Siege of Gundabad RPG

[piosenniel]

CaptainofDespair’s post

The wretched cold of the North had harried the small outfit of Gondorian soldiers for many weeks, as they marched through exhaustion to Esgaroth, the last way point for the army, as it prepared to make for Mount Gundabad, last of the major Orc strongholds in the north. Supplies had begun to dwindle, and the soldiers began to hope to arrive in the Dale soon, to replenish what they could before their confrontation. Yet, it was not food and water that the troops hungered for most, it was woolen cloth, and fur, to give them much needed warmth, so that they could fight, and not become mere statues in an endless waste of snow and ice.

This host’s commander was a brutally effective combat leader. With many of Gondor’s more able northern commanders unavailable due to the winter storms that were common in the barrens that formed during the blight of winter, Uther was summoned by King Elessar to remove the Orc threat of Gundabad. He was given a mandate; return to Gondor with an alliance, no matter how tenuous, or return with the head of the Orc chieftain. The aging Easterner knew better, for he had many dealings with the Orcs in the past. They would never submit to the strict stipulations of the King. Yet, on his honor, he was forced to at least offer the terms to his enemies, in hopes of them accepting them. His only real option, was to attempt to defeat the Orcs, on their ground. He did not like this, but he knew it must be done.

The actual size of the force that was put under Uther’s command was quite small, and was not wholly equipped to a siege of a mountain fortress. He had only managed to gather enough equipment to construct either a single battering ram, or build two or three light anti-personnel ballistas. With only sixty-five soldiers under his command, and countless orcs holding the well fortified, and easily defendable Mt. Gundabad, the prospects of a direct assault were slimmed to almost nothing. And to counteract any plans of his, the supply line had been thinned to nothing. He would get no reinforcements. His last bastion of hope was Esgaroth, where his army was now camping. Hopefully, with a little monetary incentive, he could obtain enough supplies to last a few extra weeks, should the siege drag on that long.

The troops under his command, though embattled by the elements, and beleaguered by the fear of both the stout Orcs they would face, and of their commander, remained surprisingly hopeful that at least a sizeable number of them would survive. Their hastily constructed camp was enough to hold off the brunt of the winter chill for now, but it was not suitable for the comfortable living many of them were accustomed to back home in Gondor.

Yet, with all the climatic hardships that were now set upon the Gondorians, they persisted. Uther had always been a driven, single-minded man when it came to war, and so he brushed aside the chill conditions, and prepared himself to face his enemy. His mind was set upon victory, and he was numb to the price he might pay to achieve that goal. But for now, he was content to plan his assault upon the battlements of Gundabad.

The aging commander had laid out a multitude of rudimentary maps, siege warfare doctrine papers, scout reports, and numerous other reports gathered from locals who had experienced either the Orc threat, or the terrain near the Mountain. He sat alone in a hastily constructed field command tent, with only his two hounds for companionship. But this was the way he preferred it. He did not always enjoy the company of his men, for many were brutes, or of the poor peasant class, and he did not wish to indulge their high hopes that war brought all men closer, no matter where they came from. But he was one of them, and that is what frightened him most, that he had risen through the ranks from that distant past, to a higher standing. His past was a burden to him, and he kept it to himself as much as possible. Thus, he kept to himself, so as not to reveal such matters to those who should not be privy to such knowledge. He had been like this ever since he came to Gondor, and joined the army. And now he only continued his lie of a life, pretending to be something he wasn’t, for the sake of vanity. And now he was yet again and scheming away, cooped up in his tent like a hermit.

[piosenniel]

Alaksoron's post

Huddling over a meager fire, Barak pulled his cloak closer against the biting wind. It was warmer in Gondor. He had lost count of how long they had been on the march. Surely it had been weeks. Though he was beginning to lose faith in his commander, he could never doubt King Elessar.

Uther Kahir was wild and often psychotic, but he was just the type of single-minded, agressive field officer needed for this type of mission. Not that Lieutenant Uther was the type to disclose information unneccesarily, but Barak knew something of what was going on.

They had been sent to siege and destroy the Orc/Goblin stronghold on Mt. Gundabad. King Elessar had ordered diplomatic efforts first, though he must have known it was hopeless. It would end in battle, and slaughter. Which was fine with Barak.

[piosenniel]

Witch_Queen's post

Mordred could barely feel his feet. The snow was cold and he longed for a chance to be by a fire. According to the rest of his conrads the supplies were diminishing. Mordred was eager to meet his enemies head on. There was nothing more he wanted to do. Mordred had no doubt that Lieutenant Uther would come through for his men. All he wanted was for the snow to be gone with the orcs. Mordred found that he could talk to only one person, that one person being himself. The others thought him to be crazy, but he found himself lonely alot and thought about what the others were thinking. Soon after he began thinking, he figured it took too much of his needed energy.

After weeks of marching all he really wanted out of everything was to lay in an actual bed. He often thought about his wife and young son. He knew in the future that his son would be in the same spot as he was if the orcs weren't taken care of. Mordred had only talked to Lieutenant Uther a couple of times and thought Uther was a very brave man. He never saw the Lieutenant without his dogs. Mordred figured the dogs refused to leave Uther just like Uther's men wouldn't abandon him. Mordred kept to himself alot because the other men were always talking about what they were going to do when the "battle" was over. He wasn't as experienced as the others and knew they thought him as still a "child." Mordred felt like he was back at home. He was the youngest of all his brothers and sisters and yet again he knew he was the youngest one in the group.

[piosenniel]

Soredamor's post

Hearing a disgruntled mutter as the goblin trooper turned his back to his Captain, Grûglach growled. The trooper sped up a bit, though he tried not to show his fear. He tried, but he did a poor job of it. The Captain observed this with a smirk. He was proud of how he kept his troops in line, and he enjoyed watching those retreating backs, fear apparent in the swiftness of their pace and their posture, their backs more hunched than usual. Under Grûglach’s eye, he intended them all to cower. He watched the back of the retreating goblin, trying to burn a hole in his back and stir him to running in his fright, but he soon tired of it. It never took Grûglach long to realize he was wasting his time with these creatures.

The fall of Sauron had made the Captain more reliant on himself than ever, and he felt he was wasting time if any of it was spent on anyone else. There were times when it sickened him that he was forced to show some kind of façade of loyalty to be in a secure position, but he realized that it benefited him to remain in his position among the goblins of the Misty Mountains, and that he would not find any benefit elsewhere. But it was one of those times, at that moment, when his disgust took him just slightly over the edge. And the approach of a sniveling lieutenant pushed him a little farther.

“Captain Grûglach, sir?”

The lieutenant, Gorurk, said everything as a question, most likely in fear of being wrong. Grûglach was revolted by this behavior, but he did not hesitate to encourage it by so often telling him how wrong he was. Gorurk waited for his Captain to answer, but Grûglach liked to make people wait. He hated to waste his own time, but he had no qualms about wasting others’. Finally the lieutenant understood that he would not receive acknowledgement, and he continued, his voice now shaking. It was always astounding what a little silence could do.

“There is word from Gundabad...it’s…not very good…”

“Really?” Grûglach spoke with mock surprise. He fooled Gorurk.

“Well…yes, sir… I always tell the truth to you, sir…”

“I’m sure you do, Gorurk.” The Captain said, almost soothingly, but so very contemptuously. “So tell me the truth, and tell me what word has come from Gundabad.”

“There is to be an attack. They say it will be the final attack. They say they will get rid of all that served the Master. Gorurk always praised the Master’s name. They say…”

“I have heard enough of what they say, and more than enough of what you say, Gorurk. We will wait for orders.” Then Grûglach would see if he would follow those orders.

[piosenniel]

Umwë's post

The cold chilly wind didn't scare Grokgash. He sniffed, but couldn't smell anything else than the tempting smell of man flesh that was getting fried over the open fireplace. "Come on you slugs!!" he screamed. "How long should it take for you idiots to get me some food!?" He heard a mumbleing voice behind him. He swiftly turned around and looked angrily at the orc that stood behind him.

"What did you say?!" he hissed to the orc.

"Ehhr, nothing, master, nothing!" the orc said with a low voice.

"Good! Now, get me some food, I am starving here!" Grokgash continued.

He knew that the humans were out there somewhere. He shook of anger when a small orc came shuddering towards him handing him a plate of meat. Grokgash snatched the plate from him and snarled to the orc.

