Of Treachery and Trust: A LOTR RPG

[Wolfchild]

Svika saw that she would play by the same argument as far as the subject was fixed on the mission he had yet to fulfill. As far as he was concerned, the moral ground still hung around him, and made no qualms to differ.

"If you stand by your words of compassion, you threaten to blind yourself in a fog of what you deem standard diplomacy. You tell of pity and a listening ear, and yet to decide fully the men of Edoras must bind their messenger and torture him in chains. Consider my crime, m'lady. It is none but the fraction I choose and the bearing of words. Did not Rohan once desire peace? It is not every event that would command victory through slaughter and the negotiations of a blade. This chance you've had to bring a new age into that of men is wasted in this petty struggle. You think that were I free I would slay, and already you have judged too soon the individual that I am. Know this then, if there is to be any 'message' of mine given, I have been forced to doubt its tone, and the authenticity of my promise."

Tlurmin chose his moments wisely. As Svika put forth his argument, the raven centred his focus on the cup Arayn held, and watched as he made the water inside it slowly begin to boil unnoticed. When at last the metal was brought surging to furious temperatures, she dropped it with a sudden "Agh!" and its contents were upset instantly. The cup fell with a crash to the ground, but more shocking was who, or what, had caused it. Svika was in no position to offer such simple trickery, and in all events was not the kind of individual to practice it.

Arayn backed away from the prisoner, but looked around for any signs that something hidden could be watching them. Examining her hands rapidly, she could see they were marked with patches of red that were she to have held longer would threaten to blister. The room was far too small to hide any other beings from view. All that could be heard was the chatter of the raven.

[Lexicalized]

Arayn had been so focused on the man's words that she had not noticed the growing heat in her palms.  When the water suddenly boiled over the top of the cup and fell burning on her hands, she dropped the cup hastilly.  Her eyes flew about the room, searching every corner with wary, uneasy eyes.  Her hands throbbed with the pain, but she ignored it. 

Her gaze flew hastilly over the raven.  Birds did not cause water to boil any source of heat.

Finally her gaze fell on Svika, suspicion for a moment coloring her features.  But the bound man's eyes reflected as much surprise as her own face must have.  Either he was the master of bluffing, or he was truly as shocked as she was.

"I know not what sorcery surrounds you that makes water to boil and burn without heat, but know this, if you have a wizard on your side, he will be found out.  Kill me if you will, it will only bring sure death upon your head...However, I do not think that is the case.  But you speak confusing words, sir, why not speak plain.  You find yourself in Rohan, not Gondor.  We speak what we mean here.  What would you have me do?  Turn you loose before you will speak?  If you were given a message to bear, then speak it."

[Wolfchild]

"I fear the honor of being free is a privilege that would be denied of me no matter how much I speak of't. To 'turn me loose' sees me the beast again, and yet I shall with what dignity I have left proceed. My gathering sought Gondor with the aim that we might form a pact between the White City and our labyrinths of the mountain- primarily for trade, and also the repair of ancient wounds, to which our group were intent on healing. From Hithaiglin we came- eight, part of a community of thousands in the Mists, and after journeying for weeks we arrived there, to the glory of Minas Tirith. I realised instantly that we were not welcome. Guards arrived having seen our approach for miles, and though I pleaded with them to listen, they branded me a traitor, and arrested us all with hatred and anger. They took me elsewhere, to question me in whys and where, and once I explained myself to the best of my intentions, they set out for Rohan, to bear astonished that any man could choose such life, and want such a future. Is that plain enough, my lady? A man stripped of all possessions and loyalty could do no better." A trickle of blood slid from the corner of his mouth as he spat the final words sarcastically.

The silence was destroyed when the raven chattered again, watching Arayn intently with beaded amber eyes. Wild animals seldom seemed so fixated, unless defending their own nests. As it continued to intrude noisily, words like great drumbeats of anguish bled into her consciousness, seeming to seep and spin in clouds of thundering smoke. Voices boomed chants of war, clashing metal with wood like maddened warriors thinking only of battle and glory- conquests that ended in bloody sacrifice for all that swore to them, like so many had done. Echoing in furious rage, every thud ended in terrifying and ruptured scream, enough to shatter the soul and tear every thought to pieces.

