Panting, the two figures slipped through the mottled grey twilight. The dying rays of sunlight struggled gamely through the thick forest canopy and as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the ghostly white limbs of the clustered trees gleamed preternaturally in the strengthening moonlight, casting stark shadows on the forest floor.

Stumbling over a twisted tree-root, half hidden beneath the leaf-litter and camouflaged in shadow, the smaller of the two men fell headlong into the dirt, a fist-sized glittering object escaping from his out flung hand.

“Get up Gareth, where is it?!” gasped Acheldor, “We mustn’t lose it!”

“I have it brother, calm yourself” panted Gareth, picking himself up off the ground after scrabbling around in the leaves, his fingers closing on the odd shaped artefact.

Pausing to catch their breath, the two brothers sat uneasily, backs against a tree, listening to the sounds of the night creatures awakening around them.

“The Commander will give us a promotion for sure when we get this to him” chuckled Gareth.

“That’s if he doesn’t drive us out of the Corps altogether”, replied Acheldor, a little more pensively “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, little brother”.

“You always were too quiet for your own good. Look on the bright side. We’ve managed to obtain information invaluable to the safety of the Kingdom, and we managed to steal this … this… whatever the hell this is.” Gareth finished lamely, his eyes drawn to the dark crystalline gem in the centre of the prize clasped in his hand.

“We’re out here, without the Commander’s authorisation. We’ve deliberately headed into Goblin country, against all the advice of our officers, on this wild goose chase of a treasure hunt, nearly been captured, no doubt facing terrible torture, or worse, and all you can think of is glory and baubles. By the Valar, you’ll be the death of me” Acheldor exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

A slight disturbance in the cadence of the chirping of the cicada’s, stilled their fractious banter in an instant and the two men were immediately alert, hands upon their sword hilts, rising to their feet.

An angry wasp-like buzzing pierced the suddenly quiet night and Acheldor gasped suddenly in pain as a thick bloody line appeared against his cheek. Thrumming with malicious venom, a thick ugly black arrow had embedded itself in the trunk of the tree behind them.

Instant reaction, the result of long years of Ranger training, propelled both men into movement. Acting as a single entity, they turned and sprinted down the darkened path. A sibilant hissing erupted from behind them, the forest creatures shrunk in their burrows as the crackling of trampled foliage and the movement of many bodies crashed through the forest in rapid pursuit.

Into the darkening night, the brothers raced, carrying their dread message and mysterious prize. The fleet dark forms of their Goblin pursuers kept pace through the trees behind them, unable to get quite close enough, yet not falling far enough behind to allow their prey any rest.

Gradually, the pressing closeness of the forest began to thin out. The faint sparkle of lights shimmered through the trees. The outskirts of habitation began to encroach upon the diminishing borders of the black forest. Bursting out onto cultivated fields, the brothers emerged into starlit brightness, and continued their headlong flight toward the far off lights of Osgiliath. Behind them, a furious screech of desperation and anger rent the night-time quiet. With the fading of that enraged cry, came another more deadly sound. The buzzing noise they had heard earlier, but this time there were many many more of the deadly arrows streaking toward them.

“Run, hard, little brother. We’re almost out of this!” Acheldor panted.

A high pitched whistling announced itself on the edges of their aural consciousness, gradually becoming louder. The sound of many shafts cutting through the air, their barbed points seeking the flesh of the two Rangers.

“Duck and weave, we’re almost out of range. They won’t dare to follow us out here in the open!” shouted Gareth, with near tangible excitement in his voice.

All around them, the ground trembled with the rain of Goblin arrows. The two men zigged and zagged through the field trying to make themselves an impossible target amongst the sprouting shafts. One last turn of speed took them out of range of the short but wicked bows of the Goblin archers concealed within the tree line.

“We made it Gareth,” panted Acheldor, doubling over slightly, hands on knees gasping with the exertion of their run. “Once again, the Valar have protected us against another close brush with death.”

Nothing but silence answered him. Puzzled by his normally exuberant brother’s silence, Acheldor turned, the joy of having escaped their pursuers faded as rapidly as winter snow under a dragon’s breath. There, standing statue-still in the light of the moon, was his younger brother. His face transfixed in permanent surprise, his eyes already focussing on a distant shore and the dark hall of another realm. Dread flooded through Acheldor as he spied a thick trickle of blood ooze blackly from his brother’s mouth, and with the slowness of a marching glacier, watched him topple forward, a black shaft protruding from his back. As the young Ranger fell to the ground, his last breath gurgled from his now-still lungs and his hand opened in death, the strange object they had risked so much to find, rolling out onto the fresh ploughed earth. The dark stone at its centre, seemingly absorbing the gobbets of blood smeared across its surface.

Numb with shock, Acheldor stumbled toward the body of his best friend, comrade and brother and knelt beside him, cradling his head in his lap. Another screech from the woods roused him from his grief. Shouldering the cooling body, and grabbing up the artefact, he started to jog, zombie-like toward the lights of Osgiliath, and to the White City beyond.

All dreams of glory and adventure were cold recompense for the death of his brother. Grief flooded through him, cold and chilling like the waters from a mountain torrent. Memories of happier times faded into the darkness of his mind, replaced only by the need to pass on the information they had stumbled upon, and a burning thirst for vengeance.

He soon reached stones of Osgiliath, and as he entered under the arches of the city, stopped to sit and rest. The blood of his friend never seemed to stop flowing the entire way, and the jewel was covered in it, or, at least should have been. . .

The once nearly black jewel somehow looked slightly redder now, despite the fact that the night had become darker. The Guards on duty had come over finally, and he quickly stuffed the jewel under his shirt. "What happened here!" they asked, seeing the pale and cold body of Gareth. The one soldier gave him a nudge with the butt of his spear.

"We were ambushed by goblins," he lied, holding his stomach area, and the jewel underneath, very close to his body. It was uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, as the jewel felt like it was on fire. He grimaced and shut his eyes, thankfully it looked as it was played off in grief, "and they shot him down, right in the back. A bunch of dirty savages!" he growled and loosened the hold on the jewel a bit, sliding it down off of his stomach and behind his back on the ground. His flesh ached terribly.

The Guards began to pick up Gareth, "We'll make sure he's taken care of," they said with a nod. One offered his hand to help Acheldor up, but he waved it away.

"If you'll just let me sit for a while," he huffed, placing his open palm over his stomach again, lightly, "but it's been a long night. Let me rest for a while," he said. The guard nodded and left, with the others and the body of Gareth. As they slipped out of sight, he fingered the sides of the jewel behind him, which had cooled considerably, nearly feeling like ice.

He picked it up again, making sure to look that no one was around and carefully peered at it. The core of the dark jewel almost glowed in a deep crimson hue. He looked closed into the jewel, trying to figure out how light came from a crystal, especially in the choking dark of the night.

After looking at the artefact for a few minutes, as it seemed to him, he got up. His stomach still hurt, but paying no heed he stumbled forward. He made his way through Osgiliath. He went on for a few hours when he finally had passed out of the city. It was cold at night and he was still feeling the pain in his stomach. Suddenly in front of him, aside of the road, he noticed a shivering light. He made his way towards it. As he approached, he suddenly realised it was a man holding a torch in his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was suddenly stricken to the ground by the mans stick. When the strange looking man tried to pick hi up, Acheldor finally spoke:

"Wait...." The man stepped back in surprise. "You are a man" he said, looking rather surprised. But then he came and lifted Acheldor up, and stepped back again. Putting the torch in front of Acheldor´s face he asked him roughly: "Who are ya, and what ya doing here?" Acheldor, who considered the man to be a farmer from one of the farms near by answered: “I am Acheldor, ranger of Ithilien. And who are you if I may ask?" The man answered after a few moments of hesitation. "My name is Belendor. I live with my family on one of the farms nearby.

You are lucky you meet me" he added” and not the others who just passed by". At this words he looked at the ranger and a strange smile came forth on his face. "Who do you mean? Who just passed?" Acheldor wondered whom the old man could be talking about. “Well, I am not sure, but this looks like the work of some wicked creatures, maybe goblins, to me" said the old man and pointed with his torch at a few bodies laying nearby. Just now Acheldor, being a man of skill in body and mind, realised what might have happened. He wasn’t sure though. He stepped forward to examine the bodies. It was as he feared. "This is one of the guards from Osgiliath I have met some hours ago. They helped me wit my dead brother. Goblins slew him in Ithilien..." he pointed with his hand on the far lands behind him. "But how could they have pursued them till here? This is the very plain of Pellenor?" He sighed "But wait...

I know this shaft. Last I have seen it; it peered out of my brother’s back. But..." he started to look through the dead bodies. "He is not here. But this is his cloak. The must have dragged him away." He sat down on the ground with his head in his hands. There he sat, the old man looking at him. What Belendor saw, was not the figure of a tall ranger anymore. It was the figure of a broken man.

