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Harla's Tale: Heart of Fire	By : NiaraAfforegate Category: +G through L > Lord of the Rings Online, The Views: 2502 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is set in the universe created by Turbine, with permission from Tolkien Enterprises. I have no affiliation with either, and no such permissions. No money is made, and no ownership of LotRO, its universe, or related media is claimed.

Chapter List
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The night was late by the time Harla stood again at the edge of Ost Guruth. Khima had slipped away just beyond the wall, heading towards the common area with the comforting suggestion that she might try some soup in a little while. Harla wasn't so sure, but she knew she should try to get something down. Her stomach turned over again and she paused to take several long breaths. The journey back with Khima had been interrupted abruptly when, despite her best efforts, her mind had flitted back to the details of what had just happened. Maybe she had become jaded to the feeling of violation in general, but what had actually hit her the hardest was when she thought about the water itself... putrid, stagnant swamp water, home to who knew how many rotted corpses and other foulness, waste and decay, and it hadn't just been on her skin; it had been... Harla stopped herself, leaning on the outer wall with one hand and focusing again on taking long breaths. The queasy feeling receded, though it didn't go away.
The first time the thoughts had forced their way through her mind, she hadn't been able to stop the revulsion, or the wave of physical sickness that followed, and even afterwards, with her stomach empty, she'd been reduced to uncomfortable, acidic heaves twice more, before they were finally clear of the swamp. The fresher air had helped, was helping, but there were few cases in her life so far where she had felt so thoroughly unclean. Before the unwelcome thoughts had caught up with her she had joked about wanting a bath, but even if she was sure that bathing wouldn't really help her feel clean again now, the sensible part of her mind was more concerned about the very real danger of getting sick from the ordeal. Much as she was internally dreading going near any body of water again, she had already resigned herself to the necessity of it, and sooner rather than later.
It only took her a few minutes to slip back to where her things were stored and begin stripping out of her armour. Normally she would have set about cleaning it first, but this time doing what she could to cleanse herself of the swamp seemed more important. She set her scale neatly beside her other belongings and laid her shield on top as well as pulling off her gauntlets and boots. She considered for a moment, but decided to take her club with her, at least, along with a spare change of clothes from her pack. The clothes she had been wearing under her armour were still sodden, and even by the spaced out torchlight of the ruined fort, she could tell they had gotten quite stained during the outing. Inside the ruins with the torches and several bright fire pits, it was much warmer than it would be outside the walls, and the night was growing steadily cooler. Sooner out, sooner back. Harla hurried, light feet moving silently now as she made her way back out from the ruins, sneaking past the guards watching the gap in the western wall rather than announce herself. Without her heavier gear, it was easy enough to slip past them unnoticed, but as bad as she felt for not respecting their job as watchmen, she didn't really want to announce that she was going to bathe to them either.
Just past the stables, to the west beyond the small area of carefully tended farm plots, the settlement's water-gather was one of the few sources of clear, fresh water in any direction. It was a partly broken structure, built as part of the original Ost Guruth and fed by a clear water spring, and it served as their lifeline in the otherwise inhospitable landscape. Harla walked around the outer edge, eyes tracing over the ancient stonework in the moonlight. It was the same as the ruins that were lost to the swamp, and built by the same original architects, that much she knew... More than that, though, the history of the place eluded her. She walked on. A second spring, just a little further on, bore no formal structure to it. The first was used for drinking water, cooking, and other essentials, and anyone caught using it for washing or bathing faced a harsh punishment.
The second spring had only the hard ground for its banks, and a few trees growing at the edge of the water, and it was this one that Harla went to. Fortunately, one of the trees around the edge of the spring had a branch low enough that she was able to rest her clean clothes on safely without having to sit them on the ground, but she still paused a few more moments, looking about to be sure no-one had followed her. A chill wind put an end to her hesitating. The sooner she was washed and in clean, dry clothes, the better. In the end, peeling off her soiled clothing and underwear was more of a relief than anything else. She welcomed she sharp, cold water; it might have been freezing on her skin but that was just another thing that made it different from the swamp. She was shivering by the time she had washed properly, limbs trembling from the cold, but she still took the time to make sure she had cleansed every part of her that had been violated by the dark waters as thoroughly as she could manage, twice over. After that, she did her best to wash out and clean her sullied clothes too, but it was only a quick rinse, in the end; her teeth were chattering and her fingers were beginning to feel clumsy.
At another time she might have felt exposed, bare skinned and shivering in the moonlight, but the harsh cold and fresh air, and simply being washed, had her feeling much better than she had been. She was in brighter spirits, despite everything, by the time she shook herself off and passed the dry cloth that she'd brought over her body. She had stepped past the tree that was holding her fresh clothes for her, and the grass under her bare feet was rough and comforting. Once she was as dry as she could manage, she dressed quickly, then hung her towel, and her washed clothes, out on the same branch. They'd be safe until morning, and she really wasn't too concerned that any of the Eglain might see her underwear. Just being dressed in dry clothes was enough to stop her shivers, but she still moved quickly on her way back to the main settlement. By good fortune, she was past the guards by the time her stomach reminded her that it was, indeed, empty. She managed a sheepish grin when the guard turned about suddenly at the sound, and scolded her not to sneak up on him while he was on watch. Now that she was more comfortable, though, some soup sounded like a good idea after all.
