Farmer in the Dale RPG

[piosenniel]

Kransha’s post - Smaug

The eyes of the dragon, keen and sharp with malevolent pupils focused intently upon the lands that stretched far a wide beneath his soaring bulk, blinked together in an eerily rhythmic succession as the monstrous creature, the golden being lurching along through the river of the sky, neared his goal. Vague, pulsating embers lurked beneath the cold orbs set into his dragon skull and wafting plumes of smoke curled from the narrow gaps between his jagged fangs, jutting out from a pair of thick, muscular jaws that snapped together in anticipation. In the distance, not far beneath the red-gold form, there sat a single mountain rising out of the flat plane of the earth. The flat length of land around its sloping sides were dotted with some isolated tree groves and a minute stretch of woodland. Rising and dipping from the protuberant southern spur of was a thin line of water, a running river that looped gracefully around the crags of mountainous rock. At one end of the structure that was carefully laced into the mountain face, there were stairs and the indication of a modest gate, which presumably led in somewhere, the goal of Smaug. Therein, he knew, lay heaps of fantastic trinkets, baubles, bangles, precious stones, and a vast mélange of glittering objects that the excitedly vigorous dragon could assimilate into his hoard.

Smaug the Magnificent had not descended from his perch in the north for longer than even he, the mighty dragon himself, could recall accurately. His grounds for ‘nesting’ as the chattering aviary creatures around him dubbed it, where now vacant, probably inhabited by some unworthy band of thieving birds who had alighted there unknowingly. But, he would soon find a new lair, a place to lay his weary head in times of weariness that was no longer bleak and dreary, but altogether magnificent, decked in full with the spoils that Smaug would collect from each and every wretched mortal in these lands who had a particle of necessary wealth upon it.

As a sinister grin peeled across Smaug’s scaly lips, the dragon’s wings turned up with drastic force, causing his bulk to arch forward and veer down, honing in on the rough mountaintop. He soared, with as much grace as was possibly for a being of his tremendous size, down through the last thin, shriveled wisps of ivory cloud. He wheeled about through the air, watching with narrowing eyes, glowing with faint and gleeful fury, as the lonely cone of rock, worn away by years of wind, rose up to meet him while he fell, stretching his arms and legs out to each side with talons ready and eager, wings flapping madly against any meek gust that tried to stand in his way.

His mouth, the whole gaping maw of it, suddenly opened, each monumental jaw stretching with his glinting teeth pulled back into his ferocious face and a great and terrible light, brilliant red with orange fringes that flickered outward like feathery capes, began to well up in the pit of his throat. Soon, the building surplus of flame began to billow out like foamy waves which worked their way out from the gates formed by Smaug’s daggers of fangs. As his throat swelled, pulling in a gargantuan gust of air that filled his innards to the brim, he let loose the breath. From Smaug came a searing, blinding pillar of fire that spiraled down and stretched out like two giant hands and countless jagged talons that wrapped around the side of the mountain, burning away the rock itself. The dragon wasted no time in propelling himself from side to side through the sky’s ocean, zigzagging madly about as murderous gusts of fire bubbled up from him and poured out onto to the mountain. He burst out column after column of the searing red, its fringed edges lapping at the rocks and the force of each blast sending up a spray of dust, rock, and rubble from each point of impact. The mountain began to feel the sting of his mighty attacks, by now checkered with blotches of ashen rock that had been charred into disintegrating rubble by the intense heat of the dragon’s breath. As he continued his maniacal assault, his fiery eyes turned up, away from the current target of his incendiary strategy, and looked off into the distance, towards the cleansing river and south.

He saw a new goal. He would certainly return to this mountain, try to get inside and claim his wealth, but he had to eliminate the scent of man and dwarf from these lands as best as he could. Beneath him once again was a city, or town, or some gathering glade of houses and structures that dotted the southern slopes of the Lonely Mountain, looking with a calmed serenity out onto the looping river that ran down from its source in the mountain’s side. A more narrow, almost voracious grin began to grow on Smaug’s face as he turned around the mountain, still spouting flame bursts every few seconds as he turned, extending his magnificent wings perpendicular to the plain below and turning his glittering, gem encrusted underbelly towards the ruined, crumbling side of the mountain.

Slowly, holding in his breath as he dipped again, Smaug the Golden headed towards Dale…

[piosenniel]

ArwenBaggins’ post

"Eli, hand me a stake," Arinn Millwind was kneeling in a garden amongst growing corn and okra. A young boy, straddling a row of green beans, walked quickly toward his father with a sharp wooden stake in his small, tanned hand.

He dropped to his knees and handed his father the piece of wood, wiping a large pearly bead of sweat from his forehead. "Here ya go Papa… whatcha plantin' now?" Eli picked up a handful of dark brown soil, a worm wriggling up his short finger.

Arinn took the stake and nodded in thanks and used the pole to straighten a feeble tomato seedling. He then mopped his forehead and held the small of his back, standing slowly. The sun blazed down upon the farm in Dale, the workplace of the Millwind family. "Come on in with me Eli; 'tis probably time for lunch… where's your brother?" Eli stood as well, shrugging and running off toward the house about half a mile away. "I wish he'd slow down once and a while! He will overheat!" he shook his head, laughing slightly at his energetic son, and walked briskly toward his home.

His wife met them on the porch. "Lunch is ready, my big men!" she kissed Arinn and rubbed Eli's messy waves of dust-color. After the boy dashed into the open door and skidded to a stop in the kitchen with his older sister and younger brother, the woman leaned in close to her husband and pushed a lock of sweaty chestnut hair from his ear, whispering: "How was he today? You did not have him sit in the sun too long, did you?"

"No dear. He sat under the dogwood tree most of the time- he came out for naught of five minutes to hand me a stake and hurry home. Do not worry," He kissed her forehead and entered their home.

Arinn sat at the table, between his daughter and his youngest child, a son. "Gimme my rock back!" Eli kicked the other twin in the shins underneath the table, trying to choke back tears. "Papa! Mama! He won' gimme my rock back!" Arinn cast a swift, austere look to the boy, who immediately dropped the shiny, polished, gray rock. Eli smiled weakly and sat back in his chair, dropping the rock in his pocket. It was a rock given to the boy by his father, a precious gift that he treasured with all his heart.

It's normal… Arinn forced himself to think. Fighting was a normal part of having children. He didn't like it, but it was normal.