"My lord" the old man started "come; let me take you to my house. You look hurt and exhausted. I shall give you something to eat and a bed to sleep. You will see, it will all be clearer in the morning." Belendor helped Acheldor to stand up. He took him to his house, which was not far away. “This my lord, is my house. Welcome" and with that he opened the door." I am back Morwena, but I am not alone" Belendor closed the door. When Acheldor saw the fire, he sat down on the nearby bed and started to cry finally.

And when Acheldor fell asleep, the old man raided his pack for the crystal.

Taking it back out into the main room, Belendor sat down, looking at it. "Oh, you were a horrid creation," he said, scorning the jewel. "I was foolish to think that I could create you without these wicked ways." Running his hands over the crystal, he looked into it, "And I see that fallen blood will fill you with light once again," he said. The dark red glow inside the crystal had grown deeper and stronger since Acheldor last looked at it.

"You may drive the hearts of those who hold you and those around them into madness, but never me. I created you, and I can destroy you!" he yelled at the cursed object, raising his stick above his head to smite the jewel into oblivion, but he found a cold dagger in his back before he could drop the blow. Acheldor, who had awakened in a cold panic, had murdered the man before he could destroy the crystal.

As Belendor fell on the table, silently, Acheldor picked up the jewel and looked at it, watched as the centre of the gem pulsed in red light for a minute, and then, the otherwise clear crystal grew redder as the centre of it began to fill farther, and then it grew calm once more.

Acheldor tucked it away under his shirt, pressing it close to his stomach again, hiding it away from prying eyes. Grabbing his blood stained dagger, he threw his cloak around himself and burst out onto the streets once more, fleeing from this most foul deed that he had committed. His mind was fuzzy, and the realization of what he had done did not surface in his mind. All he could think about was blood, and how he needed to see more of it.

What would happen when the crystal was full?

Acheldor panted as he ran, feeling the cold hardness that was the jewel in his hand. Dew covered the ground, and he slipped several times, running on and on and on. Again he slipped, and this time he remained down, the tears that were streaming down his face from pain and sorrow mixed with blood and dirt. What was happening to him? He raised himself from the ground, only to fall back, panting as his grip on the dagger tightening convulsively.

He wanted to kill. He wanted to see blood dripping, to see the globe filled further with red light. Curling up into a tight ball, he slept, his dreams centred always on the crystal, seeing it fill to its extreme with blood, seeing men dying from his blade. When he woke up again, dawn was in the east. Getting up, he groaned as he felt his limbs stretching. He felt stiff from a night on the ground. For a moment, panic woke in his brain as he couldn't find the globe.

Soon he found it, stuck in a patch of mud. As he watched it, it seemed to his fascinated eyes that it moved, trying to extract itself from the mud. Quickly he picked it up, cleaning it off from the bits of mud that clung to its surface. Placing it in his pocket, he put his hand on it, feeling its hardness. But it was not longer cold. It seemed almost as if the blood was warming it. Slowly the heat grew, and then stopped. Acheldor's breath came panting in the cold air as he looked around him wildly. Where should he go? Not on the road for sure.

He didn't want to move on the roads, no, and then someone might find him and trace him back to Osgiliath. But the road would lead him to more people, and more flesh for the call of the jewel. He found that his dagger was instinctively in his left hand, and the jewel in his right. He hadn't remembered removing it from his pocket just now, but nevertheless, he had it. He looked at the red gem again, and knew that he would have to go to the road.

Turning his head left and right, he tried to gain his bearings. He was lost in a wood it seemed, and he couldn't find the edge from where he was. He scanned the area, getting panicked that he could find no exit. Instinctively he turned east towards the sun and started running again, over the fallen leaves and shattered trees. He whizzed past flora and fauna alike, searching for the road.

He ran for what seemed like hours, and made no progress, the trees still around him. He sat down to rest, and found that the jewel in his hand was like ice, so cold. He looked it at, looked at the hue of the gem. It was so cold that it nearly burned his hand. He tried to pick it up out of his palm with his left hand, but the gem would not budge, as if it were frozen to his skin. He tugged and tugged, but the gem would not budge.

A twinge in his head told him to pry it out with the knife, and before he could think twice about it, he had the point of the knife digging under the jewel. His body signalled pain, but he didn't stop, just quickly trying to get the gem off of his hand. Blood oozed from the cuts he made, and finally the jewel popped out of his palm, leaving no marks except for the cuts from the dagger.

He panted and closed his cut palm, wondering why he had continued even though he knew he was hurting himself. He touched the jewel again, and this time it was warm, a bit of his own blood smeared across the backside of it. He applied pressure to his bleeding palm and stared at the jewel. What was it doing to him?

"No, something is wrong. This jewel is cursed," he said to himself. He stood up, his hand still bleeding, the gem nearly glowing in daylight. "Yeah, cursed, cursed." He looked at it, "Why don't I just leave it here, yeah, leave it here," he said, looking at the jewel resting in the dirt on the ground.

He started to step away, but something stayed his feet.

If he did not keep the jewel, he might never find the body of his brother. This thought pierced through the crimson fog that shrouded his mind: He owed it to Gareth. He ought to find Gareth. Someone had taken him, had slain the guards: was it the old man he had killed? Belendor? If so, then it was hopeless, the old man was dead.

But no--the man had called someone: Morwena? He had not been alone. If it were so, perhaps this woman would know more of the jewel, of his brother. Acheldor turned the stone over with his foot: stopped, crouched, and slipped it back into his pocket. He would have to use all his skills now, to make it back to Osgiliath unnoticed, to get the truth of the bodies of the guards, to find Morwena.

But then, if he were caught? No justice would come for Gareth but swift justice would come to him. But if he went back he would find Morwena and answers about the gem...but if he fled, he would be safe, and venture to lands where he would be unknown.

The crystal pulsed in his pocket where he gripped it tightly. How to decide?

Acheldor didn't know what to do, safety our justice, his mind was torn. He felt that the gem wanted to lead him to safety; yes she was pulling to the east, slightly, but hard enough to be felt. Acheldor thought he was losing his mind. Then he heard it. Silence, the birds had stopped there nightly songs, and all beside the wind fallowed there example. As Acheldor went to grab the hilt of his sword he heard the now familiar buzzing, like wasps. But he knew better. Acheldor immediately started to run in the opposite direction, the direction of the house of Belendor.

Acheldor had been running for what seemed hours, yet only ten minutes had past, and the sharp buzz followed by the hard knock on wood still fallowed him as his ghost. He could feel the gem burning on his side, as a scream for blood, his blood. Suddenly a sharp pain went trough his leg, then his face. He had stepped on a stone and twisted his foot. While falling his face had hit the tree before him. Seconds later an arrow hit in the space that his head had filled only minutes before. He turned around to see his demise. But what he saw was more horrible then he thought. Instead of a pack of goblins he saw only one dark figure, one dark shadow, smaller then himself. But even if he couldn't see anything of the face which was covered by a hood, he knew with whom he was dealing and panic started to get a hold of him.

"You are death! It’s not possible! I saw it with my own eyes!" Acheldor desperately tried to get up on his feet and take his sword, but the moment he stood up he fell back as his foot couldn't support his weight. Yet he took out his sword and pointed it towards the familiar figure that was now standing a couple of yards from him. A loud cynical laughter came from under the hood. It wasn't his brother’s voice, in fact it sounded nothing like anything he had heard before, and it was more the sound of two rocks scrapping against each other. The figure took of his hood, it was Gareth, even with the pale skin, and the eyes who seemed on fire, Acheldor knew this was the body of his brother.

Acheldor was as paralysed as his brother went to grab the stone. Every part of his mind was telling him to fight, but it was as if the stone itself wanted to be taken by Gareth. Just before Gareth could touch the gem they heard a scream. Acheldor knew it wasn't a random scream, they where words coming out of a woman’s mouth, but he was too distant in mind to understand them. Then suddenly he was blinded by a flash of pure energy. He reached for his eyes while he heard the deformed voice of his brother scream in pain.

When he opened his eyes he saw Morwena kneeling next to him, her hand was on his forehead; she was chanting and waving with the same staff that Belendor. When she was done he felt better, as he had woken up from a bad dream. He looked around to find his brother. “Don’t worry he is now in the halls of Mandos." Acheldor looked at the woman in front of him. She had a hard voice but her beauty was the purest that Acheldor had ever seen, she looked in her early twenties. "I am Morwena, daughter of Belendor, may he rest in piece." Acheldor panicked as he realised that he had killed her father. But she only made a sign for him to calm down. “I know that it was the gem. You also shown great resistance to its power, and with the spell I placed on you now I think we have nothing to worry, yet we have to worry I don't know how long it will hold. We need to find someone that can help us!" She placed her hand on his foot and chanted again and Acheldor could feel the pain flowing away. “Lets go." she said and turned towards the north east, without looking if he was fallowing her.

