Search For The Book

[Susan Delgado]

Welcome to Alwen Dreamsong's Search For The Book!

“The book was leather bound, old and dusty. As the race dwindled and faded out, the book went unused. Still it contained all the secrets, happenings, spells, and medicines of that ancient race,” the storyteller’s voice fluctuated and changed, to add suspense and mystery to the tale being told to the children.

“What ever became of the book?” A tiny female came from the crowd of children.

“Ah, good question. It still sits in its chamber, on a pedestal surrounded by gold and jewels. Where? It waits, in a lone mount near the Iron, it awaits you, should you dare to find it!” Thus ended the tale, as children clapped and threw coins to the teller.

Jadae stood, listening intently to the tale. She loved hearing the storyteller’s tales and legends. This was the first one that really caught her attention. Her face, smudged and dirty from the day’s work at the smithy, brightened at the quick thought that maybe the story wasn’t just a mere children’s tale.

“Smith! I ordered the blade two days ago! You said it would be ready!” A voice snapped Jadae out of her thoughts. She groaned and turned to face an old man, who had ordered a sword for his son’s birthday gift.

“Yes, sir. The blade is ready, and has been. You didn’t come to pick it up when I told you to! Anyway, you may want to see a jeweler, because they would know how to cut the stones to fit the indentions I have provided. They could also plate the hilt…” Jadae stopped short as the man grumbled and stared angrily at her.

“Okay, okay!” Jadae walked over to a shelf and picked up a sharp, smooth, clean blade. She handed it to the man, and he dropped a small bag of coins onto the counter at the entrance of her shop. He left, and became lost in the crowds.

Jadae’s thoughts strayed to the tale often through the rest of the day, and by the end of the day, she decided it would be a great adventure to try and find the book…

[ February 12, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Mattius]

Jack sighed as he removed his round helmet to scratch his golden, spiked head. He placed it back on again. He was so bored. His life in the Guard had been nothing to what he thought it would have been when he signed up at sixteen. Promises of exciting fights with dangerous criminals evapourated only a few days into the job when he discovered that in the Dale a criminal was about as frequent as a dragon attack.

He was stood on the side of the market square sucking on his pipe weed, it was of good quality, apparntly from somewhere in the east over the mountains the seller had told him. Not very likely but a nice touch by the seller nonetheless. Jack looked up at the sun and sighed again. There was at least seven hours left of the day. He looked around again desperatly searching for something to do. He noticed the blacksmiths and looked at his short sword. It did need sharpning slightly, well, anything to stop the impending boredom.

He walked into the shop as the heat and smell of burning metal hit him. A young woman about his age looked up from her daydeam with her hair tied back. Her cheeks had smudges of black and when she stood up and placed her thumbs in her tunic pockets Jack could see she knew her trade.
"How can I help you?" she said looking at him with her cool grey eyes. Jack unsheathed his sword and handed it to her.
"Well I could do with my blade sharpning, not that I get much use out of it, nothing much happens here does it!" Jadae agreed with a smile.
"Too right!" she laughed as she drifted back into thoughts of adventure whilst preparing the sword.

[ January 26, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[ January 26, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[Orual]

"Ay, Arethin! Heave that up here, aye, there's a lad!"

The Dale Market was busy and loud today, filled with people and noises and smells. Mothers and their small children stopped by almost every booth in the market and chatted amongst themselves, merchants bellowed at the tops of their lungs, hawking their wares, traders haggled over prices. The aroma of food wafted from the small diner-booths that lined the market, mixed with the scent of animals from the auction down the way. Young teenagers, playing hooky, ran and played, bobbing and weaving through the throngs of people.

Arethin threw the heavy bundle of merchandise at his awaiting friend, who caught it well in steady hands. "Keep them coming!" the young man shouted.

Arethin smiled and complied. He wiped the perspiration off of his tanned forehead, swiping at the damp strands of blond hair that were falling into his eyes. It wasn't so very hot, but Arethin had been working all day. He grabbed the flask of water and took a quick drink before tossing another bundle up to his friend.

"Ari!" called one of the older men who Arethin worked with. "Take a rest, son. Go listen to that storyteller." He flashed the young man a knowing smile. "Though we all know how little you care for stories of old, don't we?" he finished with a flourish, directing the last bit at the other workers, who all erupted into laughter appreciatively.

Arethin grinned shyly and went over to the storyteller. The truth was, of course, that he loved old stories. Stories, songs, history, and most of all dead languages. He often went to listen to the storyteller. Today, as usual, most of the listeners were children. But there was also a girl, a little younger than him, with dark, curly hair. He seemed to remember her from somewhere, but he didn't know where, and he didn't give it another thought. He paid all of his attention to the storyteller. He knew the style of these stories: they were often simplistic, though good. But this time one of the teller's sentances caught his attention:

Still it contained all the secrets, happenings, spells, and medicines of that ancient race...

The young worker startled. Medicines! He sat on his heels behind the children and listened carefully, hanging on the storyteller's every word.

Arethin was twenty-four years old, and the provider for his family since his father died ten years ago, and he had begun working for Avaran, a merchant, once his father's own trading business had gone belly-up shortly after his death. His mother was a painter, but she had fallen very ill only several years ago, leaving the entire burden of the family's welfare on Arethin's shoulders. Paying for his mother's medicine was difficult enough, but it was made worse by the fact that it never worked. Never. But this...

No. He shook his head. It was far too early. Who was to say that this story was even true? "I can't believe it, not yet," he muttered to himself, leaving.

He walked slowly back to the booth, his feet dragging, his head down in reflection. "Problems, Arethin?" a voice asked, and a strong hand gripped his shoulder. Arethin whirled around, and saw Avaran, his broad face smiling gently at him. "Need to talk?"

"Oh, ah, no, sir, not really," Arethin said with an apologetic smile. "I'm just thinking about my home life."

"Ah," Avaran said noncomitally. His expression invited Arethin to elaborate, but he didn't. "Well." He fiddled with the hilt of his sword. "Oh, Arethin, why don't you go see if that sword order I'd placed has come in yet?" he suggested, pointing to the smithy. "It'll give you something to do."