*****

Only roughly a dozen miles away, a large, ominous shadow flew over Erebor, the very edge of the dark silhouette growing dangerously closer to Dale. Arinn was again outside, working without rest on the planting of the season. Eli, seemingly unseperable from his father, sat in the cool shade beneath the dogwood tree, the smooth gray stone lying in his hands.

Suddenly, a loud but distant screech was heard, and Arinn looked up instantaneously toward the shadow. "A dragon…!" He muttered under his breath in disbelieve. "Eli! A dragon! We need to get home and warn everyone. ELI?" Arinn pulled himself from the ground and looked around frenetically, calling his son's name.

Eli had already taken off. He heard his father yelling behind him, but he would catch up, wouldn't he? He would suspect that Eli was a smart enough boy to run home, wouldn't he? "Papa! I'm over here!" a rising wind and the rustling of field grass soon drowned his voice out.

His legs were growing weak; he wasn't used to running this long and far. He stopped for a moment and twirled frantically, looking and yelling for his father without answer. Deciding that it was absolutely necessary that he got home, he continued running, running, toward the seemingly-safe confines of his home.

"Eli! Eli? Where are you?" Arinn cast another quickly glance toward the north, but then turned his eyes back to the land in front of him. Where was his son?

Eli could not run any longer. With one last scream, he collapsed amidst the tall millet. His breath came slow and he moaned like a small wounded animal. Arinn found him five minutes later, lying sprawled on his stomach in the dirt. Muttering his son's name, he tried to crack a smile as he lifted him from the ground and cradled him like an even younger child.

The boy cracked open his dreamlike eyes, struggling to get a good hold on his father's loose shirt. "Papa, I'm sorry dat I ran. I'm just real scared of dragons. An' I wanted ta be tha big boy, warnin' everyone 'bout it. I'm sorry," his bottom lip puckered and a single tear dropped down his cheek onto his heaving chest.

While he wanted to express how serious what he had done was, Arinn couldn't seem to bring himself to do it. Instead, he hugged Eli close and shook his head, kept walking fleetly, and said, "Do not worry. We will go home and tell Mama, and then I will go out and tell everyone else around here."

"Okay Papa. But… but d'you think dat I could come with you?" Eli's breathing came a little slower now, nearing its normal rate.

Arinn sighed. He could not let Eli find that he was scared as well. "We will just have to see."

[piosenniel]

Regin Hardhammer’s post

Eric watched sadly as Eli and his dad walked out into the fields after lunch, leaving him all alone to reflect on the horrible time he’d just had. Eli had kicked him in the shins under the table and left a blue bruise. His parents hadn’t even seen what happened and made him return the shiny rock that he had borrowed from his brother the day before. “It’s not fair,” Eric muttered. “My crybaby brother always gets what he wants.”

Eli was a sickly and frail boy, so his parents naturally felt the need to pay more attention to him. It seemed to Eric that whenever he did anything to his brother, the older boy immediately whined about it to his parents, who always sided with Eli. Nor did he like being called a “younger brother” when he was born only two hours later than his twin. “Life can be so unfair!” he noted with a grimace.

His father always took Eli to help him with the work in the field, but never Eric, even though he was probably tougher and could work harder. A couple of times he had thought about asking his father if he could come too, but stopped himself because he was afraid that his father would say no. Anyways, Eric reflected, he probably wouldn’t want me to come, since he likes to be with Eli.

Determined not to sulk in the house all day, Eric decided to go for a walk in the meadow near the lake. Maybe he could gather frogs there that he would later put in his sister’s bed. She always loved his little surprises, he thought with a grin. Walking through the tall grass, he noticed that a grey shadow had suddenly appeared on the ground and swiftly crept closer until it finally enveloped him. Eric looked up curiously and saw a very strange looking, monstrous bird. I didn’t know birds had scales and I’ve certainly never seen one that large before. Enchanted with this new creature, Eric sprinted gleefully after it, giving no thought to how he would get home. He whispered proudly to himself, “I bet Eli has never seen anything like this!”

[piosenniel]

Araréiel's post

Sunlight streamed through the freshly cleaned windows of the tidy kitchen. Heat emanated from the oven, lunch nearly prepared. Willow Millwind glanced out the window, wondering where her husband and children were. It was uncommon of them to be late. She pulled the buns from the oven and placed them on a plate. Grabbing a bowl of fresh-churned butter, she headed to the table. A noise outside distracted her and she headed instead to the door, setting the butter on a near-by chair. Pushing the door open with her foot, she stepped outside.

"Lunch is ready, my big men!" Willow looked with pride on her handsome husband, still as much in love with him today as they day they married. She gave him a kiss, and laughed as Eli cried out how gross kissing it. She ruffled the already-messy hair of her son, marveling in how much he looked like his father. Eli ran in through the door, and Willow caught a glimpse of her other children settling into their places for lunch, the twins fighting over who sat where, her daughter settling the fight. Hoping to not be heard, Willow leaned close to her husband and whispered, "How was he today? You did not have him sit in the sun too long, did you?"

"No dear. He sat under the dogwood tree most of the time- he came out for naught of five minutes to hand me a stake and hurry home. Do not worry," He kissed her and chuckled as he entered the doorway. His wife always worried about the children in the sun, worried they would burn. For this reason, none of them ever had.

*******************************

Lunch was long-finished. Soon it would be time to start preparing supper. Eli had picked on his brother horribly, this time for being a tad bit shorter. Eric had tried to defend himself, saying he looked more like Papa, that Mama always said so. Eli had thrown his bun at Eric, causing a fight as Willow hadn't seen in her table in years. She had forced her sons to clean up the mess, not caring who started what, only angry that they had participated in such a display of tempers.

She glanced down at the sewing she was doing. Those boys sure were tough on their clothing, and needed lots of repairs. But this was special. She was sewing a delicate white gown. It would have a white sash and lots of embroidery in shades of blue, pink, and the palest of green. Elanor worked so hard to help out, and Willow wasn't sure Elanor fully knew how much she was appreciated. This gown was beautiful, the gown she described for her daughter in stories of princesses as a child, but impractical, and she was glad to be finishing the last of the embroidery. The gown was complete, and she would give it to her daughter as supper that night. She carefully folded the garment and put it in a box, ready to surprise her eldest child, for Elanor knew nothing of the dress. The child sewed so much for others. She deserved a treat, and didn't understand why her mother had asked her to do mending in the afternoon instead of after supper, but she complied anyway. Willow just needed her out of the kitchen.

