The shield maiden of Rohan had journeyed naught but a short accord by her own reckoning, when a voice came to her across the expanse. It was harsh and grating to the ear, but to one thus abandoned, it came as but a bitter balm. Dernhelm glanced behind herself at the pair of warriors that approached her. They were clad fully in white armor save for swaths of blackened hide, the snow painted sheets seemed as plate but yet more fragile, and their faces were hidden fully by their marbled helms. One of the warriors held aloft a black device, his stance harkening a crossbow, though neither string nor quarrel were visible. The other bore a spear, though it was clearly ensorcelled, for its end sparked and crackled like a violent fire in a strong wind.
“I said down on the ground!” spoke the first again, his voice rough like slate on stone, “on your knees or I shoot now, Camelot scum!” he gestured again with the strange crossbow, and Dernhelm turned fully to face the two strangers.
“Do you think he’s a prime?” the second warriors spoke, his voice being so akin to the first that they were like as brothers to Dernhelm’s thought, “He’s close enough to the fountain he might have just got here!”
“Or, more likely he’s a spy, those Cammie cowards know they’re losing control here in the Nexus, they’re getting desperate. I SAID ON YOUR KNEES!” the first barked, taking a step forward, his device held prominently and demanding attention. Dernhelm paid it no heed, for the wroth and pride of the sons of Eorl was newly kindled in her and she drew tall and unyielding before the empire’s soldiers.
“I kneel only before my lord and liege.” She spoke, and her voice was deep and harsh, “I warn you now, you will fare poorly if you seek to make me bow under another banner.” She stared down the two warriors with mailed bracers clenched into fists, but there was an evenness and peace to the Rohirrim that quailed their spirits.
“Yeah, I’m not taking any chances!” shouted the first warrior, a brilliant bolt of lime magic blazing forth into the shieldmaiden, rending the mail hauberk and scorching flesh. Dernhelm staggered backwards under the magic’s assault, but then with grave malice bore down upon her foes.
“Crap! He’s a prime!” the first warrior shouted, then cursed as his mechanism betrayed him at the last, its trigger catching fast and firm. The second warrior interceded, but Dernhelm wrested the crackling spear from his grasp. Weapon in hand, the two foes were swiftly felled. Dernhelm discarded the ensorcelled spear in disgust, then sank to one knee, the full power of her hurt becoming known. The danger past, the loss and sorrow of her state returned to Dernhelm’s brow, and in truth later she could not recall with certainty how long a time passed before she was found once again.
“Are you indeed a prime?” another voice asked, and Dernhelm turned and beheld a man even as she, with mail and helm, though the blazing visage of a sun upon his shield was unfamiliar to the daughter of or Rohan. She did not respond to him at first, but the testament to her power still lay and her feet, and the soldier of Camelot was of no mind to press one upon whom the wrath of the unknown assailed so heavily.
“My lord, Prime?” he asked at length, when Dernhelm did not answer him, “I am Tethoril, cleric in service of Pelor the sun god. If you are willing to come with me I assure you we can explain things. You have Lord Aragorn’s personal guarantee.”
And there from beyond the shadow of despair and loss came anew a light of wonder into Dernhelm, and she nodded. Rising, the shieldmaiden followed the guardian of the Kingdom. The two began a solemn march across the alabaster fields, and for a time no word passed between them, though Tethoril would now and again scan the horizon, his face troubled. The soldier of Camelot kept his peace however, and spoke naught of his misgivings until Dernhelm bid him to speak.
"Er... you were acting in self-defense, lord Prime, but you did attack Imperial troops in the middle of the Nexus. I wasn't supposed to engage in conflicts if I could avoid it, so getting involved here was a risky choice. I just worry that we might run into trouble." his hand rested lightly upon the handle of his mace, and the shadow of doubt was haggard over him. Dernhelm nodded,
"I have no blade nor shield, but if the need should arise for deeds of valour in our journey I shall stand with you nonetheless." the sunlord's priest regarded the rohirrim and did not at first respond, for his mind was given over to other considerations. Dernhelm reckoned this low of portent, and was content to continue the march once more in silence, for many questions weighed upon her thoughts. At length he spoke, though there was a hesitance of tone as one who intrudes upon a moonlit glade.
"my lord, as a prime, you can create for yourself whatever weapons you desire. I have been told you must simply focus on them, and hold them in your mind. Then, through Pelor's blessings, your will shall become reality."
Dernehelm regarded him curiously at this, and did not on the whole trust his claim. Still to have steel in hand within so foreign a realm would be some comfort. Dernhelm set within her mind an image of her blade, and comtemplated the lengths of Hasuhyrne as she trekked onwards. In time, a sphere formed from her plam that smote dernhelm as like to the palantir of Sauruman, though where the itil-stone seemed to eat the light, drawing it down into smoking depths, this gem was resplendant with radiance. Dernhelm's gaze lingered on it but an instant before its splendour dulled, changing form into the familiar hilt of Hasuhyrne, succored away within its scabbard of firm leather. A scant few minutes spent in such contemplation left Dernhelm bearing the armaments of one prepared for battle. Then Tethoril's smile, though still wane, did for a time break through the stormclouds of concern.
