven like a bastion                  Cordofoneth, gentle mother          Sheltered all beneath her leaves          But Braiglad, wild, warned disaster          Untamed are the woods that love her

         Oh! Flowers of the ancient wood          Sing of those spirits that you knew          They wait for days now almost spent          And yearn to see the spring anew."

  Visions of a time long past, when the forest was young and unspoiled, appeared to Mericc as he and the bear came to an opening in the tree's and it took an effort for his martial training to force him back to the present. But even then, the lingering notes gave him a greater appreciation of the forest, as something alien and yet, just as alive as he was, able to love and grow and also to despair and fall into ruin just as capably as himself. He looked up, and on a small hilltop sat an elf-maiden of quiet and graceful beauty, her hair was of the deepest gold graced with a circlet of white roses. She was singing to herself and Mericc noticed in her hands she held the petals of a flower that grew alone on the hilltop

  The elvish maiden looked up, a bright smile on her face as the bear and Mericc came into sight. "Dearest Morko, what have you brought with you?" She smiled and then laughed. "Do bring him here, it has been a long time since I have spoken with anyone but you, and as wonderful company as you are, it would be nice to speak with another". With that the bear, or Morko as she called him, ran over to her and laid himself at her side. The elf maiden stroked his fur as she regarded the warrior.

"Hail good traveler, please come and sit with me and my companion, you look weary and troubled and for that, perhaps I can be of some help", she smiled brightly. "My name is Laralini Lauremir."

Many the time on his past visit Mericc remembered trying to double-back only to find a solid wall of trees or undergrowth blocking what was once a clear path. Still, he had a vague notion of the general layout of the forest and planned to make his way towards it's heart, the Withywindle river.

  The river cut through the center of the forest and anyone trying to make their way through would have to deal with it at some point so it was a good place to look for Tom or at least signs that he had passed that way. But there were still some miles before Mericc would reach it in a straight line, and it was uncertain how twisted a path the warrior would have to take to get there. Already the trees were getting thicker around him, dense brush made walking difficult in spots and Mericc was certain that he was tripped up by a low lying root that he was sure he had cleared a moment before. The air grew thicker as he went deeper in and the feeling of someone, or something, watching him became more and more pronounced.

"Just when a hunter would come in handy", Mericc grumbled, but Aqualondo was off chasing his latest object of affection and other friends were off on adventures of their own. As out of his element Mericc was, he would have to do this alone.

  A deep fog had settled on the forest and soon despite his best efforts, Mericc had gotten turned around. Dark trees with darker intent stared down at him menacingly, and the air was now thick with tension and foreboding. Mericc found himself turning at every rustle of the leaves and every creak and groan, could sense, more than see that things moved in the shadows, hating anything that intruded upon it's ancient homeland. Mericc gripped his sword tight, preparing to strike if needed, but how does one fight the very air around you, pressing in with the weight of years of built up anger? He could hear the wind, like whispers in the treetops, the forest was speaking to itself, and it's words were those of warning and death.

A thick branch fell from a nearby tree, almost hitting Mericc, he raised his shield up instinctively but nothing more fell. The trees looked down on him, their carved trunks forming faces cruel and malevolent, he was not welcome here. Roots and undergrowth grasped at him in the dark, their long tendrils seeking the places his armor didn't protect. He slashed out at them as he could, but their were many tree's, and their roots were long.

  Lesser men would break at times like these, but Mericc wasn't lesser men. He had fought dragons and trolls, faced certain death in many a battle and managed to bring him and his friends through it alive, he wasn't about to let a bunch of tree's get between him and his mission. He kept on, alert but undaunted, let the forest whisper and groan, he would meet it head on if he had too. He made his way in what he hoped was a southerly direction, trying to find a path that would strike the Withywindle and the first leg of his journey. Soon he felt the air grow less dense and the sense of dread and watchfulness pass, the way became a little easier, the forest had spent it's first stroke and Mericc wondered what the second would be.

  After a while the land started to slope downward and then ended in a sheer cliff of rock, carved through long years by the thing Mericc had been searching for, he had found the Withywindle. There it stood below him, as ancient as the forest around him, bathed in the soft light that managed to trickle down from the treetops. It was almost green from all the lichen that clung to every stone, and hundreds of water lilies floated on it's surface giving the river and almost ethereal quality to it.