Elanor's favorite meal was turkey. Not chicken, but turkey. So Willow cut up the bird to cook it faster. Time had flown and she was running low on time. If she quartered the bird it would be done in time. She seasoned the bird with some pepper, dried garlic, salt, and some parley, and placed it in the oven, dousing it with a bit of lemon juice before closing the heavy iron door. Humming to herself, she peel the potatoes, toss them into a cast iron pot, fill with water, place on stove. Oh, how she hated peeling potatoes! But it must be done. The cream on the counter, she chopped up more garlic. When the potatoes were done boiling, she'd mash them with the garlic and cream. Elanor's favorite. Thankfully, Elanor's favorite dessert was strawberry shortcake. Shortcake is simple to make, and Willow sliced the strawberries and tossed them with a bit of sugar, singing now as she started whipping a bit of cream with sugar to make it fluffy. Satisfied with the texture, she sat back down to wait for the food to cook.

Smells of seasoning began to fill the room, and the sunlight combined with the smells and heat soon lulled Willow to sleep. A couple horsed reared outside causing quit a commotion, startling her from her sleep. She jumped up and headed to the window, and only saw the horses. What had frightened them? The house was momentarily covered in darkness, as if clouds covered the sun. She glanced up, but saw nothing. The potatoes began to boil over, so she pulled the pot off the stove, cursing as she accidentally burned her finger.

As she sucked on her finger, willing the burning feeling to subside, Willow stepped out the door. "If those boys are scaring the horses again...," she muttered under her breath.

Slight dust kicked up as her skirt swept across the ground to the corral. Nothing. Maybe he hadn't been at the corral after all. The horses reared again as a shadow came over them. Looking up she saw....

Eyes widening, terror overcame Willow and she screamed. The dragon overhead turned back around and looked down at her as she ran back to the house. The winged creature continued to fly, not stopping, until he was far from the house. Willow tore through the door, running to a corner of the room. Where was her family? How could she find them? If she went outside and they came home, how would they find her? Willow cried with fright and confusion, praying in her heart that her family would return home soon, safe and sound.

[piosenniel]

Child of the 7th Age’s post


Elanor got up from the lunch table and began to clear off the dishes, waving goodbye to her father and Eli as they trudged back towards the fields. Her mother was so busy with the farm and household chores that she had asked her to keep an eye on her younger brother. Elanor had gone out to the garden to pick a bucket of beans for dinner. By the time she returned to the house, her brother Eric was nowhere to be seen. She was only mildly concerned that he was missing from the house. He was probably off with mother in the garden or out in the barn playing with the cat who’d just had a litter of kittens.

Elanor sat down to finish hemming the dress, a task that her mother had asked her to start the evening before. She held up the skirt against the sunlight which was streaming in through the window and took a close look at her line of stitches. She still could not match her mother’s skill with the needle. Some of her own stitches were long, others quite short and a little wiggly. She’d need to work on that some other time. For right now, this would have to do.

Elanor was determined to finish her chores so she could meet her cousin Elian Whitfield and perhaps one of his friends as they had agreed the day before. They planned to hike north about a mile or two to see if there was anything new or different to report now that the Dwarves had carts of ore heading to the west. Rumor had it that the Dwarves had again started doing business with the Elves who dwelled deep within Mirkwood. Elanor had no idea if this was true but she wanted to get a good look at those carts and the Dwarves who were driving them. Someday, she promised, she’d take a great trip all the way to the Lonely Mountain where the Dwarf folk were said to live, with all their grand halls and piles of gold and other rare ores. But, for now, a little hike a mile or so north was all that she could manage. Elanor threw the dress down in a crumpled pile on the table and slipped out the front door, running down the pathway in the direction of their agreed upon meeting point.

*******************


The two teen-agers had trudged along for a half hour or so heading steadily north. Elian told Elanor stories he had heard from his grandfather: how the Dwarves had returned to the mountain some two hundred years before and had dug deep into the tunnels and come up with amazing treasure. Elanor wondered what the treasure would look like. She imagined heaps of gold and mithril sitting in three of four large piles in the middle of the Dwarves’ Great Hall. It might be nice, she reflected, to have a pin or necklace to wear. The two stopped and sat under an overhanging beech tree, drinking from the water bottles they had brought with them. Despite all their hiking, they had not seen a single Dwarf or any carts laden with treasure.

“We’d best get back,” Elanor pressed. “Mother expects me to help with dinner.”

“But we didn’t see any Dwarves!” her cousin objected. “And that’s why we came.”

”Maybe so. But we can always come again any time we want.”

Just as they were about to head south, Elian got up and excitedly pointed towards the hills in front of them. Some distance away and barely visible, there seemed to be a whole herd of Dwarves running to the west as fast as their short legs could take them. Some of them were waving swords, staves, and axes in the air.

“By all Beruthiel’s cats, what’s happening over there?”

Before Elanor could open her mouth to venture an opinion, there was a terrible hissing and whirling noise that came from the air. Instinctively, Elian grabbed for his cousin’s hand and yanked her down into the tall grass and ferns so that they were totally hidden. Coming straight at them, a sinister, twisting figure made its way southward, flying through the air. The creature was gigantic, its color just as golden as all the piles of treasure that Elanor had envisioned in the tales that she'd heard. Elian could glimpse two long fingers of flame that seemed to shoot out from the wyrm’s gaping mouth, leaving trails of ashes and smoke behind. The two children huddled together under the bracken afraid to look up or show their heads above the foliage. When the terrible shadow had finally swept over them, they staggered abruptly to their feet. Elian was shaking and Elanor barely holding back tears. “Our families!” they both cried at once. With that the two friends took off running towards the south.

[piosenniel]

Fallinel's post:

The sun was warm on Rhysdan's shoulders as he clambered among the large rocks, in search of the lost black-and-white ewe and her lamb. He used his staff expertly for balance and leverage, as he leapt from one boulder to the next; he knew from experience that the heavy, clumsy sheep could easily become wedged between rocks, and lacked the sense required to extricate themselves. Rhysdan scanned all the narrow, grassy spaces between the tumbled boulders, yet there was no sign of the ewe and her lamb. It was as if they had disappeared into thin air. He had wanted to bring his son Elian along to help him search for the sheep, but the adventurous boy was off wandering the hills with his cousin. "Probably looking for Dwarves, or treasure, or some such imaginative nonsense, " thought Rhysdan, and smiled.

