Chapter Thirteen- Of Fire and Allegiances

Hyelif bounced upon his steed as it trotted briskly through the cold rain.  “Master Gimli?” he called with some amount of trepidation. 

Gimli turned slightly upon the mount he shared with his immortal friend and raised his bushy eyebrows.  “Aye?”

Hyelif continued with as meek a voice as he could muster whilst calling out through the rainfall.  “Why did you look so nervous when Master Legolas mentioned the ghost town?”

Gimli furrowed his brows and grunted.  “I wasn’t nervous, Lad, I was merely…concerned.  These parts used to be very dark.  The term ghost was not merely a vice used to spook young children.”

Hyelif leaned forward in unabashed anticipation, waiting for the stout being to say more, but alas, he waited in vain.  Gimli had turned back to face Legolas, and though the boy could not see it, his eyes were dark with memories and fears that he did not wish to recall.

*          *          *

Imlyana meanwhile had very similar questions running through her mind.  Sidling her horse closely abreast to Olihre’s, she turned and asked him softly, “Why did Gimli look so upset when Legolas mentioned that we were splitting ways and that you would be leading us?”      

Olihre had several questions of his own for his companions, but did not want to expose his insecurities to the woman beside him.  “I’m not sure.  He did mention back in Minas Tirith that he doesn’t like this area-- he’s had an unpleasant experience here.  That’s likely what he was remembering when Legolas mentioned the ghost town.”

“What experience?” Imlyana asked with pleading eyes as her sister brought her horse in closer so that she too could hear his answer.

“Gimli and Legolas were part of the Fellowship,” Olihre began.  He received nods from both girls indicating that they knew as much.  “Aragorn, before he was King Elessar, led a group through this area on his way to the Great War of the Ring.  Gimli said that the place was called the Paths of the Dead.  He mentioned something about cursed spirits and undead oath breakers, but I’m not exactly sure what the situation was.” 

Olihre turned his eyes, which had been fixed upon his horses’ neck, back to look at the girls.  They were rather pale, though Imlyana was at least trying to act unaffected.  Imlara on the other hand was beyond that.

“Undead?” she shrieked.  “What are they thinking?  They can’t leave us out here alone!”  Imlyana leveled an annoyed gaze at her sister before turning back to Olihre with an expectant look in her eyes.

Olihre swallowed forcefully and shook his head.  “Nay, Imlara, worry not.  We are nowhere near the Paths of the Dead.  The group simply passed through this area, which is why Gimli recalls it in the same memory.  Even if we were there, that is a time past us now; Aragorn…King Elessar took care of it.”

“Took care of it?” Imlara demanded with force, though she had at least stopped shrieking. 

“Please, I don’t know the whole story, it isn’t a matter that anyone is overly eager to speak of, but I know that the issue has been resolved.”  Olihre paused and released a shaky breath.  “I’m sure there are no more…undead spirits haunting this area.”

Imlyana wore her usual smug grin, though her eyes held a mild reproach that Olihre had not yet seen in her.  “You could at least try to make it sound like less of a question and more of a fact.”

Properly abashed, Olihre growled low in his throat and hastened his steed forward.  “We’re almost there,” he called back stiffly.

Imlyana glanced above her head and noted that the sun was indeed nearly at its zenith, though it was hardly visible through the thick black clouds that choked its light.

*          *          *

“Blasted rain!  I can’t see a thing with it mucking up our tailings!”  A weathered man bent low over a rickety cart, his tin pan thrashing in and out of the silt in frustrated stabbing motions.

“Patience, Ghrevn, it’s bound to end soon.”  A taller man with ratted blond hair stood under the partial shelter of an overhanging rock, his arms folded casually across his chest.  “Quiet yourself or you’ll spoil our hard work.”

“Our hard work?”  The man twisted his face into a nasty snarl.  “You’ve nary lifted a finger!  You stand there and order me from your cozy hideout while I’M the one out here toiling in this soaking misery!”

The blond man didn’t look at all affronted by this accusation, but when he spoke, his voice was lethal.  “But you see,” he snarled in a low and monotonous voice, “that is how our world works.  We each have our place, and if we do not keep to our place, we do not survive.”

The drenched man ground his teeth together and turned his back to the other, but not before nodding his head in deference and muttering, “Yes, Sir.” 

*          *          *

“I can see it!”  Imlara leaned forward on her steed and peered into the misty distance.  “Ah, it’s so dirty!”