One small bowl of soup quickly turned into two, then a proper meal of well roasted meat and a trencher of hard bread. In the common area, Khima played music for the Eglain who asked her, smiling while she sang and danced her fingers across the harp strings. Harla listened as she carefully tended and cleaned her armour, and she was well warmed and more comfortable by the time she finally bedded down to sleep.
Even so, nightmares plagued her. Nothing that she could remember upon waking, any more than that they had been wet, and uncomfortable, and had tasted like blood, but they still left her shaken and unrefreshed. It was only just turning towards light when she gave up trying to rest and dressed quickly instead, taking a walk around the ruins of the old fortress to clear her head. The cool air, the sharp scent of morning dew even in these hard lands, and the coarse feeling of rough, hardy grass beneath her feet did wonders for her mind, but as she was turning back to return the way she had walked, a figure by the wall made her glower. Frideric was talking quietly to one of the guards near the breach in the wall, and she caught herself debating whether to confront him, ignore him, or even to turn around and go a different way.
“A fine morning for a walk, wouldn't you say, Harla? Very refreshing, but sadly, even the greatest of wizards cannot make the world wait upon their leisure. Shall we return?” And then Radagast was walking beside her, one hand on his staff and the other in a relaxed position behind his back. When she looked up, he glanced down and winked, then strolled forward towards the guards. Harla kept pace with him, though he walked slowly enough that she didn't need to walk any faster herself. When Frideric saw them he turned, his eyes passing over her and sliding away again just as quickly to focus on the wizard instead.
“Elsa sent word, in the night. All but the fallen are safe in Barad Dhorn, though many can't be moved further just yet. They're going to hold that outpost until we can get everyone home, but the messengers took supplies back with them, and we'll get some more to them today.” He did sound relieved, Harla noted, but the thought came with another, less charitable one, at its heels. He might sound relieved, but that didn't count for much when all he had been prepared to do was twiddle his thumbs and hope. She kept silent.
“Elsa says the swamp has gone quiet again, and she thinks they won't be in any more danger for now, so long as they stay where they are. Thank you, wizard, for all you've done to save my people.” In response, the old man nodded and smiled softly, but then cleared his throat and glanced downwards to the side. At her, Harla realised.
“There is danger yet in that swamp, Frideric, and I was not alone. Young Harla here was a commendable boon! I had thought to have the company of several of your men to assist me, but fortunately, Harla proved herself to be more than equal to the situation by herself. Quite admirable.” Something of a flicker passed over the other man's face and he looked her way briefly, then back to Radagast.
“Aye, I'm sure. Thank you, Radagast, for taking care of the young lady and making sure she didn't come to any harm out there. I feared the worst, thinking of her going out into a place like that.” The old wizard had been turning away, but now he stopped, a thought passing over his face as he looked to Frideric. Within the kindly, soft features, Harla could see a piercing edge to his eyes.
“Ah, Frideric, did I ever tell you about a man I once met? I was teaching him all about the fairy-wren. Quite a beautiful little bird. Alas, the man had only ever encountered the female of the species, which are all a wonderfully blended motley brown. Quite delightful... you see, it is only the males who wear that very tasteful array of charming blues, but he had never seen one! So I pointed a few out to him. Alas, in the end, he simply couldn't see the wrens I was showing him, despite their bright blue colours, because, you see, if it was not a uniform mottled brown, he simply wouldn't believe that it was a wren at all, no matter how it flew or sang, or preyed upon the tiny insects that wrens so adore. It was quite a tragic waste of a fine man's intellect, I must say. Quite a shame, really.” He smiled again and inclined his head while Frideric stared at him, puzzled by the sudden tangent. Without saying more, he turned and continued on towards his tower. Harla followed him, choosing not to look in Frideric's direction as she passed between the guards. Without really thinking about it, she followed along beside Radagast until they reached the door to the tower, and came up short when he stopped and turned towards her.
“Oh, before we part ways, Harla, might I ask one more thing of you? I'm afraid there is more we must discuss, and I would greatly appreciate it if you could come and speak with me a little later, when you have the opportunity. For now, it would be wrong of me to keep you from a proper breakfast. Take care of yourself, and I shall see you later.” As if commanded to it, Harla felt the tell-tale rumble that agreed with the old man and he smiled towards her once more before passing through the doors and shutting them behind him. Normally, she would have simply followed him anyway, but it was as clear a dismissal as Radagast ever gave, so she turned from the door with the intent of seeking out Hannah instead; the previous day the young woman had been concerned over delays in some of their supply lines, and Harla had seen enough of her inventory recording to know that if she was worried, then it would be with good reason.