"I wouldn't let you die so easily, woman" bellowed a voice nothing like Svika's. The torturous effect was instantly removed, and clarity overwhelmed.

This bird was something more than mere animal...

[Lexicalized]

Arayn had listened earnestly to the man's words, and opened her mouth to ask him how he had first met up with the orcs, when suddenly something incredibly strange happened. 

The bird.  The raven on the window, screaming and chattering like some beast driven insane--and yet with some clear consciousness like that of a human glittering in the dark beady eyes.  She tried to ignore the bird, and turned once more to speak to Svika, but then horrible noises of battle and carnage swept over her mind.  Her vision went foggy and then dimmed, and her head pulsed with all the screaming, the pouring of blood, the cries of agony and defeat, pleas for mercy, for hope, for release. 

Stumbling, she fell to her knees, hands clasped on either side of her head.  Pain throbbed and pulsed slowly in her mind at first, finally coming to a peak just as the noises did--now a sharp stabbing pain that seemed to lance through her head and down into her soul.

Further she collapsed, unable to control her own body.  Down onto the hard stone floor, twisting and writhing.  She could not speak, could not cry out for help.  Just when she thought the pain would kill her, it all suddenly came to a halt.  Everything stopped.  Her mind was still spinning, as the silence suddenly struck her like a physical blow in the face. 

Slowly her vision came back and she stared up, lying on the floor, at the raven that seemed to grin wickedly at her.  The words.  What had he said? I wouldn't let you die so easily...

Arayn shivered and her eyes darted to Svika who was staring at her, his eyes strangely thoughtful.  He too glanced at the bird. 

"Is this some partner of yours?  Come to bring havoc upon the peoples of Rohan, to aid you while you lie bound?  Do you lie to my face when I offer mercy?"

There was no condemnation or anger in her voice now, only confusion and blunt honesty.  She spoke her thoughts as they came to her.  Slowly she rose to her knees, at eye level now with the man. She kept one eye on the raven and considered drawing her sword to dispatch the strange beast quickly.

But she sat still and stared at the man before her.  There must be some connection. 

[Wolfchild]

The bird tilted it's head, and the deep voice emerging from nothingness began again; "That is but a glimpse of the conflict issued upon Dunland in past and present years. You have seen the heart of my mind, and been consumed as the noise and the scream threaten to drive even the purest of thought insane. I had not wished it to be this way. I do not exist to remark on eye for an eye trivialities. My intent is to show you to yourselves, and watch what learning does take place. How bitter you have become, despite this being a land favored by Númenor. Endorsed by the skybound, and yet you still have the discourtesy to think of naught of your enemies but sacrifice. Welcome to the curse laid upon all Dúnedain- a power to truly estimate our foes that first chose us for their bloodthirsty practices. The elves would call it foresight. Our people simply call it reading of the mind."

Arayn looked astonished and almost fearful, yet still felt that Svika was somehow using the creature to betray what little trust he had already established. Again, the raven interrupted,

"Cease your want for some join between I and this deviant my lady, for you will find none. What I know of him is as much as you do, 'lest I was to truly delve into his consciousness. I am only a shackle away from being the same...and a thrusted blade from death. Do not strike down the truth. Nor think I a being of havoc, as much as it would be justified to do so. Saying what I must, it is your decision now that matters."

As his last words resonated deeply, the bird stepped forth, and glided to the beaten ground, hunching slightly. In slow rapidity it grew, transforming into the dreadlocked westerner that matched the words still hanging in the air. His body seemed clothed in that of a soldier...but the image fluttered between it and a simple tabbard drenched in mud and the dried remnants a thousand skirmishes. Slowly this crouching body rose to stand, to face Arayn squarely in the eye, though her expression would have matched with Svikas' much indeed, of bewilderment and confusion.

Smiling slightly with an edge of cynicism, Tlurmin spoke calmly. A voice now comparable in human form uttered finally "What will you do?"

[Lexicalized]

Arayn watched and listened with wide eyes and fast beating heart.  The things that transpired in those few minutes were things she had never dreamed of seeing or hearing.  She watched the bird transform into the man, stepping slightly closer to Svika, subconsciously thinking the bound man could protect her.