The warrior made his way down a rough hewn and treacherous pathway to the edge of the waters. He had seen no sign so far of anyone else traveling through the forest and hoped that he wasn't already too late. Mericc looked up and reckoned by what little light he saw that he didn't have that many hours of daylight left and he didn't like the prospect of being in the forest after dark.

  Mericc searched along the north bank of the river, looking for any sign of the lost Tom. It was difficult work, the forest canopy allowed very little light to see by and the centuries of fallen leaves and bracken made finding tracks of any kind a struggle. He hoped the search would yield up something, the idea of returning to the bad patches of wood further north didn't thrill him and he was even less enthusiastic about returning to Adso's empty-handed. He pushed on, he was bound to come across something if he looked long enough, though in places like this, that something didn't always become something you wanted to find. This was one of those occasions.

  Looking up from the river-bank, Mericc found that the river had taken him to a wide glade, the waters of the river collecting themselves into a wide shallow pool. In the center of the pool was the large husk of an old oak tree. Only the bottom trunk was left, but it was clear that it had once been a mighty tree. Mericc went to investigate, such a dominant landmark might have drawn young Tom to it, and anyways, the river seemed to end here and Mericc had to decide his next move. As he made it to the trunk and started to look around a low growling sound told the warrior that Something had found him.

   It was some miles to Adso's camp so as he rode, the experienced warrior occupied himself by surveying the lands he passed in a military fashion. If he was an army, where would he camp? What were the natural chokepoints and defensive positions and how would he take them if he were the attacker. In his youth, he had shown a particular aptitude for ambushes, a skill that he had put to good use as he got older, and as he rode up on some fortification works he thought how they seemed a perfect place for just such an ambush. No sooner had the thought entered his head than half a dozen brigands jumped out, crude spears and clubs in hand, surrounded his horse and closed in on him sneering and guffawing. 

  The lead brigand, a sallow looking fellow with a cut across his cheek, strode up to Mericc's horse with a pleased-as-can-be look on his face. "Wha have we here boys? A traveler on our road an don't even have the courtesy to stop by and give us even a how do ye do".

  The other brigands laughed while doing their best to look menacing, though Mericc found it difficult not to laugh, they were a sad lot that decided to accost him this day and he wished he had the time to teach them better manners. The leader went on, "Maybe he doesn't know that there is a toll for using this here road and that maybe he had better get to paying or we'll have to have ourselves a little sport at his expense". Behind him, his friends raised their weapons threateningly and advanced on the Guardian.

  "I am afraid you have your days mixed up friend", Mericc said unconcernedly, "I don't kill you yet. Come back tomorrow when my business for today is done and I'll be glad to oblige you". He watched as unsure looks passed between the brigand leader's companions, they were used to frightening farmers and peasant travelers, families who just wanted to be on their way without being harmed. Mericc's response had taken them aback. The leader of the brigands was not daunted though.

  "Oh Ho! A brave one we ave here. Well me haughty one, I say that there are six of us and one of you and tha we'll be doing the killing if ye don't mind. What is one lonely vagabond to us?"

   The brigand leader took a step forward, a wicked looking broadsword in one hand, his fellows a few tenative steps behind, scowled at Mericc and prepared to attack. They stopped short when they saw Mericc unloosen his cloak and let it fall behind him, showing the intricate plate armour and sword that hung by his side. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at them, a steely determined look in his eyes.

  "I have no time for the likes of you", Mericc snarled. "Now, get out of my path or I will strike you all down where you stand and if I ever see any of you again, this blade will be the last thing you ever see."

   The brigands now found themselves completely out of their reckoning, a couple dropped their weapons immediately and ran and the rest followed suit once they saw that the odds were no longer nearly as much in their favor as they liked. The leader with the scar looked left and right nervously as he found himself without his entourage and therefore without his courage, looked at the fully armed and dangerous warrior before him, and then decided that 'here' was not a very good place to be and that he should find someplace else to be right away. Mericc watched as he took off to rejoin his gang, resheathed his sword and continued on towards his destination.

   In a few hours Mericc came upon the worksite, it looked like a ghost town. Some temporary work tents and half constructed buildings were all that Mericc could see of what had been an apparently thriving construction project a couple of days before. At first it looked as if nobody was there but as Mericc approached he could hear sounds coming from the main tent. The warrior dismounted from his horse, unstrapped his shield from the back of his horse and unsheathed his sword again, no sense in taking chances. Sounds of someone talking frantically came from the tent flap but stopped when they heard Mericc approach, the flap opened and a lone hobbit came out. Mericc put his weapon away and lifted his hands palm out in a sign of peace.

