The aftermath of a conflict...

Short stories, maps, bios...it all goes in here.

The aftermath of a conflict...

Postby Haelewulf » Fri May 25, 2007 4:23 pm

**Edited slightly in light of new bio info ;) **

Haelewulf sat gazing into the dancing flames of the blazing campfire, his expression brooding. “Was it the right thing to do? It certainly seemed… I mean, I could hardly stand by while… I had to! Didn’t I?”
His father Phindor threw another log onto the fire, a wry grin on his face. “Why dost thou ask me? Thou knows as well as I that thou wilt forever charge head-on without much concern for consequences or the grand scheme of things.”
Haelewulf grimaced. “I wish I could argue against the accuracy of that statement.” He twirled a small stick between his fingers absently. “Nevertheless, he shouldn’t have hit him. The boy was a fool, to be sure, but he was trying to do the right thing.”
Phindor raised an eyebrow. “Thou art sure of that, then?”
Haelewulf nodded decisively. “Aye, Father, I am. You should have seen him in the Pony… he was distraught, and had no idea what to do.”
Phindor leaned back from the fire, satisfied that there was sufficient wood to last the night. “And what didst thou do? Thou becamest involved.”
Haelewulf looked across the leaping flames. “Got involved? What do you expect, Father? I’m part of the Company now… and I’d like to think that they are my friends as well as compatriots…”
Phindor closed his eyes. “Be wary of thy emotions, son. They will be thy downfall, and worse, the downfall of those around thee unless they are held in check. Thou rodest to Combe last night, not just to defend a supposed friend and to uphold a principle, but ready to strike down the leader of your Company. An Elf, no less, and the Black Thorn himself, what's more!”
Haelewulf looked away, shame colouring his cheeks, realizing the enormity of what might have been. In an instant, though, his eyes leapt back to his father’s closed lids, defiance beginning to raise its head once more in his demeanour. “Do you say then that the Elf was right to strike the boy?”
Phindor’s eyes snapped open again. “Of course not, thou young fool. But to make a scene in front of the rest of the Company? And women, no less! In a public house? Have I taught thee nothing? Thou must realize that in blind pursuit of this one principle, thou might have done more grievous harm to the Company than an ill-judged blow! You were prepared to offer violence to the leader of your Company… in view of those he leads. What then? What if his emotions had been as ill-controlled as thine own? One of you might be dead… and over what? If thou hadst killed him, what would it have proven? And if he had killed thee… and believe me, laddie, he would have. Thou hast sparred with the Elves of Elrond’s household… and they have had the best of thee, and even they speak of Lirandel's prowess with respect.”
Haelewulf sighed. Rising to his feet, he casually flicked the twig he had been twirling into the fire. Turning away from the warm glow, he gazed up at the formidable stonework of the Last Bridge, where they were camped. “It is well, Father… The Elf refused to be drawn into conflict. We parted amicably. Indeed, by the time I rode from Combe, it seemed that all was as it should be.”
The older man rose to stand beside his adopted son, resting a calloused hand on his shoulder. “Then take care such an incident does not happen again.”
Haelewulf turned back to his father, his customary good humour returning. “He did tell me some odd things about Felaion, however. Apparently his cowardice caused his father’s death, or some such…” Haelewulf shrugs, moving back to the fire. “I didn’t see what it had to do with anything, but the Elf seemed to think it most important.” He looked back at his father, who was standing rooted to the spot. “Father?”
The older man’s voice was strained. “It is… nothing, son.” Phindor turned back to the fire, a strange glint in his eye. “We must break camp early tonight, my son. Convey my regrets to master Elrond, but I must turn back to Bree. I have… business that has suddenly come to my attention.”
A suddenly wary look crossed Haelewulf’s face. Whenever Phindor dropped his unusually archaic fashion of speech, it was because something big was on his mind. “Is something the matter?”
Phindor forced a smile. “Nothing for thee to worry about, youngster. I’ll send word once I have achieved that which I set out to do.”
Haelewulf nodded. “Very well… I ride for Rivendell, then, Father. Be safe, and farewell!”
Phindor watched the dark shape of his son disappear rapidly into the shadows of the Trollshaws. Narrowing his eyes, he began to break camp, systematically eliminating all signs of their stay. A Gondorion whose cowardice had led to his father’s death? A “farmboy”? It could be nothing… but he owed it to Curubor to find out one way or another. He just had to hope that Haelewulf didn’t find out anything before he, Phindor, had decided what to do…

**And the plot thickens... ;) **
Last edited by Haelewulf on Fri Jun 01, 2007 1:06 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Felaion » Fri May 25, 2007 4:31 pm

Uh-oh...
Master Vagandro Rist - Jedi Sage & Diplomat
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