The ewe and lamb were not the first of Rhysdan's livestock to disappear; no-the old brown ram, and a young cream-colored heifer had also gone missing, without a trace left behind. No tell-tale sightings of circling carrion-birds for a sick or injured animal, either. The last time he had traveled into the Dale market, to sell cream, butter, and sheep's milk cheeses, he had heard disturbing tales of losses on other farms and homesteads, livestock spirited away mysteriously.

Rhysdan had hiked close to one of the towering southern arms of the Lonely Mountain in his search for the lost ewe and her lamb, enjoying the exertion as he moved steadily uphill, in spite of the nagging worries over his livestock. His red-speckled, blue-eyed sheepdog, Hawkweed, accompanied him, trotting to and fro amongst the boulders and patches of high grass, sniffing incessantly for the elusive sheep-scent. Something passed between the sun and the stone-littered field where Rhysdan stood, casting a long dark shadow on the grass, and Hawkweed immediately began barking frantically. That was so unlike the dog, who was usually devoted to his tasks; Rhysdan looked up, and in the bright sky saw something that left him feeling un-nerved, yet fascinated.

No, it can't be-those are only wild tales, meant to frighten children, thought Rhysdan. But there it was, golden-red scales glistening in the sun, long tail lashing from side to side as a rudder, immense leathery wings beating the air powerfully. Rhysdan could see fibers, or perhaps fur and skin trailing from one of the dragon's huge front claws. Hawkweed continued to bark madly, racing around the stones, and jumping on and off the tops of the smaller ones nervously. Rhysdan thought to silence the dog with a command, but then realized that the dragon was paying them little or no heed. Its attention appeared to be focused on the mountain itself, particularly on the southern side. It is looking for a den, just like a fox or wolf , thought the shepherd, who had little knowledge of dragons, but knew much about the wild animals of the area.

Then Rhysdan remembered that Elian and Elanor had decided to go adventuring near the mountain, and surely that golden monster had the vision of a hawk or eagle. Rhysdan called Hawkweed to his side, and began to run back towards his homestead...

[Nurumaiel]

Daisy buried her face in her mother's apron, feeling comforted by the tender arms about her. She kept her eyes tightly shut, for she did not want to see the dragon again, but she could imagine it, its large scaled wings spread out, casting a shadow over their once-peaceful home, and its goldeness beautiful but terrifying. Her sensitive mind began to imagine what fates would befall her when the dragon's fire descended upon them, and the tears began to flow faster than before, and she clung to her mother tighter. Yet still she was not wholly terrified, until she remembered that Elian and Cousin Elanor were out rambling together. It was then that fear smote her to her little heart, and she pulled herself away from her mother's embrace, gazing pathetically up into her face.

"Mamma!" she cried. "Mamma, Elian is out there somewhere!"

"I know, darling," said her mother, reaching forward to stroke her daughter's hair. "They will take care of each other and come safe home, and Papa will make sure no harm comes to them."

Daisy shook her head fiercely, the tears frozen on her cheeks. "No, Mamma," she said. "The dragon will see them and kill them." Her voice rose to a shrill scream, for she could envision their deaths clearly in their mind. She couldn't just let them die, yet she was afraid. "They need someone to find them and take them home." A wary look sprang into Esmerelda's eyes, and she took a little step forward. Daisy hopped nimbly back. "Mamma, we have to go look for them."

"Daisy, I would much rather you stay at your aunt and uncle's house," said her mother softly, moving a little closer.

Once again Daisy moved away. She had to help her brother and cousin, for they were in danger and she could not let them die. "No, no, Mamma!" she cried. "They need me to help them." Without further ado, she sprung for the door, and Esmerelda hurried after her. Daisy went through the living room and to the front door, and flung it open, gazing wildly up at the sky. She glanced over her shoulder at her mother's following form, and then sprung off the doorstep into the street.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Pumping her legs as fast as she could, Elanor bolted across the open field, too afraid to gaze up into the open sky. The young woman could see Elian sprinting just in front of her, intermittently glancing back to make certain that she was still alright.

Panting as much from fright as exertion, the two managed to find their way back to the outer ring of farmhouses on the far outskirts of Dale. The shortest way home was to cut straight through the fields and pens, ignoring private boundaries, clambering over the wooden fences. They were quite prepared to do this but some saving instinct inside Elanor's head warned her to stop for a moment and spy out the lay of the land.

As she and Elian crouched behind a hedge and peered cautiously outward, a horrifying spectacle caught her eye. They stared unbelieving as a commanding shadow swooped down from the sky spilling flame and ashes in its trail. Two of the smaller sheds on the nearest farm had already caught fire and the greedy tongues of red and orange were threatening to spread to the adjacent house. Worse yet, the beast had now alit on the ground and was tossing cattle out of the way with a shake of its head as if they were nothing more than little toys, like those made in Dale that were so popular among both human and dwarven children.

Struggling to stay calm, Elanor bellowed out above the racket, "Let's get out of here. It's too dangerous. There has to be another way home."

Elian nodded curtly, "Back there. Up, over the rocks." He pointed to a string of boulders that were grouped around the base of the nearby foothills. "We can get over those, and cut around to avoid this mess." With a wave of his hand, he gestured towards the dragon who as yet showed no signs of leaving.

The two swiftly backtracked towards the path Elian had recommended. As they started to clamber up the rocks, Elanor thought she heard the scream of a woman from behind her in the same direction as the burning house, a scream that lasted only a few seconds and was then cut ominously short. She shook her head and covered her ears to block out the sound. But the only thing she succeeded in doing was to conjure up a picture in her mind of her younger brother Eric, the one she usually dismissed as a great pest. When she had left her home that afternoon, she had not been able to find him. Surely, he was with their mother. He had to be with mother!

But for the first time that day, Elanor felt her confidence waiver. What if she was wrong.....?

[Regin Hardhammer]

Eric raced after the humungous creature, his heart pounding. He was determined to catch up with it to get a closer look. Wide clumps of trees flew past him as he ventured deeper into the forest. His shoe caught on a tree root protruding from the ground and he fell, receiving a large mouthful of dirt. Blubbering under his breath, Eric hastily scanned the sky to find the beast.