"Hullo! Who are you? What do you want?" The hobbit asked suspiciously. He was an aged red-headed hobbit with bags under his eyes and lines of worry etched across his face, he held a mace in one hand that he waved at Mericc threateningly.

"Mericc Angadraug at your' service" the guardian nodded, "I hear you have a missing boy, lost in the Old Forest, I am here to help".

  Adso let down his guard, for who else could it be but the foreman of the camp. "Terrible, Terrible business", Adso shook his head, "Whole timetables, schedules ruined, supplies run short, workers all sent home."

"Not to mention a boy missing", Mericc added in a bit annoyed.

   The hobbit pointed an angry finger up at the fully armed warrior, "Don't get pert with me!" Adso retorted. "You think I don't feel bad for Graham's kid? Well I do, but I have to think also of all the other families who might not have money to eat this coming winter if we don't get this project back on track. Dratted brigands and short supplies and now a person lost in that dreaded forest. It's enough to make a grown hobbit weep". Adso ran his fingers through disheveled hair, it was clear he had had a rough time of it the past couple days.

Mericc nodded, "That is why I am here, I was planning on heading into the forest to see if I could find Graham's kid or at the least confirm that he is dead."          "Well you certainly don't need my permission!" Adso retorted and waved his hand in the direction of the forest, "It's right there, go on in if it pleases you, you look the sort who can handle himself. There is a path nearby that leads right in, clear as day. But don't go raising any hopes, Graham's son Tom has, like as not, come to a very bad end." Adso shook his head regrettably.

   The tale of the battles and experiences he had in the conflicts in Dunland and the borders of Rohan the past couple months were told by the bruises and aches in his body and the deep lines of care that etched a face far too young to have them. He had performed valiantly, always at the forefront of the fight, lending his shield to whomever needed it be he friend or stranger, as long as there was a need. He had protected many a life but had also lost many a friend to war and misfortune and the weight of the loses wore heavily on him. 'You cannot save everyone' they told him, but it did not make the burden any lighter. He was weary and hoped to spend some time in Bree to rest and recuperate. There was a bridge into Rohan calling him to new adventures, but before that storm a moment of peace.

   His thoughts drifted from their inner musings and back to the common room of the inn. The minstrel, a drunken dwarf, was playing a ridiculous song about a disappearing hobbit and the Man on the Moon, while the Innkeeper greeted a group of workmen who had just arrived at the inn. The group was led to a table near Mericc and he soon gathered that they were employed at Adso's camp, a worksite along the western road leading through the southern breefields. They were a disheveled and somber lot, mulling over glasses of wine and picking at their food occasionally, more to take their mind off of their troubles than to fulfill any need. They spoke in whispers and Mericc was about to return to his own troubles when one of the men broke down.

"There, there Graham", one of his companions spoke "I know it's hard, but we don't know anything for sure yet" The look on his face betrayed his thoughts though and Graham found no comfort in them.

"He's gone I tell you and it's all my fault." the one called Graham sobbed, "I never should have mentioned what I'd heard about that damned spring in the Old Forest, and now my boy has run off and gotten himself eaten by some wolf or worse than that".

"It wasn't you're fault" consoled his friend. "The boy was headstrong and knew our need, what with brigands harrassing all the old waterways and wells, making it difficult for Adso to keep work going. He knew that if Adso's venture went sour, a lot of good people would go hungry this coming winter. He's young and no wonder he'd go grasping after any straw he could find. I promise we'll do all that we can to save him."

   But Graham was unconvinced, "Pah, speak sense Will, you know there is no surviving the Old Forest, anyone that goes in there don't come out ever. He's lost to me, my only son, Gone". Graham put his head in his hands and did his best to drink the sorrow away.

   Mericc sighed as he listened, but he was tired, tired in every bone in his body. How many sons had he seen killed? How many fathers and brothers and mothers lost to senselessness and war? Why should he always be the one to put aside personal needs for the good of the many? He was weary, let someone else save this one, he had done enough, what was one raindrop amongst the torrent of sorrow and misery of these days? He called to Barliman to bring him another mead and sat alone with his thoughts.