The orc made a screaming sound and turned around and walked away. "Finally!" he said loudly for himself. While he was enjoying the nice meat, another orc came and tapped on his shoulder.

"What now?" Grokgash said without turning around.

"The men are close now, master!" the orc whispered in his ear.

He sighed loudly and rose up from the rock that he was sitting on. "Okay you slugs! These men should not be too hard for you morons! Move it!" he shouted and swung his scimitar in the air. His warcry made the orc's braver and confident. They all rose up and started to swing their spears and scimitars.

[piosenniel]

Boromir88's post

It's a soundless night, the fire is blazing outside the tent Sjorging has pitched, on the outskirts of the settlement ahead. He sits on a log, staring into the roaring fire, remembering, thinking of the situation at hand. His home in Dale, along with the rest of the town, had been overrun by marauding orcs. They were greatly outnumbered and had no choice, but to flee. He has gathered a few of his trusty companions to discuss what had just happened two nights ago, and what will happen.

"We don't have enough men here to make a suitable defense for these raiding orcs," says a tall, bearded man opposite of Sjorging. His name was Gelding. Gelding and Sjorging go back a long way, they had fought side-by-side against Sauron's forces.

'I thought this evil had been defeated a long time ago, they have said Sauron was defeated, and this new King Elessar was restoring order?" states another man sitting next to Gelding, he was Beluf, a member of the town that was overrun some two nights ago.

"Nay," says Sjorging, "Sauron has been defeated, but we are still a long way away from peace and order. There are still orcs occupying Gundabad, has anyone sent word to King Bard?"

"Yes," answers Beluf, "but we are greatly weakened by the war. I fear we are too weak, and Bard doesn't have enough men to come to aid."

"Our scouts report that King Elessar has sent out a force from Gondor to dispose the orcs of Gundabad for good." says Gelding. "But, we don't know when they'll arrive."

"Probably won't arrive in time at all." spouts Sjorging. Word had spread of King Elessar's greatness, and of the coming times of peace. But, Sjorging was doubtful with this recent threat of orcs raiding Dale. To him, he wasn't convinced until he saw the Gondor force himself. Until that time Sjorging, and his companions would fight on.

[Firefoot]

Adranel trudged on through the snow. Light was fading as the day waned, though it was still just bright enough for her to see where she was going in the sparse forest. She was heading for Dale, though she knew it would be a few days before she arrived if she did not freeze or starve to death first. She thought that freezing would be more likely; already her fingers and toes were numb, and she did not have a cloak or any additional layers to keep herself warm. Her mind, too, was numb from all emotion and care. She liked it that way, because she did not have to think, or remember. Adranel was glad the tears had stopped - she had always hated crying.

She lost track of time as she hiked. Surely she could not have been walking more than a couple hours? Darkness came early during the winter, and with it the frigid temperatures of night. Perhaps she would stop for the night soon, and build a fire to keep warm. She was drained, both physically and emotionally, but she did not want to stop. If she stopped, she might start remembering again. So she kept moving, even when it became to dark to walk safely through the woods. Dinnertime came and passed, and even though she had eaten nothing since breakfast, Adranel was not hungry.

Finally, Adranel could not go on any longer. Her body simply could not handle it, and she very nearly collapsed. It was late, she knew, for the waxing half moon had nearly set in the west. Due to the snow, none of the wood she could find in the deep dark was dry. She gave up on trying to start a fire and huddled down in the shelter of a tall tree and made no attempt to clear the snow away. If snow was used properly, it could also trap body heat and help keep her warm. Her older brothers had taught her about woodcraft, and focusing on the little things like the moon and snow helped occupy her mind away from her family, her village, and the cruel, merciless Orcs.

As she closed her eyes for sleep, the memories came back even as she feared they would. She could hear the screams, see her father being murdered by the Orc. Tears threatened again, and this time she tried to suppress them. She had no energy to do so, however, and they trickled down her cheeks in tiny rivulets. Overcome by weariness, Adranel finally fell asleep, though sleep was even less peaceful than waking.

[Umwë]

Grokgash stood in the freezing mud and tried to track the humans. But the tracks was all mixed up by others. He couldn’t move his feets, they were freezing and was trembled with cold.

“Get me another fur. It’s freezing here!” he shouted.

“But master, we don’t have any fur that’s not occupied.” Huggark said and trembled a bit for Grokgash’s bad temper.

Huggark the little coward. I will flay him alive, he thought and made a grimace.

“Okay, don’t just stand there now! Get ready to leave! You said they were close!” He screamed and sounded more angry than usual.

The orcs screamed and grumbled and all of them drew their swords and stood ready with their shields and started to beat their swords againt their shields. It ended up in a horrible metallic sound. Grokgash grinned and held his scimitar in the air. The orcs saw that and did the same and screamed. Grokgash inspected all the orcs slowly and Huggark stayed close to Grokgash.

Huggark was a small bony creature that always was afraid. He was so unlike an orc, and that made many of the other orcs laugh at him. He followed Grokgash wherever he went and served him.

They started to track, but after a long distance of running Grokgash made halt and sniffed. “We’ve lost them” he said and stomped in the ground with his foot.

“I’ve found pretty fresh tracks, master!” an orc shouted nearby.

Grokgash went closer and saw several footsteps in the mud. The direction was like before. “You want as to start going again, master. I believe I’m not speaking for only myself when I suggest that we stay here an rest for a moment..?” the orc that had found the tracks said. He stood and glanced at the others but everyone looked down in the mud.

“Bah! You whimp!” Grokgash started and drew his scimitar. “Are you an orc or a disguised human that think this is just another journey that we arrange for fun?!” The orc shuddered and tried to avoid Grokgash’s gaze. “I-I’m an orc, master, of course... Let’s go, let’s go now!” the orc finally said and shuddered.

They followed the tracks and they did just stop once for a short meal. The day turned to night and soon it was pretty dark and they could barely see anything. Grokgash commanded them to continue, and said that if they wanted any food, they would get it when they had hunted down the humans.

[Boromir88]

It was a dark and cold night and the sky appeared it was about to dump another storm upon the small settlement of Dale. Sjorging was lying on his bed, just about ready to call it a night. When suddenly, screams were being heard all around. Lancast, one of Sjorging's servants, busts through the door, in a frantic stammer.

"Sjorging, sir, the orcs....they're here.....ra-i-idi-n-ng and bu-r-r-rning the to-ow-w-n." Sjorging draws his sword and runs to the front door. He turns to the boy "Go to the tower, and sound the bell, we must alert the rest of the town, if they aren't already. Here," Sjorging tosses his long hunting knife to Lancast, "you'll be needing that."

The boy opened the front door, it seemed even before he could take a step outside Lancast fell to the ground. Sjorging collapses on his knees, and spots a thick, crude, black feathered arrow in his chest, he drags the boy's body in and closes the door, with a thud. Sjorging isn't even affected by Lancast's death at all, he simply takes back his hunting knife and puts it back at his side. Sjorging was often like this, doesn't remorse for the dead during a battle. He simply thinks, if he makes it through alive he can remorse later.

Sjorging here's a dull thumping on the door, he knows who is waiting on the other side, and...with a strike of fear he begins to smell smoke! The weak lock gives way to the constant jarring of the door. With a quick duck Sjorging avoids the orcs swipe, and thrusts his sword, through the thin leather and into his gut. He quickly kicks off the dead orc body and blocks another swing. Sjorging is struck in the back and falls to his knees, an orc fist..comes towards...closer...and....

Sjorging wakes up with a startle, panting, his breath could be seen in the air. "Sjorging...Sjorging....Sjorging," finally Sjorging realizes that Gelding is at the entrance of his room. "What is it Gelding?" Sjorging says in an annoyed, yet relieved tone.

"I have more word on the pursuing orcs." Gelding replies.

"Thanks for coming to inform me Gelding," then Sjorging starts to wonder, "Gelding, it's strange, the last thing I remember is this orc fist coming at my face, then I must have been knocked out. All I remember is waking up last night at your house...and I was just wondering..."