“Where did you go bird?” he yelled desperately. After several minutes of searching, Eric guessed that the bird had flown away into a clump of thick trees. Why did nothing he did ever turn out right? His left leg now swelled with a sharp pain from the bruise that he had received from his ungraceful descent. But he was not going to cry about it like that little baby Eli, who wailed whenever he got a paper cut. Mom and Dad, of course, always tried to calm him and assure him that he was okay. Well I could get their attention too if I was such a baby, thought Eli.

Thoroughly depressed that his adventure seemed to have hit a brick wall, Eli sat down on an old oak stump. Eric looked up at the old trees surrounding him, their long branchy fingers reached far into the sky and were covered with thick clumps of green pine needles. Squirrels scuttled up and down the trunk, munching on bunches of nuts and kernels. He wished that he had something to eat as it was getting late and his stomach rumbled tumultuously

Eric had explored most of the forests around his house, but these woods were not familiar to him. As the sun crept lower in the sky, he searched for something, anything, which would remind him of where he was. Over hours, the foreboding darkness crept up on Eric, cast upon him by the elderly trees. As the bleakness of the situation became apparent, panic set in. He was not safe in this strange forest all alone, no matter how tough he was. Eric cringed as he could have sworn he heard a long, mournful wolf howl echoing through the crisp air. No, he assured himself adamantly, I will make it out of this place and I will find my way home. And I’m not going to sit here and cry about it.

[ArwenBaggins]

Arinn rushed recklessly through the door of his home, a struggling Eli in his hands; the boy was pushing locks of sweaty hair out of his father's eyes. He let the weak boy down gently, hoping he would find a seat for rest after his frightening ordeal. Instead, he beamed proudly, put his hands on his hips, and proceded to waddle to his mother. "Momma! There's a big monster in da sky! Did ya see da big birdie-thing?"

"A dragon," Arinn clarified, even though he himself was unsure if their sighting. "It was a dragon, coming from the North." He tried to remain calm, with the blood rushing through his veins and the breath coming quick. He had to be strong for his family.

Arinn collapsed into a kitchen chair, apparently tired from the hastened jog and the evident fear. He opened his mouth to say something to Willow about Eli's near fainting, but decided that this jumbled and panicked state of mind was not the best time to tell his already-frightened wife.

"I think we should head over to Rhysdan's and Willow's and make sure everyone's alright- on the way back I saw some flames over that way," he faltered slowly, not sure if it was in his best interest for his wife and son to know that he saw fire near their loved ones. "Eric! Elanor!" Arinn stood from his chair and looked to Willow, still cowering in a chair in the corner.

Why hadn't the children come yet? Surely they had heard his call! "Willow," he said calmly (even though very frightened), but hastened to add, "my dear, where are Eric and Elanor?"

[Pippin Pondlily]

Esmerelda toppled a chair as she raced after her daughter. "Daisy!" she shouted. There was a panicked tremor in her voice when she called again louder. "Daisy! Daisy, come back this minute!" She was nearly screaming. Her daughter threw open the door and ran out into the street. She made for the fields with a wild determination that propelled her with an incredible speed. Her mother raced after her.

Esmerelda looked up into the sky for the dragon. It was flying very low in to the right of her, seemingly towards Erebor. Smoke from its recent destruction and leaping flames could be seen from the roofs of houses or sheds nearest the mountain. The dust had caused salty tears to well in her eyes and fall down her cheeks and she wiped them away, desperate to clear her vision.

Wild whinnies and echoing hooves caught Esmerelda's attention and she was horrified to see a hysterical herd of half a dozen or so horses pummeling their way through the fields towards her and Daisy not fifty meters away. She slowed, "Oh my God…Daisy! Daisy!" The wind was unbearably fierce and took her voice away when she screamed for her daughter. Esmerelda ran faster, racing the horses, praying that she'd reach her daughter before they did. The dust spun in the air and caught in her throat making her heave and cough and threatening to slow her down. She pushing herself forward, fighting against the terror of loosing her daughter that rose up inside her.

A slight glance to her left made Daisy come to a halt as she saw the horses nearly on top of her. Her eyes became very wide and her mouth opened in a scream. In the next few seconds Esmerelda reached her and scooped her up in her arms, racing just out of the horses' path. She dropped to her knees and held Daisy under her, shielding her little body from the spray of dust and gravel kicked up by the frantic herd. The tiny girl sobbed and pulled at her mother's dress, consumed by fear and grief.

Finally the horses passed and Esmerelda opened her eyes, pulling Daisy's face up to look at her. She was crying herself to exhaustion and her tiny face was smeared with tears and dirt. Esmerelda brushed strands of wet hair out of her eyes and rocked her slowly. "Shh, shh," she said, rubbing her back. She was quiet for a minute, concentrating on sending a soothing vibe to her daughter to help subdue her hysteria. She put her mouth next to her daughter's ear and whispered tenderly but firmly. "You must never disobey Mummy again, is that clear? You could have gotten terribly hurt!" She cupped her daughters face in her hands and kissed her forehead. "Now, we have to go back to the house and wait for Daddy and Elian," she said. "If we go out and look for them, we might get lost or hurt, and that would make Daddy and Elian very, very sad. If we stay where they can find us, they'll come home and be happy and relieved, okay?" She stroked her daughter's hair. "Alright, we have to be brave. We have to be brave for Daddy and Elian."

Esmerelda helped her daughter stand and brushed dust from her dress and arms. "Let's go," she said. Esmerelda took a deep breath as they walked briskly back to the house. She held firmly to her daughter's hand and tried not to think of what might have happened if she had been too late in getting to her daughter.

[Fallinel]

Although Rhysdan’s impulse was to run as fast as possible downhill towards his farm and family, he realized that reckless flight over uneven and rocky terrain might very well result in serious injury. And then, of course, he would be no help whatsoever to his wife and children. Man and dog threaded their way through the maze of large rocks and boulders, until they reached a sloping meadow littered with smaller stones. Rhysdan decided to stop briefly to look back towards the southernmost shoulder of the Lonely Mountain, and to scan the sky for the golden wyrm. He could see the monster circling in the air above the junction between the two southern ridges, where the Dwarves were rumored to have their great Front Gate. Rhysdan could just make out a few tiny figures moving agitatedly in that region, and he supposed that they must indeed be Dwarves.