"Your efforts are appreciated lord Prime, but I shall hope for secrecy over valour in this journey nonetheless. You have slain warriors of the Empire, and I worry that a price may come sooner than expected for the action."
“I said down on the ground!” spoke the first again, his voice rough like slate on stone, “on your knees or I shoot now, Camelot scum!” he gestured again with the strange crossbow, and Dernhelm turned fully to face the two strangers.
“Do you think he’s a prime?” the second warriors spoke, his voice being so akin to the first that they were like as brothers to Dernhelm’s thought, “He’s close enough to the fountain he might have just got here!”
“Or, more likely he’s a spy, those Cammie cowards know they’re losing control here in the Nexus, they’re getting desperate. I SAID ON YOUR KNEES!” the first barked, taking a step forward, his device held prominently and demanding attention. Dernhelm paid it no heed, for the wroth and pride of the sons of Eorl was newly kindled in her and she drew tall and unyielding before the empire’s soldiers.
“I kneel only before my lord and liege.” She spoke, and her voice was deep and harsh, “I warn you now, you will fare poorly if you seek to make me bow under another banner.” She stared down the two warriors with mailed bracers clenched into fists, but there was an evenness and peace to the Rohirrim that quailed their spirits.
“Yeah, I’m not taking any chances!” shouted the first warrior, a brilliant bolt of lime magic blazing forth into the shieldmaiden, rending the mail hauberk and scorching flesh. Dernhelm staggered backwards under the magic’s assault, but then with grave malice bore down upon her foes.
“Crap! He’s a prime!” the first warrior shouted, then cursed as his mechanism betrayed him at the last, its trigger catching fast and firm. The second warrior interceded, but Dernhelm wrested the crackling spear from his grasp. Weapon in hand, the two foes were swiftly felled. Dernhelm discarded the ensorcelled spear in disgust, then sank to one knee, the full power of her hurt becoming known. The danger past, the loss and sorrow of her state returned to Dernhelm’s brow, and in truth later she could not recall with certainty how long a time passed before she was found once again.
“Are you indeed a prime?” another voice asked, and Dernhelm turned and beheld a man even as she, with mail and helm, though the blazing visage of a sun upon his shield was unfamiliar to the daughter of or Rohan. She did not respond to him at first, but the testament to her power still lay and her feet, and the soldier of Camelot was of no mind to press one upon whom the wrath of the unknown assailed so heavily.
“My lord, Prime?” he asked at length, when Dernhelm did not answer him, “I am Tethoril, cleric in service of Pelor the sun god. If you are willing to come with me I assure you we can explain things. You have Lord Aragorn’s personal guarantee.”
And there from beyond the shadow of despair and loss came anew a light of wonder into Dernhelm, and she nodded. Rising, the shieldmaiden followed the guardian of the Kingdom. The two began a solemn march across the alabaster fields, and for a time no word passed between them, though Tethoril would now and again scan the horizon, his face troubled. The soldier of Camelot kept his peace however, and spoke naught of his misgivings until Dernhelm bid him to speak.
"Er... you were acting in self-defense, lord Prime, but you did attack Imperial troops in the middle of the Nexus. I wasn't supposed to engage in conflicts if I could avoid it, so getting involved here was a risky choice. I just worry that we might run into trouble." his hand rested lightly upon the handle of his mace, and the shadow of doubt was haggard over him. Dernhelm nodded,
"I have no blade nor shield, but if the need should arise for deeds of valour in our journey I shall stand with you nonetheless." the sunlord's priest regarded the rohirrim and did not at first respond, for his mind was given over to other considerations. Dernhelm reckoned this low of portent, and was content to continue the march once more in silence, for many questions weighed upon her thoughts. At length he spoke, though there was a hesitance of tone as one who intrudes upon a moonlit glade.
"my lord, as a prime, you can create for yourself whatever weapons you desire. I have been told you must simply focus on them, and hold them in your mind. Then, through Pelor's blessings, your will shall become reality."
Dernehelm regarded him curiously at this, and did not on the whole trust his claim. Still to have steel in hand within so foreign a realm would be some comfort. Dernhelm set within her mind an image of her blade, and comtemplated the lengths of Hasuhyrne as she trekked onwards. In time, a sphere formed from her plam that smote dernhelm as like to the palantir of Sauruman, though where the itil-stone seemed to eat the light, drawing it down into smoking depths, this gem was resplendant with radiance. Dernhelm's gaze lingered on it but an instant before its splendour dulled, changing form into the familiar hilt of Hasuhyrne, succored away within its scabbard of firm leather. A scant few minutes spent in such contemplation left Dernhelm bearing the armaments of one prepared for battle. Then Tethoril's smile, though still wane, did for a time break through the stormclouds of concern.
"Your efforts are appreciated lord Prime, but I shall hope for secrecy over valour in this journey nonetheless. You have slain warriors of the Empire, and I worry that a price may come sooner than expected for the action."