Suddenly she realized what she had done.  It was a moment of weakness.  She stepped back away from Svika, her hand moving to rest on the sword hilt at her hip.  She did not pull the blade, but stood on edge instead.  At the bird...rather the man's last words, she summoned the inner strength passed down from her father.

"Strange occurences come now to pass, which I will not feign to understand.  Speak, man, or beast, whatever you be.  Tell me from whence you came and who you are.  What is it you would have me do?  Are you on the side of this messenger or are you not?"

[Wolfchild]

Tlurmin did not answer her questions instantly, deviating slightly "Already you see through my disguise. Simple trickery at best, but it seems your mind is stronger than others. The rest have but one of seven names given to each of my profession. Onen. My clan knew it best to engage in such practices...working to teach the mind everything that strange Mordorian had known, and more- to ensure his return would be met only with death and suffering. I watched as Dunland was used, manipulated to fight for him, when the war should have been our own. Our homeland of Rohan was denied yet again. Pushed back behind the Isen, it has only fueled that bitter hatred my kind have for these forgoil. I speak out of turn indeed; we are not known to revel so freely. Better then, that I give you a name which is not half of the truth. You may call me Tlurmin- my homeland is obvious for how I speak of't. Needless to say, I am a westerner- an emissary such as this man, though both of us desire the peace of which you doubt existence.

Be calm..." There was a pause, as he closed his eyes and seemed to breathe deeply "...Arayn."

The silence now was full of unspoken astoundment. Great pride as the Rohirrim was maintaining stumbled lightly at the thought he could maintain knowledge so easily. With quick succession she banished the idea of using him to truly establish who Svika was.

"My purposes are many. As I have said, I aim to draw out the truth here so that it might teach something to us all, with time and patience. Perhaps more than that, I shall work to prevent future mistakes..." He looked to the captive, directing his glance first, and then quickly meeting Arayn's eyes, as if the world could be understood from them. "Beginning with you. Words are my defense, and the sword is yours. When once you spoke of not striking the dog that could not fight back, now you would contemplate ridding the land of its howl. If it is a matter of sides, my lady, then account for me on both. You have the honor of these chances to better Rohan. Let them not be wasted."

[Lexicalized]

Arayn stood stiff and straight, the slight breeze drifting through the barred window and stirring the stray locks of midnight hair away from her face.  Her dark eyes narrowed slightly as her mind worked in haste to understand and to find the best way to proceed. 

They were running out of time; her father was not a patient man.

"So you are a man of Dunland, and you would have me return all the lands of Rohan to your people?  And you," she said, turning to Svika, "would have Rohan cease it's war on the fil--...your people, the orcs...And allow them to live in peace, unhunted?  This is what you both ask of me?"

The enormity of what was being asked of her swallowed her.  She shook her head.  Pictures of bleeding, tortured women and children flashed in her mind.  She had seen all too closely the carnage created by the orckind.  To believe that they were really peaceable folk forced into their evil ways of the past (and what of the present?) was a difficult task.

"Were I to believe your story, stranger, there is not much I could do to aid you.  My father rules this land still, and his word is the law herein.  I--"

Before she could speak further, she heard the groan of the heavy wooden door and new her time was up.  Frustrated at the confusion she felt, she turned to face her father's still clouded face...

[Wolfchild]

Her last words to Svika had been so focused she had not noticed Tlurmin kneel urgently, bowing his head close to his chest and slowly shrinking into the raven once more. The black tendrils from his head seemed to morph into dark feathers that consumed his entire body, with a disturbing sound of the breaking and reconfiguring of bone. It finally alerted the attention of Arayn, but an instant later the doorway was heard to precede King Eomer, who wore an expression similar to that which he had last shown her, extending quickly to Svika.

Tlurmin swept up to the wooden stocks holding the captive, and chattered at the sight of the man he loathed so strongly. Indeed, he had meant what he said to Arayn, but there was no denying that the fact there was such a master of Rohan rubbed what defeat he felt for his people in ever more harshly.

In her mind, sudden words were whispered viciously "If we wanted to have this land for ourselves, we would be no better than that tyrant before you. What my people and I desire is that we are not known as trespassers to walk upon it...that there is no more hostility and shooing away of us like wild dogs...no fighting and reckless slaughter, or intention to cull our numbers. No more unnecessary murder, of either side...however Kingly they might become..."