Gelding interrupts him, "Yes, wondering why you aren't dead? I was about to call it a night, when I see this bright, red, glare outside my window. I rush outside and to my dismay, the whole town was ablaze. This young lad here, Beluf, comes running up, in a frenzy, and explains the orc raid. There we no trace of orcs in the town, I spotted their tracks heading southward, I figured they had left not five minutes ago. I sent Beluf through the town to check for any survivors. That's when I spotted your house, just up aheah engulfed in flames. Luckily, there was time for me still to get you in and out, without the whole house going down, taking us with it. I did spot you on the floor, and noticed that there was only dark, foul, orc blood on the floor. I still didn't know if you were alive or not, until I got you back at my house, when you woke up. Only you and Beluf survived it seems, unless some others escaped before, but it's likely they didn't get far."

Gelding's house was an isolated one, on the outsirts of the town. Only townspeople, who have been up there before, knew about it. Surely raiding orcs, that weren't familiar with the area, couldn't spot Gelding's house up towards the mountains.

"Bless you Gelding, I never thought I'd say it, but bless you." Sjorging remarks with a smile. Gelding is one of the few people Sjorging respects greatly. "What do you know about this Beluf? That you speak of?" Sjorging can be very curious, especially if he's around people he doesn't know. Which means, if he doesn't know them, he doesn't trust them.

"He's a young lad, was the local blacksmith." Gelding replies. "Besides you, and I, he was the only survivor. I couldn't just abandon him."

"I understand Gelding." Sjorging says. "What news have you, of these....orcs?"

"It's to my understanding they are going across Dale, burning anything in their path. We fear they are drawing close, maybe within a days reach. Let's hope for the King's soldiers to arrive soon, we have word they are on their way."

"Nay, Gelding, do not put your hope in them. We must alert King Brand, he'll know what to do." Sjorging remarks. "I'm not so sure about this King...King Elessar. If his troops do arrive, then maybe he will prove me wrong. I have a feeling Elessar isn't taking this situation seriously, that's why we must make our way towards King Brand."

[Soredamor]

Grûglach paced, scowling at the ground in anger at his own nervousness. This was what waiting did to him sometimes. There was a certain anticipation, as well as a good deal of impatience. This was true particularly when he waited for news that he worried might put him in a situation in which he did not wish to be. He liked his position, and he liked the authority he had here. He was always ready to shed the blood of Men, but he was concerned with who else’s blood might be shed. What ‘they say’ had been on the Captain’s mind for some time now.

He could not remember when he had ever felt like this. It bordered on fear, this feeling. Grûglach’s anger grew at the thought of him ever feeling fear, and he quickly disregarded the thought. It still burned in the back of his mind, unable to be completely settled or ignored. Neither could the feeling in the pit of his stomach be fully ignored. Realizing that it was a familiar feeling, and assuring himself that it was of no importance, the Captain decided it would easily be quelled. What would not be stifled was the concern he had for what the orders he knew were coming. Mainly he was concerned with what they would mean for him. And he expected that he would not like what he discovered when they arrived.

Gorurk seemed to sense his Captain’s anger. Luckily, he sensed only the anger, and not the uneasiness or the nervousness. Grûglach was pleased to see that the lieutenant still cowered and sniveled. It lightened his mood…barely. His breath no longer rushed out of him in a growl every time he exhaled, at least. A bitter smirk seemed to permanently adorn his face, any differences between it and a scowl or a sneer unnoticeable. And so all approached him with caution, and were afraid to leave his sight, though they hated to feel his eyes on them. Gorurk seemed to be having this trouble. The orc lingered, uncertain and afraid, always so afraid, fearful of his uncertainty. Grûglach was tired of seeing him out of the corner of his eye.

“There has to be something you can do around here, Gorurk. If not, I’d be happy to give you something to do for me.”

“And I would be happy to serve you, Captain, sir.” Grûglach gave a grunting laugh. The lieutenant smiled uneasily as his Captain turned to look at him. It was hard to tell if it was a good thing when Grûglach laughed. And normally it was not.

“Then take a walk through the barracks, would you? I’ll skip an inspection of my own for today.”

Gorurk’s nervous smile had been wiped from his face as soon as Grûglach had said ‘barracks’. What replaced it was a look of shock, and clearly of fear. He blinked several times and worked his mouth a bit before he could speak. His throat sounded dry. The Captain felt a smile grow on his lips.

“Ye-…” Gorurk swallowed, and Grûglach could hear him gulp. “Yes, sir.” The lieutenant turned and wandered away in a daze, his mind going over with growing fright what he was about to do. Gorurk had never gone into the barracks without Grûglach for a reason. And Grûglach knew this very well. The Captain would wait a little longer, just to see if the lieutenant returned from his walk, but he would soon take a look into the barracks himself. He felt the troops had been settled in there for far too long. It was time to get them moving. He knew what his orders would be, and he had waited long enough.

[CaptainofDespair]

A howling wind had arisen during the night, and now it was steadily growing in strength. The cold of the North was enough for most soldiers, but the wind drove through what that deathly cold could not. Uther sat quietly in his small field tent, going over the plans for his march, and listening to wind whipping about beyond the confines of his leather and fur shield that encased him, protecting him, from what nature could throw at him. He felt quite distant from his men, who would be languishing in their makeshift homes, cursing their luck, and cursing him for bringing them to the North. But at least he was warm, within his shell, watching the firelight of the torches outside dance about.

Yet, he had more important matters to attend to. He needed to prepare his men for battle, and he needed to get them on the march. Thus, after his solitude of many hours, he broke silence, and summoned his chief commanders and sergeants to him. Whilst he waited, he gnawed on a piece of salted pork, something that disgusted him, but that he would eat nonetheless. The taste of the meat was not as bad as some of the cram that he would eat while on his long journeys to Eriador, but he disliked it still. But he was saved from his meal, when his summoned commanders arrived, shivering with dread, of the cold, and of what was to be uttered by their lieutenant.

They slowly situated themselves about the tent’s interior, arranged in semi-circle around the seat of the outfit’s commander. Many of them muttered to themselves, speaking inwardly, of what might come of this meeting. Finally, Uther, with his map laid before him, rose from his creaky, wooden chair, and spoke to them.

“As you all know, we have few troops, but that cannot hamper our duties. We are under the orders of the King, to sway these Orcs, with whichever means we must.” He paused, letting the agitated centurions take in his words. “Thus, we must set out for Gundabad. Muster the soldiers, and prepare them to march before the morning sun rises. You are dismissed...” With that, the summoned men turned about, and strode out of the tent, some of them mumbling incoherent curses on the way out, seeking what rest they could gather before they were to depart.

Again, the aging Uther was left to himself, save for his ever-present hounds. He quietly drifted into a dream-like state, slowly petting his beloved dogs. His mind would not settle though, for thoughts of battle, and the screams of those long-since slain, arose from the blackest chasms of his mind, playing with his thoughts, as if they were a child’s toys. Sleep would not come to him this night, for with the bloodshed on the horizon, his mind could not rest. Thus, the weathered, war-weary commander rose from his bedroll, and wandered out into the cold air of the night, seeking some form of solace.

The sky was dull, brimming with the shadows of night, and only brightened by the twinkling light of a few meager stars. But, the lieutenant had not the time for the beauty and grandeur that often came with the presence of night. Instead, he was bent on shaking off the bloodlust that threatened to overrun his mind. Still, the cries of a battle long since passed, could be heard haunting the depths of his soul. He meandered his way through the small Gondorian camp, listening to the quiet that came with a soldier’s sleep, and he watched from the firelight, as the guards patrolled the perimeter, ready to defend their brothers-in-arms. He was pleased with these sights, and the soothing silence of sleep. After a short stint of his aimless wandering, he forced himself back to his abode, to make another attempt at sleep, while he remained as relaxed as he was. Now, he could only hope of not being disturbed from his rest, which would be needed in the trials that awaited him in the darkness.

[Alaksoron]

Barak lay outside, snoring. He was the only soldier outside of his tent that night, aside from the sentries. For most soldiers, it was much too cold to sleep outside, but Barak liked to look at the stars. It reminded him how small he really was, kept him humble. His father had taught him that, years prior.

Besides, he liked to be ready. His horse was tethered nearby, and his weapons lay beside him. A quiet footstep beside Barak's head woke him. Before he could look up towards the man's face he recognized Lieutenant Kahir's boot. Barak waited til Kahir moved on before twisting in his blankets to regard the man. Uther Kahir seemed to be wandering aimlessly, pausing every few steps. Normally, Barak could read man's faces, but his face was blank. An odd one, that.

