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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Notes: Harla's chapters seem to be getting longer and longer. Personally, I blame the way hobbits like to talk. I'm sorry, this one is quite long indeed, about a quarter longer than pervious ones. Most people seem to agree that ten thousands words is too much to ask someone to read online in one chapter, so I'll break it into two: if things seem a bit disjointed at the end of part one, here, that'll be why. I've -tried- to find a good break point to split the chapter, but thre's no really good way to do it. Sorry.

Also, This chapter has taggings for NC and Beast, though none of that occurs until Part II: it will be pretty clear when the relevant parts are approaching, so if those are things you'd rather not see, they're easy enough to skip over. This half is pretty clean; I should tag for Nosex instead.

Lots of reads, but no-one has written back anything yet. So sad. Please give a comment or review if you can, any sort of feedback is appreciated.

-Niara

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Reflection: Life of a Bounder (Part I)

The morning was still early when the broken roof of the Forsaken Inn came into sight again, and Harla hesitated on the road, stopping to resettle her pack and look towards it. A part of her still hated the fact that she was even going back there, so short a time after, well, after the previous unpleasantness. On the road she had tried to think about what she would say, how she would handle everything, but nothing had really come. A small part of her was almost looking forward to having it out with the Inn�s regular occupants, and that worried her more than anything else; viciously attacking people was not a good way to do business, but it might come to that if that small part of her mind won over. There was nothing else for it though. She squared her shoulders and started walking again. A job was a job, and she�d sort it out one way or the other.

There was an older man sitting on a rough wooden chain by the front door, whittling at something as she approached. She recalled him from her last visit, but hadn�t paid him any heed at the time. He was wearing the shirt and mark of a watchman, though, she noticed now, and he looked up as she approached. Recognition sparked for a moment and he nodded to her.

�You�re that young lass that was here just a day ago, aren�t you? I heard there was mischief done, and you�ve got murder in your eyes this time around. I�m warning you now though, girl; wronged or no, you start trouble here and you�ll answer for it, understand? Times are hard enough in these parts as is.� He returned to his whittling, unconcerned, but she noticed the heavy, well-kept halberd propped against the wall behind him, and the club strapped to his belt. White hair or not, she didn�t doubt he could wield both still, if he lived out here. She nodded, not trusting herself to respond civilly, and passed through the door.

Inside the Inn, Harla glanced about. There were several drinkers dotted about the common room, but the only people she recognised from her last visit were the serving girl, the house-keeper, and Anlaf himself. The bar-keep tried to mask his surprise as he recognised her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Harla cut him off as she strode across the room towards his bar.

�Brightwood,� She called. �Where is he?� Anlaf raised his hands defensively for a moment, one hand holding a cloth, the other still clutching the tankard he�d been cleaning.

�Easy girl, easy.� He put his hands back down on the counter-top, standing the tankard back with the others. �Aye, Brightwood, about that. Listen, miss� Harla, wasn�t it? Anyway� Candac�s not here right now, and I�m not even confident we�ll see him again in one piece this time. Will you still need to find him if I tell you he doesn�t need any more shouting at? What�s your business?� He eyed her warily as he spoke and Harla forced herself to relax her stance. She hadn�t even realised the tenseness in her muscles, or the angry set of her face, and she smoothed her features with an effort.
�Yes, I would. It seems he�s been a dishonourable bastard in more ways than one recently and I�m here to collect on a debt he owes. Strictly business, I promise.� Here, Anlaf winced and put one hand to his face, failing to wipe away an exasperated expression. He sighed.
�I think I know what this is about then. Look, Miss, you�ve shown up at a really bad time for everyone out here, and I think you need to be filled in on a few things first.� He reached under the counter and took a pull from a bottle. Harla growled.
�Just tell me where he is.�
�It�s not that simple, girl. Look, just sit down and hear me out for half a minute, alright?� She was bearing her teeth again, she realised. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, then jumped up onto the seat of the table nearest the bar, sitting on the table top. Anlaf seemed to order his thoughts. �I know it might seem hard to believe from your point of view, but Candac is, for the most part, a good man, and honest. He felt terrible about� uhh� about what happened the other night and he spent most of the morning cursing himself out for it. I�m not making excuses for him, but the point is, he knows he did wrong, and he�s chewed himself out about it enough already.�
�Get to the point.� Harla folded her arms, and Anlaf wrung his hands, wincing.