Imlyana squinted until she too could make out the forms of several dilapidated wooden shacks perched at the top of a small rise.  “You can’t tell if they’re dirty, you silly twit!” she playfully called to her sister. 

“Of course they are; they’ve been sitting there for years!  Probably full of nasty, dirty animals and…”

“Oh come on!  Where’s the girl I know and love who picked up that huge brown spider just to scare Mother?” 

“I didn’t do it to scare Mother; I did it because Hyelif said I couldn’t!” 

Imlyana smiled at her pouting sister.  “Well then, just pretend that he’s here and insisting that you don’t dare go up there.”

“But I don’t dare go up there, Lyana!” Imlara whined.  “What if there ARE ghosts?  Maybe the King didn’t get rid of ALL of them!”

“There aren’t ghosts, silly!  You’ll be fine-- Olihre is here and Legolas and Gimli will be here with our brother in a few hours.”

Imlara whimpered as she nodded her head.  “Promise you won’t leave me alone?”

Imlyana smiled softly at her briefly before turning to Olihre, who was sitting stiffly upon his horse just a short length ahead of her.  His body was facing straight forward, but Imlyana could tell by the slight cock of his head that he was actively listening to their conversation. 

Smiling coyly, she purred, “I suppose I haven’t any need of privacy; I can wait longer if need be.” 

Olihre’s shoulders straightened even more if it were possible.  He nudged his horse almost imperceptibly with his foot and without looking back, started a brisk pace for the crown of the slight hill. 

Imlara frowned in annoyance, “Wait for what?”

Imlyana only smiled.

*          *          *

When they reached the first buildings in the surprisingly large shanty town, they dismounted.  The streets were wide enough for them to ride their steeds three abreast if they had desired, but some unknown sensation in the air prompted them to proceed with caution. 

Olihre knew that he was being ridiculous.  Legolas would never send him anywhere that would endanger him, especially not with the two girls in his charge.  Elessar had dealt with the Shadow Host, and even if he hadn’t, they were nowhere near the Paths of the Dead. 

Olihre shook his head slightly, as if to clear it.  Perhaps it is only the fell deeds that have occurred here and haunted the peoples of this land that make me wary.  Either way, he knew that he needed to find shelter and begin preparations to receive the three cold and hungry hunters who would soon be making their way to base camp.

He turned to the two girls then, prepared to give them assignments for the preparation of the meal, but upon seeing them huddled together against the shelter of their horses, handles entwined nervously, he paused and turned back around. 

A knowing grin formed on his face as the image if Imlyana, her face pale and eyes wide, appeared in his mind’s eye.  Olihre knew that she was scared, and he was impressed by how well she both covered and controlled it.  Upon this realization, Olihre groaned silently as he recalled the reproachful look in Imlyana’s eyes after he had tried but miserably failed to console Imlara.  She knows what a coward I am.  He groaned again, not so silently, as he recalled what had just transpired between them.  He was loath to admit it, but as he was listening to the girls’ conversation, he was indeed inwardly hoping for a moment alone where he could speak to Imlyana without an audience.  All right, maybe I was hoping for several moments…

“Olihre?”        

Olihre spun upon his heel and looked right into the eyes of Imlyana, who was still gripping her sister’s hand, but was now standing only a hairs breadth away from him.

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

Olihre realized with chagrin that he had stopped walking and was staring dumbly into space.  Shaking his head and blinking his eyes, he nodded.  “Fine.  I’m just trying to decide where we should set up camp.”

“May I suggest that we not set up camp in there, though, if that is your fancy...”  Imlyana trailed off as she shrugged her shoulders and stared behind Olihre.

Olihre turned back to the building that he had stopped in front of and frowned.  It was a dark building with no windows, painted with black pitch and framed by several dead trees.  A sign still hung crookedly from the rooftop, depicting a large butchering knife and a decapitated fowl.  He turned back to Imlyana who was smiling playfully.

“If it smells anything like my fathers’ slaughterhouse, I doubt we’ll have much of an appetite.”

Olihre couldn’t help but grin.  “Indeed, let us see if we cannot find something more suitable.”

“What about that old infirmary?” Imlara spoke up, pointing a slightly trembling finger towards a large building some distance down the street.  The previously white paint was speckled with mud and chipping in jagged fragments.  An image of two gently overlapping hands was painted somewhat crudely on the smooth façade above the front porch.