"Yes, sir," Arethin said, and went over to the shop.

He entered, and saw two people in the shop: a younger man with spiky blond hair, and a girl with sharp grey eyes--the girl he had seen with the storyteller! Curious, he went up to her. "Excuse me," he said softly, "I'm supposed to ask about an sword order, for Avaran the merchant. But there's really another question I'd like to ask, to be honest." He let out a little, embarrassed laugh, and rubbed his left arm. "Well, I saw you earlier today, with the storyteller. Might you know more about this book of which he speaks?"

[ January 26, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Not much to do, as a guard I mean," Jadae commented as she carefully sharpened the man's blade on the spinning stone grinding wheel. Even the best blacksmiths had to be wary of the wheel, for it's easy to send the blade flying out of your hand. The sword had obviously not been used much.

"No, everything is quiet and there are no criminals around. Even when there is, I don't get there fast enough to get into the action before all is wrapped up and done," the man, Jack, responded.

And what of the book? Sure, many stories are legends, or hold truth but are told a different way each time, but there was always that chance. Maybe this Jack person would enjoy a good adventure. Would he even believe in such children stories at all? Jack was looking up at the sky and sighing to himself.

"Sir?" Jadae spoke up as she finished sharpening his blade. A stray curl fell from her hair tie until she pulled it back into place.

"Oh, yes, thank you," He said as he looked through his pockets. Jadae told him it wasn't necessary, it was just a bit of sharpening, when a tall man with a workers arm walked up to the shop.

"I'm supposed to ask about an sword order, for Avaran the merchant. But there's really another question I'd like to ask, to be honest," he paused for a moment, and let out a slight chuckle of self-amusement. "Well, I saw you earlier today, with the storyteller. Might you know more about this book of which he speaks?"

Jadae remembered the sword order he spoke of. "Just a moment!" She walked over to where she kept finished orders, and searched the shelves. When her hand found the sword with the label 'Avaran' in her own scrawled writing, she smiled and brought the sword back to the man. "Here! The storyteller comes to this area almost three times a week. I often listen to the tales, when I am not working. About a month ago, I believe he told the same story. Of course, stories always have different twists each time told, but it was mostly the same. The way he tells this story is different than most. I think that's why this tale really caught my attention."

"Do you know anything about the book? Or the truth of the matter?" The man asked now, running a hand through his hair.

"I heard it told a month ago that the book is called the Wanaparma. I only caught bits and pieces of it then, for I was working more than listening that day. The way he speaks of this book makes it seem so real. I'm sorry though, my word doesn't seem like much does it? By the way, I am Jadae, and this is Jack," Jadae finally introduced them, and she shook hands with the man.

"Arethin, I work for Avaran," Arethin smiled shyly as he shook hands with the two.

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Mattius]

"Whats this," Jack laughed, "aren't you two a little old for childrens stories!" He picked up his sword and rand his thumb down the flat side.

"I have heard the storyteller tell that story, theres no truth in it." Arethin and Jadae looked at him, quiet hurt by what he was saying. Jadae regained herself.

"Well, your just too scared to try and seach for such a thing arn't you!" Arethin smiled at her words.

"What?! Well I have never been so insulted in my life!" The guard protested. The two others laughed.

"Relax," Jadae said, "I was just teasing." Jack sighed before making for the door. He was just about to go through when a bent figure, blind in one eye, stood in his way. Jack took a step back.

"I don't think you should be leaving Mr. Strife," the stroyteller spoke in his errie voice as he made his way into the room.

[Ithaeliel]

The sun glared down upon the village of Dale that fateful day, her position so high in the pure blue sky that she seemed brighter and hotter than ever. Not a breath of wind blew upon the feverish necks of the people, and it was almost unbearable to be outside all day under this weather. The sun's torrid rays beat down upon the backs of sweaty dockworkers, and the white light that shone on the surface of the river was spotted in places by floating barrels of wine and other goods come from the Halls of Thranduil. Even the steadfast elves who came to Dale were beginning to exhaust themselves from the heat. Yet there was work to be done and families to be fed, thus it was not an option for the traders not to work.

Angalos Stormaxe was one of these traders. He stood in the shallow tide of that river that flowed from Mirkwood bearing the produce of the forest. Any barrels that came downstream he helped to load onto a cart to bring into the town. Now,as the sun began to sweep lower into the afternoon sky and the last barrel was hoisted onto the last awaiting cart, Angalos wiped the perspiration from his forehead, sauntering up onto the bank. There waited a trader elf, who looked up as the man appeared next to him. "Excellent! There are still a few hours left of daylight and already the work is done."

"All in good time," Angalos said. "It was a pleasure doing business with your folk, master elf. Now if you'll excuse me, I've other things to attend to. My axe is looking a bit dull today," he finished, glancing at the axe that lay against a wall.

The elf drew his shining white knife and sighed. "I see. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, sir, would you mind bringing my blade with you? It needs a bit of a cleaning and a sharpening. You seem like a trustworthy man."

"Of course, it would not be a problem," Angalos replied cheerfully, glancing skeptically at the blade as the trader elf handed it to him. It seemed beyond perfection to his mortal eyes, but if its owner insisted it was not, then Eru forbid he should object.

As he strode into the smithy, Angalos whistled a little tune he had heard, but he was cut short by a voice that said, "I wouldn't be leaving if I were you, Mr. Strife." He recognised it as a storyteller's voice. What was a storyteller doing in a smithy? Curious, Angalos listened with intent, forgetting all about the task at hand.

[ January 28, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

“May I help you, sir?” Jadae asked as the storyteller made his way into the shop. Jadae eyed the old man as she debated what to say. What was he doing in her shop? Surely someone who made no effort to make money other than the coins tossed by children would not need her services.

“You listen to my stories whenever I tell them on this corner. This man,” the storyteller motioned towards Arethin with his left hand. “He listens often, whenever he has a break from work…”

“Sir, did you make up that story?” Jack asked impatiently.