It was much later in the day when she made her way back to the keep's tower and slipped inside the great double doors. A night and a day had given her aches and pains time to really make themselves known. She felt bruised and uncomfortable, and the nick in her shoulder would take a while to heal completely, but compared to the previous day her weariness was quite minor. Even so, the lack of proper rest made the stairs up to Radagast's study feel like climbing a mountain. At the top, the wizard was deep in concentration, a thick tome open beside him, along with one of the gaunt-lord's sigils that she had brought him previously. Before him, a ragged-looking raven was apparently doing something that the old man could draw meaning from, because he nodded several times, then thanked the bird. His eyes flicked up to Harla briefly and he inclined his head to her before turning his attention back to the raven.
“Thank you again, old one. Go now and rest, and please, do not imperil yourself any further for this.” His voice sounded even more tired and worn than Harla herself felt but he still smiled as the raven made a strangely human bow, spreading its wings low and touching its beak to the table, before taking wing and flying from the high stone window near the roof of the chamber. Radagast watched it go, then looked back to Harla.
“You have come. I know that your sleep was restless, Harla, and that the trials of the swamp were not kind to you. I am sorry to ask more of you yet. I would have understood if you had needed to rest further.” She wanted to sigh, just a little bit. There was always more to be done, after all, but in the short time she had known Radagast, sometimes he seemed very scattered. First he was worried about how little time there was, and then he wanted her to rest. Instead, she just shook her head.
“I'm fine.” A moment later she looked up and found his eyes properly. “Ah... thank you. For what you said to Frideric. I don't think he'll change, but, I...” Her eyes dropped. “It's hard to get taken seriously sometimes... most times... so... it means a lot.” She ducked her head as he chuckled softly, his voice sounding light again.
“Oh never fear, young lady. I told you that I have not observed the hobbit folk as closely as others of my order, but I know courage and dependability when I see it.” The wizard's warm smile fell away as he returned his gaze to the object on the table in front of him. The sigil of Ivar remained a reminder that the had only pushed him back, despite everything that had happened in the swamp. When he spoke, Radagast lifted one hand to rub at his forehead.
“I apologise, Harla, but I don't know what your people know or believe about the river-maidens. Would that I had Gandalf's knowledge of your culture. I must speak plainly, instead. The river-maidens are Mair spirits, servants of the Valar, just as we Istari are, though different.” Harla nodded once. She knew that 'Istari' was a word that both Gandalf and Radagast had used to mean wizard in the past, but the other terms were a mystery to her. “They protect and care for the waters of Middle-Earth, and all who live by them. One such maiden resides here, in what they now call the Red Swamp... and even Agamuar, though I suspect you will not know the meaning of that name.” Now Harla bit her lip, trying to keep up as best she could. The action was followed by another sharp wince and her hand jumped to her mouth to protect the still-fresh damage. She tried to marshal her thoughts quickly. In the Shire, many didn't even believe in elves, and the things she had seen and heard since leaving its bounds far surpassed the quaint folk tales that existed there. Gandalf was an old man who made fireworks, liked to smoke, and told impossible stories; that was all, to them. That she had since learned that their queer old visitor was an incredibly powerful, magical being had been a fact to stupefy her at first. So, again, she nodded her head to Radagast. River-maiden. Like a wizard, but protected rivers and lakes. That was a concept she could handle. Radagast waited a moment to make sure she was following, then continued.
“Naruhel, she was named,” Harla's ear caught the name as being the same one that Khima had mentioned back in the depths of the swamp. “But she has become corrupted as surely as her waters have been poisoned. It was Ivar's doing, but not without the help of men. So much that was once good has been lost, and corrupted as she is Naruhel will never recover. I was too late to stop it before, but I cannot, will not, allow it to go any further. The Red-Maid, as she is called now, can be redeemed, but Ivar will not allow it so long as his existence continues, and even if he is defeated the process will be taxing and arduous. There will be great risk, even to one such as myself, but Khima's presence here tells me that now is the time to see this deed done. It is a burden too great to place upon anyone's shoulders, but I must ask all the same. Will you help me with this task, young Harla?”
As much as she was still trying to really understand what Radagast was telling her, Harla still felt she grasped the basics of it. More than anything else, though, the thought that the lands beyond the pass might once have been a fair river-way, and the lands around them green and growing... that they might have once been springs that fed the rest of the hard lands around them, too... that it had been turned into that blood-scented, toxic swamp, as defiled and twisted as it was... the thought struck a soft chord within her. The troubles of the Eglain folk were nothing, really. What had been done to the land itself here wasn't right. That was far worse than any menial problems of a harsh life the people living here might face, and if there was any chance at all she could help set that right...
“Of course.”
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Harla's Tale: Heart of Fire