Acheldor paused a moment, looking around him in confusion and dismay.

Had he truly seen Gareth? Whoever it was, it had looked like his brother, but the chill in Acheldor's heart told him that his brother was no more. The shadowy figure, whatever it could have been, may have taken his form, but it could not, simply could not have been Gareth, raised from the dead.

And yet, where had he gone? The last that Acheldor could remember was the sound of the voice screaming in pain, but no body did he see, nor any tracks. Had he been consumed utterly, vanished without a trace? Had he run through the air? Morwena said he was in the Halls of Mandos, but there was no body.

It was these questions that prompted him to run after Morwena, mind spinning, not even remembering that once his ankle hurt, and that though the pain was gone, it was likely still protesting its abuse. He chased after her all the way to the cottage, not noticing his limp nor the shadow that followed him under the moonlight that moved when all else was still.
---------

Inside the cottage, Acheldor stopped short to see the silent form of the old man laid out on the bed, a motionless reminder of the evil Acheldor still bore in his pocket.

"Put it on the table," Morwena said quietly, and Acheldor did as she bid, and in the firelight the crimson within the jewel pulsed like a heart, making Acheldor sick with revulsion as he stared at it.

"My father was a good and brilliant man," Morwena said softly. "He was a student of wizards and a friend to all who came to his door, but in his search for greater powers to help those who came to him, he fell. He could not stand the fact that the Istari did so little, in his eyes, to help the helpless, and he sought to increase his own mortal abilities. He created this gem, hoping to use it to focus a power, I do not know what it was he sought, but what he got was a discontented spirit, one of the least of Morgoth's servants, called out of its rest with an unquenchable lust for blood and power, tied to the power of the stone."

Acheldor's face went pale. "How are we rid of it?" he whispered.

Morwena shook her head. "Its power is beyond me. Father never told me how he quieted it before. I do not know."

"Then how do we know it won't take control again?" he asked, already coveting the gem that lay on the table again. He could deposit his knife into Morwena and scoop up the gem and be away again, run far from here, to an unsuspecting land where he could hunt and pray without . . . no, no that was nonsense. He turned his eyes away from the table.

"We don't," she said, "but, its influence never leaves, not even the dead," she said. "The one that came for you, he will seek it still. His spirit may have fled, but his corporeal form remains, a mindless slave to this gem. And I daresay, should you die, you will hunt it as well. Any who bear the gem will always seek to bear it. It will always seek a bearer, and that bearer must always bathe it in blood. It is the curse of this gem."

"Well," asked Acheldor, "then what do we do?"

"My father has many books," she said, "There must be an answer somewhere. I just fear that we don't have enough time, before the gem seeks blood once more, or the dead come back for it." She sighed, "But I will look," she said, scooping up gem with a cloth, minding not to touch it. "It is cool now, which means we have some time," she said, placing it into a box and putting a thick iron lock on it. "I'm afraid that I'll have to work on this alone," she said.

When Acheldor opened his eyes, the lights felt as if his brain got chopped in pieces by a dull knife and it took him a moment to realise where he was. He had hoped he just had a nightmare but as he wanted to rub his face he noticed his hands where bond to the bed. Moments later he noticed his feet where locked to. He looked around the room and saw Morwena reading an ancient book. "Euh Morwena, what do this mean?" He asked in his most humiliated voice. "Just a precaution Acheldor, I don't know how long my spell will work. The good news is that I found a new spell that I placed on you. If you try to kill me or escape from me you will turn into a chicken, so I guess I can release you." As she released Acheldor he had to repress the urge to kill the woman only for the spell she placed on him.

"Haven’t you found anything that could help us destroy the bloody thing?" He asked slightly irritated. "Yes I have, in my fathers dairy I noticed that he had been spending a lot of time discussing magical matters with someone named Bors Ratilo, I think he was the new disciple of my father. From what I remember of his trips and what I read in his diary that man should be living at about two days of walking from here. So I suggest that we start right after break fast." Even if Acheldor wouldn't have minded to start right away so that he could get rid of this spell and be safe of the gem again he couldn't pass out on the promise of a good breakfast.

After the breakfast they made off their way. Morwena had packed some food. “We shall not need to take any water, for we shall find enough springs on our way." "But what will this way be, my lady?" asked Acheldor suddenly. "You do not need to know that. It shall be enough for you to know that we are heading to Ithilien." "Ithilien?" he shouted ", that is where I have come from, where the gem was found." "I see, now it makes some sense" answered Morwena. "My father had been on a journey, some months ago. I remember that after he came back, he looked more worried, than ever before. We need to get to Bors as soon as possible. I am afraid of the worst..." "Afraid? Of what? What could be that bad?” Morwena did not answer at first. "Tell me!!!" Acheldor insisted."

"Good. I shall tell you. Long has Bors been doing business with the dark land, Mordor. That is actually one of the reasons for him to live so close to it. I am afraid he must have fallen under the dominion of the Witchking, long ago. And that means, he wanted the gem to pass to another mortal, to fulfil some wicked purpose. But I do not see what this may be. We need to find out. Come; let’s get on with our journey. The time is against us."

With that they moved on. They made their way to the ford near Cair Andros to pass through to Ithilien.

Acheldor didn’t like the way this was heading and he certainly didn’t like the foolish idea to not bring water on a journey, so no matter what Morwena had said he prepared some food and some water for the trip, after all he was a ranger of Gondor and he couldn’t just forget his training just because of this woman thought it wasn’t necessary. When he was ready he placed the gem in his backpack, thinking that the further it was to his body the better. ”I thought I said we didn’t need any water? So why are you carrying enough for twice the distance that we will travel?” Morwena asked on a slightly irritated voice. Acheldor just shrugged his shoulders. “I am a ranger, we have been taught to always be prepared for anything. And water is one of the basics for survival. And if there is evil in the forest of Ithilien again, I don’t really intend to drink from possibly poisoned water. Now let’s go, like you said time work against us.

The walk to Ithilien was uneventful and boring as Morwena was constantly with her nose in the books, while Acheldor was looking for any sign of enemy activity. But now there was a problem, Morwena hadn’t been able to find any clue to where they could find Bors, and even less on the fact if he was a friendly or a foe. As the night was falling Acheldor had decided t was time to set camp. Morwena placed a simple spell around the camp as protection, but Achelor decided to stay awake. He didn’t thrust that someone else couldn’t lift the spell with another one.

It had taken two more days for Morwena to find out where Bors was, she had stopped looking into her father’s books and had searched for magical power. The trail had led them to a little cabin, the door was broken open, but Achelor draw his sword just for safety. As he entered the cabin he saw that there had been a fight, a closer look to the cabin revealed him a sight who made him sick in the stomach. “I think I found Bors Morwena” He said betraying the discus in his voice.

“No you found his servant.” A deep but soft voice said behind them. Acheldor brought his sword up as Morwena already started on a spell. A dark figure stepped away from the tree’s “he died so that I would have a chance to run away to get the staff to safety.” The man threw a staff to Morwena.” It should be powerful enough, now hurry girl.” With that said Bors fell over, face first in the dirt, revealing 5 black arrows sticking out of his back. In the back grounds the drums could be heard, the goblins where close.

Acheldor was the first to react. He grabbed his backpack and turned it around. The gem fell out of it as the first arrow plunged in his shoulder, pinning him to the floor. He hoped Morwena would be able to smash the gem, but all he could thing right now was that he hadn’t heard the bee like sneering.

As she saw Acheldor going down she lifted the staff high over her head, ready to bring a hard blow to the gem. Hoping it would be enough. Then she felt pain. Several arrows had embedded themselves in her; she felt her arms going numb. As she fell over herself only one thought made her smile. The staff was heading towards the gem. She died before seeing the bright bleu light and hearing the terrible rumble as the gem got destroyed.

          Authors: Thoronell ~ Arteris ~ Maglor Anarion ~ Kaldaka ~
Lokei ~ Emus Trask ~ October 05

Gondor had never been known for its great horsemanship and neither had Ahlen.

He sat atop his mount with the lance balanced uneasily in his hand. He was up to tilt next, against some other rider whom he had never heard of. He wasn’t sure how exactly he became involved with this entire tournament; the joust least of all. Perhaps it was brought upon him by one of those dizzying nights when he took on too much wine. But no matter how he came here, we was here now.

And she was here too.

His eyes wandered over to Elyse again, where she sat upon the erected grandstand, sitting in her dress of blue and silver silk. Her auburn hair tumbled across her shoulders, her dainty hands folded in her lap. He smiled and laughed at something one of the girls next to her said, showing a beautiful line of teeth tucked behind full lips. The sunlight danced off her cheeks and shimmered through her strands of hair, and shone off of the silks that clung tightly to her body.