[Lexicalized]

Svika was still slightly confused about the strange man that could whisper in his mind and turn from man to bird in only moments.  He watched the man called Tlurmin shrink and morph into the raven with wide eyes.  Something inside him was revolted by the queer man, yet the man's words rang true in Svika's chest.  He knew naught of the Dunlanders, but it appeared their case was like to his own.  Perhaps he had stumbled upon an ally here in this stranger's land, albeit, a feathered one.

The door swung open without warning to reveal the ever angry face of Eomer King.  His wavy, dirty blond hair hung over his shoulders in waves, his dark green eyes were a blazing fire.  For a moment, the burning eyes stared into Svika.  Svika, bloody and battered though he was, tilted his chin slightly upward, his dark eyes meeting the King's without the slightest trace of humility or fear.  A frown twisted the lips of the King, and then the molten green eyes swept to the King's daughter.

The only one who had yet showed any mercy to the bound stranger.

"Time enough has passed, Arayn.  Come now, the night grows late.  You had your chance with this traitor."

Svika watched Arayn's face, seeing the turmoil that flickered on her face.  Her dark eyes darted to Svika's face, and some of the hardness melted from his features.  Staying only momentarily, her gaze darted to the raven, and finally landed on her father.

"Father, we must speak alone.  You plan still to hang this man, though you have no cause to?"

Rage rippled over the King's face.

"No cause to?  Have I raised a daughter so ignorant?  So blind?  Did you lose your hearing as well as your mind in those Misty Mountains?  I have spoken.  This man is a friend of the orcs, even counts himself among them.  Death is his due for the choices he has made.  Few people would I suspect had the audacity and stupidity to stand by this wretch, but to have my own daughter--"

Eomer made it no further, for Svika could remain silent no longer.  Thus far he had held his tongue, allowed them to speak of him, mostly, as they would.  But he had come bearing a message, and this message he would deliver one way or another.

"Will you not have the understanding and wisdom to listen for once in your long years, Eomer King?  You show more ignorance than all the men of this world when you pass judgement without evidence.  I came bearing a tale, and this tale you must hear before you doom me to hang."

Eomer trembled with the passion of his fury.

"I will not," he muttered, his voice growing louder, "I will not listen to the words of a traitor who lives among the orcs.  I will not hear from the friend of those filth which slaughtered my kin, my people, and the people of my brother Kingdom.  These creatures are a blight upon the good land, a shadow of filth which yet remains.  They have marred the peace and the light of this land, and as long as I sit upon the throne of Gondor, they will not live in peace.  No, I will not hear you.  You decided your own fate the day you chose to join yourself with the orc-kind."

Svika stared at the man a moment, and then his body twitched slightly.  Even that slight movement brought a flash of pain up his arm.  Arayn was still close to him, close enough to...

With the speed of lightning on the mountains, Svika moved, his bound hands coming down around the fair lady, the chains that bound him crossing and pressing against her ivory neck.  She gasped and fell back under the pressure of the cold metal against her neck.  He pulled her back against him and looked over her shoulder at the King.

"Now will you hear me?"

[Wolfchild]

In an instant, dominance over the scene was stolen by the captive. Eomer did not show the panic in his eyes, but rather sighed with disappointment at Svika, as if he expected something like this to happen from the beginning. Nevertheless, he remained silent, save for the words "Very well. Speak, and I will listen, if this is how it is to be. But do not think that these actions will prompt any great change of heart, for you have already proven they are corrupted with threats of violence."  He bit on the words as his voice broke slightly, lost in seeing his daughter threatened so.

Even Tlurmin whispered his coldness through Svika's mind. "Message though you might have, this undoes all you have spoken of. You realise that this is exactly what he expected of you, and now that it is fulfilled there is to be no doubt of the consequences, so life will depend on my sympathy, not his. Yet I am glad you believe yourself to still have a chance with dear Eomer. None remains with Arayn." In saying this, the raven's chest swelled to fill the room with an almighty caw; a declaration of his disgust, which caught the eye of the king.

Still perched upon the stock that half held Svika, the beasts were known to be wild, but on rare occasions tamed and kept as pets. It was easily possible that the creature could have belonged to Svika, and obvious that no wild animal would tolerate being so close to man-folk. As these thoughts entered his mind, the raven turned, and stared at Eomer directly, tilting its' curious head. The King then remembered his plight, and looked to Svika quickly, ensuring his daughter would be free at the soonest moment.

