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Blood Pact	By : kint Category: +Third Age > General Views: 1526 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nothing from Lord of the Rings and make no money or profit from this story.

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Blood Pact
--Chapter One--
�. . . .A. . .. .dri . .. . ..e. .. .�
Her hands clasped over her ears, seemingly to block out some undesirable sound or noise. There was no noise to be heard, however, only the wind passing by, trying to steal her hair along on its quest. Her hands left her ears to grab the dark strands back, neatly tucking the locks back.
She hugged herself as she stared out on to the valley below, the thoughts in her head about as concentrated as the long grass blowing down below with the wind. Her eyes stared blankly, raking the barren landscape with her gaze. The overcast skies, the brown prairie grass, the hilled valley, freckled with rocky outcrops . . . these things were nothing new to her. This valley especially, the valley that had been her home longer than she could remember, the valley that held so many memories, so much pain, the valley that still carried her mother�s voice . . .
She had never been one to think of herself as one who believed too strongly in spirits or the afterlife. The thought of life and death itself was a concept too vast for her to want to contemplate. When she had first heard the voice on the wind, she�d given it then to the grief she had been holding in her heart at the time. There was no more grief to be found there, not much more of anything, actually. There was nothing left for her to rationalize with. The voice was there � her dead mother�s voice � was still there, whispering on the wind that came only too often through that lonely valley.
No understanding ever came to her over the matter. She�d never expected any to begin with. There was little about the world that she found that she understood or saw with any real clarity. She couldn�t understand it, no matter how hard she tried. So she didn�t. Her age prevented such knowledge, she knew this. Her short years limited her experience, bound her mind, as was the way with youth.
And Adrie�s purpose, remained vague . . . empty.
- - -
The rocky out cropping that over-looked the valley of her residence was not one that was in any way unique to the numerous others surrounding it, yet it was the very same one that she would return to time and time again. It was the only way she remembered it being.
It was a place that was not far from her home, and caused her no danger in travelling to frequently. The village she lived in was a small, quiet and quaint place. Composed of mostly farmers and horse-breeders; men of the simple trades. The village was situated in the belly of the large valley that turned green in the spring, coming alive with low-lying flora in some places.
The valley itself was in the northern regions of the land of the Horse Masters, according to the elder villagers. Not much of the land�s matters were spoken of, only matters that directly concerned the village and its inhabitants. The Riders � the land�s guardians � would come around at times, bringing news of the Mark. That was the only time Adrie ever heard anyone speak of grander concerns. When the Riders were away, no one spoke of anything beyond their small village.
She moved easily through the long grass, which was turning brown with the lateness of the year, as she approached the small village. She could see her neighbours bustling about, between the houses, stables and storage sheds. There was no lack of chores to be done. Winter was fast approaching, and much still had to be done in preparation for it. No doubt there would be tasks for her as well.
She hurried into the village, heading straight for the stables. It was a small building, but likely the best kept and well managed in the village. As with most of the Riddermark, the people of her village prided themselves primarily of the excellent breed of their steeds. The residents of the building were even better kept; being the primary concern of most of the village, but of one man especially.
She approached the man, Egill, who was at the rear of the stables, turning over the hay of the last stall. The stallion usually resided within it was absent, likely being taken for his exercises by Egill�s son, Ulfr. She hopped up onto the ledge of the short partitioning wall, noticeably startling the elderly man.
�Have any work for me, Egill?� Adrie asked him once he�d seen her, �I�ve been lacking in my duties lately.�
He shook his head, his hand on his chest to steady his erratic breathing. �Nay, child,� he replied breathlessly, �Day�s work is almost done here. Can�t think of much else to be done, honestly.�
�Damn,� she swore quietly, now beginning to regret her visit to the cliffs.
�Where�ve you been all day, anyway?� Egill went on to question her. He did not sound angry, not to her, but more curious.
�The valley cliffs,� she told him honestly, �Looking for maybe a new spot to hunt.� Her reason was embellished. Her pain was personal, not to be shared with those who had long been healed.