Ahlen couldn’t remember how long it had been since he first laid eyes on her, maybe ten years, maybe twenty. Time had been lost to him since that day. They had only been children when he first saw her, but then they grew and he would catch her figure on occasion, walking the marketplace, dining at a restaurant, out with her handmaids. He spent most of his days standing watch, or dicing, or indulging in wine. Where she was highborn and wealthy, the best he had was his issued plate, sword and spear, and a post at the fifth circle gate.

His attention was diverted back to the lists as he heard a crack and watched Jalen hit the dirt like a sack of ten thousand bricks. The poor fellow had the unfortunate luck of drawing Lyan of the Roquen. Thankfully his slot was the last in the upper half of the bracket, so even if Ahlen did come out of his tilt the victor, he wouldn’t have to be split in half by the Roquen until the championship, though he doubted he would ever make it that far. Though Lyan was the best of the Roquen, his brothers of the horse were scattered in the tournament, and he was sure he wouldn’t make it past them.

"You’re up," said Pip as he handed Ahlen a shield. "Good luck. You’re facing one of the Citadel Guards, Grenn. Though he’s not a horseman by means, they say he can handle himself."

"Great," muttered Ahlen as he looked over to Elyse. She was looking over at his opponent, pointing and whispering to one of her handmaids. She didn’t even spare half a glance in his direction. "Hmm, what a surprise," he said to himself. "Maybe she’ll notice me when I’m flat on my back," he said and donned his helm.

Ahlen got his horse into position and saluted Grenn. The Guard was a huge brute and Ahlen had no doubt that the Guard of the citadel would ravage him with the first lance. “Look at the bright side Ahlen; at least you won't be able to miss that target." He heard the mocking voice of his best friend say. Rupert was a wine seller, where Ahlen used his muscle to get out of trouble; Rupert used his tongue, even if half of the time that Ahlen had to use his muscle was because Rupert hadn't been able to hold his tongue again. Ahlen smirked at his friend and pressed his heels in the flanks of his horse.

The adrenaline was pumping when the two men where galloping towards each other. Both of them trying to get there lance towards each other. But even the high amount of adrenaline could have numbed the pain of Ahlen when the lance of Grinn struck him in the shoulder. He almost got thrown of his hours but his feet got stuck in there straps. As he tried to get back decently in the saddle he noticed that his lance was broken to. “At least you had him too." Rupert yelled to him.

Ahlen didn't shared the enthusiasm of his friend as this also meant that he had to go against Grinn again and that didn't particularly trilled him. He turned his horse and took the new lance Rupert handed him. “Common Ahlen I placed some money on you so don't disappoint me. And don't disappoint the lady over there; she looked in horror when you got hit." Ahlen's heart skipped a beat when Rupert mentioned Elyse but soon reality struck. She probably just didn't like violence; after all she didn't knew him. He kicked his heels in the flanks of his horse again and braced himself for another blow.

This time the blow was unforgiving and Ahlen thought he would pass out. He let his body rest against the neck of his horse not thinking he would be able to stand up. He had dropped his lance and hearing the crowd cheer he knew he had lost. They where clearly cheering a victory. "Amazing Ahlen, that was just superb." Rupert said to Ahlen who looked confused, even under his helmet. Ahlen braced himself and turned his head and it was in disbelief that he saw that Grinn laid flat out on his face and that the crowd was actually cheering for him.

Rupert told him that when he got hit he had turned a little and instead of missing Grinn he struck the brute on the back of the head with his lance. Ahlen's gaze had turned towards Elyse who seemed to be smiling at him. Still feeling dizzy from the hit he saluted the girl. But regretted it right away as he felt clumsy and he was embarrassed as he saw that some of the girls around Elyse started to laugh heartily. Rupert smiled as he was counting his money. "Okay your next opponent is a Roquen. Bert, he is an elite and rather good but I heard he got slightly wounded at his left shoulder in his match so if you hit left you should be able to beat him and get another smile from your lady.

Ahlen felt rather worried. "A Roquen he is, you say? That does not sound as easy to me as you try to picture it. Hit his left that seems to me as impossible as trying to fight a troll with a wooden stick but I shall try my best."

With that he took his lance and the last bits of courage left to him and with a last gaze at Elyse he rode off against Bert. His heart was beating high and fast. He saw his opponent and guessed his strength. With a big effort he held the lance pointing at the left shoulder of Bert. Just a moment before the strike he closed his eyes. He felt a heavy struck and then nothing.

When he woke up, he could see a nicely curved roof. "Where am I?" he asked just for himself, but his question was suddenly answered. "In the houses of healing. You came in yesterday and had been unconscious. Since then you have been sleeping. I am glad to see you awake finally. How do you feel?" When Ahlen turned his head to the side he saw a young woman whose gentle voice was aimed at him. "I feel, well, not precisely good. My head burns firmly..." he put his hands round his head. "What happened?" he asked. "Well I do not know precisely, but maybe your friend can tell you." "Rupert! Tell me, what happened?" "Well, you got a nice piece of hit on ya head my friend. Only too good it is so hard...” he laughed. "When Bert came riding against you, you hit his shoulder and that was his end, but, unfortunately, yours as well. He struck you on your head and you both fell from your horses." "Now I see. And what about Elyse?" Rupert looked rather puzzled. "You know, you need to be left alone now for a few house the doctor said, so I had better gone now..." "Stay!" shouted Ahlen suddenly "tell me what happened." "Fine, I shall tell you, but you will not like what I have to tell you."

"After you fell from the horse, you did not look precisely alive, if you understand. Elyse came running towards you. She was very afraid. When you were brought here she was told you would not come back to life, unless they had some Athelas. But as they had none, and none could be found in the whole city, she decided to go out herself to look for it in the woods of Ithilien, where it still could be found, apart from Belfalas. She took two rangers with her, but today morning only one of the three returned."

"What, how?" Ahlen lay down on his bed destroyed. "Why did they let her go? Those fools." "It was not possible to stop her, and no one else would dare to go at night. They had horses and rode swiftly. But they were ambushed and Lady Elyse kidnapped. The orcs took her."

"Where is the surviving ranger?" "Here, in the houses of healing." "Take me to him", said Ahlen. “I can’t, not at the moment. It is too risky for you to stand up...” "Is it?" asked Ahlen with a grim face but a slight smile and with that suddenly stood up. He fell, but Rupert caught him and helped him to stand up again. "You see, I can stand and even ride, I hope". His head was still going round. "So", said Ahlen, “take me to that ranger".

When they arrived, they saw tat the ranger had many wounds. "How is he?" asked Ahlen the doctor. "He shall not survive the coming night, I am afraid. His wounds are poisoned, with a venom we do not know." "Can he talk?" "Yes, but with big effort. I can not let you to him." "Doctor, I need to know where he was separated from Lady Elyse. It is a question of life and death." Ahlen looked so worried and full of hidden wrath that the doctor granted him a few minutes with the patient. "But do not be too long."

When they came to the ranger’s bed, he looked at them. "It...Is you, isn’t it? The man the lady wanted to save, ahh..." "Yes it is me, and I want to thank you for the effort and the risk you took on you, to save me." "Do not thank me, for I have not gone on that errand for you, but to protect the lady..... I... have failed..." "No you have not, at least not if you can tell me where it was you saw her last." The ranger looked at Ahlen. "You seem to be brave, but courage alone will not avail you. Be careful, for I see what you are about to do. Save her, even should it be the last thing you ever do." "I promise I will. So tell me. Where did you get separated?"

Ahlen sputtered." Elyse!!!!!!!!!!!" He looked around confused not understanding how he got wet. He jumped of the horse, or better said nearly fell from the horse and grabbed Rupert by the shoulders, violently shaking him. "We need to go she is kidnapped! The ranger, no more athelas in the city..." Rupert pulled lose from the grasp of his big friend and slapped him in the face. Normally it would have no effect on his big friend but after the punishment he got today it made I'm almost lose his balance." Mate you had to take a massive hit on the head there. So calm down and tell me what you think you have to do."

The more Ahlen explained the harder Rupert had to try not to burst out in a huge laughter. “Common mate, the chance that Elyse actually knows your name is slim, the chance that she even cares enough for you to visit you in the houses of healing, but really Ahlen, no more athelas in Minas Tirith? I mean since Aragorn used it to save Faramir and Eowyn everyone cultivates or at least hold on to a stash of the herb. Look you got hit on the head rather hard and if Bert's shoulder wouldn't have popped out of its socket you would have lost right now. Luckily it did and all those that betted on you got 6 time the amount they betted on you back. so now lets go eat, rest a little cause tonight you go off against John Doe, he is a civilian, but he is small so a hard target. So you get some food and make me some more money today, who knows if you beat him and the next one after him you’ll be in the finals tomorrow. And hell if you make it to there you'll even could end up in the final joust and be invited for the gala ball after the tournament and actually meet that Lady of yours."