Rhysdan resumed his rapid, yet careful, descent through the meadow, and was once again overtaken by the shadow of the flying dragon. Suddenly, something fell from the sky, and landed perilously close to the shepherd and his dog, with a dull thud. Rhysdan paused briefly to glance over at the fallen object, and what he saw made his stomach churn and his heart sink. It was the head of an adult sheep, attached to the tattered remains of a black-and-white pelt, and it had slipped from one of the monster’s huge claws. He thought of his daughter Daisy, how much she loved the sheep and cattle, how she would ask about the lost ewe and lamb, and what…what could he tell such a sensitive little girl to answer her questions? Rhysdan shook his head at his silliness for worrying about such things in a time of crisis, with imminent threat to human lives.

Rhysdan paused again to look down towards Dale, and realized that the dragon had flown towards the town. The golden monster circled a few times, gliding ever lower, until it appeared to land near some of the farms closest to town. Rhysdan resisted the instinct to panic, though he was consumed with worry and fear for his family. He began to run again, faster this time and over better terrain, with the red-speckled sheepdog close to his side. Hawkweed’s ears were pricked forward, and he was whining softly as they rushed downhill; undoubtedly the dog could hear the whinnies, bleats, and screams of panicked livestock and humans.

Suddenly, Hawkweed began to bark eagerly, and raced away from Rhysdan’s side, towards two lithe figures that were running uphill, away from the besieged farms. The loyal sheepdog would only leave his master for another family member, and Rhysdan felt a surge of hope as he realized that the figures must be Elian and his cousin Elanor. At least the two teenagers had had the good sense and presence of mind to run away from the dragon and his rampage.

[Nurumaiel]

Daisy sat wearily upon her uncle's shoulder, her eyes desiring to close but her whole being rebelling against the mere thought of sleep. Worry pulled at her little heart and she wondered what had become of her papa and Eric. They had paused by the river, and she began to slide from her uncle's shoulder to let him know she wanted to be put down. He gently set her upon the ground, and she went to her mother and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. She felt a comforting arm go about her shoulders, and she buried her head in her mother's side, trying to imagine away all the terrible things that had taken place.

It was very odd. Every other time something bad happened she was able to pretend it hadn't, and imagine something good had happened instead, or that nothing had happened at all. But now she could see nothing but the ill that had befallen them, and when she tried to imagine something else she saw only worse things. Like her father lying hurt somewhere and calling for help... lying in the darkness, all alone, with the flames around him and the dragon above him. Her little knees trembled, and her mother sensed it and took a stronger hold on her, helping her to sit down, and thens sitting down beside her. Daisy crawled into her mother's lap and gazed with wide eyes up into her face. "Mamma," she whispered urgently. "Mamma, where is Papa?"

"I don't know, dearest," her mother whispered. Her face was tense, and the worry was clear in her eyes. Daisy could only imagine how hard it was for her mother to not know where Papa was.

"Will he be all right, Mamma?" she questioned. "Why is everyone so worried about Eric? Why don't they try to find Papa?"

"They are trying to find Papa, but he's a grown man and can take care of himself. Eric is just a little boy."

"But what if Papa is hurt and can't take care of himself?" Daisy persisted. Her mother said nothing but her lips tightened and a shadow passed over her face, and she pulled her daughter closer to her. Daisy gazed up at the night sky, and then down towards the river to look into its depths. Papa would not be hurt. If he was hurt she would take care of him and make him better. If only they could find him. It would be all right then, even if he was hurt. Mamma could make anyone better. Mamma had made her better when she had fallen and scratched her knee. Even if he was hurt, everything would be all right. But Papa was not even hurt. This she knew, or tried to believe with all her heart.

She let her eyes close as she lay in the warmth of her mother's arms. It would be sweet to sleep for a little while, and to wake refreshed and ready to search for her papa and take care of him if he was hurt. But sleep would not come. It lingered about her, but when at last it reluctantly gave in and moved forward to take her, worry would shove it aside and assail her mind with doubts and fears. Sleep would always be forced to flee. She heard her mother humming softly, and then faintly heard the words of an old lullaby.

"Hush little one, close your eyes
and sleep beneath the morning skies.
Though sleep may at the dawn flee
I will always keep you close to me.
Hush little one, sleep."

[ArwenBaggins]

Arinn sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. It was hard enough to keep them open, but he needed another moment of rest. "Uncle Arinn…" whispered little Daisy, poking his cheek through a mass of hair. He shook his head and jumped a bit, waking just before he fell asleep standing up.

Everyone was tired, and he knew this. Even though he wanted more than anything to find his son and Rhysdan and seemingly being on the right track, sleep was essential as well. Grabbing Daisy under her arms and lowering her gently, he looked to the group still studying Eric's footprints. Taking a few steps forward, he knelt in the grass next to Elanor. "Those are Eric's shoeprints. I kept telling him to let me see if I could patch them up." Arinn stopped for a moment. "But he said that he wanted new ones like Eli."

Again, Arinn felt like this was all his fault. Standing up again, he dusted the dirt and grass from his knees and straightened his pants. "I think we need to take get some rest and search some more in a few hours- besides, the sun will be coming up soon." Several agreeing mutters wafted up from the group. "We can all come back to our home, so we can set out again together."

He looked to the horizon, where little splashes of purple and orange were floating just above the ground. Lifting Daisy onto his shoulders again so he wouldn't have to later on, he blinked for a few seconds to try and shake the sleep away for just a little while longer. He felt Daisy's head on his own, and smiled gently as he noticed Eli asleep again in the little sling across Willow's chest.

They trudged on silently, the only noise the chirping of crickets, the flickering and crackling of the torches, and Eli's awkward but peaceful breathing. Arinn started humming a soft lullaby that he had heard Willow singing to the twins and Elanor when they were smaller. He then heard a sniffling and turned to see Eli awake again.

"Papa, we're gonna find Eric, aren't we? An'.... an' Uncle Rhysdan?" Warm tears were streaming now down Eli's face, his green eye blinking because of allergies and the gray eye red with sadness.

Arinn didn't want to lie to his son, or himself. He couldn't say that they were positivly going to find Eric, but of course he had to. He couldn't tell Eli that they might not find Eric! "Of course we'll find him Eli. Now you settle down and go back to sleep. Mama or I will wake you up when we go looking for him again."