...A short while later he was fully armed and packing up his horse for Adso's worksite, he couldn't help it, he knew even the smallest raindrop was worth protecting.

  He rode his horse through the main street towards the west gate, under arched overhangs and past dark cobbled houses filled with the goings on of daily life. Some people stared at Mericc as he passed, his intricately carved armour and many pointed shield was something they were not used to seeing in a land that was still, mostly, unaffected by war. Mericc hoped that they would never see a time when more of his kind were present. Not far from the gate he came to a section of the town reserved for smiths and craftsmen and here he paused and turned left. There was something he had to do before he left Bree. 

  The sound of many hammers ringing and fires stoked by the bellows greeted his ears as he trotted past the many forges and smithies in this quarter of the city. The warrior was an accomplished metalsmith himself, but that is not what brought him to this place, he rode on past the cacophony of hammer and tong and blade. As he left the crafter's homes he guided his steed under the Ironmonger's Gate and went a little way more before dismounting at the entrance to an ordinary looking house in an unassuming part of the city. The sounds of children at play greeted his ears as he approached, a welcome sound that he had not heard in some time. He knocked and before long the door was opened and a warm smile greeted him.

"Mericc! so good to see you. I had heard that you were in town and wondered if you were going to come see us", said the woman who answered, a pleasant girl with bright eyes, her dark hair put up into a hastily made bun, a small child in her arms. "Come in".

  Mericc smiled, "It is good to see you Reirosa, it has been longer than I would wish". A crash interrupted their conversation and Reirosa turned on the two other children in the house "Leish! Lindy! If you two don't behave there'll be trouble for it, now settle down, we have a guest". The two children straightened up but Mericc could see that they had too much pent up energy to stay put for long.

  "I think you have more than enough on your hands at the moment", Mericc quietly laughed, then looked at the small child in her arms. "I am glad to see she is doing well".

  "She gets an unnatural chill to her from time to time but she is doing fine thanks to you", Reirosa said "She's a strong one too, can't keep a rattle but a few days before she's broken it, but I suppose that is too be expected seeing what you rescued her from."

  Mericc looked at the child thoughtfully trying to mask feelings of worry and regret, but his eyes told all and Reirosa gave him a look of understanding. "Will you be staying?" She asked. "I have supper just about ready and we'd love to have you". But the warrior only shook his head.

"I would like that and had meant to do so but unfortunatly duty calls me again. I will stop by again after it is all over. Do you need anything more from me?" He asked.

  Vasper's dance was only a few days away and Endhorg felt conflicting emotions wrack his simple and brutish brain. At times it would be too much and wails of rage would escape the warrior and some expensive treasure would meet its end. Fuming, Endhorg sat in a luxuriously embroidered chair, rubbed his temples and tried to sort it all out.

  Visions of the fair Gwindaelin haunted him and he saw her once again, singing before Lord Almavar's hearth, a delicate Dale-land flower. Feelings of longing gripped the militarily minded warrior, feelings that had been wholly foreign to him before. He wanted to rise up and storm the palace and claim the lovely maiden for his own, and woe to any that stood in his path.

  But then, as he looked around his palatial estate, at the trophies of battle and items of fatherly affection, feelings of intense loyalty rose up in direct opposition, and he was unsure once more.

  Finally, when he could take it no more, Endhorg arose and made his way to a park that lay between his house and the palace, hoping that the fresh air might clear his thoughts. All his life, he had aspired for nothing but military might, to have towns and armies tremble at the mere rumor of his approach, fleeing before the strength of his arms. And in service to his father, he had attained this and with his aid had become an invincible and unstoppable force.

  As he walked the cobbled pathways, he thought on all that father and son had attained and with a deep breath made his decision. Let Vasper have his prize, she seemed happy with him. Why should one woman affect him so? Mind seemingly made up, he made his way back to his house when a sweet sound came to his ears.

  As he looked up at one of the palace windows, he saw Gwindaelin and all his resolve melted away. She was beautiful in the moonlight and sang a song of love and longing that pierced his heart to its core.

  Their eyes met and she smiled at him, but Endhorg could see that there was a sadness in that smile. He made to call to her, but she placed her finger to her lips and motioned behind her and he was silent. There Endhorg realized, was the bedroom of the High Lord and he watched as Gwindaelin suddenly disappeared behind the curtain. He made to turn away, but she returned briefly and Endhorg saw as she waved good-bye, a piece of parchment drift from the window and land at his feet.