“No! Of course not! I am a storyteller, not a story weaver,” the old man looked horrified that Jack would even suggest such a thing. “A very dignified and reliable elf told me the story a long time ago. Said he was making his was making his way back from a village near the Iron Hills. Said that it was a popular and believed story. Of course, I changed one or two little details but…”

Arethin and Jadae exchanged glances as the storyteller spoke. For Jadae, any proof, be it valid or not, seemed enough to get her believing in something. She wasn’t sure about Arethin though. He seemed the type who had to see something to believe it. Jadae looked closely at the storyteller. His one blind eye was a hazy and pale blue color. The other was a truthful, dark blue eye that seemed to have seen more things than he liked to remember.

“Sir, if there is nothing I can help you with, I think I’m going to close up shop early today,” Jadae spoke out of the silence that had unknowingly taken over the smith’s forge. The storyteller nodded gravely, and slowly made his way out of the shop. Jadae sighed out of relief, glad to have the strange storyteller out of view. He told wondrous stories, but in person he seemed less kindly than when telling the children tales of faeries and dragons and books.

“Miss? Are you the smith here?” A man standing behind the entryway to her smithy had gone by unnoticed during the conversation with the storyteller.

“Yes, I am. May I help you?”

“I know you said you were closing shop, but would you mind sharpening an axe and a sword?”

“Certainly. Lets see them then,” Jadae was handed the axe and the light elven knife carefully. The axe was pretty dull, but would be fairly easy to sharpen. The knife however, she feared to sharpen. Jadae noted the near perfection glowing in the blade, and Jadae would have to be careful when sharpening it.

“Forgive me, I couldn’t help but listen in on your conversation with the storyteller. Would you mind telling me what it was all about? Not often is a storyteller found in a smith’s forge,” the man looked at the three, wondering if he would receive an answer. Jadae sighed and looked to Jack and Arethin, hoping one of them could tell, while she sharpened the blades and gave the slightly dusty knife a polishing.

[ January 28, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Orual]

Arethin was quite surprised that the storyteller recognized him. For the most part he kept out of sight--mainly to avoid the critical eyes of people like Jack, who unerringly made sport of his fascination with the old man's tales. His heart leapt a little when the teller insisted that the story was true, and though he tried to suppress his burst of hope he couldn't help being a little optimistic. More than a little, actually. This could be the answer to all--or at least most of his problems. If this could cure his mother, then perhaps he could even move on from his mother's house, find a wife, settle down. Have his own life.

But he was getting ahead of himself. He didn't know enough about this book. But he could certainly learn...

[Helkahothion]

Anuion was glad to have reached Dale. The visit to his father was tiring and the travel with the wood trader wasn't very comfortable as well. It would be nice to have a soft bed although no bed could outmatch the one in his elderly home in Mirkwood. As they reached Dale he went over to the inn to rent a room. He stepped in and saw that the inn was pretty quite.
"Well, not many people around here" Anuion said to himself.
"Tell me about it. Everybody is still working at this hour. There will be more people within the hour." The innkeeper said.
"That's a relief. Is there any room I can rent for the night?" Anuion replied.
"Of course sir. We don't get many visitors around here. The room will be yours until 3 'o?clock tomorrow afternoon."

Anuion went out and walked around Dale. He walked into what looked the town squire. At the smithy he saw a little gathering. An old man, a guard, a worker, the smith herself and his travel companion. He went over and wandered what they where talking about. His knife needed to be sharpened anyway so he had a reason to be there.

?Forgive me, I couldn?t help but listen in on your conversation with the storyteller. Would you mind telling me what it was all about? Not often is a storyteller found in a smith?s forge,? The man said.
He went over and the conversation was gone.
"Good day, how may I help you?" The smith said.
"Would it be possible that I can sharpen my weapons? I have been joining nature for quite a while now and it has not done them well." Anuion asked.
"Hm there is a lot of sharpening to be done today I see. Well of course you can. Just give me your weapons and I will see it done." The smith said friendly.

Anuion took the knife out of the sheath on his belt and healed out the sword out of the sheath on his back. He was always very careful with these weapons. The knife had been a gift from his father, Helkahothion, and he treated it like a huge treasure. Which it was in his eyes. The sword was not very special tough. It was just ordinary. A sword often used by elves.
"Be careful with my knife fair lady," Anuion said'" It can not be replaced.

[ May 27, 2003: Message edited by: Helkahothion ]
________
MONDEO V6 ENGINE

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

“You need not worry, for it has been a long while since a blade has been ruined at my doing,” Jadae examined the blade as the elf carefully placed it in her hands. It was different from the knife she had been asked to polish. It was tougher and not as light. It was still an Elven blade though.

Jadae smiled and looked outside to see the sun. “Perhaps my new friends Jack and Arethin would like to tell you two the tale,” she suggested, looking at Anuion and Angalos.

As Jadae sharpened the three blades, and polished the Elven knife she had been asked to polish, Jack told the story of the book, the Wanaparma. Jack told the story with a skeptical tone, as though it was a lie or some sort of joke. Maybe it was to Jack, but it didn’t seem like he had much else to do. Arethin, though, seemed quite intrigued and overjoyed by the tale.

The thick, warm air of the afternoon cooled off as the sun began to set. The three men and one elf were discussing the book when Jadae finished with the blades.

“So, what say you? It seems only Arethin and I believe in this tale,” Jadae started, carefully giving the correct blades back to the right master.

“Only because you have too much time on your hands,” Jack protested. Jadae smiled, and wondered if Jack had realized what he had just said.

"We have too much time on our hands? You yourself said that 'a criminal was about as frequent as a dragon attack'. I believe that if anyone has too much time on their hands, it is you, sir Jack," Jadae answered mockingly.

"What are you trying to say?" Jack wondered aloud.

"I say we go and find the book," Jadae answered matter-of-factly.

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Orual]

Arethin frowned at the tone with which Jack retold the story of the book to the newcomer. This was very familiar to him, this mocking voice, for he heard if often from his fellow workers. He could hear them now...oh, if they knew what he was thinking...

