Friend or Foe

Thus far Boraden’s trek south had not been a very pleasant one. There was more than a little animosity toward his people...toward him it seemed. Suspicious looks to open hostility was his usual greeting and very few people dained to talk to him at all. He had barely been in the city for more than a few hours before a group of soldiers came into the Inn. He noticed them ofcourse but didn’t think, at first, that they were looking for him. His mug had been dry for a few minutes and he hefted it up and beckoned the pretty blonde barmaid to get him another ale. The Golden Boar was the not the first Inn he had came to to try and get a room but this Ormond, the Inn’s owner did not judge him for who he was, only his coin.

Now he sat on the cold stone floor in a dark cell with only a straw pallet to sleep on. He felt at his cheek that had a large, angry bruise upon it. He winced as he took in a shallow breath. When they had finally got him down they had taken their boots to him but he didn’t think anything was broken. From where he was he could not see anyone come in. The guardroom was perpendicular from the rows of cells that lined the small prison. He was the only inhabitant right then and he could only see the glimmer of torchlight that lit up the small hall between the 2 rows of cells. He heard hushed tones of voices and grunted as he stood. He would not let them see any weakness in him and he leaned back against the back wall and looked at his hands. His knuckles were bruised as well for he had nearly gave as good as he got.

The two soldiers that were on duty were completely caught unawares when Kressara came into the jail. The one who faced the door she came in looked up then stood so fast that he knocked the table over which caused his companion to stand almost as quickly. Both looked at her in utter shock and both bowed quickly as they murmured her name in respect.

“We uh...we’ll have to have your weapons milady,” The one that seemed the senior of the two said though he looked uncomfortable saying it. Once she relinquished her weapons the younger one unlocked the door behind them then followed her inside and locked the door behind him. He paused at the door and would not follow her further inside. Kressara detected the sound of movement from one of the cells furthest from the main door.

Kressara was unhappy to say the least about relinquishing her weapons. She reminded the guards that the sword had belonged to her grandfather, the bow and quiver had been her grandmothers, and that the two long daggers, whose handles were made from Oliphant ivory, had been her mother’s, given to her as a wedding present by her father, the King of Gondor. “Should anything happen to them while they are in your custody I will see to it that you are locked up in one of these cells yourself.”

Both men swallowed hard and the senior guard seemed to begin to sweat a little as he took the precious weapons from her. His hands trembled slightly as the knowledge of the history he was holding hit him. Kressara followed the younger guard back through the door leading to the cells, which was closed behind them. All of the cells seemed empty apart from one at the very back where she could hear some movement. She began to walk alone towards the cell and as she did an odd feeling began to come over her. It was as if she already knew who this man was. But how could she? There was something deep inside of her that was pulling her in that direction. She felt a wave of emotions come over her in anticipation that nearly caused her hands to tremble. Slowly, she stepped in front of the cell to look at the man inside.

The young warrior princess was dressed to ride, but more importantly to fight. She wore a pair of form fitting doe skin breeches that were tucked into knee high well-worn brown leather boots and a short, long sleeved forest green tunic. The only adornment she wore were a pair of leather fletching guards on her arms that had been given to her by Havan. They were detailed with an intricate elvish design and appeared to have been well used. Her long, dark thick hair was pulled back into a twisted braid, but several pieces had come loose during her ride giving her a windswept look. Her face held a beautiful regality, but despite her young age it was clear from her wide grey eyes that she had already seen and done more than many male soldiers would during their entire lives. She was, in a word, breathtaking.

Boraden was a tall man and towered over most others at 6’5” tall. He was long of leg, broad at shoulder and hip and though he did not bulge with muscles he had a hard, solid muscular look about him that exhibited a dangerous man of action. His graying, dark hair was not long nor really short and somewhat unkempt as it fluttered over part of his face which gave him the look of a younger man though the gray in it told of an older man. His eyes were dark with a gaze that made the soldiers uneasy if they saw him looking at them. His goatee was well trimmed and his face was far to handsome for who and what he was. He wore no cloak but he did have a short sleeved, wolf fur lined vest that was quite fashionable despite his origins. He wore a light plate armor that was stained black and gilded in gold which gave him the look of some kind of foreign nobility.