Slowly, Svika repeated his message.     

[Lexicalized]

Svika heard the raven's words as they rippled through his mind, and though they rang with truth, he blocked them out.  The heart under his scarred and bloody chest thundered against its cage, his eyes held a slightly wild gleam.  He was human enough, but there was no denying the slightly rough and crude orc upbringing he had received. 

Arayn stood still in his arms, her chin tilted upward, and her chest heaving slightly but silently.  She attempted no escape, but pride arched her back.  Her face, or what he could see of it from behind her, had grown cold and stern. 

He knew then that he had erred.

Still, he had no choice but to proceed.  He shook his head slightly to shake a strand of her hair from his face.

"You cannot understand, Eomer King, why a man would stand for the orc kind, and I suppose I must try to understand your reasoning.  But let me explain somewhat.  At a young age, my father and family were killed.  I do not remember when or how, I simply remember watching them die at the hands of some strangers.  Their screams live on in my memories, as vivid as the moment I heard them.    For days I wandered, alone, bloody and starving.  At last, when I could walk no further, being but a small child of eight or nine years, I fell to the ground and waited for death.  But death did not come, nay, the orcs came, led by an Uruk leader.  As they stood over me, I remember expecting their blades to pierce my skin.  As much as I expected death, I feared it now, but did not speak or cry out.  They talked in a language I could not comprehend at the time, and then the Uruk came to me and lifted me into his arms.  There was no violence or hatred in the eyes that stared back at me--strange and frightening as they appeared to me."

Svika took a deep breath and plunged on.

"From there the Uruk and the orcs he led took me to the Misty Mountains.  There they raised me and showed me nothing but the utmost kindness and, yes, love.  You think it is not possible for them to love, but I have seen it firsthand.  They have become my people.  They rescued me when I was helpless, stood by me, aided my growth, and did not even ask me to come to you.  Nay, it was my idea.  I came of my own volition.  For I would have my people be free as I see the men of this earth are free.  We ask only for what rights you afford all human kind.  The right to live unharrassed.  The orcs did not choose to oppose man kind in the war of the ring, no, my lord, they were forced to.  Through fear, trickery.  Think now even how Morgoth tricked the Numenoreans?  Is it not possible then, to trick the orc kind?"

"It was not my intention to resort to violence, but you would not hear me.  Do what you will to me now,  but only hear what I have said.  The orcs are not the filthy, evil wretches they have been painted as all of these years.  They live and love as men do, and ask only the right to do so in peace.  Here now, have your daughter back, unharmed.  I only ask that you harken unto my words--for there is indeed a difference between hearing and listening."

With that, Svika pulled his hands back up over the young woman's head.  She did not immediately step away, but turned and stared at him.  He hoped to find some flicker of compassion, but he found only the cold, sharp edge of offended pride.  She spoke now, few words, but with a tone that ripped through him.

"Did you ever once stop to think they only 'love' what they can use for their own benefit?"

With that she turned and stalked over to her father's side.  The father dropped an arm around his daughter, his eyes blazing once more.

"Your words are of no effect, they are stained by violence.  At dawn, you shall see the end of your days at the end of the rope.  Be grateful a more bitter fate has not been alotted you."

The king cast a wary glance at the raven, and muttered to a nearby guard to keep an eye on the beast.  With that the two, Father and Daughter, turned and left together, shoulders square, backs stiff, faces unyielding.

[Wolfchild]

"Even I would struggle to understand these new orcs of which you speak" Tlurmin's mind whispered to Svika. "For all the king knows, they are the same monstrous beasts that he met in Pelennor, unyielding in their path of destruction and malice. T'was the horrors of Mordor who nearly destroyed Minas Tirith, the prized city from whence you came. The same that killed his uncle that day, and his father when he was only a child. They say too, that from Imrahil's word he found his sister on the battlefield so close to death that it almost ruined him, and threatened to destroy the heir of Rohan were it that she had passed. His trust of you and your people is little, if anything at all."

Svika made to speak, until the caw of the raven demanded he keep silent. The guard occasionally threw them a suspicious glance now and again, and had already been instructed to keep eyes on them both. Tlurmin did not wish his goal to be jeopardised.