Egill shook his head at him, continuing with his chores. �Caution, child,� he warned her, �Danger is quick coming back to these parts.� He paused a moment, freezing before continuing on in a lower voice, �Not that it�s ever left.�
She smiled at his concern. �I am well on my own, Egill,� she reassured him, jumping from the ledge, landing effortlessly on the ground.
�Of course,� he replied, and she was almost sure that he was simply humouring her, �Beorn is wondering when you will be going for hunt again. Says he�s running low on meat.�
Certainly the village�s butcher would be concerned over such a thing. Adrie�s favoured trade was taking the hunt. Not many others in the village were ever up to the task, and she�d learned much in that field from her late mother. Due to such an interest, Beorn, their local butcher, had fast become a friend to her and her mother, taking her under his wing in some respects upon her mother�s passing.
�I will be going on the morrow,� Adrie told him dutifully, a smile playing on her youthful features, �Beorn never has any need to worry; he should know that by now.�
Egill smiled back at her. �You should see Finna before you retire,� he informed her, �She has preserves for you.�
Egill�s wife, Finna, had always been kind to her. Even before her mother had passed. Finna had taken upon herself the role of the community�s matriarch in general. And, though she helped all, Adrie found herself more prone to Finna�s care than others.
Nodding in thanks, Adrie made her way from the stables, a small guilt still playing on her conscience. She was a girl different than the others her age of her own village and the ones surrounding them. The village folk were still caring and supporting of her, however. There was still no denying the fact that she did not belong to these lands as they all did.
After a quick stop at Finna�s home, Adrie gathered all that the elder woman had for her and hastily made her way home to rest. Growing girls needed their rest, as Beorn and the other villagers like to tell her. Especially when they were leaving for the hunt the following morrow.
- - -
The day was fair for the lateness of the year. Though the air was crisp, the skies were clear from the break of day, and the wind was quiet.
Adrie left before anyone else had woken. She had far to go to find any worthy game, and she wanted to be back to the safety of the village before night fell.
At midday, Finna went to the young girl�s home to deliver the preserves she had forgotten to give the girl the previous evening, even though she was aware of Adrie�s absence. When she was on her way to take her son to help her husband in the stables again, she was not the only one startled by the presence of a stranger wandering in the town�s center. She hastily led her son away, along with a growing crowd of others.
The man was tall, and hooded. He was clad in dark, travel-stained clothing, built lightly for quick and easy passage. His items were few, carried in a small travel sack on his back. He was armed with a long sword at his side, and a bow and quiver of arrows on his back.
One elderly man did not see this strange man, due to the large load he was carrying in his arms. He started when the stranger grasped him by his arm, causing him to drop his supplies. The old farmer stared up at the man, confusion covering his wrinkled features.
�Pardon, Master,� his voice rasped from behind his hood.
The old man froze, a brief glaze of fear crossed his features. His gaze went down to the stranger�s hand on his arm, keeping him from going anywhere. �Yes?�
The man�s grip loosened, and he turned his head, as if trying to spot someone. �There is a woman and her daughter somewhere in these parts,� he explained, �She is far older than she looks, and her girl is not more than fifteen summers.�
Understanding became apparent on the farmer�s face, followed soon by a certain sadness. �I know of whom you speak, stranger. A girl, yes, lives here, dark haired and fair features,� he said, �Her house is there,� He pointed to a small house, quite similar to the others, not two hundred strides from them, �She would be out hunting now. Why do you ask?�
The stranger�s gaze shifted to the house, looking upon it for only a moment before turning back to the old man. �And her mother, sir?�
The farmer sighed, shifting slightly before turning back to the strange man. �She�s been living alone for near five summers and winters now. Her mother died.�
The hooded stranger froze, gripping the old man�s arm once more, and throwing his hood back. �You are certain of this?�
The old farmer was not surprised at this man�s reaction, after seeing the pain in his eyes. She must have someone dear to him. The farmer nodded sadly. �I am afraid to say so,� he said, �Everyone in the village was grieved by her death. They were strange to us, yes, but we welcomed them as such. So lovely they both were, arriving here. It�s true, her mother was strong, and a gifted hunter. The girl inherited so much. When her mother passed, we helped Adrie as best we could-�
�Adrie?� the stranger interrupted him, seemingly perturbed by the name.