Barak dismissed the scene and closed his eyes. Looking up at the stars, he fell asleep thinking of his wife and children, and how long before he could return to them.

[Novnarwen]

Smoke surrounded him; it came from the big black mark in front of him. For more than an hour he had been standing silently watching his cottage disappear behind the reddish curtain. Now, there was hardly anything left of the little house. Yet, the man from Dale stood giggling as if he was waiting for a big treat. When at last the colourful curtain disappeared, and when only the grey mass was left, he walked forwards, approaching it slowly.

The smoke made his eyes smart, and he felt his throat immediately going dry. The wind was driving the smoke; it was passing him, gently touching the top of his head. He tried grabbing a hold of it, the smoke, but it only flew right through his fingers and out of his hands. He coughed slightly, as he found himself standing in the middle of a cloud of smoke. Realising that he couldn’t quite see, he clapped joyously his hands together. “Inimcible!” he tried to cry out loud, but his voice failed him. Ingemar was of course under the impression that if he couldn’t see anything, no one could see him either. This, naturally, was great fun to him, and he started to run around in circles; round, round, round in a circle of less than one yard in radius. One can only imagine how it looked like, but the Man from Dale thought it extremely fun. Being invincible meant that he could do whatever he wished, when he wished and how he wished. It did not take long however before he almost fell over by dizziness and he reeled out of the circle and away from the black mark; he wasn’t surrounded by smoke, thus not invincible anymore. He sighed, being exhausted, dizzy and the same time very cold.

It was first at this point he actually felt the biting wind getting colder as the night fell. It was torturing him where he stood, making his limbs numb. His lips and fingertips had turned blue. His face had frozen completely. Making grimaces and such was suddenly turning rather difficult, as his cheeks had stiffened. When touching his hair, it was hard and wet. Ingemar did not quite realise what was happening however, as he had never experienced this before. The feeling of being cold had never reached to this extent earlier, and therefore he did not know what it meant. He only knew that being in this state was unpleasant, and he longed for something to make him warm.

[Witch_Queen]

Mordred couldn't believe that he was having to trample around in the snow looking for an appropriate sight for camp. But Mordred would lay his life on the line if Uther demanded it. Mordred didn't get much sleep the night before and already he could feel the anxiety from a full day of walking wearing out his troubled thoughts. With what sleep he was able to get Mordred dreamth of death. He couldn't even shut his eyes for fear of seeing his wife and baby dead from what would happen if he didn't succeed at his tasks. The snow underneath his feet crunched and gave way to the force of his boots. The wind was bone chilling and almost deadly it only made him want to hurry before the coldness caused him to run back to his warm home. Thinking of home and his wife made Mordred feel a little warmer but not enough to thaw the ice around his heart.

Looking ahead of him all Mordred could see was cold thick wet white snow. Without realizing what he had done Mordred hit something solid in front of him. Glancing beside him Mordred saw what appeared to be the entrance to a cave. Turning back to where Mordred had last seen the rest of the group he began to run back to Lt. Uther. Upon reaching Uther, Mordred was already out of breath and regretting the choice to run. "Sir, I have spotted a cave about a few minutes walk from here. It appears to be empty and untouched." The words were coming out between deep breaths. For once Mordred had attempted something worth the time and effort. All he wanted now was to get some place warm.

[Firefoot]

Adranel was steadily becoming more tired and cold as she trudged along. The settlement she had seen earlier was now off to her left; she was giving it a fairly wide berth. She was paying very little attention to her surroundings, and looking ahead she was somewhat surprised to see three men directly in her line of march. For a moment she considered avoiding them like she had the town, but she quickly decided that she did not care to go even more out of her way just to avoid three men. It was not that she was afraid or shy - far from it, in fact. She would just rather not have contact with any people right now.

Through sheer willpower Adranel drew herself up to her full height and walked with her head up, trying to appear ready to face the world. She would not be seen as a needy woman to these men. She could take care of herself and did not want their pity or anything else they might try to offer her if she appeared incompetent. Perhaps it would not be very convincing; anyone else who was travelling in this weather would have a cloak and very likely some kind of pack. Adranel had neither.

As she drew closer Adranel saw that the men seemed to be getting ready to move on. That made sense, as it was only a short time after dawn and about the time when most people would be waking. She was nearly upon them when one of the men addressed her.

“Good day to you, Miss...?” he said, indirectly inquiring what her name was. Good? Would someone care to explain that to me? mused Adranel sarcastically.

“Adranel,” she replied coolly. She eyed him and his companions over. He was the easily the youngest of the three, though still older than herself by a few years. “And you are?” Adranel wasn’t sure why she was asking his name. She needed to be moving on, not chatting with a complete stranger that she hadn’t even wanted to meet in the first place.

“Beluf,” he answered with a friendly smile. He seemed to have missed her less-than-warm undertones. He continued, “You are travelling then? Are you from this town?” He gestured vaguely towards the village. The other two men still had not acknowledged her presence, and that was fine with her.

“Yes, to Dale,” said Adranel curtly. “But not from here. I come from further west.” She honestly didn’t know why she was giving out so much information. She was trying to figure out how to rid herself of this man and his idle conversation so that she continue on her way when he spoke up again.

“We too are heading for Dale,” Beluf stated. “Why don’t you come with us? You look like you could use some company.” Adranel frowned briefly. Why would he invite her to travel with them? She certainly had given him no encouragement. He seemed genuinely friendly, but still she wondered whether he might see her in need of protection.

“Well, all right,” she found herself saying, and immediately wished she could snatch the words back. It was too late, though, and it seemed that she was stuck travelling with these men, at least for the mean time.

[Boromir88]

Sjorging gazed up at the sky, it appeared to him that another snowstorm was coming. He wasn't bothered much by the weather, he had lived in Dale his whole life, and was used to the cold that would often hit the region. Much more so then the Gondorians in the south. But, he has to admit the weather has been getting to him lately. He looked and saw this lady coming from the distant. She appeared rather young, but a certain sterness was on her, and she definately looked tired.

"Who's this" he whispers to Gelding, who was standing right beside him.

"How should I know." he replies, "Probably one of the townsfolk."

"Na, can't be," Sjorging says, "she's coming from the wrong direction. She also looks rather exhausted. I bet them orcs got her town too." Sjorging hated orcs more then anything else that slithered on the earth.

Pretty soon Beluf came up to Sjorging, with the lady behind him, "This is lady Adranel, she's heading to Dale too, I said she could come with us."

Sjorging shoots a sharp glare at Beluf, he turns and faces Adranel, "Will you excuse us for a moment." Adranel nods her head, seeming as if she wasn't surprised at this. "What gives you the right to just go and tell people they can join us?" Sjorging says loudly, but making sure Adranel can't hear.

Beluf is slightly taken off by this attitude of Sjorging's, but he better get used to it. "Wel-l-l, I-I just figured, since she's going where we are, she could come along." Sjorging fixes his eyes on Adranel, and looks at her hard. Adranel returned the look with the same intensity, and it was Sjorging who withdrew his glance. "Next time you tell me or Gelding when you even think about having somebody join us." Beluf lets out a sigh, but walks back towards Adranel, with Sjorging and Gelding.

Sjorging again, gives a hard look at Adranel, like he's studying her. "Nobody's forcing you to come with us. Our road lies onward, to King Brand. If you desire, you may follow us until our road splits, if it does split. I'm sure you already know Beluf, I'm Sjorging, and this is Gelding. We leave tomorrow morning to try to get a head start before this storm hits us."

[Beserker_Warrior]

Snagar stood knee high in a trench draped in fur. The whole world around him was a brilliant shining white. It was also freezing cold. " Curse this bad weather, we need warmth. Gushrag!" "Comin' Cheif, what do we need?" whined Gushrag. " Find us some food, and bring wood so we can light a fire in the caves below," Snagar snarled. Gushrag went loping off mumbling to himself, "One day I'll kill Snagar and then I'll be cheif that would be nic...."

A knife buried itself, hilt deep in Gushrag's back. " Thought you were better than me, aye, but no one's better than Snagar the Great, curse you scum," with that Snagar pulled out his knife, turned and walked to the caves. " You two, go find food and wood. Get going now before I skin the both of ye!" he roared andripped the top off of a flask of orc draght that he was holding.