“That’ll do,” Olihre said, tossing one last look at the black building before turning and leading the group towards their new destination.  They entered the building, whose door had warped tightly shut through time, and scanned their surroundings.  The already dim light from the stormy outside barely made its way through the grimy windows into the room.  The walls were whitewashed however, making the room less imposing, and the space was nearly empty, most of the furnishings having been used as firewood by the invaders in times past.

Turning to Imlyana, Olihre cleared his throat.  “Will you are Imlara open these widows while I look about for something to build a fire in?”

Imlyana stepped closer to Olihre and looked at him carefully.  “Will you be going far?”

Olihre swallowed nervously and shook his head.  He could smell the oils that Imlyana used to wash her skin with, and he felt nearly overwhelmed by her closeness.  “No,” he said simply.  “I saw a blacksmiths shop down the street.  There may be a cauldron there still.”

Imlyana smiled and turned back to her sister, who had her arms wrapped tightly about herself as she looked around nervously.  “Hurry back.  Imlara doesn’t like being without her protector.”

Olihre nodded as his eyes widened and searched out Imlara, who was scowling at her sister.  Looking back at Imlyana briefly he shook his head incredulously and turned away, leaving them looking after him.

*          *          *

“We should leave now,” Legolas said suddenly, aware that they had only checked on a few of the traps that they had set earlier that day.

Hyelif turned his head sharply at this declaration and was about to object when the dwarf raised his hand to silence him.  Looking at the two of them, Hyelif’s brow furrowed.  Legolas was peering into the distance, his body held erect and ready, as if he were about to burst forth and run.  The dwarf looked troubled, as if he could read the thoughts of his friend. 

“What’s going on?” Hyelif finally dared ask, though it was more a plea than a demand. 

Legolas turned to the boy and smiled reassuringly.  “I am not sure, but worry not, they will be fine.”

“They?” Hyelif cried in alarm.  “My sisters?  What is it you fear has happened?”

Legolas put his hand on the young boy’s shoulder, crouching down so that he could look him in the eye.  “I do not know, but I feel that we should return now.  I am sure they are fine.  Olihre is there to take care of them, and he is a master swordsman.”

Hyelif shook his head with despair.  He had seen the shock in the man’s eyes when he was asked to lead the women to shelter.  He had seen the fear.

*          *          *

The warm fire bronzed the white walls of the infirmary as it illuminated the faces of those drawn to it for its warmth and comfort.  It provided a sense of safety and familiarity to its benefactors, allowing them to relax in its glow and forget about past fears. 

Biscuits were gnawed on as the group anxiously awaited the return of the rest of their party, who would hopefully be bearing fresh meat.  The sky was not yet dark outside, but the twilight was approaching quickly, threatening to devour those who did not yet wish to bid farewell to the shrouded sun. 

Imlyana and Imlara entertained a reluctant Olihre, who refused to laugh outright even when the escapades they would recount were downright ridiculous.  He would afford them a meager grin and shake his head, indicating his clear disapproval of their actions.

“I’m sure you’ve never done anything foolish!” Imlyana challenged Olihre after one particularly condescending smirk he had thrown their way.  She stood up and walked around the fire, standing directly behind him, though he refused to turn and look at her.  “I’m sure your sister wouldn’t have ANY tales regarding your own idiotic stunts?”

Olihre snapped around, giving her a heated look, but before he could answer, she continued on.

“I’ve heard Masters Gimli and Legolas teasing you enough to know that something less than flattering occurred very recently.  That is why you are here, is it not?  Exiled to these wastelands while your sister regains her temper?”

How does this girl manage to infuriate me so!  Minutes ago I wanted nothing more than to comfort her in my arms and now…now I think I may leave her out on the porch for the ghosts!

Olihre mused inwardly, attempting to regain control of his emotions through silence.  Imlara watched him nervously, seeing the desperate battle playing across his face.  Imlyana stayed silent, confused by the lack of outburst that she had been expecting.

“You’re not any fun, you know that?” She finally said, moving away from him and looking out the open window.

“Why do you always do that Lyana?” Imlara asked in an accusatory voice.  Her older sister raised her brows in surprise and then narrowed her eyes defensively.  “He’s trying to help us, and he’s really nice, and all you can do is make fun of him!”

Olihre’s eyes widened and his cheeks grew hot.  Dropping his head into his hands as he sat cross-legged on the floor, he mumbled, “It’s alright Lara, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Yes it does!” Imlara insisted.  “I’m not stupid you know-- I know you like her-- and she likes you-- so why are you always fighting?”