Before he even saw Kressara his left hand began to shake as he checked his damaged knuckles and he looked at it quizzically as it had never happened before. As she came into view he lowered his hand and his dark eyes shifted to look over at her. Once his eyes took in the available light and really saw her they opened wide in recognition but only for a moment.

“You…” He murmured before he could stop his tongue and the sound was just audible enough for her ears to pick it up. “Come to see the caged animal?” he asked in a sneer. Obviously his recent captivity had done nothing to bring him to heel nor did he appear to know of her station.

Images of his dreams came to him in disjointed pieces as he looked at her. Her body, face, hair and blades were covered in blood as she fought for her life. He had never seen a woman fight as she had and he rode like the thunder to reach her in time. There were other dreams too, not quite so bloody nor as unpleasant as that one. Her naked body was mingled with his as she made love to him. Others where she gave him a silver amulet that depicted the symbol of his family. The symbol was always hidden in shadow each time that particular dream came. He saw her face and even shadowed as it was he recalled every line and every curve of it. It took all that he was not to reach out for her for he had touched her many times...in those dreams.

The feeling that came over Kressara as she looked at the man before her very nearly caused her legs to give out from under her. What she felt was so intense that it forced all of the air from her lungs and caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. Her stormy grey eyes studied his extraordinarily handsome face closely and the man would see almost a look of recognition in her eyes, though it was mixed with confusion. What she felt was more real than anything she had ever felt before and it quite honestly terrified her. She didn’t know this man! And yet…somehow she did.

Flashes of shadowed images appeared before her eyes, but slowly began to clear. She had never seen the dark man that haunted her dreams and visions, but now she realized that he was sitting in the cell before her. The images were mixed with sounds and smells and she could almost feel him…his arms around her, holding her in a passionate embrace…the taste of his lips upon her own…the feel of his body pressing down upon her. But then she could see him riding and fighting beside her…she could smell her own blood. The images had never been this clear before and her heart began to beat harder in her chest.

The hardened look on her face and in her eyes slowly faded into something much softer...eyes that he would know well from his dreams.

“Who are you? Why do I feel like I...know you?”

Attracted to her as he was...well, attracted was honestly the understatement of the year, he was still in this cage and she was looking at him as if he were some kind of blacksmith’s puzzle that she could not quite figure out. He was innocent of the crimes that they had accused him of, albeit he had been unusually harsh with those soldiers. He was tired and in no mood to be accosted right then. He had only broken a few of their bones. Just a few and he had not drawn steel. Thinking of that made him angry once more and he lifted up his hand and wiped his sweaty face with his palm.

“My name is Boraden,” he began than gave her dress a bit more scrutiny. “I suppose you know what I am accused of? If I intended on killing a man I would let him know it was coming,” he said in his deep voice. He had a lustrous way of speaking that was quite unique. And they had mentioned poisoning but had not been more specific than that. He assumed it was someone related to King Eomer. A male relative or some such but he wasn’t at all certain. He had a mind to ask her her name in return but part of him did not want to know that. He was concerned that she was someone of import. Someone who would get him entangled in something that would draw him away from what he was doing here in the first place. To find out who he really was. However, as he thought about that, he couldn’t do that from inside this cell. Not when a flogging or worse, a hanging for a crime he did not commit, lingered over his head.

“I’ve seen you...seen you in my dreams for some time now. I have never laid eyes on you before now but I feel as if I’ve known you for quite some times. How odd a thing is that?” he chuckled and then wished that he hadn’t. He winced at the pain it brought to his face. “And by your eyes I can see that you recognize me,” He said though his tone carried with it that this recognition, like his own, brought with it elements of a very indecent nature.

“Speak your name and your purpose here?” He finally said as if her questions were bothering him in some way.

"I have seen you in my dreams too," Kressara said as she continued to study him. "Although until just now I had never known your face. I have had these dreams and visions for most of my life. As I have gotten older they have become more and more clear...although you were always in shadow. But now that I have seen your face there is a strong feeling in my heart that I was supposed to find you here. I know, although I do not know how, that you are not guilty of this crime. My name is Princess Kressara of Gondor."