The two small orcs scurried off to do their master's bidding. Snagar let loose a great laugh and started slopping the draght into his mouth. A few hours later two sentries were the only ones awake. Snagar lay on a bed of skins with an empty flask next to him and a mind full of dreams of bloodlust, war and victory.

[Firefoot]

As the man Sjorging introduced himself and the third man, Gelding, he appeared to be scrutinizing her, testing to see what she was made of. Adranel lifted her chin fractionally and set her jaw firmly, drawing on her inner strength. She suspected that there was a good deal more to Sjorging that met the eye. She wasn’t overly impressed by him, and doubted she would come to like him much. Even his manner of speaking rubbed her the wrong way: if you desire, you may follow us until our road splits. Well, she wasn’t about to do any following; she would go with them or alone, but she did not follow.

When Beluf offered their company to her, her acceptance, unwilling as it may have been, was partly because of his appearance of genuine friendship. She got the distinct impression that he did not want her along with them, and that he only invited her along because Beluf already had. It was partly this that made her decision - she would show him that she did as she liked, and his unfriendly attitude wasn’t going to put her off. This was compounded by the fact that she would feel immensely foolish saying she would go alone after having already agreed to travel with them.

“I will continue on with you,” said Adranel decisively. “I’ll be ready by tomorrow morning.” Sjorging grunted in acknowledgment. Adranel thought he sounded skeptical and resigned to her presence.

Beluf gave her a small smile. “You look cold. Why don’t you warm yourself up by our fire?” Warmth sounded heavenly to Adranel. Her fingers, toes, and ears were like ice cubes, and she was chilled to the bone. She realized how long it had been since she had been warm: almost a whole day, when... She blanched, and quickly swallowed down the emotions that had risen up. She could give no words to describe the previous day’s events, even if she had been asked, because she had buried all the memories into the deep recesses of her soul.

“That would be good,” Adranel replied, hastily trying to cover up her near loss of self control. Beluf nodded, and showed her to the logs they had set down to sit on near the fire. It was quite some time before Adranel began to feel any semblance of heat, and during that time she said little, concentrating on the crackling fire. Finally she looked up, and found Beluf sitting nearby, watching her with some mild curiosity. Sjorging and Gelding had separated themselves and were talking quietly.

Adranel wasn’t particularly in the mood for conversation, but the silence was starting to feel uncomfortable and, despite herself, her interest in her new companions had been piqued. She tried to think of something that would keep the conversation off herself, for she wasn’t ready to share much news of herself with these strangers, not until she knew more about them, especially Sjorging. She was rather wary of him, and glad he had not deigned to join her and Beluf. It didn’t occur to her that Beluf might be as close-mouthed about himself as she was about herself.

“So,” she began, finally unable to think of anything but the obvious. “Have you been travelling long? Did I hear correctly that you are going to see King Brand?”

[Boromir88]

Beluf looks at Adranel, and smiles warmly, "Not too long, we've been here for almost a day, and took us less then a day to get here. Sjorging wants to start off before this storm comes and he fears more orcs are on there way." At that he notices Adranel shudder, and almost appear as if her eyes began to water, but she quickly covered them up, and Beluf decided not to ask. "Yes, we are going to King Brand, we need to alert him about the raiding orcs, Dale is in trouble."

There was another long silence, Gelding and Sjorging had wondered off. Beluf continued, "I noticed some tension between you and Sjorging, don't worry about him, he's just got a hard-heart, that is his nickname after all. It's not that he's arrogant or anything, he's anything but arrogant, it's just that it's hard to win his respect, especially if you are someone he doesn't know. I'm not even sure if I've won it yet, but oh well, you get used to it after a while. I tend to keep my distance whenever possible, him and Gelding can worry about themselves."

Adranel simply nodded, but seemed as if she didn't care for any of Beluf's advice, if she wanted to say anything to Sjorging she would do it. "What about this Gelding?" she asked. Adranel didn't care what any of these men thought of her, but she had wondered about Gelding, who always seemed to follow Sjorging.

"Ahhh, Gelding, he's a good lad, you might say he keeps Sjorging in line, eventhough if Sjorging would never admit that. I guess they go a long way back, been best friends their whole life."

They both left things at that, it appeared to Beluf that Adranel wasn't going to say anything about herself, and was starting to get drouzy. Beluf wasn't going to press for answers. Sjorging and Gelding came back, and as the day was coming to a close, they began to prepare some dinner, before they would call it a night.

[Beserker_Warrior]

Snagar woke the next morning with a throbbing head and a nasty temper "Where have those two got too?" he roared, even though it alomst split his head, or so it felt," I sent them off for food last night and they aren't back yet! Bashrank when did you last see those two sniveling litte rats?" Bashrank shuffled forward with a defiant gleam in his eye, " I ain't seen them two since last night Cheif," he snarled," I thinks that they left us here, deserted, I mean. They was always saying hatefull thigs about the Cheif, right buckoes!" Murmered assents came from the other orcs.

Snagar drew his sword and had it at Bashrank's throat in a flash," Maybe they did and maybe they didn't, did it ever occur to you that they could have died in the storm,oh yes Bashrank, I see through your plan, let me go off and find them while you take over here and rally them all to you so you can be Cheif, right," with a viscious slash Snagar slew Bashrank on the spot,

" Anybody else want to be Cheif boys, no, I thought so you sniveling dogs. You score and Bishrah your going on a raid, we need supplies and it's the middle of winter, raid any villages or small towns you can find and be back here quick!" They all mumbled some form of agknowledgement and left the trash heap they called home.

[Firefoot]

Adranel’s mouth watered at the scent of dinner. For the first time since yesterday morning, food sounded good to her, and she was starving. It was only some dried meat and a the type of waybread that the people of Dale used for journeys, but to her it seemed a feast. She was also looking forward to a good night’s sleep after she ate. Though she didn’t realize it, being around other people had given her the will to live again. Beluf especially helped her, and she was relieved that he hadn’t questioned her for details on herself. He reminded her of someone, though she couldn’t place who. She knew she should be able to, and it was bothering her that she couldn’t.

As she ate her share of the meal, she observed the two older men surreptitiously, keeping in mind what Beluf had said earlier. She was grateful for his opinions on them, and though she intended to use his advice she wouldn’t necessarily follow it. What he had said about Gelding keeping Sjorging in line surprised her; she had immediately assumed that Sjorging was the leader of the three. Maybe it was more of a partnership. The rest of what Beluf had said made sense to her, fitting in with the pieces of Sjorging and Gelding’s personalities that she had already figured out. If it took a while for Sjorging to respect someone, it made sense that had been rather unfriendly to her. Well, if he was going to come to respect her it would be because of herself, not because she kept her distance and didn’t speak up if she had something to say.

They finished up their meal in silence and began putting things away. Beluf banked the fire for the night, and the other two began preparing for the night. Adranel helped out where she could, but she felt out of place in their camp, unsure of what she should be doing. It was getting dark, and the only light came from the fire. Adranel had long since noticed that there was only one tent, and figured she would be sleeping outside it, which didn’t bother her. There was a fire, which was more than she had had last night. Finally the activity started to die down, and the four of them were ready to call it a night.

“We’ll be leaving as soon as it’s light out,” Sjorging reminded her. Adranel heard the unspoken words clearly: Don’t keep us waiting.

“All right,” she said, with an undertone of her own: Anything else? I already knew that. Sjorging frowned and disappeared into the tent. A few moments later Beluf poked his head out and tossed her a blanket.

“Here,” he said. “It’s cold out there. Sorry we don’t have another tent or something.” Adranel caught the thick blanket deftly and waved away his concerns with her free hand.

“It’s alright, really,” she said. “Thanks for the blanket, though. Good night.”

“Good night,” said Beluf, the flickering firelight casting shadows on his face. He ducked back into tent and Adranel was left alone. She laid down as close to the fire as she dared and wrapped the heavy blanket around her. During the day, she had been distracted from herself by the men. Now, during the night, there was no such diversion and she was alone with her thoughts. She soon fell asleep, but not before quiet tears had started to trickle down her cheeks.