You find that book, Ari, you just do that. Maybe it'll cure you of your mental problems!

He scowled and folded his large arms, concentrating on Jack. Then he wiped the angry look off of his face: he wasn't upset with any of these people. Why was he scowling? Immediately he felt ashamed and tried to look pleasant and interested with Jack's retelling.

Angalos and Anuion, once the story was finished, fell into talking with Jack. Arethin added something now and then, but mainly just listened. They all seemed interested, if not completely convinced of the authenticity of this tale.

Finally, after a brief argument, Jadae announced:

"I say we go and find the book."

Arethin's heart leapt and he stared at Jadae with incredulous eyes. Surely she was joking! Though he certainly hoped not...he looked at her, tilting his head, trying to divine whether or not she was jesting. He realized that she wasn't, and his heart rate quickened.

"I agree," he said hurriedly. "I want to find the book, as well." He turned to Jadae and inclined his head, smiling gravely. How lucky he was to have met this young woman!

But he realized that once he was gone, if they did go, the talk wouldn't stop. Always knew that Ari wasn't right in the head, I did. Didn't I tell you that? Aye, since he was a lad I said that. All went wrong since he had to take care of that family--that poor woman, only with 'er youngest son, and him but a skinny tyke compared with Arethin, to care for her. Poor old woman!

Did he have the right to leave his brother the burden of caring for his mother? He shook his head to clear it of these thoughts, and waited for the others' responses.

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

[Helkahothion]

Anuion listened to the man and had been amazed to hear this story again. He had not heard it many times in this area. He nodded when the man spoke and added a few comment's from time to time. The storyteller was amazed by the knowledge of the ranger about this story. Suddenly Anuion's attention faded away and was focused on the two standing in the back of the smith.
"I think we should find the book." He heared the smith say.

He went over to them and could hear the companion confirm here thought as he went over.
"I will come with you if you wish fair lady. I have heard the story many times in my childhood and many more during my travels. I know that it is there. My knowledge of the wild could serve you." He said.
The Smith looked at him and thought before answering.

[ May 27, 2003: Message edited by: Helkahothion ]
________
Colorado dispensaries

[Mattius]

Jack looked on them and came to his senses. What was he doing!? A sarcastic snort came from his direction and the group turned to him.

"Look, it’s just a children's story, a myth at best! And even if it does exist, the story doesn't give any specific details does it! In a mountain? There are hundreds of mountain north of here, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack!" The others didn't say anything as Jack continued. "And what would be the actual point of searching for this thing anyway? It would be a pointless endeavour at best!"

"To help save the lives of others!!!" Arethin shouted out surprising even himself. "A book of cures, that could help many sick and dying."

Jack felt humbled and turned to leave before Jadae called him back.

"I think your scared Jack." The guard stopped but did not turn around. He wasn't scared, or at least he didn't think he was, more sceptical. "Even if you don't think it exists then at least it will be a little excitement away from this place." Jack turned around a smiled.

"You’re right, this place is boring. The actual stones of the streets seem to grumble when I walk upon them. Okay, I’m in." He started to walk towards the door. "When you are ready meet me at 'The Rusty Hilt' pub, it’s were my folks live and I will need to pick up some supplies." With that he made his way onto the bustling streets of the square.

[ February 06, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Jadae sighed as Jack left. He became lost in the meandering crowds, and Jadae turned to face Arethin, Angalos, and Anuion. Arethin seemed to firmly believe in the story now, yet it seemed he fought an inner battle over some aspect of the journey. Anuion would be useful on the journey, with his skills as a ranger. Jadae wasn't sure about Angalos, though.

"I'm going," Jadae commented, and waited for some sort of acknowledgement.

"I will go too. It seems it will come in handy to have a ranger along with you. I'll see you at the 'Rusty Hilt'," With that, Anuion left the smithy. Whether he went right to the pub, or to some other place, Jadae didn't know.

"I'm not sure if I will go. I will think about it though," Angalos added.

"Well, if you show up at the Rusty Hilt, we'll know what you decided...right?" Jadae said, and began to close up shop.

"I...I'll be there," Arethin finished, with an unsure voice.

Jadae nodded and watched as Angalos and Arethin left the shop. Jadae began to pack her things. She lived in a small back room of her shop, for she hadn't seen her parents in a long time. Jadae had a friend in a shop nearby, and Jadae offered to let him use her shop until she came back. He agreed, but said that he would rather call it 'safeguarding' her shop. He assured her that many would be upset when they found she had taken a 'vacation'.

As Jadae stood outside her shop, she remembered how many cheap jobs it had taken for her to earn the money to buy the shop. Then she shook her head and began the walk to The Rusty Hilt.

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Helkahothion]

Arethin left the shop with different feelings. He wanted to leave so badly, but his mother was still sick. He just walked away when a voice spoke from behind him.
"You have a reason to stay right? Want to tell me about it?"
It was Anuion. He walked towards the man and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"My mother. She is sick. I have no father. Who will support her when I am gone?" Arethin stumbled to the elf.
"I see your dilemma. It's tough, but if you find that book you will be able to cure her." Anuion said friendly.
"Really?"
"Ohw yes my friend. So it is important that you join us. I have some money. I don't need much. I intended to stay in the inn for a while, but because time says different I will not be needing this money as badly as your family. Here take it."
With his last words, Anuion took out a sack with money. And handed it over to Arethin.
"This should be able to support them for a while." He added.
Anuion went over to the inn and decided to take a meal. He was hungry from all this talk.

[ May 27, 2003: Message edited by: Helkahothion ]
________
First-Generation Taurus

[Orual]

Arethin stared at the bag of money for a long moment, just standing there with it in his hand. This would be more than enough to support his mother and brother for a long while, and then his brother was of an age where he could begin to work. He could go with the company, now, he could go and search for this book. After he broke out of his thoughts he stared after Anuion, watching the Elf's retreating back. Why had he done this?