  Endhorg picked up the parchment and looked up to the window, but Gwindaelin was gone and all he saw was the curtain fluttering in the breeze. On the parchment, written in fine lines, was an invitation to meet in that very park before the festivities of the dance. Nothing else was said, but at the bottom of the note was an impression of lip rouge and the words 'My Love'.

  Endhorg stared at the words for a long time and uncertainty crept back once more into his mind. Quietly, he found his way back to his house and laid down to troubled dreams.

  Meanwhile in the palace, where activity ran high in preparations for the dance, a different game was being played by the servant girl Gwen. Ever was she with the High Lord, charming and enticing, and Vasper's greed for her was stoked to full flame. Often would she sing to him, and as her musical voice lifted to the ceiling, all thoughts of his domain would slip from the High Lord's mind.

  Lord Almavar was often at the palace as well, under pretence of assisting with the party, and occupied the High Lord's time with trivial matters, and the warnings of his spies went unheeded. They spoke of rumors that Meragil and his band were on the move again, but Vasper dismissed them as Gwindaelin entranced him with another song.

  Soon the day of the dance arrived and activity at the palace reached a fury as High Lord Morianart oversaw the final preparations. Servants ran quickly from place to place, as Vasper barked out orders, not wishing to earn the wrath of the High Lord who was in a particularly excited state.

  As the day wore on, the stables began to fill with the horses and carriages of the rich merchant families who comprised the city’s nobility. The air was charged with excitement as the guests began to arrive, and both supporters of the High Lord and those who only feigned support out of fear, were amazed at the lavishness of the proceedings.

  The nobles and their wives entered the palace, dressed in their finest and gave their obedience to High Lord Morianart before partaking in the feast he had prepared. The musicians struck up the music and food was brought out and laid overflowing on the tables as the dance began.      And there was the High Lord, high upon his throne, reveling in it all. Gwindaelin was nowhere to be seen, Vasper had planned to bring her out towards the end of the dance as his final attraction. Lord Almavar stood by his side and the High Lord asked his advisor to see if Gwindaelin was ready and to inquire as to the whereabouts of his son, who had not arrived yet.

  Almavar nodded and left the main room as the nobles danced and whirled around. He came back after a time in a flustered and frantic state and Vasper wondered at his advisor's countenance as Almavar whispered something into his ear. Curiosity turned to anger and the High Lord bolted off of his throne and made his way to the park outside his palace.      

  There Endhorg paced the cobblestone pathways nervously. A rustling of leaves made him turn and there was fair Gwindaelin, radiant and beautiful. She rushed at him, her gown trailing behind her and wrapped her arms around his large frame. Haltingly he placed his hands around the delicate girl, a surge of conflicting emotions warring inside him as she looked up with wide tear-stained eyes.

"Oh! How I have missed you," she proclaimed, burying her head in his chest. "I have been so lost without you."

  Endhorg tried to master himself. "You have seemed happy enough with the High Lord, at least by all accounts," Endhorg managed dryly though he said it with difficulty.

"It is all for show my love," she professed earnestly. "I have seen what the High Lord does to Ladies-in-waiting who displease him, and feared for my life. But my heart has always been with you I assure you." Endhorg knew as well what Vasper did with disobedient servants and sickened at the thought of that fate befalling Gwindaelin.

  He placed his giant arms around her more assuredly and dreamed once again of running off with her. She snuggled against him tighter and the feel of her body and the smell of her hair quite disabled the normally stoic warrior.

"TRAITOR!" a roar came that startled the two, and there at the edge of the clearing stood Vasper Morianart. He was apoplectic with rage and approached Endhorg and Gwen menacingly. He seethed at his adopted son, jabbing his fingers up into the warrior's barrel chest.

"I have given you the world and laid treasures beyond count at your feet, and THIS is how you repay me?" Vasper fumed angrily at Endhorg, who shrank before the fury of his father. "Baseborn child, how dare you presume to touch what is rightfully mine? Where would you be without me? A giant oaf, swinging his axe and fighting drunks at lake-side taverns for pittance! I made you what you are!" With that Vasper grabbed Gwindaelin roughly from Endhorg's side and flung her to the ground behind him.