�Yes,� the old man replied, �It is the name her mother called her by, and so, we all do.� The old man examined the stranger�s disturbed, saddened gaze. �It seems, stranger, that you should be privy to such knowledge. I might be a peasant but I am no simpleton. You are a kin to her, I can tell so much.�
He smiled briefly, nodding to excuse his reaction. �I have only ever known her by another name, it startled me.�
The old man nodded in understanding. �There is nothing to excuse. I know her mother�s death must be of some gruesome surprise to you as well. I am sorry you had to hear of it in such a manner.�
The stranger adverted his gaze, once again examining the small village. A moment passed before he turned back to the old man. �Thank you sir.� He said quickly and quietly, before moving on.
- - -
�You brought back quite the catch I see!�
Adrie grinned at Beorn as she laid the animals across his work space. It had not been a bad day for her hunt, but nor had it been great. She was satisfied with her accomplishment; the meat would feed a few for a few days. She had managed to snare a group of fair sized rabbits, and had come across a small fawn that she�d felled with an arrow.
�It was not a bad day,� she admitted breathlessly, her fatigue evident on her features. She was glad to finally be able to go home and relax until morning.
Beorn nodded as he examined the kills, counting exactly how much she�d managed to bring in. �My goodness, girl,� he shook his head, �It still baffles me how in the hell you manage to hunt so well.� He looked up at her with a wide grin. �Yer mum taught you well.�
Adrie smiled back at him bashfully, blushing at his compliment. �Thanks, Beorn,� she muttered, �Think I could get a share of the fawn when your done with it. It�s been a while since I�ve eaten any meat but rabbit.�
He chuckled at her. �Will do, girlie,� he laughed, �Ye just go home and get some rest. Growing girls like you need it. �Specially when they�ve been out on the hunt all damn day!�
She nodded in agreement, turning to leave, laughing at his paternal care.
�Oh, one more thing, though!� Beorn shouted after her, stopping her before she left.
Adrie turned back, questioning the man with her gaze.
His face was slightly more sullen, he�d begun sharpening one of his blades. �Thrydn came to me earlier this day,� he explained to her, �Said a man had come �round, asking �bout you and your mum. Not two hours past noon. Tall, dark, wandering type.�
Adrie froze, startled to hear something of the sort. She, in all honesty, did not know what to think. Part of her was frightened that someone was searching her, specifically, out. Another, stronger part was dangerously curious.
�He said the man meant no harm, and didn�t appear to either, but thought you should know anyway,� Beorn continued, starting in on one of the hares, �But, be careful. Either way.�
Adrie nodded stiffly, her previous jovial mood now dampened. She gave the butcher a quick departing smile, and left his shop in haste. Her feet hit the ground hard as she hurried to reach her home. Her nerves were more than a little on edge. It was one of the habits her mother had unintentionally taught her over the years. For longer than Adrie could remember, her mother had never liked the thought of foreigners arriving in or even around the small village, though they were foreigners themselves. It was for good reason. The last time anyone strange had showed up . . .
She slammed the door to her small home open, immediately throwing her hunting weapons to the floor in distress. Thoughts of her mother�s death always did this to her. It was ridiculous; it had been five years! Her frame fell to the floor in dismay, heavy breathing betraying her into sobs. She did her best to stem the oncoming tears, but it would be in vain. It always happened like this. . .
Her eye caught a movement in the corner, and panic surged through her entire being. Her senses were suddenly on high alert, noticing, for the first time, the dark figure in the corner. She had no time to think of why it was there or how it arrived, but only time for acting. She bolted for the door, only a few strides from her.
The man � or what she thought was a man � was quicker than she. He had reached the door first, and moved into her way. His hood was up, hiding his face from her, but she could still tell this man was not one to be challenged nor reckoned with. For a moment, she might have thought him to be of the Riders, but knew that would not be so.