*~*~*

Old habits die hard, and it had been a long time since Adranel had slept in. When she awoke, streaks of pink and orange lined the ominous clouds that had moved in over night. Sjorging had been right; a storm was coming. She sat up and stretched, wondering again why she had decided to go with these men. She could just go now, before they awoke... she shook her head with a small smile. No, she had said she would go with them, and, if she would admit it to herself, she rather liked Beluf’s company. Night had brought no hint as to who he reminded her of so strongly.

No signs of life yet came from the tent, and Adranel took a few minutes to enjoy the early stages of sunrise. Though her mood was far from cheery, there were glimmers of hope stirring inside her. Deciding she didn’t want to lay around any longer, she got up and immediately considered snuggling right back into her blanket; the temperature was frigid cold. The combination of blanket and fire had kept her much warmer than she had realized. With a shrug, she began methodically folding the blanket, setting it down near the tent when she finished. All the supplies that had been used had been packed up yesterday night so that they might get an early start this morning, so Adranel sat down on a log near the fire and began finger-combing through her hair while she waited for the men to wake up.

She did not have to wait long - only a few minutes to be precise - before they began arousing. Sjorging was the first to appear out of the tent, and seeing her said, “You’re up.” There was a more than a bit of surprise in his voice, and though it was so brief she couldn’t be sure, Adranel thought she had also heard a hint of approval. Adranel smiled as if to herself

“I am. Good morning,” Adranel replied. It sounded stiff, but she was at least trying to be polite. She bit back the sarcastic remark what did you expect?, knowing full well what the answer would have been.

Beluf and Gelding emerged then, and they ate a quick breakfast, not even taking the time to cook anything over the fire that had now died to embers. The four of them all helped to dissemble the tent and pick up anything they might have left unpacked. Adranel was eager to be going, as she had spent the entire day yesterday idle, though she had needed the rest.

“I suppose we’re ready to go, then? If you have a fourth pack, I wouldn’t mind carrying some things,” offered Adranel.

[CaptainofDespair]

With the Sun’s decline, the night slowly crept over the slowly marching host of Gondorians. The darkness also brought its seasonal friend, the winter cold, and no one wanted to be out with those two roaming the land. Not only could the cold kill, but it relaxed the senses, and the darkness was eager to hide the dangers of the night, which included the roving Orcs raiding parties. Thus, the soldiers were craving a safe, somewhat warm hide-out, some place they could rest easy. Apparently, such a place had been found by Mordred, one of the scouts sent forth to find a camp site. It was a small cave, which would provide some manner of insulation from the weather, and was rather easy to defend. Uther was pleased with the find, and ordered the troops to it, with Mordred acting as the guide.

The march was still not as easy as Uther had hoped. Many of the men were struggling to make it through the light snow, which had hampered the movements of the overburdened soldiers. After an hour or so of leading the column, Mordred halted, and whispered to his commander that they were now only a few hundred yards from the cave’s entrance. The lieutenant dispatched a small contingent of soldiers to explore the cave more fully, and to begin constructing the palisades to defend them. The next hour crept by slowly, as the forward expedition finally sent word back that the cave was cleared, and that the stockade wall was nearing completion.

But, as Uther gave the order for the final leg of the march, there came wheeling out across the snow, a single horsemen. It was one of the other scouts sent out to discover a habitable camp location. But this one didn’t come back with good news. The scout, after pushing his horse the last bit to the column, brought news of a small village, and the carnage and burnt wreckage of what was left after the supposed Orc raid. Yet, the scout was not done. He also had sighted the Orcs, some ways from the village, along a tree-line. As he explored the trees, looking for any prisoners the Orcs might have left behind, he discovered the unconscious body of what appeared to be a man, one of Dale. He had brought the body some ways, upon his own horse, before coming across another scout, to whom he transferred the incapacitated man to. That scout, would be due back any moment.

After his discussion with the scout, Uther, and a small group of soldiers acting as his guard, made their way to cave, where they unloaded their burdens, and prepared to rest themselves for the next day’s march. Slowly went the night, without any signs of the Orcs. The final scout, bearing the body of the man, who was now wrapped in the furs of the soldier, had appeared earlier in the evening, and had taken the man to a tent where he could rest, and be treated for any wounds. Uther spent his night dwelling on the day’s events, and planning a sortie against the Orcs the scout had seen.

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

Even before the sun had arisen into the sky, Uther was up and about, planning the day’s march. He had been displeased with the first two, in which his men had constantly complained of the harsh conditions, which they claimed they could not fight in. But, he was determined to force the best out of these soldiers, and bring the Orcs to their knees.

With the sun’s ascent into the dim morning sky, the soldiers slowly came to, as did the mysterious man the scout had found the day prior. After the men had finished consuming their morning rations of gruel, water, and small portion of salted pork, they quickly began to pack up their camp, and load the supplies onto the pack animals. Once this chore had been completed, Uther ordered them into marching formation, and gave them the order to move out. Some of the men wished to stay in that cave only a bit longer, for it was warm, and more comfortable than the hard soil of the plains of Dale.

Slowly, the column began to weave its way through the snowy fields. Uther was quite pleased at the moment, for his men seemed to be invigorated, and reborn with a new life. They moved faster then what he expected, and were far more orderly now. Deep within himself, he wished it would hold like that until their task was done. But in his mind, he knew it would not. Mutiny could crop up at any moment, and knowing his luck, it would happen when it was most unwanted.

But he kept up his somewhat stern facade, hoping to keep his thoughts as that, just thoughts. Needing a change of pace, he took himself for a trip down the broken paths of his memory, to his campaigns in Harad, and his tenure as an administrator in Minas Tirith. He slightly missed those days, where life was easy, and he didn’t have much work to do. He was eager to retake that position now. This small stint as a commander was not going well for him, and he generally disliked leading such soldiers, who were obviously ill-prepared for the rigors of war. Maybe he could retire after this, and buy a farm, and live out the rest of his days away from the cities of Men.

But Uther could not keep up those thoughts, and his mind drifted back to the current, almost desperate situation. He immediately began wondering where those Orcs had gone, for he wished to hunt them, and bring them down. He thought for a while, and realized a scout had brought back that man, who has been lying unconscious in the cold snow. Thus he ordered the man to be questioned, preferably by a sergeant, or even the scout who found him. Then, he sat back in the saddle of his horse, and waited for the answers, and for the day to pass him by.

[Boromir88]

After the meal Sjorging and Gelding retreated back into the tent, soon accompanied by Beluf. They all settled down, there was no talk between them until Belup popped up, "You know, Adranel is probably freezing out there. Maybe, we should give her a blanket."

"We don't have extra blankets," Sjorging grunts, "if you want to give her yours and freeze, by all means do so."

Beluf poked his head out of the tent "Here, It’s cold out there. Sorry we don’t have another tent or something.” He tossed her the blanket, Adranel thanked him, and he went back into the tent. Gelding was already sleeping, he also tended to snore a lot. Soon Beluf and Sjorging fell into a dreamless slumber, and morning was about them again.

Sjorging awoke yawning and rubbing his eyes. He got up stretched, and made his way out the tent. To his surprise, Adranel was already up, and getting ready. "You're up" he says.

Adranel was irritated by this statement, but she could tell he was suprised, and wondered if that was a good thing. She even thought he might have been pleased that she was ready, but what else did he expect? "I am. Good morning." she responds.

Beluf and Gelding came out of the tent. Beluf immediately smiled seeing that Adranel was already up, he was worried what Sjorging would have done if she wasn't. Sjorging said there was no time to get the fire started again, so for breakfast they all settled for some bread, atleast that would give them some energy for the journey ahead.

After breakfast they, all packed and started preparing for the road to come. “I suppose we’re ready to go, then? If you have a fourth pack, I wouldn’t mind carrying some things,” offered Adranel.

"That'll be all right," Beluf responed, "We only took what we could carry on our backs."

"Not unless you wouldn't mind carrying my stuff?" Gelding chucked. Gelding was often the humorous one of the three.

Without any objections the four of them set off, with the storm behind them, and who knows what other evils ahead. They hadn't even travelled two hours when Gelding spotted a soldier, wearing some strange armor, and was upon a horse. "That's a man of Gondor." he exclaimed.

"See I knew King Elessar would deal with these orcs" Beluf said. Sjorging turned and gave Beluf a sharp glare. He was very doubtful of this King, from a distant land, despite his widespread prestige. Sjorging signaled the soldier over, and explained their business.