  This proved too much for Endhorg who roared mightily, shaking the trees around them. He grabbed the High Lord and lifted his vast bulk as if he were a child, and Vasper's look changed from anger to fear as he looked into the murderous eyes of his son.

"Baseborn child am I? Giant Oaf?" Endhorg raged. "Where would you be without ME? You viper, you serpent!" Endhorg tightened his grip and Vasper squealed. "Do you think you hold Riverwatch with your riches and wiles alone? I assure you father that when the nobles cower before your commands it is with visions of ME that keep them in line. How many revolts would have overtaken you, and left you for dead with a dagger in your bulbous back if I did not protect you?" Vasper hissed but this only made Endhorg angrier and he slammed Morianart against a nearby tree, knocking the air out of him.

"And even if I am guilty of what you accuse me of, what of it?" Endhorg continued. "I am Endhorg the Fierce, mightiest of men and it is by my hands that you hold Riverwatch in your grasp." Vasper squirmed and reached behind his back and then quick as a snake, stabbed at Endhorg with a dagger that he kept hidden there. But Endhorg was quicker and turned the blade in Vasper's wrist and plunged it into the High Lord's chest in his anger. Thus fell Vasper Morianart, High Lord of Riverwatch, slain by his adopted son.

  Gwen held her hands over her mouth, aghast at the violence of the scene. Endhorg stood over the body of Vasper Morianart, whose life's blood stained the grass, his face a mixture of uncertainty and shock. Vasper had been a father to him, and he had loved him as he had loved no one else in his life.

  As his temper subsided and he came to grips with what he had just done, the weight of it threatened to crush him, mighty as he was. A commotion broke him out of his thoughts and two soldiers ran frantically to where Endhorg and Gwindaelin stood.

"Commander Endhorg!" one of them yelled and then stopped and stared with horror at the body of the High Lord on the ground.

Endhorg turned his head slowly and snarled at the soldier, "What is it?" But the soldier just stood frozen in fear. Endhorg felt his temper rise again, "WHAT IS IT?"

The soldier stammered frightfully, "The palace is...is...under attack Commander. Mer..Merigal!"

For Almavar's servant had reached the mercenary commander and read his message and summons. It was welcome news to Meragil who had been looking for weeks for a way to penetrate Riverwatch's defenses without risking an open battle outside the walls with its famed commander.

  Almavar's note had included timetables and patrol routes and the date of the dance as the best time to strike directly at the palace. He wished to severe the head of the snake with as little risk to the populace as possible and Merigal concurred. With the aid of Lord Almavar, Merigal and his band had infiltrated the palace and silenced the gate guards with skill and efficiency.

It wasn't until they were deep inside and had secured the main hall that their presence set the alarm bells off and there was battle in the palace. But Merigal's adventurers were the victor and with the nobles’ safety assured. Merigal took a couple of his trusted companions and sought to bring the High Lord to justice.

  Endhorg heard the sounds of a melee that was getting closer and he sent off the two messengers while he prepared himself for battle. Unstrapping his lethal two-handed battle axe from his back, he flexed and stretched his muscles as the sounds of fighting closed in. He sent Gwindaelin back inside for safety, and it was Endhorg alone besides the body of his slain father, that Merigal Quickblade found when he arrived.

  His bearing was proud and stern for one his age, with a thick mustache that flowed down past his chin and hawk-like eyes that could pierce like daggers. Hard but just, Merigal inspired loyalty in his men and fear in his foes and no one who met him, ever forgot his imposing presence. In one arm he held a longsword that he used with masterful skill and in the other arm a curious shield. It was shaped like a multi-pronged star and in the center was embossed the image of a lone mountain and Merigal used it to devastating effect.

"Endhorg, so called the Fierce." Merigal announced. "I am here to make you and Vasper Morianart answer for your crimes against the people of Riverwatch." Merigal looked down and noticed the body of the High Lord. "But I see that half of my job is already taken care of."

  But Endhorg only laughed and brought himself up to his full height and frame. "So the pup has finally shown himself has he," Endhorg sneered and flexed his large muscled arms. "Come Merigal Quickblade, let us see who is the greatest warrior in the Dale-lands and embrace with naked blade. For I am Endhorg the Fierce, mighty and unbeatable. And I will slay you as I've slain many other would be heroes."

"We shall see," Merigal said simply with determination, nodding in salute. 