Ahlen was numbed, he didn't felt like joisting anymore but the faint hope to finally meet Lady Elyse made him agree with his friend, he needed to rest and get some food if he wanted to make a chance to even get to tomorrows final 32. All he could say was. “Dinner is on you Ru."

At last, Ahlen and Rupert found themselves in Ahlen's quarters, where they tended Ahlen's injuries more fully. Amidst all Rupert's ministrations, Ahlen had to wonder just how hard a hit he had truly taken to the head, as he could have sworn that the so-called dream he'd had when knocked out temporarily was real. Sighing, he adjusted the bandages on his head, and grimaced at his reflection in the small mirror on the wall. He looked, and felt, quite a sight, and not the kind of sight that any lady would care to behold. The pain in his body was threatening to take over, and he had to lean on Rupert as he walked. How was he ever to take on another challenger?! He wondered if he would make it out of the tournament alive and in one piece, and regretted yet again his decision to participate. Thinking again of beautiful Elyse, his heart yearned for her, to tell her how he felt, yet he had no idea if he could ever do so, even if she proved to be drawn to him, for her station was so far above his own. Surely she had suitors galore waiting on her---yet she had smiled at him, he knew it---he knew that that had been no dream. Groaning a little, he turned to Rupert and said with another sigh, "I need food, Rupert. Let's go find something to put into our stomachs, but---and here he paused a moment before finishing---don't let me have any wine tonight, no matter what!" Rupert began to smirk, but when he saw that his injured friend was quite serious, he only nodded, and led him out into the street, looking for the nearest place to get food.

Finding a place to eat was not really a problem in this part of the city. Finding someplace that served a decent meal and where you weren't likely to end up with a knife in your back, well, that was another story. Ahlen and Rupert wandered the dingy streets for several minutes before arriving at a place bearing the odd name of 'The Splintered Shield,' oddly reminiscent of his day's activity... "Well, I've never heard of it, so it can't be that bad!" Rupert said cheerfully, his strange logic making some kind of sense to the injured Ahlen. "Worth a shot, I guess. Right now I'd settle for pretty much anything."

The two approached the door, and Rupert reached for the handle. It didn't budge. With a scowl, the man tried once more, putting most of his weight into it. The stubborn door groaned a bit and grudgingly slid open, letting the dim light of a dying fire spill into the dirty street. "Cheery," Ahlen said the sarcasm quite apparent in his voice. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to eat. We're not going to get any better than this in the near future, at least not on what you can afford." Rupert responded. "Well, then, that is where you are wrong. I've done my part for the day, and I distinctly remember that we decided that this meal was on you." Rupert chuckled, and responded in his usual jovial manner, "Well, glad to see that bump on your head didn't know every bit of sense out of that head of yours." Shaking his head, an action that evoked more pain than he had anticipated, Ahlen responded, "It would take a bit more than a bump on the head to make me forget about something as important as money. Never had enough of it to be careless with and you learn rather quickly how to avoid using more than you need to."

Entering the dimly lit establishment, its hazy air making breathing difficult, the two hurriedly approached an unoccupied booth in one corner. A waiter missing half an hear and a handful of teeth approached them, not even bothering with the courtesy of a greeting. "What ya be havin'? Mutton and venison's what we got." The two customers exchanged furtive glances before Rupert answered. "Venison will do nicely, for the both of us. I'll have an ale and another one for me friend here." Ahlen glared at Rupert, who finally seemed to realize his friend was serious. "Never mind, make that second ale a water." The waiter merely grunted and headed off to see that the meal was readied. Ahlen was about say something to the man seated across from him, when suddenly another noise caught his attention.

The Barkeeper slammed his fist on the table. "Well I’ll be damned! If it isn't the man who made us rich today!" He turned and whispered something to the girl who ran back into the kitchen with the dirty glasses filled with ale and water. When she came back with the nice glasses the barkeeper took them over and brought them to Ahlen and Rupert. Ru thanked the man. “To be honest I wonder why you placed a bet on my friend here, he wasn't exactly the best choice." The barkeeper smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I missed, I wanted to bet on the Roquen but I had the names switch, you can't believe my relieve when Bert didn't notice you where knocked out and that he surrendered so he could heal his shoulder before you fell off your horse."

The meal they got was far from being good but it was nutritious and Ahlen felt already a lot better afterwards. As told before he let the bill for Rupert. And the men got back to the joist area. To prepare for the next game. Rupert hurried to the betting booth. When he came back Ahlen was already in his armour. Rupert didn't seemed all that happy. “What’s wrong Rupert you look like if someone had stolen your wallet." Rupert checked if the breastplate of Ahlen was secure. “They might as well have. I just came back from the betting booth and they give you winner 2-1 so basically I’ll win practically nothing if you win. The only good news is that after this match the winner is facing a Roquen as the slot next to yours are two Roquen.

A young lad came to warn Ahlen that he was up next. Ahlen mounted his horse and Rupert handed him his helmet." Try not to get hit on the head again. I don't know how much punishment your brain can take, then again another hit might improve your looks which might help next time you meet your Lady Elyse." As Rupert mentioned the girl of his dreams, Ahlen glanced over to the crowd but he couldn't find Elyse anywhere. When he looked towards Rupert his question was clear so Rupert just shrugged his shoulders. “The good game is in the other side of the area, remember, two Roquen joisting, two rookies joisting, what game would you watch if you where a good looking lady?" Ahlen realised it that his friend was right but he couldn't help to be angry about this. “Hold it for your opponent Ahlen"

Ahlen took his lance and started to gallop towards the man he would use as punching ball. As the two men crossed Ahlen noticed it might be harder then he thought. The guy was younger then him and a lot smaller which meant he was also a lot faster and harder to hit, and so while the man had broken his first lance on Ahlens chest, Ahlen had only pierced mid air. Ahlen threw away his lance and took another one. "Oh now it’s on, now he'll taste my lance."

After three more broken lances on the count of the young man against non for Ahlen, Rupert took Ahlen apart for a second. “4 to nothing mate, this means that you need to get that boy from his horse." Ahlen took off his helmet and he looked like if he was going to blow. "You think I haven't tried that already!" Rupert lifted his hands up in sign of resignation. "I was only trying to help. But as you can't hit his torso why not aim lower? That part shouldn't be that hard to hit now does it? " Ahlen got the sign to start so he pushed his helmet back down and started to gallop towards the man. He cursed at the fact he hadn't thought about it before. But then again even if he had seen it once didn't meant he could actually do it himself.

The adrenaline was pumping hard when the two men came close, at the last moment Ahlen brought his lance low, as he felt the hit on his torso e saw how his lance scooped up the light young man out of his saddle to throw him on his behind. Rupert cheered and helped Ahlen from his horse. " Good news, you are on for tomorrow morning. Those two Roquens knocked each other out so they both forfeit letting you in the top 32 who will compete tomorrow." Ahlen smiled, until he remembered the fact that in the morning his body would hurt even more then now.

Rubbing his sore gut, Ahlen sighed heavily at the thought of yet more matches, but was glad at least that he was still alive and able to get around on his own two feet. Taking off the heavy armour, he glanced around once more, yet still did not see his beloved Elyse, and he wondered where she might be. Perhaps she was across the way, perhaps she had gone to watch the other match. Tired and sore as he was, he wanted desperately to see her, and at least know that she was all right. The so-called dream, or whatever it had been, of the day before, still bothered him vaguely, and he determined to go try and find the beautiful young woman he had watched from afar for so long, even if only to get yet another fleeting glimpse. Just as he turned to Rupert to tell him where he was going, he happened to spot a familiar patch of blue out of the corner of his eye, and turned quickly, just in time to see Elyse strolling into the area, happily chatting with some other young women of her acquaintance, even as she surveyed the arena to see who was there. "She's looking for me? Perhaps she's looking to see if I'm still here?" Ahlen's heart pounded in his chest in his excitement at seeing her enter the watching area, and he stood transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away from her, even as Elyse and her friends made their way closer and closer....

Unfortunately things were not all going Ahlen's way, and for all the tension that Elyse's approach had brought she passed by without as much as a glance in his direction. Somehow he had hoped that having made it this far would have drawn at least a smile from the object of his affection. However, it had been luck that had kept him in so far, and meant that he would not have to engage either Roquen, so he intended to make good use of this reprieve to rest up and ready himself for the next leg of the competition, even if he did not get to spend any time with Elyse. Making it into the top 32 was no small accomplishment, but as it seemed that most of it had been because of luck he really knew that his chances were next to nothing as the finals drew closer. Sooner or later he would have to face the best of the Roquen, who obviously had a major advantage over a simple guard of the gate. Still, he bid Rupert good day and headed off for his home.