And what would Arethin do now? His father had taught him never to accept a gift without giving one in return. What could he possibly give Anuion that would be of equal value? This would allow Arethin to go on this journey without qualms, and by going on the journey he would be able to find a cure for his mother. What could Arethin do to repay him?

"I'll find something," he thought, shaking his head. "There will be something while we're searching, there will be something that I can do to repay him. There must be."

His conscience cleared, there remained only one obstacle: Avaran.

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

This wasn't going to be fun at all, for either of them. Avaran had been Arethin's father-figure since his real father's death, and this was a fine way to pay him back for those years of care!

Arethin approached the older man hesitantly. "Sir?" he said quietly, tapping Avaran on the shoulder. The merchant turned around, his friendly broad face smiling.

"Arethin! Glad you're back." Avaran smiled again, then it faded as he looked at Arethin's troubled face. "What's wrong, son?"

Arethin flinched at the title. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked.

Avaran nodded and quickly took his leave of the trader with whom he was talking, and took Arethin aside. They went to a pavilion where benches and tables were set up for customers to sit and eat. "So talk," Avaran said, making himself comfortable.

Arethin sat straight and stiff. "Well, sir, you know my mother's been very sick lately--"

"Is she all right? I mean, she didn't...she..." Avaran's face was alarmed and it had that quality that said that he was ready to be sympathetic if the worst came.

"No, sir, she's as well as she ever is." Avaran relaxed. "But I was listening to the storyteller today, and he told of a book with ancient cures in it, and--"

"And you want to find it?" Arethin startled, then nodded a little sheepishly. Avaran's face was skeptical and a little disappointed. "You believe this story?"

"I've found several companions who also believe it," Arethin insisted, a little ashamed at stretching the truth. He didn't know if they really believed it; he only knew that Jadae did. "We'll find the book and come back, and I'll be right back to work, sir."

"Arethin, I know that I can't stop you. This involves your mother, and the Lords of the West themselves couldn't interfere when you have your mind set like this. Really, I'm glad you told me, but I don't think that it's a good idea, this quest. You ought to stay here. It's all nonsense."

"I really don't think so, sir," Arethin said, leaning on the table. "I think that it's the truth. And I think that this can help my mother."

"Son, do what you think is best," Avaran said with a heavy sigh. "Eru knows you'll do it anyway."

Arethin sighed, fumbled with a few words, then spit it out. "Sir, I won't go without your blessing," he said. He stared intently at his employer.

There was a long silence. Avaran looked at the table for a while, and Arethin grew steadily more and more anxious. The air itself seemed thick with anticipation. Would Avaran actually tell him no? If he did, then Arethin had given his word that he wouldn't go. But this was something that he really believed in, he truly believed that a cure for his mother could be found in this book. The seconds ticked by like millennia, and finally Avaran looked back up. "You really believe in this, don't you, Arethin?" he asked quietly.

The young worker nodded slowly, his face solemn. "I do, sir."

"Then go. You have my blessing. Just come back in one piece, if you can help it." Arethin felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and the old man smiled at him. He slapped Arethin on the back. "Just come back in one piece."

[ January 31, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

The sun was beginning to set, and the many workers began to walk home. Jadae weaved through the crowds, listening to the shouts and calls of merchants and traders. If they did decide to go on the search, she would miss the hustle and bustle of everyday life in Dale.

Jadae walked deeper into the trading town, into an area where many merchants and craftsmen lived and worked. Signs hung from in front of each shop. Anyone could tell what was sold in each shop the shape of the sign. One street was mostly candle makers. Another sold perfumes and different scents-though the pungent smell could inform someone of that. Jadae walked past a shop selling jewelry and other such finery. Another small shop specialized in writing letters and painting portraits. Jadae walked past all the familiar shops, saying or waving a 'hello' to people she knew.

Jadae came to a halt in front of 'The Rusty Hilt'. She walked into the inn, and searched the main room for Jack. She found him, talking to an elderly couple. Jadae let him finish talking to them, and took a seat near the front of the tavern.

Jadae wondered if Arethin, Angalos, and Anuion would show up. She knew full well that Jack did not believe in the tale. Jadae wasn't sure about Angalos, but it seemed she, Arethin, and Anuion believed in the story.

Jack finished talking to the couple, and walked over to where Jadae sat. "Do you think they will show?" Jadae asked Jack.

[ February 01, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Orual]

The day was drawing to a close as Arethin finished up his work. He said not a word of his plans to his friends, and did not yet return home. He was more or less silent for the rest of the day, with the occasional affirmative or negative muttering when asked a question. His coworkers assumed that he was simply grumpy, although that was uncharacteristic for the generally cheerful young man.

He took his quiet leave of the workplace and made his way to the Rusty Hilt. He was unfamiliar with the inn, but he found it without much trouble. It seemed a nice enough place. He opened the door and walked in, looking around for any of his companions. He nodded to Jack and Jadae upon finding them, and went to sit with them.

"I trust I'm not late?" he asked, and ordered an ale.

[Ithaeliel]

After returning the newly sharpened blade to the trader elf at the river, Angalos began the long walk to his home, his head filled with thoughts. The pace of trade was beginning to slow, as it was around that time of the year. Should he leave the valley and help search for this book? Angalos wasn't even sure it existed, for he had not completely trusted the storyteller and the elf's words.

Suddenly he laughed out loud, surprising a man who sat nearby. Walking on, Angalos spoke quietly. "And why is it so?" he asked himself. "Elves do not lie, nor exaggerate on things they know of. It must be real," he mumbled, his tone becoming more serious. If he went on this journey, his life might be endangered. There would certainly be guards and traps set around the book if it was of any worth at all. Goblins would be lurking about in the shadows, armed to the teeth. Perhaps spells would be set on it that would maim the flesh of anyone who touched it. The terrible things that lived in the wilder places of the world were enough to make Angalos' skin crawl. Stopping, he looked at his axe, sizing it up, testing the weight and stability of the blade. He smiled. "I have a fine dwarven axe at my side, and courage and willingness in my heart."