�Right, uh, well, anyhow, he was talking about how useless he was being, in these hard times, how even a woodsman�s life wasn�t good enough for him if he wasn�t going to help folk out. He was muttering about his obligations and contracts, and how he wasn�t doing anything to sort them out sitting around the inn here, yesterday evening, and this morning he took that old wood-cutting axe that he�s always kept and left a few hours ago.� He seemed to hesitate over his next words, and Harla tapped one finger on her arm impatiently.
�So where�s he gone then?�
�He normally trades old Arnorian bits and pieces from the Eglain folk that stay here, you see, fragments from the ruins nearby. They can generally look after themselves, and they get the pieces, trade them to him for the things they need, and he sells them on to folk in Bree-town. There�s been too much trouble with goblins lately, though, and they�ve not been able to get at the ruins safely to search. Candac up and left this morning to go hunt for the fragments himself, I think. He headed towards the ruin south of here, used to be called Minas Eriol, I think.�

Harla jumped down off the table, and tuned to leave, but Analf called out, he seemed more anxious than ever now. She turned to raise an eyebrow at his pained expression.
�Understand, Miss Harla, Candac�s no fighter, he�s just a trader, can�t really wield a weapon or look after himself at all. He�s smart enough to stay away from the goblins, but there�s wolves and worse out there, and he�ll get himself killed, the way he was acting before he left. I know it�s a lot to ask from you in particular, right now, and he might be dead already, but if you find him in one piece, just try and get him back here that way? We don�t get a lot of custom, and even if you don�t care for the man, his coin�s as good as any, and more offered than most. He�s a good man, most of the time, I swear it.� Harla shook her head, grimacing.
�I�m going after him, but no promises.� She left the inn as briskly as she�d entered, walking quickly, and trying not to stamp her feet.

That much might have gone worse, she admitted to herself as she crossed the road and headed towards the gap in the hills to the south. There was an old, dusty path that most likely led to the ruins in question; she could see the broken tips of masonry above the hills in a few places. Others had been watching her warily, true, and Anlaf had seemed almost frightened, though she wasn�t sure why, but she hadn�t drawn her weapon, and that was a positive at least. She hadn�t realised how angry she was at the whole situation, though, and however much she might tell herself to remain calm, it wasn�t likely to cool until everything was sorted out one way or the other.

It was another twenty minutes until her path came to a junction; one way, straight ahead, leading up to the remains of a well constructed gateway arch, while the other veered off to her left, over a hill, towards a more dilapidated section of ruin. She hesitated for a moment, wondering which way she ought to check first, and was about to head towards the archway when a panicked shout reached her ears from the other path. Her feet were running in an instant.

There wasn�t enough time to take in everything as she crested the hill, but her eyes picked out the important features. In the valley below her, Candac Brightwood was backed towards the hillside cliff, turning back and forth with an old axe wavering in his hand. About him, several wolves prowled menacingly, picking their moment. One jumped forward, then retreated again as he spun towards it, while a second leapt up from the other direction, clamping its teeth onto the hand holding the axe. It dropped as he screamed in pain, twisting and falling back, just as the third wolf leaped forward, aiming for his neck.

Its teeth crunched onto the edge of Harla�s shield instead and she thrust back with a yell, throwing the creature away. A quick swipe with her club knocked the one biting his arm clear and she readied her shield again, safely between Brightwood and the wolves now. The man had shuffled back against the rocky wall, too shocked and scared to get to his feet again. He cradled his damaged wrist close to his chest and looked up at the back of the small hobbit that had saved him.
�Wha� How? Where did you��
�Shut up.� Harla snapped as she watched the creatures. These weren�t starving scavengers, this time. This was their territory, and trespassers were food. One rushed her from the side and she deflected its momentum enough to turn and bring her club down on its head with an audible crunch. The corpse slid and twitched for a moment, but she ignored it, eyes on the remaining two. As one of them turned its face back towards Brightwood, behind her, she lunged forward, swiping her shield out wide enough to made it back off and watch her again. The other rushed in behind her, and she spun, sweeping her club low and fiercely. It connected with the wolf�s forelegs with a crack, and she felt the bone break or dislocate. There was a yelp as the creature crashed to the ground and she crushed its skull as well before it could regain its feet.

The third wolf backed away, snarling, then after a moment more, fled, disappearing into the ruins. Harla didn�t put up her club right away, but stood straight again and turned to Brightwood. His arm was bleeding, but not as badly as it might be if the teeth had hit anything vital.
�You�re a bloody stupid man, as well as an honourless swine. On your feet.� It was a few moments before recognition dawned on the man�s face but, as it did, he seemed gripped by a whole new kind of terror. He pressed himself harder back against the wall, seemingly trying to sink into it and disappear. His mouth worked for a moment, stammering, before he managed actual words.
�Y-you� what are... how are you here? You, you saved my life! Why? Why would you do that, after I� After� Oh, light, I�m sorry! I� the others� Anlaf said you felt wronged, and abused, and I� I didn�t think, I just��
�Enough!!� Harla�s shout silenced his profusions. He flinched instead, hiding his face from her. �I�ve got business with you, Brightwood. You owe an altogether far too sheltered and innocent lady in Bree some old relics that you�ve not delivered to her, and I�m here to see you do, that�s all. Now in all your blundering out here have you got the pottery yet or not?� The man blinked and swallowed as he nodded.
�Lily, Lily Sandheaver. I�ve got an arrangement with her, yes. I managed to get everything I promised her, here in my pack. I was going to head back when they cornered me. Look, please forgive me, Miss Harla, I should never have�� He started again and Harla shut her eyes, trying not to grind her teeth. It was pathetic.
�Just get up.� She managed. Nodding mutely, he began to recover himself, pausing to pull a roll of fabric from his pack and bind his arm. As he stood at last, Harla turned back towards the entrance to the valley. Hopefully he would remain silent for the walk back.