Little Eli sniffled again and Arinn saw him nod in the brightening darkness. "That's good, 'cause I wanted to say that I'm sorwy an' that he can come out and plant with us next time…" His words trailed off into pleasant slumber.

"Uncle Arinn," Elian spoke simply, as a clue that they were nearing the house. Arinn nodded in acknowledgement and held the door for everyone as the entered the house.

Finding a chair, he fell onto it and breathed a very deep and relaxing sigh. "I think I'll just stay here, and let you all sleep. No Willow, I'll be fine…" His head bobbed, but he hurried to pull it back up. "Eli, take Elian to your room. Elanor, take Daisy to yours. Esmerelda…" he trailed off, looking around. Starting again, he tried not to sound rude. "Find… somewhere. We've got blankets in our room. You can probably go in there with Willow."

His eyes fell closed for longer than usual. A creak of wood jolted him back to the world of the awake. "Just… about an hour…?" It really wasn't a question, because if they were to leave at dawn that was all they had. "And then… we can go back down to where the footprints were… and look around there." As the family drudged off reluctantly to their places brief rest, Arinn pulled the chair away from the wall a bit and leaned backwards in it. His eyes started to drift closed again, but this time he could keep them that way for a little while...

Crash. A second before he was sitting in the chair, and now he was on the floor. Almost positive that everyone was already asleep and wouldn't come rushing to him, he grumbled it off and sat straight in the homemade chair again. He was now going to get a little rest, and then continue the search for Rhysdan and Eric.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Elanor noted that the return trek had gone much faster than when they had left the house last night to try and find Eric. Her father knew exactly where he was going, and was not pulled off on side explorations as they had been on the outward trip. Torches were quickly doused in the well, and a small fire lit in the front grate, since papa had decided to take his rest in the family's common room.

Despite her worry over Eric, Elanor was not sorry to get a chance to lay down and rest. She took one of her extra blankets over to Aunt Esmerelda who had decided to stay in her parents' room where mother was now sleeping. Elanor leaned over to kiss her mother and Aunt goodnight; she could see clear lines of worry on both their faces. One or two hours of sleep was not much rest, but at least it was better than nothing. And how could they delay longer than that when Eric was outside, lost and cold and probably sleeping on the ground?

*********************************

Much to her surprise, Elanor slept soundly and awoke about an hour after sunrise. Tiptoeing noiselessly outside her room, she noted that everyone else was still asleep, even her father who was sitting in a chair with his head slumped down on the table.

Elanor began preparing breakfast and packing lunches for the trip. They should eat something before leaving the house, and who knew how long they would be out looking during the day? After cooking a pot of hot porridge and setting a pitcher of milk on the table alongside a loaf of bread, Elanor fixed seven little packets of cheese and meat that they could carry along for lunch. Then she went back to assemble two more parcels of food. These were even larger than the rest. If they found her brother or Uncle Rhysdan, both of them would surely be hungry.

Suddenly, without warning, Elanor felt the walls of the house shudder once, then again. Pushing back fear, she hurried outside to see what was happening. The great wyrm was flying overhead in circles, bellowing in triumph as if he had something to celebrate. The dragon's massive frame filled the entire air, turning the rosy morning to a dull grey as the sun ducked under the clouds for cover. The noise the creature made was so deep and thunderous that it reverberated through the air from one side of the valley to the other so that even the buildings and the earth shook.

Shaking in revulsion to see that the beast had indeed returned, Elanor sprinted back inside the house, yelling out a warning, "Mother, Father, Aunt Esmerelda, everone up. We have to leave. That horrible creature is back."

[Pippin Pondlily]

Esmerelda woke with a start to the shivering timbers of the Millwind's house and the shouts of Elanor. "Mother, Father, Aunt Esmerelda, everone up! We have to leave! That horrible creature is back!"

Esmerelda wrapped her blanket about her shoulders and woke Willow. "The dragon's back in Dale. We're going to want to get going." Willow nodded and closed her eyes momentarily. She was nervous for her son; Esmerelda's heart went out to her. She hugged her close. "It will be alright," she whispered. She feared for Rhysdan too.

As she was walking out the room she got a look at herself in the mirror propped up over the dresser in the bedroom. Her face was dirty and her fine blond hair was tangled. She hadn't bothered to take off her dress before she fell asleep and it was now mussed and wrinkled with tears in the skirt from yesterday's difficult activity. She did her best to straighten her chemise sleeves and bodies and smooth the creases out of her skirt. Willow joined her at the glass. "Oh my," she said lightly, and smiled wearily, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear.

Esmerelda poured a placid stream of water from the pitcher into the washbowl and wet her hands and splashed her face, rubbing the darker patches of dirt with a towel. She dried her face quickly. A brush was lying next to the bowl and she grabbed it just as the house gave a second shudder. It was part of Esmerelda's upbringing to be as presentable as possible and the image of strength and inner beauty for her children. Now above all times was when her children would need her comforting presence the most and she did not want to look mussed or harried. There was also something strangely calming about looking nice and feeling clean.

The two families gathered in the kitchen, quiet at first, watching Arinn who tracked the avian dragon with his eyes.

"It makes broad circles in the sky, dipping and breathing his fire without pattern," he said. Then he turned back to the room. Elanor and Willow were stashing food into small bags and slipping ropes through the flaps so they could be carried easily.

"Daisy," said Esmerelda, beckoning to her daughter. "Let me re-braid your hair, dear." The little girl walked over to her mother, running her fingers through the messy braid as it came undone over her shoulder. Esmerelda took the brush and began to pull it gently through her daughter's beautiful brown hair.

Elian began to ladle bowls of porridge for everyone and Willow encouraged everyone to eat it slow so as not to upset their stomachs. Arinn took his bowl of breakfast standing up but didn't seem to show much interest in it. Esmerelda finished Daisy's hair and sent her to her own. She stood and set the brush on a small table pushed up against a wall next to her small bag of medicinal herbs and bandage strips that she had brought from her house. She set her hand on its smooth leather exterior and then tied the strap to the sash about her waist.

"We should get going soon," said Arinn, maintaining a firm paternal energy that gave confidence to his family.