In the shadows of his cell Boraden lifted up his gaze and groaned audibly at hearing her name and her title. He wasn’t certain if he wanted to laugh historically or weep at hearing this. “A grand joke this is,” he said though his voice carried little mirth in it. Boraden’s life had never really been an easy one. He had had to prove himself as long as he could remember. His father, Grohmtin Uthbahd, a war chief had had no surviving sons save for him and he had had to carry that with him as well as knowing in his heart that he did not quite belong. Competition was always fierce among the clans and he had often been picked out as someone to defeat by the sons and sometimes the daughters of other clans or his father’s rivals. Survival was its own test and he had never been able to live without the threat of pain or death.

Boraden ‘knew’ her name and who she was by birth but he did not know her. Obviously, by her clothes she was some kind of warrior. Perhaps one of those rangers of the north? He could not be certain and he had not heard of her exploits. Nor had she heard of his it seemed. A blessing in disguise perhaps and he quickly saw an opportunity here. At least one that had him getting out of this cell and no longer considered a suspect.

“Well...Kressara, if you think I’ll bow down to you or anything you’ll be greatly disappointed. I’m not one of your subjects nor do I owe any allegiances to your King. Not in Rohan or Gondor,” he said in a plain almost annoyed tone. He stepped forward and placed his hands on the round, iron bars of his cell door and looked at her. His eyes were severe but she would also see more than a little weariness in them as well as he thought about his situation. “I have no King,” he said as if that fact was something he was neither proud or happy to admit.

Kressara didn’t so much as flinch at his statement. The softness that had filled her eyes faded and her gaze hardened and narrowed at him. “If you think I am intimidated by you then you are mistaken. I never asked or expected you to bow down to me. I am a warrior first and a princess second and don’t you forget that. I was trained by my grandparents, Conleth and Serethiel Phelan, to fight. I have been in battles on the front and I have killed many, taking down men three times my size and strength. My hands have been stained red from the blood of my enemies and the blood of my soldiers. Do not ever underestimate me again.”

Boraden was only taken aback by the fierceness of her voice and her eyes for a moment. Beautiful, blue eyes he noticed, but she was of Gondor and one of Elessar’s daughters to boot. He scoffed and straightened up to his full height before her. “Please, I could eat you for breakfast and still have room left for those 2 fools out there,” he said in a condescending tone then jerked his cell door so hard that it creaked in its brackets and motes of dust and flakes of rusted metal fluttered down from the ceiling. “Open this door and I’ll prove it…’girl!” He growled in hopes she would take his bait. Obviously he had a temper and she had gotten to him. He had large, strong hands and his eyes were just as angry and piercing as her own. He was confident that he could best her and if someone was skilled in combat, size and strength did matter in such circumstances. “I am Boraden Uthbahd, adopted son of Warchief Grohmtin Uthbahd of the Ironfist Clan and I am innocent of the crimes I am accused of! Let me out of here!” He growled and shook the door again which caused the old, iron brackets that held the door in place to groan against the strain of his strength being plied against them.

Kressara felt a strange mix of emotions as she watched the man who called him Boraden. On the one hand she felt anger growing within her at his threats. On the other, she was quite impressed at his boldness of tone towards her. Her eyes took in his full form as he rose up in front of her. He was tall…very tall and broad of shoulder. His build was one of strength and from the look of his hands she could tell that he was quite capable with a weapon. He towered over her by almost a full foot, but once again she held her ground. It was a strange feeling to be both incredibly attracted to and yet incredibly irritated by the same man.

The younger guard, who had not come any closer to the cell, was stunned by this man’s threats to a Princess of Gondor and immediately rushed over. “How dare you speak to Princess Kressara in such a way! I will ensure you live to regret such words.”

Kressara didn’t really pay the guard much attention. She was too busy thinking back to something Boraden had just said. He had said he was the adopted son of one of the Northmen’s Clan Leaders. His stature and something about his face reminded her of her father and grandfather who were both of Dunedain blood. Could he…?

“Guard, open the cell.”