He paused for a moment. "What a wild dream... I, a trader, off many leagues beyond the comfort of any home, searching for the annals of a supposedly lost race. The way is fraught with dangers; I may well lose my life as may others. It will be a great adventure beyond anything I could have imagined as a boy. If this book is found and returned to Dale, the name of Angalos Stormaxe will be written in history. I will have done something more..." his voice trailed off. He stood a moment in the light of the dying sun, his head bowed in thought, before he turned back in the direction of the Rusty Hilt. "I am going."

[ February 02, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Mattius]

Jack looked about his parent's pub, the place he had grown up for sixteen years of his life. He took another swig on his pint of ale. His parents had took the news that he was going away quite well. They accepted that life in the Dale was not for him and his mother knew that he was destined for bigger things.

"You don't really believe in the book do you?" Jadae broke him from his line of thought. He looked at the smithy and then Arethin.

"Honestly? No I don't but that is of little matter to me. If we find nothing then at the very least I have travelled somewhere."

"And what if the book is real, what then?" Replied Jadae. Jack took a thoughtful sip on his pint.

"Pretty much the same I guess, your the ones that want the book, I just want the adventure." Jadae and Arethin exchanged looks. "Excuse for a few minutes I have to get some small supplies from upstairs." Jack finished off his ale before heading upstairs leaving Jadae and Arethin waiting at he bar for any of the others who may decide to take the challenge.

[ February 06, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Jadae sighed as Jack went upstairs. He hardly believed there was even a book. Jack was skeptical, as he should be. There was no tangible proof that the Wanaparma existed. Jadae believed in it though. Though there was no proof it did exist, was there any proof that suggested it didn't?

"Arethin, you and I are the only ones who truly believe the book exists. Jack merely is looking for an adventure, and I am not sure at all about Anuion and Angalos," Jadae was wondering where those two were, or if they even intended on coming.

"Do you listen to the storyteller often? I do, or I do whenever he tells stories at the corner near my smithy. The children love his tales. For them, the golden fields of Rohan only exist in his tales. For those children, the closest they may get to Rivendell, or Lothlorien, is that corner where an old man tells old stories of heroes and heroines," Jadae remembered the many tales the old storyteller narrated.

"I listen to his tales a lot. I love old stories, and songs, history and such," Arethin answered, though he seemed to be thinking about something else.

"Arethin, if you don't mind me asking, why would you leave Dale to go find the book? Jack wishes to go for an adventure, I want to prove him that it exists...but what about you?" Jadae hoped he wouldn't be mad at her for asking such a question.

[ February 03, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Orual]

"Why am I willing to leave Dale?" Arethin echoed, tracing the woodgrain lines on the table with his finger. He didn't meet Jadae's eyes. "Well, I'm not looking for adventure at all, that's for sure. And though I certainly hope that this book exists, simply proving it isn't my reason either. You see, once we find the book, I plan to use it.

"My father died several years back. I support my family now, though my brother has started to carry his part. My mother was a painter, but she's ill now--very ill. Her medicine is very expensive and hasn't helped a bit. So you see, I'm hoping that this book, this Wanaparma, I'm hoping that it contains a cure for her." He paused. "I love my mother. I really do. But it's so hard, Jadae. I'm twenty-four years old, and all I do is work and care for my mother. She's in her mid-forties. I shouldn't be doing this, not yet. But she's wasting away before my eyes. It pains me to see her like this...to see her fading away, dying a little bit every day. It could take years and years for her to actually pass away, and each day she's in more pain. I don't know if you've ever lost a loved one to a wasting illness, but it's the most awful thing you could ever live to see. It's so hard to love someone so much, and yet wish they'd die--for their own sake. Wishing someone would die because you hate him is so much easier than wishing someone would die because you love them, and can't stand to see them in pain anymore."

Arethin took a sharp, shaky breath, and struggled to regain control of himself. His broad shoulders shook for a moment as he battled the weeping that threatened to come. Finally he composed himself. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I just..."

"It's fine," Jadae said, looking sympathetically at him. "Don't worry about it."

"No, I'm sorry. This isn't like me." Arethin laughed humourlessly. "But anyway, that's why I'm coming. To find a cure for my mother. And, more selfishly, to give myself a chance for my own life."

[Helkahothion]

Anuion was standing behind the two for a time. At the bar he was speaking with the owner about the room. But his ears where fixed on a different conversation. Trough the room he could hear Jadae and Arethin where speaking about things. He could here Arethin talking about his mother. He was finished with the owner of the "Rusty Hilt" and went over.
"Arethin, I don't think that any cure these here doctor's posses can cure your mother. It is a sickness that is hardly curable. It is partly in her body, but also partly in her mind. The sickness she has is very old. The last time I saw it, I was just a boy of your age. The story goes that the book can cure any sickness. But even if you cure her, the effect's will last. For it is the loss of her most beloved, that makes it so terribly strong. You can cure her, but than you still need to cure her of her grief over the loss of her husband. And that requires a lot of devotion my friend."
Arethin was stunned. This elf knew his medicine alright. He took another sip of his ale.

Anuion faced Jadae.
"As for you dear Jadae: I surly believe in this book. During my travels, the legend passed out of my mind and the memory was vague. The storyteller revived it. I wanted to search it someday. Now the time has come. I will join you. By the way, good job with my knife. Ill come back when I need it sharpened again. Not many smiths dare to handle elfish craft."
He took a chair and sat down next to the others.

[ May 27, 2003: Message edited by: Helkahothion ]
________
Mercedes-benz ssk history

[Mattius]

Jack walked into his old room. Well, to say it was his old room wasn't entirely correct. It was only a short time ago that he had lived in the alehouse before moving out. He looked about and walked over to the corner where he found his old chest. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the lid. The chest was empty at first sight but Jack reached down the side and flipped the fake wooden bottom out revealing a small space where his precious things were hidden.

"Now lets see here..." he whispered pulling supposedly random items from the box. He lifted a small knife and looked at it closely. It was an elvish gift from her; she had given it him when... No no. He shook himself clear of the thoughts of her and buckled the weapon to his belt. Jack fished a little more and found small pieces of armour that he attached accordingly. Finally he lifted out a small silver and gold bracelet. Jack brought it close to his eyes and studied the elvish engravings. It was as thin as a piece of cotton but with occasion spheres of gold. Jack continued to look at it, struggling in his mind to choose whether or not to take it with him, he had never worn it before.