She had only taken a step as a heavy weight struck her hard from behind, slamming her forward into the dust. There was a growl as she rolled over defensively, trying to pull her club free, and her eyes registered the snarling maw of a warg inches from her face. If not for her armour, its first strike would have torn her back open, and now it was going for her throat instead. One hand pushed back as fiercely as she could against it, but the beast�s weight was pinning her back to the ground as it loomed over her. No! Every sense in her mind screamed against it. She could hear her own harsh cries as she gave up on the club, trying desperately to throw its weight off her with both hands now. A paw was digging into her collar bone as it forced itself down on her, snapping and snarling for her throat. One of its hind legs stepped down hard on her thigh as her panic rose. Never again. Never! She could feel hot, scared tears on her face as she struggled and kicked wildly, at last managing to get a foot between its body and hers. She shoved away with the foot once, then aimed a kick at its groin as hard as she could. The creature yelped and flinched away for a moment, and she darted her right hand down to her belt long enough to pull out the knife she kept there for daily use. Still struggling to hold him away, she drove the small blade into the warg�s side, pulled it out, and thrust it in again, and again. She kept stabbing until she felt the creature weaken enough for her to throw him off. Harla scrambled to her feet in an instant, dropping the knife in order to pull out her club and leap at the beast.

Her first blows probably didn�t kill it, but a dark rage had overtaken her and she kept swinging, wielding the club fiercely with both hands. The warg�s yelped cries stopped swiftly, but she didn�t slow, smashing her club into the corpse again and again in her fury, destroying every recognisable part, until the mess that was left could barely be called a corpse at all. When there was nothing left to destroy, she spun around, panting and snarling. Candac cowered from her, a short distance away, frozen in terrified shock.

�You bastard!!� She barely recognised the shout as her own voice. �Get out of here now before I turn your knees backwards you bloody Orc-Fucker! Go!!� He fled, running for the valley entrance as fast as his legs would move. Harla was trembling, out of breath as the rage burned its way through her. She sank to her knees, then onto her hands in the dust, heaving sobs as she tried to breathe.

Her tears made a dark stain on the dry ground. It was just like before, even though she had killed it first. That same look of shock and fear in other people�s eyes as they looked at her. One hand curled into a fist and she punched the ground as she cried, tears filling the drained void left by her fading anger. The first time she hadn�t been so lucky, either. The first time, she�d had to flee the Shire forever just to escape the shame.

It wasn�t so long ago, really; only a few years, but, looking back, she had been a much younger hobbit all the same. Life had been better, up to that point. She�d been sorting out her life, and making friends again. Even if she had been sleeping around without a solid suitor, and acting, more or less, as a �practice� girl for several different boys, she�d also learned that there had, almost always, been someone to fill that role, and most folk that knew her had simply gotten over the fact after a while.

It had been at one of her regular afternoon teas with Gammy Proudfoot, up at Scary, that the question had finally come up about what she was going to actually do with her life, since she was pretty much grown, but hadn�t taken up any trade, as such. Living wild in the Shire had been all well and good, in its way, but the more accepted and social she became amongst grown, adult hobbits, the more she�d found a small, nagging part of her wanting to settle in properly. After all, a wild, homeless child was one thing; a wild, homeless woman was quite another. Earning her keep, in some way, as a hobbit of the Shire, would solve that, so she�d been told, and so she�d cautiously approached old Bodo of the Watch about signing up with the Bounders.

She�d been very surprised by his enthusiasm, and he�d signed her in right away, all the while chattering amiably in his old-hobbit way. He�d been hoping she would sign up, in fact, for many reasons; she had a good arm, so he�d heard, and wasn�t afraid to stand her ground when right and decency were at stake. He�d known her reputation on that score, but had said it anyway, and meant it, with an honest face. She also knew the shire all over, from her wandering about, better than most individual hobbits could claim, certainly, and he was sure that she�d be an asset to the Bounders, and couldn�t wait to put her talents to work. He�d said that, too, in honesty, with no hint of leer or innuendo at all; just a pleased and amiable smile on his face. She�d smiled back, feeling that warm sense of genuine happiness that she experienced so very rarely.