"This is good news, I'm sure Lord Uther would be pleased to hear what you have to tell, being that you are all from Dale. Maybe you can tell him a bit about these rampaging orcs." said the Scout. Beluf turned and faced Adranel, he was smiling, but noticed something was wrong. "Everything ok?" he asks.

Adranel simply nodded, she was questioning why she even came along in the first place. Now she's going to be around a whole army of soldiers, and from GONDOR. Beluf frowned, he could tell something was bothering her, but didn't have any business to further delve into the subject.

It wasn't long before they all spotted the host up ahead, they were resting at this moment. Sjorging lets out a grunt, he wasn't pleased with this puny army of peasants the King had thrown together. He expects this rubble to break through the fortress of Gundabad.

Sjorging and Gelding approached the captain, Beluf and Adranel had wandered away from everyone. Sjorging explained the whole story of having their town attacked and making their way across Dale.

"We are here for that exact reason," Uther boasts, "to get rid of these orcs once and for all." Sjorging thinks to himself, good luck with that, you'll be lucky to put a dent into the force, with these men you have.

"There's an orc company up ahead that's been roaming through the Dale, burning as they go." Gelding remarks. "Also, it might be good to stop here, there's a nasty storm on it's way, I deem. However, you are in charge, and our road lies onward, not back."

Uther nods and grants Sjorging and the rest of them to stay as long as they wish. Beluf and Adranel were quite a bit away from the camp, they didn't care to talk to any of the Gondorians. They just sat and stared ahead, wondering what was to happen next.

[Firefoot]

“I’m going,” Adranel stated. “I had already decided that.” But rather than getting up and standing beside Sjorging and Gelding, she stood a little apart. She made it clear that she was not going because Sjorging said so, but by her own choice. Beluf, too, stood up, saying, “I’ll go.”

“All right, then,” said Sjorging. “We had better get moving. The Gondorians are leaving.” He and Gelding turned and walked together towards the Gondorians. Beluf followed them, but not without one last look at her. Adranel knew that he had been trying to figure her out since she had come back to camp last night. Mostly there was confusion in his face, but also some hurt. Adranel wished she could make him understand that it really was for the best, but she had no way to put her convictions to words. Maybe he would understand some day. If she had had her choice, she would not have come back to their small encampment at all, but she had no where else to go and so ended up sleeping near their tent.

Adranel trailed the men by several yards as she trudged along through the snow. Several times she caught Beluf darting glances back to her, as if considering waiting for her to catch up and then thinking better of it each time. Adranel was both glad and disappointed: she did not want company, but at the same time she yearned for companionship. These were lonely standards that she had imposed upon herself, and so she hoped to reach Gundabad soon, for then she could return to Dale alone. If she returned at all. The expedition of the soldiers, she decided, was a good representation of her life: while driven and not without point, it was an absolutely hopeless cause. Their fates, too, would likely be similar: ending in utter despair in which quick death would be welcome relief. Adranel sighed. With only these gloomy thoughts for company, it was going to be a long day.

[CaptainofDespair]

Finally, after so many long weeks of marching, the Gondorians caught sight of their objective. Looming in the distance, veiled in mist and cold rain, sat Mount Gundabad. Though they all knew it was crawling with orcs, to most, it seemed almost serene, as if there were none of those putrid and disgusting creatures hastily scuttling about the old dwarven halls, and poorly constructed ramparts that now marred the face of the mountain. For now, it was a desirable sight, to sore eyes. Those soldiers, who understood the beauty of nature, were awed by the mountain’s graceful slopes, and rocky textures. Some stopped in their tracks, in an attempt to gaze at the mountain, to forever retain the pristine image laid before them. Even the lieutenant could be seen staring upon the mount with his war-weary eyes, infatuated with the elegance that his enemy presented him with. As the marchers continued to plod on, with a seemingly renewed sense of vigor, a light snow began to fall upon them, coating the horses and men in a powdery layer of pure white. The snow now served, not to hamper, but to invigorate and rejuvenate, as the snow created a near mystical setting, as the snow continued to fall upon the branches of the trees that lined the path of the host.

But as with all things, even something as beautiful and awe-inspiring as the distant view of Gundabad, must end. As the day trickled by, much as the sands of time drain in the hourglass, the soldiers came to view what had become of the mountain they had seen. Now, the snowy forests of the previous days, were replaced by mangled and burnt remnants of what could vaguely be called trees. The life was sapped from this region, which was now devoid of life, save for those orcs that lurked near. The men hung their heads in angst, now seeing what might be their doom. Some men began to mutter in the ranks, causing the rest to despair from the other soldiers’ doom-saying. Uther ignored this, keeping his mind steadfast on his objective. As the day slowly turned to evening, the weary commander came to spot which he deemed defendable. Thus, the order of “Make Camp!” was given, and the men began the arduous process of building the palisade defenses, which were to hold until the Gondorians were ready to assault the orcs that were sprawled across the mountain.

Within the hour, the defenses were prepared, and the tents pitched. Thus, the tired soldiers sat down to their evening meal of salted pork, snow-water, hard-tack, and bacon grease, which they devoured merrily. Those were weren’t placed on sentry duty, sat around the campfires, recounting stories of their youth, and musing about the awe they had felt when they had first glimpsed Gundabad. The rants carried on throughout the evening, which seemed to keep the soldiers from thinking of what was to come in the next day. But an entirely different setting was taking place within Uther’s tent. Within the raw-hide flaps of his makeshift abode, he discussed the military strategies that would be employed, at least partially, with his sergeants, and Sjorging, whom he had given a field command and promotion to Sergeant-at-Arms of Dale. It was more honorary than anything, but it did help alleviate some of the tension that had formed between the Sjorging and the lieutenant.

“Tomorrow, we will assault the battlements. We have only enough materials for a few small siege engines, thus we will use them only at the prime targets.” At this, Sjorging piped up, wanting to be ‘part’ of the military procedure that was taking place. “What are these prime targets you speak of?” The Lieutenant, not wishing further tension, replied to the inquiry. “The targets that will be bombarded will be the main gate, the lower wall that runs across the base of the mountain, and the single tower that watches the gate. These are all wood in construction, and will be shattered easily...” But as Uther was about to finish his sentence, a soldier entered the tent, signaled by the whining of Ithil, one of the two hunting dogs the commander had brought with him. The guard was shaking incessantly, somewhat from the cold, but he managed to utter a few words. “Orcccsss....outsssiiide...meeeeetttting...” With a shaky hand, the guard then pointed out across the plain that was set before the mountain. On the field, was a contingent of orcs, though it could not be seen as to what they wanted. The commander rose from his stump-chair, and walked to the makeshift corral that housed the horses and pack mules. Without giving the situation any thought, he mounted his steed, as did a number of guards and sergeants, and rode forth from the camp.

As the riders bounced upon their horses, as they swiftly rode out to meet the orcs that had gathered in the snow, they slowly noticed that the orcs were more like the Uruks of old. At the head of the orcs, stood their commander, a larger orc, who also seemed to be either the chieftain of Gundabad, or a captain of some sort. As the party closed in, the orc leader raised his arms, signaling the Gondorian horsemen to halt. Uther and his sergeants complied, if only out of intrigue.

The chieftain then spoke in the Common Tongue, and rather fluently for an orc. “I am King of the Mountain! Why do you enter my domain?” The riders were startled by this, and some backed up, thinking an ambush might be coming. Uther spoke, whilst he dismounted, believing the chieftain would rather speak to one who might be an equal, rather than to one who would sit atop a horse. “We enter your realm on the orders of Elessar, King of Gondor and Arnor. We have come to offer you an alliance.” Sjorging, who had accompanied the riders, was puzzled, thinking Uther had come to destroy, rather than make peace. The chieftain too, was puzzled. “Why does Gondor seek alliance with those of Gundabad?” Uther continued to expound upon the alliance, ‘humbling’ himself. “You are Lord of the North, are you not, Great King? Then that reason should be sufficient enough for Gondor to seek to have an ally such as you. It would do Gondor great honor if you were to accept.”The chieftain rubbed his pot-marked chin, considering his options. He turned around, to a number of the orcs that were standing around him, and muttered something in the Black Speech. After a bit of jostling amongst the orcs, the chieftain turned around yet again, and uttered his decision. “If Gondor was sending emissaries, it would not come with such a force. Methinks you are here to destroy orcs, and take the mountain for yourself.” On that, the King of the Mountain turned around, his tattered fur cloak flapping about, and with his guards, strode off back to their defenses. The Gondorians then did the same, as Uther remounted, and themselves rode back to their camp.

