Gypsy's Way

The rain was like ice.

If it had been any colder it very well could have been, but clinging to the remnants of fall the weather had decided to remain wet.
Very wet.

Pushed from a Corsairs ship into the grips of the ice cold sea type of wet.
And it continued to downpour, the winds shaking all that it could touch. And that included the man whom stood braced against a tall sort of hut in the middle of a forest clearing.

He lean against it for the little protection it could afford, pulling his cloak about him tighter, his black leather overcoat beneath keeping him warm as well.
Turning his head slightly to the closed door flap he listened best he could for any sign of change inside.
Nothing.

Nothing at all had changed. That was not nessicarily a good thing.
For beyond the pounding tempest above and the winds around one could hear the painful cries of a woman in labor.

//but a child// the former Ranger caught himself thinking once more.
It had been no shock but a great sadness to find that Haradrim armies had made there way through the Wosies lands.
They had for the most part kept there distance from the natives of Druadan forest.

Until now.
He had known they could be ruthless, but to attack a village filled with defenseless women and children was always the sign of upmost cruelty.

As a former Ranger he knew better than to state that all of any race were evil, except if they were. Arc and goblins for example were all evil and nothing more could be said of it.

But those of the human races were not so easily categorized. One could not blame a people who did not know better, and one could not simply wish to destroy there whole race because not all had a choice in what goes on in the wars of Men.
The women and children often had no voices and suffered the most.
He had always wondered about the logic of his world.

And within the primitive yet effective hut of the Wosies one of those 'Children' suffered needlessly.

She was Royalty, it should not have happened. Even if she hadn't been, it should have not happened anyway.
The girl was such, just a girl barely over 13 summers in age.

He shook his head, dark blonde curls drenched in rain water dispelled there droplets upon his already slick face.
One clung stubbornly to the tip of his nose, and his gloved hand moved up and wiped it away best he could
Not that it mattered, his gloves were covered in water as well.

//Why are you here// an annoyed voice asked him loudly within his cranium. //Because I am there friend, that Is why// he responded back, glad that speaking in ones mind was not as strange looking as it actually was.

He indeed was there friend. One of the only outsiders that were allowed to enter these areas unrestricted were his clan of people. The Gypsy's.
Though he had been a Ranger of the North and Arnor, his heart had always remained with his Gypsy kin and when he had served many many years with the men in the North, he joined his kin and traveled the eves and passages of the wanderers.

The man seemed as if he was in his middle age. Strong weathered features and bronzed skin that showed a love for the outdoors, and a face crowned in golden wavy hair of his Dunedain ancestry.
His eyes were grey blue and sparkled with life. There depths revealed a personality of kindness, mischief and loyalty.

He was a Ranger no doubt, even though he no longer served to protect actively. Once a Ranger, always a Ranger he always said.
He had hear such sayings often, 'One can take the Ranger out of the wilds, but one can never take the wilds out of the Ranger'.
He almost chuckled aloud, it was quite humorous now that he thought of it.
The sound of labored screams inside sombered him very quickly, remember why he was there.

The Wosies were an ancient people, one of the First Alden believe. He had never mentioned his theories to anyone else, but it seemed that they were so ancient they might have been related to the first Men who walked upon Middle-earth and soon later learned from the First born how to speak.

It was a thought of fancy and he pushed it aside once again. He must indeed be suffering more from the cold and wet than he thought. His mind was trying to find anything else to think about other than what had occurred here many months ago.

They had ransacked the whole village, and plundered what they could. Mostly food stores and such, as the wosies had nothing of value to the Haradrim world for sale.
But it was not what object they had taken that made the man boil with fury.

It was what they had taken from the women of the village that infuriated him.

He saw no purposed in forcing one self upon a woman except for the gaining of power. It was indeed sick and made his body shiver, part from cold and part from the thought of it.

They took what they wanted on there raids, including the women. Then they murdered all in a rush of pillaging and destruction.

It had been the same few groups he knew, as most of the Haradrim and such were not savage beasts. Warriors perhaps, misguided perhaps as well, but not monsters.

The Haradrim were men as much as they were misjudged, and no true man would take a child.

And now many moons later here he was, awaiting the birth of a child born from a moment of terror. The ancient people feared its coming, they did not comprehend the minds of outsiders. They did not wish to be a part of it.
They had there own culture, religion, believes and goings...what did they care of those who only spite them anyway.

And these deep fears had led to a deep wariness as well.

He did not know what had encouraged him to do so, perhaps because he had known the child's parents. The Chieftain and his wife of a small prosperious village he and his Caravan had settled among many a time.
He felt it his obligation, being a person of the outside, to pay amends for what the assailant had taken from them.

A high pitched wail cut across the still storm filled air.
It was not that same, it was different and it made him turn his head sharply. It was over, it had been done.

It was weak yet getting stronger, over and over. The type of cry and pulled at all adults heartstrings.
It was the cry of an infant.

Now he waited impatiently, this time because he wished to see what was inside not because he wished to leave.

The cold and the wet and the wind were forgotten for the moment as he wait anxiously, like an expecting father.
That was not far from the truth as it was, he was to take this child into his care. He had offered it, afraid of what its future would be with all around it frightened of what it may become. They simply did not understand.

He fancied he heard nearing foot falls, and when the flap rustled he squeezed his fists briefly to rid of the sudden rise in nervousness.

It opened and a faint light flooded, surrounding the soaked glade in light. And before him stood an elderly Wosie woman, in her hands a swaddled bundle.

He had to lean down to take it from her, being as careful as a porcelain merchant with the new bundle. It had already been wrapped in many blankets warm and thick, but he slid it within his cloak for extra protection. There it would be warm and dry at the same time.

"Girl, Akilah" she said using crude Westorn, her voice deep and even. The younger man nodded slightly, nodding his head towards the entryway.

'And the child' he asked softly in the Wosies tonge, unsure if he wanted the answer.
She simply nodded her head side to side sadly and turned inside the leather and wooden hut.

He stood there unmoving for many long moments. She had not survived then, and it saddened his heart.
Her life had been so short.

A stirring in his arms brought him back to reality and he looked down, not sure what he would see. And what he did glimpses in the now fading light coming from the half opened hut flap made him smile.
Tiny, that was the first thing he thought.

Face, eyes, nose, lips...everything on her was tiny. She made a soft strangled cry and he instinctively began to bounce her gently, attempting to sooth the tiny person he now hold.

He drew the babe closer for warmth and almost instantly noticed her smell. Funny thing to notice he knew, as it was pelting rain and he should be moving.
But it was different, fresh, and his smile widened as she opened her eyes. Blinking them slowly before staring at him, as if trying to make him out.

They were a hazy grey-blue color and he was shocked and wondered if they would stay that color.
Soon he realized that it was very cold and nowhere for a newborn to be. Shifting her weight in his arms again to make sure she was secure and dry, and putting his hand upon the hilt of his sword with the other (as he allways did), he began to move on towards the waiting caravans in the darkness.

"Welcome to the Gypsy's of Brikidan Akilah, I am Alden Emanuel Alyard the III. I think you may like it here" He stated, the sun rising and the rain slowing down as he did. The night behind him and before him a clear and hopeful morning.

As well as a hopeful future...