  So began the duel between Merigal Quickblade and Endhorg the Fierce. Tales and songs were written about that conflict, and many a Dale-land boy later mimicked the fight in their play.

  The giant Endhorg swung his mighty battle axe with skill and power, rending large gashes and dents in the trees of the park, and Merigal was hard pressed at times to avoid decapitation. But Endhorg was equally put to it by the speed and smooth mastery of Merigal's blade as the hawk-eyed hero blended sword and shield in a graceful dance of death.

  Furiously the conflict moved back and forth across the park and both combatants knew that they were in the presence of an equal. But finally Merigal drew first blood, and with a brilliant double feint, cut the wrist of Endhorg's ax arm.

  Endhorg stared at the wound in shock. It had been years since any blade or arrow had harmed him, and he knew in that moment that Vasper Morianart's dark protection was no longer with him. The cut was not great but Endhorg knew from seasoned experience that it would hamper him more over time, and against a foe like Merigal, it would prove deadly.

  With a roar Endhorg swung his axe in a wide arc, forcing Merigal back before retreating deeper into the park with Merigal in pursuit. A guard lay dead on the ground, his horse standing near him and Endhorg mounted the steed and made off towards the gates of the city. But Merigal picked up the dead man's spear and with a long distance throw that would be regaled in song, fatally pierced Endhorg in the side and the giant warrior slumped forward and was carried from the battle.

  After the defeat of their commander, the rest of Vasper's forces were quickly overcome and those nobles who were known to be friendly with the High Lord were driven from the city. Cheers and celebrations broke out everywhere at the news of the death of the tyrant and Merigal and his band were treated as saviors and liberators.

  Lord Almavar was voted Lord Protector of Riverwatch though he made a point to give credit to his lovely servant girl whenever possible. The modest Gwen was overwhelmed with her newfound celebrity and would blush furiously whenever her part in the events was brought up. She quietly disappeared into the confines of Lord Almavar's estate, preferring to let her master and the warrior Merigal receive the adulation of the crowd.

  Vasper leaned forward on his throne, still enraptured with the pleasing creature before him. The supports of his great seat groaned under his weight as he bowed on his throne, flattered by Gwindaelin's greeting. Lustful thoughts flitted through his mind as he gazed at his advisor's daughter, but he disassembled them and returned her fair greeting.

"The splendor of my court pales in comparison to the splendor of Lord Almavar's daughter, whose countenance outshines the brightest jewels of the earth. The rumors spoke truly that Lord Almavar had a treasure in his household." Gwindaelin beamed and gave a polite nod as Vasper looked to his advisor. "I had not known that you had a daughter Lord Almavar and I am sure I would have heard of such a beautiful young lady before."

  Lord Almavar responded, "She has been living in Dale with relatives of mine for some years getting her education. If I had not mentioned it before it is merely because matters here in Riverwatch have occupied all of my thoughts these past years and the subject had never been brought up."

  High Lord Morianart drank from his large flagon of wine and wiped his lips, his eyes fixed on Gwindaelin. "Yes, I suppose I have kept you quite busy Lord Almavar, perhaps you have earned some time to rest and recuperate from matters of state. But I am curious, how comes it that the pretty lady was so close at hand?"

"Ahhhh, well," Lord Almavar began. "My daughter has been so enamored with the stories I have told her about the magnificence of the High Lord's court and the benevolence of High Lord Morianart himself that she wished me to present her as a potential Lady-in-waiting at the first opportunity."

  Vasper smiled absurdly, the flames of lust rekindled in his dark heart as he looked down on the pretty girl who blushed crimson under his gaze. "Is that so? Well I would be delighted to have such a lovely young lady at my side if it pleases her. There are many tasks at court and I am sure we can find something befitting her particular talents."

  Lord Almavar felt his stomach clench, he knew quite well what tasks Vasper gave to his female servants, and it took all of his inner fortitude and discipline to not show the disgust he was feeling. He regretted now the path he had set his servant Gwen on and would have considered scuttling his plans if they were not already too deep in.

"Then it is settled then," Lord Almavar managed finally. "I will make the preparations and present her officially at the palace tomorrow. Gwindaelin is quite the songbird, I am sure the High Lord will be pleased with her." With that the two of them bowed low and departed and Vasper watched the young girl with greedy eye as she disappeared through the door.