"May it grant you strength in times of great need..."

Jack snapped out of the daydream and wiped a tear from his cheek. He quickly fastened the bracelet onto his right wrist and put back the items he had took out of the chest that he decided not to take. Before leaving the room he locked it up again.

"Wonder what he is getting?" Jadae said as he walked up behind her.

"I have got all I need now," he said placing a hand on her shoulder making her jump, "and am ready for the off."

[ February 05, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[doug*platypus]

At the far end of the common room, at a table near the fire, sat a lone dwarf drinking ale from a tankard. He still wore his deep blue travelling cloak, showing he that he was either not at home in this Inn or that he wished to remain a shadowy figure. The hood of the cloak was over his head, and only his long, hooked nose and his full beard could be seen protruding from it.

Not long after he had finished a well-deserved supper, some locals had sat down at a table within earshot. He had sharp ears for one of his race (which aided him in his profession), and the group seemed to make no great secret of what they were talking about. They were three humans of Dale. The woman he recognised as a smalltime blacksmith of the town. She had never seemed remarkable until today, when for some reason her smithy had been a hive of activity. As the dwarf had walked past it earlier on in the day, he had noticed that the smithy had more visitors than was usual for such a heated place of business (unless of course it were his home, Erebor or some other hall of the Dwarves). He had thought little of it at the time, but seeing her here again at the Rusty Hilt was surely more than coincidence. Something was going on.

The dwarf continued to sip at his ale, trying to appear inconspicuous as he listened carefully to the conversation. His ears perked up at the word "book", as they always did, and he hoped that his involuntary gasp had not been noticed. He cleared his throat and coughed several times, trying to cover it up. From what he understood, these three humans were looking for a book. No doubt a tome of great significance, a magnificent source of ancient knowledge, with beautiful lettering and full colour plates! He was almost drooling.

Shortly, one of the humans got up and went out the back. The dwarf had noticed him earlier on as the son of the Innkeepers. After a little while he came back. The dwarf snuck a quick glance in his direction, his eyes bright now like polished gems. The youth was now dressed as if for travel, and was standing behind his smith friend. Hammer and Tongs! the dwarf inwardly cursed his luck. He had been hoping for a good night's rest, but it seemed that at least one of the group wanted to leave that very evening. The marvellous book must be out of town somewhere, and no doubt the Innkeepers' son was all for leaving Dale as soon as he could. Understandably, for Dale though a fine town indeed, was hardly a fountain of excitement. The dwarf resigned himself to following after the group, even if it meant losing a bit of sleep. He started to drain his mug, and waited to see what the other humans would do.

[Ithaeliel]

As the cool evening began to settle onto the town, Angalos walked on, hauling his axe in one hand and his travelling gear in the other. Rounding a corner, he saw an old sign swinging in the light of two torches. It read, "The Rusty Hilt," and there was a motif of an old sword above the words. He smiled satisfactorily, striding to the door, and as he entered the darkened tavern, he saw three familiar faces there: Jadae, Anuion, and Arethin. There were few others besides him, but there was a dwarf sitting at a table who eyed Jadae and Arethin curiously. He seemed interested in what they were saying, and when the word 'book' was heard, he gave a gasp and coughed a bit. Angalos was sure he knew about it.

Angalos lingered back as he watched Jack, the one most skeptical of the existance of the Wanaparma, arrive downstairs dressed to travel. "I have got all I need now and am ready for the off," he said, startling Jadae. The trader was more than mildly surprised; he would never have thought that Jack would agree to make the journey, especially on his own account and will. Well, when the lost annals of a race are at hand, it can make a man unpredictable, thought Angalos. As he stepped out from the shadow of the doorframe and the four realized his presence, Jadae gave a small smile. "Greetings, Angalos Stormaxe."

Setting his things down on the table, Angalos removed his hood and bowed. "I'm glad I was able to make it in time. I managed to stop by my home on the way, so I am already prepared to leave, save a few provisions; for I was planning to make a trip to the market this very evening due to the barrenness of my larders," he said with a laugh.

"I have plenty of lembas for all of us to share, if provisions are short," said Anuion. "We will be able to make do with what we have."

"I am glad you decided to come," said Jadae with a smile.

"May my axe (and possibly wits) serve you well, Miss Jadae Starfire."

Arethin spoke up hesitantly. "Well, if there are no others, I suppose we ought to be leaving soon."

"Oh, no you don't!" cried a gruff voice from the back of the room. Angalos spun around to see the dwarf near the hearth stand up suddenly and stride toward the group. "I've heard all about this book you're talking of; I must say I hold an interest in finding it. This is quite a bold expedition you lot are embarking upon."

Anuion glanced coldly at the dwarf. He was one of the Silvan elves who had little love for dwarf-kind, especially those of Erebor (as it appeared this one was). "And what is your name, Master Dwarf?" he asked.

[ February 06, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[doug*platypus]

"My name? MY NAME?!!!" the dwarf bellowed, getting the attention of most of the common room, and discomfiting one or two of the humans in front of him.

"My name, Master Elf," he continued as he drew back his hood, "is one of the few things in this wide world I may call my own. As such, I treat it with great care, and do not prance about showing it off. No disrespect intended, of course."

Although he did not share the ill will of his kinsmen towards the Elves, the dwarf had disliked the cold glance he had received from this one. He indeed had to remind himself to be civil, since he greatly wanted to be a part of this quest, if it was indeed what it seemed to be.

As the company looked at him, they could see that he was of average height for a dwarf. His head, which was covered in matted red-brown locks, was only up to the ribcage of most of them. He was dressed for travel, and wore a hard leather jerkin, which could be seen below his beard, beneath the folds of his deep blue cloak. His heavy boots were caked with dirt, except at the bottoms where they had been scraped clean. From a bulge in his cloak it could be seen that he wore a travelling bag slung at his side. The dwarf had obviously just returned from a journey, and would have benefitted greatly from a bath, a change and a night's rest.