She diverted her attention then, instead racing for her discarded weapons on the floor. With a quickness that surprised even her, she had knocked an arrow onto the strong of her bow and had it aimed at this strange man, instantly stilling his motion toward her.
�Who are you?� Adrie demanded aggressively, her lungs heaving from the adrenaline, �Why are you here?!�
She could almost sense, if not see, the smile he wore. �Do you honestly think that you would win against me, girl?�
She snorted at him in response. �It matters not,� she declared, �This is my home. I�m armed.�
His movements were quicker that what she could see. She heard the sharp sting of metal, felt the blade against the arrow she held aimed. A moment later, the arrow head lay abandoned on the floor, and the man, holding an unsheathed blade at his side.
Startled, and more than a little frightened now, Adrie dropped the bow and what remained of her arrow. She held her arms up in forfeit, hoping that if he meant to kill her, he would make it quick. �Wh � what do you want?� she stuttered, backing up, further into her home.
The man removed his hood then, revealing his face to her. He, too, held up his free hand, as if surrendering to her. �I am not here to hurt you,� he reassured her calmly, and due to some strange change, Adrie found herself believing him.
�Then why?!� Adrie was a little more than upset then. She frightened, relieved, curious and angry all at once. It was hard to decipher between the emotions this man brought to her. There was something about his face, the way he talked, it was all too familiar to her. . .
�To protect you from those who would,� he replied, his dark eyes shining in the dying fire. He must have lit one when he arrived, as she was always careful to put hers out before leaving.
Adrie stared at him, furrowing her brow at him, confusion setting over her. �Who would want to hurt me?�
�It is not the time,� his reply was swift as he suddenly moved forward, grasping her by her shoulders, staring her hard in the eye.
Moments passed as Adrie found herself transfixed by this man�s gaze. It comforted her, her previous turmoil now begin to fade. She believed his claim of wishing to protect her, she could see the truth in his eye. �Who are you?� she asked again, her voice calmer now, quiet and composed, �Why would you want to protect me?�
He sighed through his nose. He smiled quickly, before letting her out of his grasp. �I knew your mother,� he answered her.
She stared up at him. Many people had known her mother. Of course, her mother had had an entire life before these plains. Adrie had always known that on some level. This man must have been someone close to her mother to want to protect her daughter; a bond that must have been in place by birth. His face was so familiar, and expression so similar to the one her mother always wore. Features so close to the ones of her mother, dark eyes, dark hair, a stately tallness, all just like her mother�s.

�How did you know my mother?� Adrie asked of him, her voice slow, careful.
The man let out a slow breath, pausing to gather his words. �She was my older sister,� he told her carefully, �Born to our parents, Arathorn and Gilrean, not three years before I.�
Adrie froze. Her mind was almost numb from shock. Never had she ever known anything of her family beyond vague memories and her mother�s words. And her mother had never mentioned anything of a sibling.

She gazed up at the strange man, examining his features closely. There was such a similarity between him and her mother, that Adrie was inclined to believe him without question. His words, so genuine, his eyes told her no lie, either. She drew in a deep breath at last, turning her gaze to the floor, so that he would not see the gleam in her eye.
�She�s dead, you know.�
The words left her mouth without effort. She had to tell him. If this man was her mother�s sibling, then he had the right.
�I�ve heard,� he sighed, the emotion thick in his voice.
Adrie turned her gaze back to him, her heart suddenly aching for him. �And you never got to say good bye.�
�No.�
There was a long and thick silence between the two of them. Adrie did not know what else she could say or do to comfort him. Her own pain was great, but she could hardly even comprehend what it would have felt like if she had not even been able to farewell her mother. The quaint grave that had been made in her honour, by both Adrie and the village folk; even they had been given the chance to say their final farewells. This man, her brother, had not.
There was still one thing she could do for this man, so that maybe he could gain some closure over his sister�s death. Adrie was careful with her words, as to not tread inconsiderately over fragile territory.
�Would you like me to take you to her?�
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Blood Pact