Of Treachery and Trust: A LOTR RPG

[Lexicalized]

Arayn slept long, troubled by dark, shadowed dreams.  When she awoke, she found herself covered in a rough wool blanket.  Tlurmin was awake beside her, his dark hound eyes staring off as if his mind were thousands of leagues away.

Arayn's eyes flew around the room, quickly noting that the owners had stoked a fire and were resting in the nearby bed chamber.  Outside, all was dark and deathly quiet.

"Tlurmin," Arayn murmured.

The hound started from his thoughts and turned.

"I don't know what to do.  This great quiet, this waiting is driving me insane.  Are you angry with me?"

[Wolfchild]

Tlurmin looked puzzled for a moment. The words of his mind stirred slowly, fighting against the pain in his neck.

"Angry, m'lady? Angry? There is nothing you have done to earn it, even if I was. Be at ease that I am not, or not at you, in the very least. I would have thought all fury to be directed at me if it was present, for how I have betrayed my honor of late. Know that I would not have slain your father, even without Svika's intervention. He has enough to manage now, and I know better than to remove a king in such alarming times as this. As for our actions, we must keep hidden, and hope Eomer can see the orcish parley in greater light than I. Treaty or none, the greenskins killed to get here, and for that I have doubts. Even their numbers are suspicious..."

He paused for a moment, considering all he had walked away from.

"The army came to take Svika, but they could have done so with a quarter of their force. Do they intend to scare Edoras into submission? Intimidation and peace are idle bedfellows, but your father would never agree to it otherwise. Gods Arayn, there is such aggression in this place!"

[Lexicalized]

Arayn could not deny she was relieved to hear that Tlurmin held no anger against her.  She was weary of anger and aggression, as it seemed Tlurmin was.  She longed for peace.  She listened carefully to his words concerning the orcs and their numbers, her analytical side kicking in.

"It could be they do not intend peace at all...Or maybe they knew my father would not submit if there were not some overwhelming reason to do so.  But your words are wise, Tlurmin...I feel very helpless in this moment.  To think at the end of the war, we thought all death and battles were ended..."

Arayn sighed softly, and then as an after thought, added;

"And I do not hold against you what you did to my father...We none of us are thinking soundly at the moment, I dare say..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Svika sat beside a warm fire, his wounds bound and pungent orc draught burning hot in his stomach.  His blood coursed with its heat, putting new warmth into his body.  He felt significantly better than he had in many nights.  Across the fire from him sat Vaesh, gnawing on a rabbit's leg, his eyes distant.

Svika's eyes traveled slowly over the minions around them.  He admitted within himself that the numbers were great...perhaps more than was necessary.  His stomach churned within him as a suspicion of treachery ignited from the words of the King of Rohan.  His face flushed a shade darker as he struggled to fight the doubts away.

"Draught not sit well with ye?"

Svika looked up quickly at the growling voice of his father.  His eyes met the yellow eyes briefly and darted away again.  He felt nervous.  Odd. 

Svika shook his head.

"It sits well, Father, puts new life in my body..." his voice trailed off slightly, and his eyes returned to the Uruk's with a trace of confusion flickering on his young face, "Why so many, Father?  Why so many orcs?"

[Wolfchild]

"My son, think of what has happened. You are what proves that one of us 'lone, is simply a plaything to Eomer's will. Better is it to bring an army, and force him to confront us like his father would've done. He cannot ignore us now, or lock us away with key and iron chain to sit in darkness. He dares not, he is too afraid. If we want him to listen now, then we must do it with such overwhelming nature that none can avoid it. Thus do we sit here, and thus do we wait."

Vaesh tore another chunk of meat from the bone, and chewed it roughly. The fire spat in the dakness, illuminating the callous texture of his skin. Badly healed scars furrowed great lines in his visage, betraying the impression of honorable intent. Many battles marked his eyes, yet his words seemed true, and Svika did not desire to question it further.