The guard took a step forward then stopped abruptly. His eyes grew wide to her request and she could see he was about to protest until her eyes took on more heat as she looked at him. He sighed and winced then drew the keychain from his belt. As he came up to the cell door Boraden took a step back. He had made a demand and now it was being carried out, though only do to her. Oh...that was not going to be good. He owed her now and the thought made him scowl at the guard that gulped loudly when he unlocked the door. He quickly removed the key then took a step back. Boraden was easily a hand taller than he and he took a step forward then opened the door slowly and stepped through into the main hall. The guard continued forward to the main door and he unlocked that one too, opened it and stepped through. Boraden paused beside Kressara and gave her a thoughtful, suspicious look.

“It is likely that after I was hung someone else would get poisoned and only then would they know I was innocent. But you take me at my word?” Boraden asked questioningly. “I doubt Eomer will be very pleased by what you’ve done,” he said then paused and waited for her to say something. She did not and only looked at him, her face devoid of expression but he noticed one of her eyebrows was quirked as if expecting something. And then it came to him. She obvious was going to expect something in return for this kindness and the knowing of it passed between them silently save for the groan that escaped his lips as he stepped toward the main cell doors and out into the guard room.

“I will have my sword and dagger back,” He said in a commanding tone with just a hint of irritation. They both had gone to get hers first and hadn’t thought about giving his back. They tried to not look at him as the two began handing Kressara her weapons. On the wall behind them only his weapons remained. A weapon belt with a very large double edged sword in a sheath and a sheathed dagger.

Kressara kept her eyes on Boraden as the young guard drew the keychain from his belt to open the cell. With any other man she would not have done something like this. But she knew deep in her gut that she could trust him just as she knew that the sky was blue. The feeling of being connected to this man was rather overwhelming as they hadn't exactly gotten off on the right foot. However, her senses told her that in time that would change.

She watched as Boraden stepped out into the hall. Together they then walked side by side towards the door that led to his freedom. For a brief moment she saw a flash of them walking side by side into battle...the sun gleaming on her silver armor. She saw them stop and Boraden turn to her. He placed his fingers lovingly under her chin and pulled her face up into a kiss. He pulled back and then whispered something into her ear that Kressara could not make out. However, in her vision she saw herself smile at him and touch her hand to his heart before they charged out onto the field.

The vision was broken by the sound of his voice as he spoke to her now that they were temporarily alone. She knew that it was likely that her uncle would be upset, but she knew that Boraden was innocent of this crime. She would just have to prove it. No, rather they would have to prove it. Boraden was now indebted to her for ensuring his freedom, and she decided that such a generosity would have to be repaid...somehow.

As they stepped into the guard room she saw the two guards quickly gathering her weapons, though they made no move to return Boraden's weapons to him. As she sheathed her sword she looked at the two men.

"I sincerely hope that I don't have to command that you return this man's weapons to him."

The older guard nearly flinched at Kressara’s words and the younger one began to sweat profusely. Then, with obvious reluctance they returned Boraden’s property to him. He did not attach his belt to his waist as they walked out, he decided just to carry it in his large hand. The day was a grand day, the sun was shining and the sky barely had a cloud to be seen. It was a little warm for this time of year but without the strong winds that normally played the city all year round the warmth of the day had seemed to seem into everyone around them.

“I wont ask you if that blade is for show. I can tell by just the way you walk that you know how to use it. Conleth Phelan is your grandfather eh,” He said almost muslingly. “I’ve met him once long ago and he seemed like a strong, honest man. Odd the Northmen could have peace with Gehenna but not Rohan or Gondor,” he continued as they walked. “One of your ‘other’ siblings...her name escapes me...has angered many of my people. I’ll have you know that my father argued against keeping the boy child but his opinion was a minority among the warchiefs,” Boraden said.

Once Boraden's weapons were returned to him she stepped outside of the building with him. The sun was getting a little lower in the sky and the vendors were beginning to pack up their wares for the day. They would be back early the next morning. She glanced over at Boraden as he spoke about her grandfather and then about her sister. She then stopped walking and looked straight at him.

"You speak of Laenaya and her son Aslan. The Northmen kidnapped my nephew and Brandt told her that they would never be able to get him back for fear that they would kill him instead of allowing that to happen. My sister has never gotten over his loss and has never been the same. I'll have YOU know that it was Gulbandt and not my sister who made the decision to leave the clan. My sister could have had her pick of a dozen suitors as her husband, but she agreed to marry Gulbrandt to try and bring about peace, but it never seemed to be enough for the Northmen. And I doubt that you fully agree with their ways since you have left and come here to find out who you really are. That is what you are doing here, is it not?"