As he walked a long the pathway he knew so well, Ahlen was surprised to see a few smiles and waves. Apparently a few people were aware of his victory, though it would be a long time before his name would ever have that celebrity status that it would take to attract someone like Elyse. Sighing, Ahlen could only continue on his way, trudging sadly forward and thinking about the hero he’d never be. No one loved the stalwart defender of the city these days, in the times of peace. The people loved the flashy hero in his gold trimmed clothes. Whether he could fight or not was rarely even part of their consideration, for these days’ people judged on appearance and charm, and Ahlen did not stand out in either category. He would continue on in his dreary existence, eternally standing guard for a people who did not even bother to consider his existence. How depressing. Briefly he regretted opting not to take the offered drink that Rupert had suggested.

Soon the plain wooden doorway that served as the portal into his humble abode appeared before him, and without a trace of emotion he slowly opened the door and silently ascended the worn stairs. His room was on the third floor, in a small corner of the house that was virtually impossible to rent out. As such he had gotten a good deal on it, which coincided directly with his own financial status. Save for removing his boots, he did bother to change any of his clothes, but rather sank into the welcoming arms of the sleep that he so desired.

Unfortunately his sleep was anything but relaxing. Images troubled him, the same ones that had filled his mind during his brief period of unconsciousness earlier during the tournament. No longer did the events seem real, but the images seemed almost more vivid than life. He saw the face of the Ranger grotesquely deformed in pain, and heard his voice altered as if he was dying. Then suddenly he saw Elyse before him, her perfect face bleeding and bruised. The ugly faces of her captors awoke murderous thoughts in him, and he only wished that they were tangible so that he might strike out and destroy them. Suddenly Elyse looked up at him, pain filling her eyes. “Ahlen…Ahlen, help me…help me please!”

Ahlen awoke with a start, nearly falling off his bed. He tried to get up, but clearly he had underestimated just how sore he would be the next morning. A glance out the window quickly confirmed that it was early morning, and he knew that with all that was going on this day he ought to get up and get ready. The only problem was that he was not entirely sure he would be able to get up, at least not any time soon. “Why did I let them talk me into this?” Ahlen asked, shaking his head.

Ahlen cursed his suffering and pushed himself up off the floor, shakily at that, but making it. He stretched out his stiff muscles. A knock at the door came and he answered a servant, who had his invitation to the dusk-feast, in honour of the top thirty-two. The jousting for the day would be done at night, by torchlight, and under the stars. "Cute," he said. Actually, though, it gave him an opportunity to rest his weary body.

He donned his best Ranger's garb (though it was hardly nice by most means), and headed off, thankfully leaving Rupert, who did not warrant an invitation, at home. He would be glad to be out of his presence for a bit. Though they were friends, friends could annoy one another from time to time. He worked as an admirable squire, but Ahlen thought more for his own monetary gain than for his friendship.

The feast was buzzing with people, knights and Lord and Ladies, Rangers and Fountain Guards and men of the Citadel, and a few meek soldiers such as himself. Ahlen never really cared for crowds, especially crowds of people who all held a better station than him. He felt awkward, wearing his blacks. A servant showed him to his seat at the long trestle tables, where as he sat, he scanned the bench for Elyse, or her handmaids, but the thing was so long he could not see anyone. Perhaps she was not even at this table, he couldn't be sure.

The King and Queen entered and all paid the proper reverence, though Ahlen's eyes were scanning the room, trying to find the auburn-haired beauty, but could turn up nothing. Biting at his lip, he took his seat again. His table was that of small time lords and some of the other soldiers, and two of the Fountain Guard, who sat at the head and foot of the table. He was near the foot, and the Fountain Guard, Allery Vonce, who was one of the finest spears in the kingdom. He was closing in on the championship in the melee, and had advanced in the joust as well.

He was a noble man of one and thirty, with golden hair in minor curls down past his ears and a light beard across his jaw, the signs of not having the time (or motivation) to take a razor to it. He sat like a king in his chair, and was known as one of the kindest men in Minas Tirith. He looked near as proud and strong as a statue when he stood in the courtyard, with his mithril accented helm and spear. As the first course was served he began conversation at their end of the table, not wasting any time and going straight to Ahlen.

"Ahlen," he began as the servants ladled him a brothy soup, "We've all been very surprised to watch your rise in the joust. I heard the Roquen talking the other day, and they're impressed. They spend so much time knocking each other out, they're cursing their luck as their ranks are thinning. It leaves the field open for the unexpected to rise."

Ahlen nodded as the servant ladled out his soup, "Good luck I suppose," he said humbly, not out of choice, but out of necessity. He should have been flattened thrice over. It seemed luck was indeed his best lance. "A bit of motivation and luck. Just so long as these stiff bones don't give up on me."

Allery Vonce nodded his head as a smirk cross the left end of his lips, "Motivation you say? Trying to impress some lady in the grandstand, I would assume?" Ahlen nearly choked on his soup, visibly, and Allery laughed, as well as some of the others at the table. "I figured as much. My eyes see more than you would think," he said, narrowing his line of sight, in a look that said, "Oh, I already know whom you seek." "Well keep trying, lad, I'm sure that your lady, as well as many others, is quite impressed."

Allery took a drink from his glass. "And if you're suffering from some soreness, you should make your way to the Houses of Healing. They have some hot baths there to loosen up your muscles, and they have some massage therapy for competitors, free of charge," he said with a nod and pointed with his cup." That sly look came upon his face again, "And you might just meet someone," he paused and placed the cup to his lips, "unexpected," and drank.

As the entertainment and festivities of the evening came to a close, Ahlen joined the crowd in standing for a final toast, and then turned to Allery once more. "I thank you, Allery, for your suggestion of the houses of healing, as I am quite sore and weary from the joust. A visit there might do me a world of good, as I'm not exactly used to doing a lot of this, really." This last part brought a wry smile to Ahlen's lips as he said it, and got the expected reaction from Allery, who grinned along with him, though Ahlen suspected that part, at least, of the reason for Allery's grin was due to what Ahlen had not said. He was quite sure that Allery knew his other reason for deciding to go to the healing houses, but at this point, he had made up his mind not to care much what anyone else thought. Allery bowed a bit at Ahlen's words, and replied, "Very good! I suspect you shall find much good there, for both body and soul, and be ready for the next rounds much sooner than otherwise. After all, it's about time to face the Roquen, and you want your form to be the best it can be. True?" Aheln winced, replying, "Ah, don't remind me! I already know it too well!" Allery smiled at Ahlen again, but this time only in kindness, and put a hand on Ahlen's shoulder, as he said, "Well, I am sure you will do your best, and remember, there are now a good number of people rooting for you. You're not so alone, really, as you may think." Ahlen nodded, grateful for Allery's kind words, and with that, the two men bid each other a good night, and went their separate ways, Allery to his own abode, and Ahlen, up to the houses of healing where, as soon as he reached the door and went in, he felt again much gratitude for Allery's suggestion. A warm and welcoming light emanated from inside the house as he entered, and smiling at the healer who greeted him, he lost no time in inquiring about the baths and massages for those participating in the tournament.

It wasn't long before Ahlen was soaking in a large tub of steaming hot water, with plenty of soap and towels at his disposal. The stone floor was warm and had felt good to his feet as he had made his way across the small room, and now, soaking leisurely, his aching muscles were thanking him profusely by beginning to loosen up a bit. He had had no idea, really, of just how badly he had needed this, and was amazed that the severity of his soreness had not truly set in to his conscious brain before this. He had known, true enough, that he was hurt, but now was amazed that he had been able to keep going at all, seeing how tight and sore every muscle in his body seemed to be. How did anyone, even the finest soldier of Gondor or Rohan, manage to do much jousting or lance work with any frequency, without truly hurting themselves?! Settling back, he sighed, but it was a sigh of contentment, not of anxiety. This was what he needed, and he was jolly well going to enjoy it! Maybe now he would be able to get through the rest of the tournament without actually killing himself, or getting killed, if only he were in good enough shape to at least move out of the way quickly enough! Well, he could hope, couldn't he? But for now, just for now, he wasn't going to stew over it, and closed his eyes, intending to just stay in the tub for a while longer. It was at that particular moment, however, that a knock on the door was heard, and a familiar female voice, asking, "Will you be needing anything for a bit, sir? Shall I bring more towels, or a glass of wine, to leave for you?" At that voice, Ahlen's eyes went wide, and his heart jumped into his throat, even as he caught his breath before replying. Elyse! It was Elyse at the door, and she had no idea who it was that was in the room, no idea that it was he. Swallowing hard, he hesitated only a moment before answering, "Umm, well, a glass of wine---that would be very nice, yes. Thank you." And as he heard her soft footsteps going down the hallway to retrieve the requested drink, he brought his hands to his face and closed his eyes once more, with a panicked thought, "What have I gone and done?! How am I going to talk to her, even through the door?! But I have to know---I have to find out what the dreams mean---I have to ask her---maybe she's had strange dreams herself lately?---oh, I don't know! I don't know what to do!" Holding his head in his hands, Ahlen slid down further into the steaming water, and pulled the curtain around the tub even farther, wishing rather that he could just disappear through a hole in the floor, but then, that wasn't happening. He was going to have to face this---face her, rather---the very one he'd been longing to talk to for so long---so why was he so afraid?! After all, at the very least, if nothing else, he had to know that she was going to be all right, and that the strange dreams were only that---strange dreams, and nothing more. This time, his deep sigh was indeed of anxiety.