Life in the Bounders had been good to her, too. Oh, of course, most of it had been running letters when the quick-post failed, or sorting out trifling little disputes. But between the carrying messages or delivering pies to order, there was usually time for a short chat and maybe a cup of tea, and possibly a small bite to eat along with it. She did border work as well, though, and while it was pleasant enough most days, that was where the trouble had started.

The wolves around the bounds of Budgeford had been making quite a commotion lately. They�d been howling all night, and roving further from their den grounds. Normal losses aside, some farms had reached a point where their livelihood was threatened now, and something needed to be done. Harla looked at the short sword in her hand. Her club was still hanging by her belt, as always, but today she�d been sent out to cull some of the wolf population to help quieten things down, and a club wasn�t really the best choice of weapon for killing. She grimaced. Part of why she liked clubs was because it meant you didn�t have to kill what you fought, but sometimes duty demanded it.

Her shirrif-captain had given her the sword at the same time as the assignment; he�d looked almost apologetic as he�d explained the problem. She squared her shoulders and approached the den grounds, wary. The wolf pack had lived here for a long time, many years at least. She could remember a time when the caves had been empty, and the ground between still green, but that was a distant memory to her. Still, they were driving some of the Budgeford farms out of their livelihood, and it had to stop.

It was midday and the wolves were all sleeping in the shade of the caves, with a single sentry that seemed to be watching one of the large Yale-flies flitting about a distance down the hill, its back to her. She�d approached with the wind in her face, just to be safe, but as she crept forward to count, she was surprised to find the pack number was no larger than it had ever been. There were about six grown wolves, that she could see, as well as two younger ones, not yet at their full maturity. Surely this pack alone wasn�t causing all the trouble that had been reported. It could, yes, but it didn�t need to, and wild animals seldom did anything in the order of hunting and killing that they didn�t need to do. What could have whipped them into such a frenzy of late? It didn�t matter though, in the end; she had her orders, and the pack had officially outstayed its welcome now. She struck fast.

The sentry died first before it could give any signal, though the sound of her kill roused the other wolves anyway. She stabbed two more in quick succession before they were up, then readied her shield and jumped back as the others quickly tried to encircle her. The two youths rushed her right away and she stepped aside, skewering one through the ribs with her blade, before freeing it quickly to make a sweep at the other. It dodged back out of the way, but the others were co-ordinating with each other. Two came in from each side, while a third made a quick circle to get at her back. Harla darted towards one, bashing it head-on with her shield before stabbing forward, down through its neck to the heart. Teeth clamped onto her arm as she did and dragged her down to one knee, but they couldn�t pierce the scale metal. She brought the edge of her shield around to strike the creature in the face and her arm came free, just as the third pounced onto her from behind. As she went down, she rolled over onto her back, freeing her sword in the process as well as swinging her shield arm hard with the roll, so that the wall of metal struck the third wolf with enough force to spin it around. The remaining youth tried to pounce on her while she was prone still, but her sword came around as it leapt, cleaving its head almost cleanly from the rest of its body. She carried the stroke into a further roll, scrambling up in time to avoid a low lunge from one of the remaining wolves, before stepping to the side and ending its life with a quick stab. She stepped forward to meet the one she had repelled, swinging her shield in a downward arc across her body, so the flat struck it on the head. It was dazed for a moment, and she pushed her blade cleanly into its chest.

And then it was over. Harla was panting as she glanced at the carnage around her, the whole pack slaughtered in less than a few minutes. More than a little disgusted at herself, she pulled off a gauntlet to raise one hand to her mouth, swallowing the taste of bile. Killing for defence was one thing, but this had not been defence, no matter how she tried to word it to herself. As she was trudging out of the den, a howl from the ridge sent a chill down her back. That was no ordinary wolf howl, she was sure of it. She turned, pulling her shield off her back quickly, and looked up to the crest of the ridge. A beast was there, russet fur standing out against the pale rocks. At first she thought it was another wolf, but it was much larger, and sturdier. It howled again, then stared at her, and she could see its eyes. They blazed and glowed brighter than any wolf she had seen, and there was an intelligence there; hot, and clever and angry. The creature snarled at her, teeth bared in a hideous, sharp-fanged grimace, and watched. She could see the eyes, not only watching her, but seeing, and knowing her, remembering her face. It made her shudder. The creature leapt down to the ground nimbly, standing by one of the wolf corpses. It sniffed at them, looking over the stabbed and mutilated forms, then back to her. It bared its teeth again, and she heard sound, voice, though every thought told her it couldn�t be.

�You did this, rat, and I will kill you for it.� It growled and snapped its jaws once after it spoke, if it truly had, and Harla raised her sword. Its eyes scanned over her, measuring, and then, after a moment, it turned and ran, disappearing down the hill and north, towards the woods. Harla took a deep breath, then backed slowly away from the dens.

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Harla's Tale: Heart of Fire