In truth Boraden was uncertain of this Gulbrandt’s motives but he suspected that the woman...Laenaya had alot to do with his decision. Honor was all to the Northmen and it must have been something important indeed to make him disgrace himself. He paused and turned to listen to what Kressara said. She did not know him though he did not expect her to. He did not know her either and obviously she had a woman’s sensibilities when it came to a man’s heart.

“No Kressara, I am here because I am not a Northman. Not by blood anyway. I do not know who my family is. I have returned to find who I am and where I come from. Not to denounce the people that raised me. In that you are mistaken,” he said honestly. He held nothing against his adopted family or the Northmen but he wanted to know why he had been left in the snow, alone as a babe.

“I do not expect you to understand that,” he added belatedly as they continued to walk toward the In.

Kressara watched Boraden for a moment before starting to walk again. She came up beside him and was quiet a moment before beginning to speak. Her tone was more gentle and what she told him was something rather personal.

"I was born differently from my brother and sisters. I was not only the youngest, but despite being connected by blood I didn't feel the same as them. I didn't fit in and didn't know where I belonged. I tried though to do what a princess is supposed to do and wear the right dresses and gossip with my other sisters about things a young girl is supposed to, but it never felt right. As I got older the visions and dreams then began and that made me feel even more different and completely alone. I had no one I could talk to about it and I began to wonder if I wasn't losing my mind. Several years ago the visions got stronger and I began to feel a pull inside of me. I felt I would go mad if I didn't figure out what I was supposed to do. When the visions finally began to show me myself with a sword I then knew. My grandfather and grandmother moved from Gehenna to Minas Tirith to train me. It wasn't until I felt the weight of a sword in my hands that I knew who I truly was and accepted myself completely. The feeling of not knowing is a lonely place."

She reached out and gently stopped him and looked up at him. "Let me help you figure out who you are."

Boraden listened intently as they strode slowly down the cobbled road that led from the soldiers quarter to the market square. Beyond that, up on the hill the golden hall sat, it’s green banners fluttered lightly in the wind as the sun slowly crept down from its perch high up in the sky. He was surprised again when he felt her hand upon his arm and he allowed himself to be turned aside. Her voice was like honey to his ears and her skin, tanned do to many days out in the open air reminded him of a golden sunrise. Her blue eyes seemed to dig deeply within him. As if boring effortlessly into his very soul.

His first impulse was to pull away. Deny her and go his own way. Years and years of fending for himself and trusting only himself were hard to set aside. But then there were his dreams. His dreams of her in his arms. He was about to agree to let her help him look when a man stepped up to her.

“Well pigeon, you’re not a very easy person to find,” Raihn said as he sauntered up from behind them. He stopped short and looked at the large Northman doubtfully. “Jeez, where’d ya find this mountain of a man, you taking to having bodyguards now? I didn’t think I made ‘that’ much of an impression on ya ta think ya needed such,” he said and put his hand on her shoulder though for only just a moment. Long enough for Boraden to see and his eyes flashed angrily for a brief moment then his face was as blank and emotionless as a stone.

“I think I can manage on my own,” Boraden said then turned and began to step away from them. Back toward the market square.

There was a light breeze and it played with the few small pieces of hair that had come undone from her braid during her ride. She was dirty and a little dusty as well, but it only seemed to add to her beauty and strength. She was not an ordinary woman...not by a long shot. Her life was not to be one of managing a home and bearing children. Her life was out in the world and she knew that somewhere out there she was destined to have a companion. One who would ride and walk beside her and share in her victories and losses. The road before her was not going to be an easy one, but the thought that she would not have to walk it alone brought her some comfort. She believed that Boraden was supposed to be that man, and for a moment she thought that he was going to soften towards her and allow her to help him when suddenly the moment between them was shattered by the sound of a irritatingly familiar voice.

She looked over her should to see Raihn saunter towards them and she could sense Boraden's defenses returning. She rolled her eyes at Raihn and looked over to see Boraden walking away from her. Had she been wrong about Boraden? Had her visions been wrong? The loneliness she had been feeling began to creep back up into her heart.

"What do you want Raihn?"