The door cracked open again before he could straighten anything out, and Elyse came in carrying a small glass of healing wines from the House's stores. She was very cautious not to look over the edge of the tub, and even still, Ahlen shifted a bit to hide himself underneath the water. She placed the glass on the table behind his head softly, and he turned his head to thank her. "Oh," she said, half caught off guard. "You're in the joust, aren't you, sir?" she asked him.

He picked up the glass with his fingertips, using all of his concentration trying not to drop it. His hands were trying to shake, but he was using his willpower to hold them steady. "I am," he squeaked out, not really sure what else to say. "Oh how did I get myself into this?" he thought.

"I thought so. Ahlen of the Fifth Gate? Right?" He nodded his head. "My friends call you Ahlen Luckypants," she said, and he nearly spit out his wine in embarrassment, "but I don't think you're lucky. You ride very soundly. I've been cheering for you the entire time, I think you're really good. . ." she said, blushing, "Oh, listen to me, I sound like a school girl. . ." she trailed off.

Ahlen smiled, not too wide, as to give everything away, but not too small as to seem ungrateful. He chuckled a bit in the tub. "Why thank you," he said with a nod, placing his glass back on the table. "Perhaps I could wear your favour, my lady," he blurted out before he could think twice. Wine didn't go to the head that fast, last he remembered. Maybe he was drunk on her beauty, something was marring his judgement.

She giggled to herself and toyed at the back of her head, untying her hair. It tumbled down across the sides of her face like an auburn waterfall, and splashed upon her shoulders with a soft bounce. She held the crimson sash in her hands and lightly place it on the table. "I hope this will suit," she said, folding her hands across her lap.

He grinned to himself again, "It will suit," he said, nodding in approval.

She smiled back and said, "Your massage will be ready whenever you're done in the tub. If there is anything else you need, just call for me. I'm Elyse," she said. Ahlen didn't hint that he already knew, just watched as she hovered out of the room. Splashing some water on his face as she left, he slapped his cheeks and slipped under the water, completed exhausted from the chance meeting. He would have to find a way to thank Allery Vonce.

A little while later, Ahlen appeared in the hallway, attired in clean linen that had been left in the tub room for his use. Elyse's crimson sash was safely stowed away, great care taken in the folding and handling of it, for he intended to keep it well, and to carry it with him onto the field the next eve. Ahlen hoped just knowing it was there with him would give him some stronger measure of courage, for he was quite certain he would need it! As he glanced around, looking for someone from the house to show him the way to the massage room, he shook his head ruefully, remembering how shaken he had been, even to briefly speak with Elyse. How in the world could he get so unnerved just speaking to her?! Inwardly, he chided himself on his fear, knowing that it would never do to show himself so nervous over nothing. Nothing?! No, not anything, after all--she was beautiful, and kind, and everything that a man could wish, and why should she favour him, after all? But he was so drawn to her, and had no idea of how he could ever stay away, if the opportunity to be around her presented itself. Well, it finally had presented itself, and he didn't want to squander the chance to make a decent impression. As he stood there musing, he didn't see her coming back down the hallway from the other side, and almost jumped at the sound of her voice, suddenly so close to him, as she asked with a smile, "Are you ready for your massage now? You look as if you're unsure which way to go." Ahlen turned to her--oh, how beautiful she was!---and smiled back at her, calming his nerves as he did so, replying, Just so! I don't know which way the massage room is from here, as I've spent so little time here in the past. I don't want to be a bother, but could you tell me in which direction to go to find it?" He almost held his breath awaiting her reply, for he secretly hoped that she would walk with him on the way, so he could talk to her more. To his great joy, which he barely concealed, his hopes were fulfilled when she nodded and said, "I can do better than that, if you like. I can simply take you there. This house is rather large, and I'd not want you to get lost, trying to find the right room. Believe me, others have done just that!" Elyse grinned as she said this, and Ahlen found his heart melting even more, as his grin matched hers. His heart in his throat yet again---how did she always manage to do that to him, he wondered inwardly---he simply nodded his thanks to her, still smiling, and the two headed down the hallway together, Elyse's soft footsteps matching his, with Ahlen trying desperately to find a way to continue the conversation without sounding like a total idiot, as his case of nerves refused to just go away. Oh, how he did not want to blow this chance!

"So Elyse, how long have you been working here?" Ahlen heard himself say as they where walking towards the massage room. Elyse looked him briefly in his eyes. “Well two years ago my father had a seizure. Luckily they where able to help him and now of thankfulness I decided to volunteer to help out. I first started thinking to help out for a couple of months, but I enjoy working here, one day I hope to become a healer, but it is hard work and I have a lot left to learn." Ahlen could not believe how wonderful she was. " But look at me all talking about myself I must be boring you. "Before Ahlen could deny she continued. " So tell me Ahlen, how did you got the idea to enrol in the joust?" Ahlen just shrugged his shoulders. "I was asking myself the same question a few minutes ago."

Elyse laughed and Ahlen couldn't believe how much effect a simple laugh had on his legs who where now shaking. " Well this is it. Your in for a real treat." She guided him in a room with a table. She helped him out of his gown and offered him a towel keeping he eyes fixed on the ceiling and even through his embarrassment he couldn't believe how beautiful she was with a little blush on her face." Thank you Elyse" was all he could find t say. Then it happened, as he went to sit on the table Elyse stood on her toes and gave him a delicate kiss on the cheek. "Now I have to go, but you go and do your best tomorrow, my champion." With that she left the room leaving Ahlen in a bliss. He was still so focused on the warm feeling inside that he barely noticed that the masseuse pushed him down on the table and started with rub his sore muscle.

"Unexpected," said Ahlen raising his eyebrows a bit. The crimson hair-sash was tied around his wrist. He raised his hand, and Allery nodded in approval. "Now all I have to do is not choke," he said.

"Shouldn't be a problem," said Allery as Ahlen mounted up. "You're tilting against an Ehtyar. He's got a good lance, but he's a poor rider at best. He can't manage a shield and a lance at the same time. All you have to do is avoid his stick and pound his shield. If you hit his guard, he'll topple, guaranteed," explained Allery. Apparently he had the drop on all the combatants. Ahlen didn't doubt that for a moment. "Just make sure he doesn't hit you. He packs a punch with that lance, to be sure."

"I'll make sure. Thanks for your help," said Ahlen as he took a lance from the Fountain Guard on the ground.

"I'd expect the same from you," said Allery, and saw Ahlen's horse to the end of the lists, the tilt just about to begin.

Darius Gossard was seething. He was sitting at the window of his tower room which overlooked the courtyard where the joust was taking place. He watched as the jousters were setting up for the day’s first battle when he noticed Ahlen upon his horse. More importantly, he noticed the crimson sash tied around his waist. It was hers! He knew it at first glance and his face went red with jealous rage.
Darius was, in his mind, an important man. He did the books for the stables and the blacksmith on the city's third level. He was a very selfish man who fell out of his family's favour while very young. He moved to Minas Tirith and lived there for 4 years as of last month. He had no friends besides his precious books. His one love, besides book-keeping, was going to the houses of healing for his weekly bath and massage. This was where he met his love (only, she did not know it just yet). Her name was Elyse and she was beauty personified. As nice and polite as she was to him, and this he knew to be true, she was only waiting for his marriage proposal and this he planned to do very shortly. As soon, that is, as he stole enough money from the stables and blacksmith where he worked. Doing the books allowed him to hide the fact that he was secretly slicing a few gold pieces off the top every week.
Now, as Darius looked upon Ahlen "lucky pants", as he heard him called, seeing him sporting the crimson sash which belonged to his Elyse was too much. He never knew such rage was within him, but it burned like a dwarven kiln.
"How dare he?!" He bellowed. "That girl is mine!" His mind began to race. He must put a stop to this and right quick. Then he went a little calm and his face twisted with an evil grin. "I know" he whispered softly thru a toothy smile. "Oh yes, I know what will cure his love of my Elyse."
Quickly, Darius threw on his walking cloak and headed to the streets. In the distance, he could hear the crowd at the joust screaming wildly. He wondered if ole lucky pants was getting lucky again. Well, his luck will soon run out.....completely!
Darious made his way down to the first circle and then through a few back alleys until he found the apartments he was looking for. They were fairly run down compared to most of the city's homes. He went thru the front door and descended the dusty steps to the hall. Three doors down and he knocked loudly.
"Snide!" He yelled. "Get your greasy hide to this door!"
A small, and quite greasy man, finally came to his call. He talked with a very high and suspicious voice. "Greetings master Darious. What brings you here on this day? You're not watching the jousts?"
Darious couldn't contain his anger. "Never mind about that," he snapped. "I have a request." At that, Darious produced a pouch of gold coins. A wicked smile spread across his face. "A very special request."