"It is possible that you are only a tool of their conquest, Svika. I cannot doubt the compassion they have shown you, but they were bred to loathe everything that wasn't their own blood or master. You say your family were killed from a young age, but in reasoning it could have been deliberate. In 'finding' you, they have the very thing they need to justify themselves to the once races of good. Then, it was only a matter of time before you decided to truly prove your worth. Did they not warn you of such danger? A greenskin in this land would be killed before he could speak, and he'd know it before he took the first step. A man such as you speaking for them has half a chance, but nothing if they believe him a traitor. You know the perils as much as I, we are past being young and foolish..." The raven paused. The guard looked him directly in the eyes, and took a step forward.

"Keep strong, Svika. Keep quiet. I'll return soon enough."

With that, he opened his wings and flew straight towards the watching guard, who fumbled so in trying to draw a sword in time that Tlurmin made open escape, yet knew it was at a price. The guard had already called another to watch the prisoner whilst he made the king aware that the beast was free.

The raven kept himself to the shadows of the lower village until nightfall, where the shadows could be his ally. When the skies began to grow dark, he made his way back to the Golden Hall, and crept within the rafters.

[Lexicalized]

Eomer, King of Rohan, knew there would be little sleep for him that night.  Once the fire in him was kindled, it was hard to douse.  Nonetheless, he headed for his bedchambers, fully aware of the fact that his daughter was following him, far from happy.

She would put up a fight. 

The tiniest of smiles twisted Eomer's lips.  She had his spirit; she was a little spitfire. 

He reached the door of his chambers and turned to her.  Arayn stood there, her arms crossed, her eyes staring into his.

"Go ahead, tell me why I shouldn't do what I know is right, daughter.  Tell me I shouldn't slay the traitor.  You are too young to remember the war, too young to have the picture of mutilated bodies, masacred villages and flowing blood forever burned into her consciousness.  I, however, am not too young.  I remember it well.  But, proceed, argue as you will."

"The orcs are my enemy as much as they are yours, Father.  Do not make the mistake of thinking I would be lenient on them.  Many an orc throat I have slit, and I have seen their devestation with my own eyes.  My youth does not utterly blind me.  Indeed, often it allows me to see some things which you will not let yourself see.  The man is a messenger, and believes what he is told.  Naive?  Perhaps, I do not know.  He has been made to believe the lies, if they be lies, that he has been told.  Yet you will slay him, when all he does is stand for a cause he believes to be right.  He has not been raised to hate the orcs, he has not been told their evil deeds.  Indeed, I'm sure they told him far from the truth concerning the war of the ring...But the man is innocent still."

Eomer shook his head, but mulled over her words.  His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at her face.  A sudden picture flashed in his mind of the traitor's face after he released his daughter from threat.  There had been a flash of earnest hope--hope for compassion and mercy. 

Something went cold inside Eomer's chest.

He shook his head, a sudden forboding feeling stealing over him.  Svika was trouble.

"You cannot know that he is without evil intent.  If we give the flame but a moment to grow, it will spread and kill all within it's reach.  Stamp the fire out before it grows.  Go to sleep, my child, you are a noble one, but you are mistaken this time.  I will hear no more, my head is troubled."

With that, the man turned and entered his bed chambers, leaving his daughter standing outside with a red face and trembling hands.

And in the rafters, the raven ever watched and listened...

[Wolfchild]

"It is difficult to deter a man once he has cast his opinion" a shadow muttered. "More so when he knows the potential of his enemy, and even more than that when he does not..."

The words arrived from the rafters where Arayn immediately remembered their bearer. Tlurmin could see that she was clearly angry, and furious that her father could not take the time to understand the true weight of his decision. It left him feeling bitter too, that Eomer had not so much listened as waited to pass the same judgment. If the orcs were definite friends of Svika, then to learn of the mans death could bring a new wave of hatred between these imposing races. Vengeance was a terrible conquest to silence. The last war showed this plainly enough, in that battles still reigned, though their magnitude was less great, and their message less widely spread.

"I am sorry" said the raven, after a long pause. "I forget that you have had much to bear. I wish to be your friend, not your enemy. Though I bear the traits of some trickster, I do not intend to be so selfish. Already I am watching over Svika. Now I will watch over you, also."