After the riders had returned, and dismounted, they made their way back to the lieutenant’s tent, to discuss the meeting with the orcs. After they had all sat down, each leaning somewhat inside to bask in the heat of the small fire, they began to talk. Some sergeants expressed concern over the attack, while others wanted to leave, and return in the summer with a greater force. But Uther would not be swayed. “We are here to destroy the orcs, and destroy them we shall. The alliance was only a ruse, as both the King and I knew they would not accept. Tomorrow, we assault their fortress.”

[Novnarwen]

Ingemar had watched the Gondorian soldiers ride with their proud horses away from the camp, only to return shortly after. He had looked at them with admiration, not because they looked valiant, but because of the splendour of their silvery armour, which shone splendidly. Now, as they had come back, the man from Dale was rather curious about what they had been up to for the last half an hour. Giggling slightly, he rose from his seat around the little fire they had lit and wandered over to where the soldiers stood, ready to enter the lieutenant’s tent. He gazed at them, more thrilled at seeing their armours at close hand. He stretched out his hand to touch it. It felt cold; it reminded him of snow. This material seemed to be much harder though than snow, which melted in one’s hand. His eyes lit with joy; a broad smiled passed his lips.

"Get away from me!" Ingemar who had only been getting nearer and nearer the soldier, who was wearing the armour, touching it with both of his hands, drew them back instantly. The soldier gave him and odd look, snorted with annoyance and left the poor fellow, who stood stricken and stiff as a tree trunk. Ingemar didn’t understand. He cast long glances after the man, who disappeared when entering the lieutenant’s tent. With eyes wide open, still curious, Ingemar followed. The poor man’s adventurous nature seemed to have taken over. The sudden, strong need to explore things, which only really occur when being a child, filled him with excitement.

He found himself standing as if glued to the tent’s surface, which was made of soft fabrics. With his ear closely attached to it, he could hear the sound of voices from within. The feeling of doing something ‘illegal’, doing something which would not be supported by his dear sister Norna if she ever found out, made his skin prickle and he giggled joyously.

“We are here to destroy the orcs, and destroy them we shall. The alliance was only a ruse, as both the King and I knew they would not accept. Tomorrow, we assault their fortress.” Ingemar heard one of them say.

Assault? he wondered, frowning. What did it mean? What exactly were they doing? Assault? Assault… He thought for a while, and concluded that it was at least a very nice word. He tried saying it out loud:” Assssauplt.” He shook his head furiously, irritated. Perhaps it would be better if he said it if wearing one of those silvery hard tunics he had seen just earlier.

Leaving the lieutenant’s tent, he started his search for an armour; he did not know however, what the purpose an armour served. Yet, he thought that its sparkling colour had been so amazingly beautiful, that he had difficulties thinking of anything else. With piercing green-grey eyes, he sought for it, careful not to reveal himself where he sneaked in the shadows; he knew he had done something wrong, or at least, he thought so.

A few minutes had passed before he finally succeeded. He ran towards it, grasping it with both of his hands. It was heavier than he had thought, but more beautiful than the other he had seen earlier. Looking at it for a few moments, he felt his cheeks going red. He put the armour on, slightly confused about the weight; he was about to tip over, but with great effort, he managed to stand on his feet. "Tomorrow, asssauplat," he muttered silently to himself. He sniggered, feeling the wind rush against his face. It was a wonderful feeling; the armour was heavy, but due to its beauty and this odd form of happiness he felt, he was overly convinced that he was light as a feather.

"Asssault! Assault! Asssault!! ASSAULT!!!" he called out in mere happiness. His voice echoed in the still and pleasant winter night.

Suddenly, without warning, a dozen men came running towards him. The lieutenant’s tent was hurriedly emptied. "Grab your weapons!" a voice cried out. The camp had broken out into a big commotion . . .

[Soredamor]

Skagrun had not let Grûglach's anger blind him from the task at hand. The captain had been ready to take the entirety of the force he lead and go chasing after Gorurk the deserter. But the fear he observed in the faces of all his officers, except Skagrun, when he swung his fist at the nearest living thing and crushed the throat of an orc, nameless and faceless to Grûglach. Skagrun had quickly taken advantage of his captain's pause after slaying the trooper, laying a hand on Grûglach's shoulder and saying, "There are more lives to be taken at Gundabad." Grûglach was then brought back to focus, if not calmed, and he had ordered preparations for a quick march.

And a quick march was exactly what he forced upon his troops. Word had spread quickly about Grûglach's killing for no reason, and there were enough that followed orders out of respect that those who followed them simply out of fear were driven to obedience without the use of a whip. They were drawing near to Gundabad, and Grûglach intended to make this the last night they marched, anticipating the bloodshed that was to come. There was a feeling, a growing fervor that ran throughout the Goblin force, one that drove them to a greater speed than would normally have been possible. They new well what awaited at Gundabad, what could be the end for both the orcs at Gundabad and the goblins of Moria. But they also knew that it was time to taste man flesh and blood again, and they relished in the opportunity.

Grûglach kept pace with Skagrun, and the captain discussed their plans from here. They would have to set up camp nearby Gundabad in secrecy, and explore the situation. Now that the battle drew near, Grûglach realized just how little he knew of the situation. He did not know how many orcs held Gundabad. He assumed most of the remnants were there, and that was many, but it was foolish to assume. And any assumptions at all could get him killed. Everything had seemed simpler when they were miles away from the fortress and the slaughter; for a slaughter it inevitably would be: but whose he did not know.

“We can spare a few to act as scouts.”

“Yes,” Grûglach spared Skagrun a glance. “Pick a few you think you can trust. Tell them they are to find the commander of the forces there, if possible. We need to know our allies just as much as we do our enemies.”

Skagrun grinned crookedly. “Yes, of course, our allies…as you wish, sir.” The goblin lieutenant was lucky he refrained from laughing. Grûglach sneered at the ground beneath him, his large yellow eyes turning just enough to see Skagrun’s face. Of all the fools, he was the least foolish, but the captain would never forget how dim-witted they all were. There were always advantages to their sparseness of intelligent thought, ones that Grûglach had used to reach his secure position. But now that his security was limited, it only disturbed him.

“We had best take advantage of not being alone in the stand against Men.”

His smile leaving him, Skagrun eyed his captain, looking almost surprised at this statement. It seemed the lieutenant had difficulty in thinking of the battle at hand being anything more than an opportunity to kill. He missed the fact that it was also an opportunity to be killed. There was silence for a long time following Skagrun’s moment of shock. As the night grew paler and the day began to overcome it, Grûglach ordered camp to be made, judging that they had no need to go any farther. For now, he would keep his distance from Gundabad.

“I do not know what will happen if Gundabad falls.”

Skagrun was still silent.

[Beserker_Warrior]

Snagar had heard of the attacks made on the goblins and orcs. He was not angered or inspired by it though. He thought of it as weakness and weakness was not acceptable. He however would not be weak or open to attack. Snagar was a good tactician and he would not let himself fall easily.

"Prepare the trenches and stakes. We will not go lightly.Set the firewalls in place outside of our stronghold, and keep the torches burning day and night. I will kill the one who lets them go out. The side of the hill that faces west is where we will post our archers. They will be providing cover fire for us as we attack. Do you understand me you maggots!" he shouted to his force of orcs.

This will be a battle that those weaklings will remember. They will not forget it because this is my land and I will take theirs after I grind them into the dust here He thought. Snagar walked over to inspect the team of orcs who was putting dried brush and oil in trenches for the firewalls. " Put you r backs into it and you might live, you maggots. Think of manflesh in your mouth, think of burned flesh, raw flesh. Make the wall a place of death." They all gave signs of agreement and kept working. Snagar walked on and inspected trenches full of stakes, walls of diagonal stakes ready to disembowel attackers, sharpened wicked looking blades, pikes bows, arrows and countless other weapons. Yes oh yes, he thought, I will make them suffer, they will wish they had never been born.