She sat awake all through the night the scent of distant lake Evendim permeating the air. On her lap lay the medal on its thin silver chain. It had been the imprinted coat of arms she was staring at for hours now while the campfire smoked beside her. Sparrow shook her head, the early birds would start their song soon and her decision had been made, it was time to act after its fashion. Silently as not to wake the sleeping she rose, with little more to gather than what she had on herself and watched for a moment with a surge of regret. She would not be missed – too short was the time they traveled together and too little the trust she had earned amongst them, yet, there was something, the far idea of a promise that seemed to linger between them to which a buried part inside herself yearned to answer. She bit her lip as her gaze hovered for a while on the injured man, Fiontann, who had admitted her to join his endeavour despite whatever misgivings he may have held. Sparrow sincerely hoped that he would forgive her leaving in some way. She felt she wanted to find them again one day, but until this day her aim was clear, its draw nonwithstandable. He was not sharing what happened to him or what he suspected to find ahead, so she had to find out herself in the only way she knew - alone. It was the right thing to do. Soft footed she stepped away towards the dark road and kneeled leaving a mark in the earthy ground. If they noted her disappearance Rogue would be able to conclude where she was headed to. Once the camp on the rising hillside vanished from her sight she broke into a steady run.
(The coat of Arms on a silverchained Medal; a relict of the three perished Kingdoms)
The return to the woods was swift, alone she was able to cover great distances and avoid trouble. One night she had to spend once more on the fields, taking cover in an old ruin, terrified of being overwhelmed by dread again. This time no one would be there to slap sense into her nor to watch over her troubled sleep. As a grey morning dawned she wearily slipped on and reached the edge of the Greenway road where she allowed herself a brief rest and assessed the lands.
It was late afternoon a soft light bathing the leaves in orange and red tones. Sparrow found signs of the group’s passage and started to venture deep within the trees to find the single trace that lead away from the prints of many. Her senses were heightened by her stressed uncomfortableness, every few moments she would look up and scan the perimeter before searching the ground again, an exhausting routine that took more time then advisable in dangerous grounds. What she found was not unexpected. The wood had been mistreated for a long period, where she knew trees older than herself once stood proudly there clearings of dirty brown earth now spread. Sparrow swallowed the upset and anger she felt and kept inspecting everything that seemed worth her notice while an increased sensation of being watched hastened her heart beat. She had to find something quickly, she was getting too close to former hunting grounds which meant she was getting too close to the old town itself. And finally she did find it, the rays from above where glinting dark red now, a mood befitting the scenes that were to commence. A carcass of some small wood animal marked the Begin of a path clearly made by canines. The woman’s skin tingled as she followed its lead from shed Warg hairs, to scratch marks in bark and there! – the earth was still disturbed - the site of struggle. She kneeled carefully moving her hands over the ground. Blood, both human and beast dried on rotting leaves. But there should be more, should there not be? Something did not make sense, Sparrow furrowed her brow. There was no sight of human prints leading to and fro except her own. But surely that was impossible. She kept searching the site in detail fully occupied by concentration when suddenly a bird flew out of a nearby tree, its call a warning cry. Sparrow froze, for someone was breathing behind her in the shadows. He was close, so close. Her heart skipped she desperately wanted to fly away like the bird did... paralyzed she prayed to the gods. Of course of course! Gravely she turns around with a fast move and faces nothing but the trees tinged in twilight and the echo of a smile lingering to welcome her back.
With drawn sword she ran through the darkness that was spreading merciless behind her. She had come to a new degree of understanding. He would wait for her to figure it all out, he wanted to meet again when she was able to show him everything she had to offer, nothing less would do for the likes of him - he wanted her to be his true equal. The thought of what this meant was terrifying to the slender woman, but the only path beyond her sorrow was now clear before her. She would encounter him as equal and prove (mostly to herself) that being so did not doom her to his fate, did not bind her forever to the offer of a distorted life that had besmirched her innocence and corrupted her heart. No, she would be a Fateless wanderer instead ever searching ever yearning for the truth. Had she not been running she would have been shaking in the grip of fiery emotions.
A fortnight she spend perusing over tomes such as were to be found in the scattered camps of Kingsfell and in Esteldin, but her reading skills proved a difficulty in transcribing century old history and accounts. What little information she could gather was indistinct and seemed unlinked, yet one thing all her finds had in common – they pointed in the same direction. She was sure someone amongst the Elder at Esteldin would easily find understanding in the writings, it frustrated her immensely to feel both too young to be experienced thoroughly and yet too old to be guarded by innocence. While she busied herself the camp was in a steady tide of arriving or leaving men and women. She made friends with some of them, all fine people, but her mind could not follow their sense of duty with the same discipline - by returning to Esteldin she already had strayed from her set task. How could she look them in the eye? Yet her path was chosen now, there was no going back to Evendim to look for lost trails. She had to find her own way, once more apart from all ties. Over the passing weeks guided by a singular purpose she was riding across the lands in search for more knowledge, preparing and gaining in strength. She retook to her training with arms and by gentle guidance most unexpected began to learn about the ways how to calm a troubled mind. This was her greatest sadness to leave behind, a trust that had been slowly budding for the first time since she came to the Breelands, painful to turn her back to in a way she did not believe herself possible to feel anymore. Despite his name it was him who sparked the first glint of light in her darkened mind, in solitary camps she would bid the stars for his understanding, every night anew.
During these weeks she found herself growing accustomed to the quiet of the wilds. At nightfall of a such a day an urgent note from the dwarven settlement of Othrikar came to find her at last - a stalwart Longbeard who cared for her during her stay warned of the Dourhands stirring. Their purpose unclear took them where she found all her gathered information to point to: Once more her path leads towards the Fields of Fornost, and the ruined capital of Arthedain in its center. She knows now where she will take the post of her next watch. It has begun, for better or worse.
“All things will come together now, everything is drawing its breath. And so I shall be ready too, to strike when my arm is called for. Peace can only lie ahead.” She had no doubt that once she reached the ruins of the city she would already find them there, those she was set to battle against and those that may stand with her seeking to defy their own fate - companions alike herself prepared to walk within the hailing darkness...
(Sparrow pondering the past few months. She is still pale but a curious hint of life has returned to her face.)