A short time later, the joust was still going on and the day was still young. Darious Gossard, keeper of the books, was briskly walking down the busy streets towards the contest. With him came a small, hunched over man. The two stopped outside the winery. "Wait here," snapped Darious. He went inside and returned quickly with a bottle of expensive brew. The two then headed to the nearest ally and walked down it for a ways. When they were out of sight enough, Darious stopped and uncorked the bottle. He dumped out a swallow and reached into his pocket producing a small vile of dark green liquid. Smiling his toothy grin, Darious dumped the contents of the vial into the wine bottle and replaced the cork. He handed the bottle to the man and gave him a few gold pieces.
"Now you listen close!" Darious stooped and whispered in the man's ear. "Wait till the contest is over." He said quickly then looked around to see if anyone was close. They were alone. "No matter the outcome you give this to that Ahlen of the fifth gate. You tell him it's from an admirer. Then you leave." He grabbed the small man by his shirt and pulled him close in a threatening manner. "You mention this to anyone," he said thru grit teeth, "and your family will suffer. This I promise." He shook the man roughly. "You understand?"
The man was visibly shaken and afraid, but Darious knew of his greed. "Yes wise master," he answered with a nod. "I wont fail you."
Darious pushed the man back down the ally the way they had come. "Then take your gold and do your deed."
He watched the man disappear into the crowd on the street and laughed to himself. Soon I'll be rid of that rat, He thought to himself, and Elyse will be mine once more!
In the dark alley Darious Gossard laughed out loud.

The lance exploded into a thousand pieces as Ahlen drove it against the shield, turning his body in the saddle. The lance of his opponent scraped off of his chest plate, but the Ehtyar was not so lucky as he was driven hard out of the saddle, and hit the dirt. The crowd gave a cheer as Ahlen came around the other end, tossing aside his broken lance and giving a slight bow in the saddle as he removed his helm. He smiled as he looked out at Elyse, who blushed and whispered to her handmaids.

He came around back to his position, where Allery Vonce gave him a nod of approval, and helped him from his horse. "A brilliant shot," he said, nodding. "She was quite impressed throughout the entire tilt," he said, smirking again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a tilt to prepare for," he said, excusing himself. He was farther down in the bracket. He had closed in on the final four of the melee during the morning, and was hoping to do as well in the joust as well.

The next rounds passed quickly, with Allery Vonce nearly smashing his opponent in half as he rode. By then Rupert had reappeared with no explanation to his absence. It was one of those absences. He helped Ahlen to his armour and his lance, and set him off into the lists again. "Sir. Sir," came a sizzling voice from behind Rupert. He turned and saw a man, with a bottle of wine. "For Ahlen of the Fifth Gate, from an admirer," he said, and handed the bottle off to Rupert.

"I'll make sure he gets it," said Rupert and sent the man away. He watched as Ahlen and his mount burst down the list, and uncorking the bottle, took a fair swig of it. Friends were friends, but wine was wine, and Rupert had an affinity for it. He looked over the label of the wine bottle as he felt a tightness in his throat, and soon, was struggling for breath.

"Help! Helllllp--!" Those were the last words that Rupert would ever utter, as his throat closed tight and the air in his lungs was used up; though struggling hard for more air, it never came, as the poison in the wine did its work only too well, and Rupert fell to the ground, his face going ashen in colour as his body gave up the fight to live. His cries for help had drawn a crowd, though too late, and Ahlen, upon his horse, in the middle of the joust, had no knowledge of any of it until he had finished, the winner once again, and dismounted, suddenly seeing the crowd and hearing the desperate cries of others standing around Rupert's lifeless body. Rushing to where the crowd was gathered, he pushed his way into the middle, and saw, to his horror, Rupert lying dead on the ground, the bottle of wine spilled out beside him. Quickly, some of those in the crowd told him what had seemingly happened, and his face twisted into both rage and confusion, as he tried to understand. Then suddenly it hit him. The wine had been meant for him! Someone wanted him dead, and Rupert had unknowingly taken the wine and drunk some of it before he could pass it on to Ahlen, thereby killing Rupert instead. Tears streamed down Ahlen's face, even in the midst of his rage, and he looked up at the crowd, yelling, "Didn't anyone see who gave him the wine bottle?! Is there no one who saw the person who did this to Rupert?!" Staring at their concerned and horrified faces, it was all Ahlen could do to contain himself, and suddenly, just when he thought he couldn't take it any more, a man in the crowd stepped forward. "I saw a man come up to him, sir, but I don't know who it was. An odd looking fellow he was, rather short and dirty, and if I read the look on your friend's face aright, he didn't know the fellow at all, but was surprised at his coming up to him. The fellow didn't stay---just gave your friend the bottle and left, though it did seem as if he looked back a time or two on his way out of the area. Kind of seemed to have a smirk on his face, too, I thought, though I couldn't be sure." Ahlen listened to the man's words, and knelt down by Rupert's body, his head in his hands, not knowing what to make of it all, when suddenly a soft touch on his shoulder startled him, and he looked up. Elyse was there, tears in her eyes as well, and she knelt beside him, her head bowed for a moment. His heart was very moved at her presence, and he was thankful, more thankful than words could express, that she would come to him now of her own accord. He wished he knew what to say to her, but words failed him, and he only found more tears and more rage building up inside. Lifting her head then, Elyse said softly, "I think I know who might have done this, Ahlen, though I cannot be completely certain, yet." Ahlen stared at her wide-eyed, startled by her words, and his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Elyse put a delicate hand to his open mouth, and shook her head silently. This was not the time, or place, to discuss what she knew. Too many people around, and she couldn't prove what she felt to be the truth of the matter, not just yet.

Taking Ahlen by the hand, she motioned to him to go with her, and led him over a short distance away from the crowd, some of whom were now examining the smell of the wine on the ground, and trying to discern what poison had been used. Elyse put up a warning finger to Ahlen, letting him know of her caution, then spoke quickly and quietly, "There is a man who comes every week to the houses for a bath and massage, and though I have no feelings for him, I've seen him eyeing me, and he always thinks to try to lure me into conversation, though I would just as soon he go about his own business and leave me alone to mine. He is well known by some, and well off enough, I suppose, for himself, though I rather doubt that he comes by it honestly. If you want to know the truth of it, he seems to me to be at the least a scallywag, and at worst, well--I don't know. I have heard him tell others that he does the books for the stables and blacksmith on the third level, but I don't know if that's all he does. His name is Darius--Darius Gossard--and his temper is also well known. I suspect that he has somehow found out about your seeing me, and fancies himself being wronged, though no wrong has been done to him, or to me, as far as I'm concerned. Do not tell anyone--anyone at all--of this yet, as I cannot be certain. It's only a suspicion on my part, but you should be careful, Ahlen, very careful. I believe that wine was meant for you, not for your friend." Ahlen stared at Elyse in amazement, for it seemed that she knew a great deal, or at least suspected a great deal, and had just given him a goodly bit of very important information. Not only that, it was obvious that she cared greatly about what happened to him---to him, of all people! He felt such gratitude, both for her caring, and for the information she imparted to him, but had no idea how to tell her, so he simply reached down and gave her a tender kiss on the cheek, hoping it would not be interpreted in the wrong way. He shouldn't have worried, for a brave smile and upturned face were what he got in return. Gazing down at Elyse, he cautioned, "What about you? Aren't you afraid of him? What might he do to you?" Elyse shook her head, replying, "I don't think he will harm me--at least, if what I think is true, he intends to try to have me for himself, but that means that he will have to ask my hand in marriage first. If that happens, I shall try to stall, to put him off, say I have to think about it, or that I'm not ready for marriage. I don't know, but I shall have to come up with something that will buy more time, so that I can let you know what happened, and then..." Elyse's voice trailed off, and her gaze grew even more troubled, as she gazed up at Ahlen. "Then, I don't know." Ahlen put his hands on hers, and drew her to him a little, replying softly, "Then, we do what we have to, Elyse. But I don't intend to let him kill either one of us, or hurt us. Elyse, I---I---love you." What had he just done?! Out it had blurted, the whole truth! He had n