Olihre groaned and shook his head, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, as if his lack of sight would make the whole situation go away.  “Lara, really,” he said slowly, hoping that his careful enunciation of each word would still any further protests, “We’re friends, that’s all.  Friend’s tease each other, we’re not fighting.  You don’t need to wor…”

“Quiet!” Imlyana hissed from the window, holding her hand out strictly.

Olihre’s head shot up, as did Imlara’s.  “I’m only trying to stop your sister from worrying…” Olihre began, but he was cut off by another hiss from Imlyana.

“Shhh!”  She had her face to the window still, and her shoulders were pushed so far back, Olihre was surprised that she didn’t fold backwards.  She moved one hand from the windowsill and with the simple wave of a finger, beckoned Olihre to join her.

Olihre hesitated, looking at Imlara questioningly.  The younger girl just shrugged her shoulders and motioned with her head for him to join her.  He stood quickly and nearly tiptoed to the drafty opening.  “What have I done this time?” he whispered.              

“Do you see it?” Imlyana asked with a dismissive wave of her hand at his question.

Olihre peered out the window hesitantly, half-expecting to see a corpse walking the streets.  “See what?”

“Look toward the mountain,” Imlyana pointed her finger into the dark oblivion, where Olihre’s eyes caught the faintest signs of a small campfire.  It was some ways off, but still clearly visible.

“Who do you think it is?” Olihre asked without thinking.  He quickly berated himself for asking such a foolish and needy question.  Imlyana looked at him as if he had grown an extra head.  He quickly cleared his throat, something he seemed to do often when at a loss for sentiments.  “I mean, it’s probably nothing, but I’ll go check it out.”

“Nothing?” Imlara shrieked, for that seemed to be her role in the group’s social function.  “It’s just a magical campfire that sprouted on the outskirts of a deserted town?”  Olihre and Imlyana both looked at her with annoyance, largely because they knew she had a point.  She continued, unfazed by their cutting glares, “You can’t go out there!  It’s in the wrong direction for it to be the rest of our group, and nobody else should be here!”

“Why not?” was Olihre’s simple but pleading reply.  “We’re here, and we’re not doing anything wrong.  It could just be a group of hunters or travelers.”

Imlyana spoke up then, “If that’s so, why don’t we just leave them alone.  No need to bother them…”  Her tone was hesitant, as if even she didn’t believe her own words.

Olihre would have loved nothing more than to stay put in this relatively clean and warm environment, but he knew that he couldn’t.  “Our fire isn’t visible to them, but the smoke may be.  I’d rather approach them quietly and ascertain their intentions, rather than just wait for them to come to us.”

“Can’t we wait for the others to get here?” Imlara whined.

“They may be hours still.  I’ve no doubt that they are harmless, but it is my job to protect you, and I will not just sit here and wait to find out.  No one has come yet, and that is a good sign.  You two will be perfectly fine here, just stay quiet and wait for me to come back.”

“And if you don’t?”  The question was simple but it took Olihre some time to respond to Imlyana, who stood looking at him with an expression he had not yet seen before on her face, despair. 

“Legolas and Gimli will be here soon enough, but if I am not returned in a half an hours’ time, I want the two of you to mount the horses and ride back quickly from where we came.  In the meanwhile, keep a sharp eye out the window and watch for any signs of...strangers.”

Imlara let out a whimper as tears formed in her eyes.  “Please don’t go!  I’d rather they just came and got us with you still here!”

Olihre took a giant step and wrapped his arms around the panicked young girl.  “I won’t risk your lives if I can help it, but really, we have no indication that anything is wrong.  We’re getting all worked up over nothing.”

“I have a horrible feeling,” Imlara countered through choked sobs.  “I have ever since we entered this place.”

“So have I,” Olihre admitted out loud, though he immediately closed his mouth and looked up at Imlyana, expecting to see another reproachful look.  Instead he saw her wiping her own eyes, sucking in her bottom lip to keep it from trembling as much as her hands currently were.

Olihre released Imlara and stood before the older girl.  “I’ll go now,” he said resolutely, though he did not immediately move.  She nodded her head and issued a lopsided smile.  Olihre moved to hug her as well, but stopped short, tugging his cloak more tightly around his shoulders to disguise his previous intention.  Imlyana was not fooled though, and furrowed her brow, turning away in disappointment.  Whether at his lack of action or his cowardice, Olihre wasn’t sure.   

He stepped out the door with his head hung low, sparing only a single glance at the two sisters who had found slight solace in each others arms, if only briefly.