  The next day Gwindaelin was officially presented as a Lady-in-waiting to the court and proceeded to charm the High Lord with her singing and graceful demeanor. Never was she far from his side and often she would sit at the foot of his throne as he attended to Riverwatch's business. There he would he run his fingers through her hair lecherously and make lewd comments as she gazed up to him affectionately as her Lord. It was in just such a position that she sat when Endhorg returned from his mission days later.

  Endhorg was in a sour mood when he entered the palace doors and attendants gave the large warrior a wide berth. The hunt for Meragil Quickblade and his band of mercenaries had been fruitless and Endhorg and his soldiers had found nothing but rumors of their passing.

  Endhorg longed for battle and to prove himself to everyone once and for all that he was the greatest warrior in the Dale-lands. It gnawed at him that anyone would think some young upstart like Meragil could defeat him and it was with a surly grunt that he pushed open the doors to the palace's main room.

  Inside he found his adopted father, chuckling and giving his attention to a girl that Endhorg did not at first recognize. But as his presence became known, Vasper grinned at his son, greeted him and showed off the girl at his side.

  As she lifted her head and Endhorg became aware of her, he stared with wide eyed shock at the woman that Lord Almavar promised would be his.

  His discipline almost broke down but he managed to maintain his composure as Gwindaelin shot him a quick sad look. Morianart misinterpreted his son's expression and laughed with glee.

"Quite the little prize is she not?" Vasper Chortled. "Newly acquired from Lord Almavar."

  Endhorg jaw clenched and he stared hard at the girl who averted her eyes so as not to meet his gaze. He knew as much as Almavar what Vasper did with the ladies of his court.

  "Very nice," he responded. In his mind his rage was building and he wanted nothing more than to hunt down Lord Almavar and get revenge for the insult and effrontery of the merchant noble. But stone-faced he gave his report and High Lord Morianart frowned mightily upon hearing that Merigal had slipped from his son's grasp.

"Troubling news indeed, my son," Riverwatch's tyrant said. "But Merigal will show his nose eventually and when he does, we shall cut it off and hang his body from the palace walls as a warning to other aspiring heroes." Endhorg nodded with barely controlled anger as Vasper laid his hand upon Gwindaelin.

"In the mean time I would like to host a dance with my newly acquired Lady-in-waiting as the main attraction. She is quite the singer and I want all the nobles and their families to be there to admire my latest treasure's talent."

  Endhorg nodded his assent and dismissed himself from the High Lord's presence. His rage had reached a boiling point and he quickly mounted his steed and made his way to Lord Almavar's residence.

  Lord Almavar heard a loud banging on his door but before he could react, the hinges were shattered and the doors were flung open haphazardly and he stared terrified as the massive giant stood enraged upon the threshold. Before Almavar could speak, Endhorg, his face red in anger, grabbed the merchant and flung him up against the wall. Lord Almavar feared for his life as the bloodshot eyes of the deadly warrior stared him down.

"I should kill you now foolish little man," Endhorg fumed. "How DARE you give your daughter over to High Lord Morianart after promising her to me. Did you think that such an insult would go unpunished?" The muscles of the great man bulged as he held Almavar clear off the ground and Almavar winced in pain as he was slammed again against the wall.

"It was not my idea!" Almavar managed to gasp when he had caught his breath. "The High Lord takes what he pleases, you know this none better. When he heard rumor of my daughter, he sent for her and before I could protest, the deed was done and she was made a Lady of his court."

  Endhorg eased his grip slightly as he considered Almavar's words. He knew indeed the possessive greed of his adopted father. How many lands had he helped seize in his name? How many farmer's daughters had he made off with that had caught the High Lord's eye to become nothing more than toys for his insatiable, lustful appetite?

  Images of Vasper's bed and of fair Gwindaelin upon it haunted him as he looked at the frightened man's neck held firmly in his hands. Endhorg needed time to think. Unceremoniously he dumped Almavar on the ground and the noble crumpled on the floor, gasping for air. The giant warrior left without a word, pushing what was left of Almavar's door away before heading off to consider how he would next act.

  Lord Almavar lay on the floor and caught his breath as his servants came out of hiding and attended to him. He was still in a state of shock at how close he had come to death at Endhorg's hands and thanked the gods that the deadly warrior had not acted before he could speak. Almavar drank a glass of wine to calm his frazzled nerves as he summoned one of his trusted servants to his side.