"With the dragon about?" asked Elian, offering his opinion. Esmerelda had always been very proud of her son and his display of maturity in his father's absence made her glow. But he had provided an interesting detail: Would it be wise for such a large party to search for Eric and Rhysdan in the blaring morning sun? They would draw attention to themselves from the wyrm and in doing so inflict a greater danger. But they couldn't possibly just sit at the house and wait. What if either Rhysdan or Eric was trapped somewhere amidst the dragon's destruction or hurt and unable to move?

Suddenly Esmerelda was inspired to act, to take control, but she said little, knowing to leave to Arinn his duty. "We can't all go," she said. "It will draw far too much attention." Oh! how she wanted desperately to go out and help search for her husband. "Some of us will have to stay here with Daisy and Eli. We cannot present too large of a group."

Daisy looked up at her mother. "But--" she began; Esmerelda shook her head, cutting her off. "I'm sorry dear but the danger is far too great."

"And we've got to be quick," added Elian, looking sympathetically at his sister. "I know you want to help, Daisy, but father would be much more pleased if he knew you were safe here instead of out under the dragon's sky, and in harm's way." Daisy dropped her shoulders but nodded understandingly. Her brother was right.

Esmerelda rested her hands on her daughter's shoulders and looked to Arinn. "Well what should we do?"

[Fallinel]

Rhysdan had not walked far from the Fairlake homestead, when he was greeted by another farmer, Skylden Oakwain, who was a leader and market organizer in the local community. “Rhys!” cried Skylden, “I’m so glad to see you-we’re desperate for a level head and livestock experience, in the wake of the monster. Your son Elian told me that you were on your way down from the foothills.”

Skylden explained to Rhysdan that he had spoken with Elian earlier, and that Esmerelda and Daisy had gone to stay with the Millwinds. The Whitfield homestead was intact, and the livestock had been herded into the largest paddock, with plenty of water and even a bit of cover from a small group of trees. Rhysdan let out an audible sigh of relief, and tried not to show his disappointment and exhaustion when Skylden enlisted him and Hawkweed to help round up frightened livestock, and to put out any remaining smoldering fires. This necessary work, which tested the limits of Rhysdan’s physical reserves, extended throughout the night, and it was sunrise before Rhysdan made his weary way to the Millwind farm.

As the shepherd and his dog approached the homestead, Hawkweed began running in tight circles and barking. Rhysdan thought that the dog was merely excited about returning to familiar territory, or that perhaps he had seen or smelled one of the children. A sudden loud rushing, roaring noise dispelled that notion-the dragon had returned, and was flying overhead. Rhysdan could not resist the temptation to look up as the monster sailed past, golden-red scales gleaming in the morning sun. The shepherd watched with a mixture of fear and fascination as the dragon disappeared in the distance, and then, as if released from a trance, he began to move once more. Rhysdan and Hawkweed ran up the path to the farmhouse, and rushed in through the front door.

“Papa! Hawkweed!” shrieked Daisy, very nearly upsetting her bowl of porridge in her haste. She ran to Rhysdan, who enveloped her in his strong arms and lifted her up in a hug. Father and daughter were soon joined in their affectionate reunion by Elian and Esmerelda, and all laughed and cried in their joy and relief. Hawkweed waved his feathery tail, huffled and whined and grinned a doggy grin.

“Where have you been, Rhys? Your face is covered with soot!” scolded Esmerelda, as she wiped some of it away with a dishcloth. “I’ll bet Papa has been helping put out fires all night, and that Hawkweed has been rounding up lost sheep,” said Elian knowingly.

“You’re a clever lad, Elian, and you’re absolutely right about my overnight absence. I met Mr. Oakwain, after I’d rescued some animals at the Fairlake farm, and he asked for my help. There was so much confusion, terror, and destruction-but I’m sorry that you all had to worry about me,” explained Rhysdan, shaking his head. The shepherd sank wearily into one of the chairs, and gratefully accepted a bowl of porridge. Daisy sat in his lap, and began to speak rather hesitantly, “Papa, we’ve found you now, but cousin Eric is missing. We looked for him in the dark-all of us-but we couldn’t find him. I know you and Hawkweed can find him, Papa, please let’s go look for him now!”

****************************

Child of the 7th Age's post

Despite her worry over Eric, Elanor could not help but smile broadly when she saw the reunion that was taking place in front of her. She glanced up at her mother and was not surprised to see Willow also smile, her eyes mirroring the solemn hope that there would shortly be a second occasion for all of them to celebrate. Even the wyrm's hovering threat could not erase Elanor's sheer relief at seeing her Uncle safely beside them.

It did not take long for the two families to reach a number of quick and sensible decisions. Esmerelda would stay home with Daisy and Eli, while the others went out to track down Eric. The two young children were simply too tired to push on without a rest. And Esmerelda had put forward a very good point. A large contingent of rescuers might inadvertently draw the dragon's attention, something that should be avoided at all costs. Once Eric had been found, they would all gather back at the house before deciding what to do.

Quickly, they picked up the satchels of food. Elanor also carried a packet of herbs and other healng remedies. She dearly hoped that she would not have to use these, but she reasoned that it was best to be cautious. This time both family dogs accompanied them; the hounds ran eagerly in circles, halting periodically to put their noses to the ground, as they bayed and sniffed and tried to pick up the scent. Walking out into the farmyard and heading towards the gate, Elanor noticed a steady stream of men, women, and children, tramping down the public path in a southerly direction. Many of them carried parcels of clothing or dragged along carts with other belongings; a few were leading the only sheep or cow they had managed to save.

Several women that she knew from the city beckoned to Willow and urged her to come over and talk. Willow explained about Eric, and hastily inquired to see if anyone had seen him. Once she and then she listened to what the women had to say. "It's bad in Dale," Goodwife Plunk confided in a gruff voice. "Some buildings are still burning and the few cattle still alive are all at loose ends and roaming the streets. That flying monstor struck two or three times, diving in and making a path of fire through the city. Some folk have decided to stay and fight the blazes."

"But not us!" added Goodman Plunk, with a hearty shake of his head. "Enough is enough. You can see how many have decided to leave, to head south to Long Lake or even beyond." The sturdy tradesman cocked his thumb and pointed it towards the growing number of citizens of Dale who were scurrying along the path.

"And you?" asked the Goodwife. "What will you and your folk do?"

Willow hastily shook her head, "We're trying to find Eric. That comes first. Once we do that, we'll figure out the rest."

The group said their goodbyes and headed to the gate, departing from the path to cut across the fields.

[piosenniel]

~*~ To Elvenhome ~*~