"I am a bard and loremaster of the Kingdom of Erebor," he addressed the group. "I could not help but overhear your conversation. I am professionally interested in books, you might say, as in all matters of lore, and I would like to offer you my assistance. I know these lands well. And if you are thinking of travelling to the Kingdom Under the Mountain, or to the land of my kin in the Iron Mountains, I can help you to wander there unhindered. Will you have me?"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

After her initial surprise at the introduction, Jadae's look became one of amusement as the dwarf spoke of his work. Jadae smiled at the dwarf, while Anuion still held a cold stare. It was a bit strange to have to look so far down to see who was speaking.

"Well, Master dwarf, I respect your wishes to keep your name personal, but I for one would not mind knowing what we shall call you. Or do you wish for us to call you 'Master dwarf'?" Jadae asked.

"Would you enjoy being called Mistress or Master human and elf? I didn't think so. You may call me Rosfin," Rosfin answered as he clambered up onto a chair next to Arethin and Jadae.

"Very well, Master dwa- I mean, Rosfin. I am Anuion," Anuion began. He gestured towards Jack. "This is Jack. His folks own the Rusty Hilt. This is Arethin, and next to him is Jadae. Our new arrival is Angalos." Rosfin got off his chair and bowed a greeting to all as they were introduced.

"I know not what my companions think, but I would be honored to have you come along with us, Master Rosfin," Jadae looked to Jack, Arethin, Anuion, and Angalos. Jack, Arethin, and Angalos nodded agreement, though Anuion did nothing.

"Well, it seems most of us agree. When shall we be off?" Angalos inquired.

[ February 09, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Helkahothion]

Anuion was irritated. This dwarf was a little to cocky. Talking about leading and knowing the way.
?I have been travelling even before you where born little guy? He thought.
But he did not forgot his manners. He nodded afterwards and sat back a little.
Ah well, dwarves don't have to be so annoying. I might as well give him a try, since I am travelling along with him for a long time.
"Well, it seems most of us agree. When shall we be off?" Angolos asked.
"Such things don't have to be rushed. The book won't run away. I know many routes, but I am sure that Master Rosfin knows some too, since he has travelled a lot for his kin. We need to figure on out and I think we need some food after all. I did not count for this extra companion." Anuion said calmly.

He had to come to a agreement with the dwarf, because that would prevent further delays on the road.
"I guess we need to go to the market after all then." Angalos said cheerful.

[ May 27, 2003: Message edited by: Helkahothion ]
________
List Of Jeep Vehicles History

[Mattius]

Jack smiled, the dwarf seemed like a nice litte fellow, curious but of good heart. He nodded at his almost empty pint glass.
"Can I offer you a refil my new friend?" Rosfin grinned widely.

"Ah ah! Thats more like it!!"

Jack nodded again and jumped over the bar, refilling the dwarf's glass when he had landed.

"Good ale!" Rosfin said. Jack agreed and moved in closer to the dwarf.

"Now tell me, you don't believe in this book do you? Surely its just children's stories. Right? I know that dwarves believe in what is real, jewels and such. I have seen many in my family's tavern and debated many things with them over the years."

Rosfin finished his sip and looked up at Jack from under his bushy eyebrows.

"I believe in the book probably even more than the book itself does!"

He downed the remaining part of his pint before trundling off to the toilet leaving Jack with a confused and comical look on his face.

[ February 10, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[Orual]

This was all coming a little quickly for Arethin. First Anuion's procalamation on his mother's condition, then Rosfin's appearance. They seemed to be getting ready to leave. He wasn't ready to leave yet. The least he could do would be to warn his brother that he was leaving. The lad was seventeen, and he ought to be given at least a heads-up that he'd have to support the family now. At least the family wouldn't take as much supporting, with Arethin gone. Still, he was torn...what if he returned too late? Then his adventuring would be useless. This was ridiculous, he had no right to be traipsing around looking for some ancient book of spells...but the other half of his mind told him that he had every right, and even an obligation to. This could be the only chance he ever got to save his mother. She'd die if she didn't get the right medication, that was for certain. She was already dying. She was practically dead. Yet still...

"Now tell me, you don't believe in this book do you? Surely its just children's stories. Right?"

It was this question of Jack's that broke Arethin out of his thoughts and pushed him over the edge. "If you don't believe in this book at all, as is evident by your remarks, then why in the world are you willing to risk life and limb to find it with us?" he exploded, pushing himself up out of his chair. Several people turned to look at him, but he ignored them. "I don't understand you, Jack. Why are you doing this?"

[ February 09, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

[Mattius]

"Look around you!" Jack said standing up straight. "Markets, taverns and more markets. I don't belong here. This place is like a slow death by boredom!" The three of them frowned at him. The group had lived in the Dale all their life except for the elf and loved it dearly. Indeed, the elf had no problem with it either. Jack noticed their faces.

"Look," he said refilling Arethin's mug and handing it to him, "its not that I don't love this place but my plan is such that if I find someplace other that I like outside of this town then I will call it my own and leave the Dale forever."

Just then Rosfin walked back in looking down at his waist and buckling his belt. He placed two hands on the bar stool which was about the same height as himself and with a great effort managed to haul himself up.

"Keep 'em comming barkeep!" he said nudging his empty mug to Jack. Jack placed his hand on Arethin's shoulder,

"I am sorry to upset you and I would loved to be proved wrong about the book but I only believe in what I can see." Arethin looked at him and nodded. Jack smiled back before turning to the dwarf. "Certainly Master Dwarf, bard and loremaster of the Kingdom of Erebor!! You grace my family's tavern with your presence!" Rosfin laughed gruffly before knocking back the pint.

[ February 12, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[Helkahothion]

Anuion had been glancing while Jack was speaking to the dwarf. Rosfin was just as convinced as he was. Anuion sat back more relaxed and let the whole conversation slip by him. As the Dwarf returned and finished his ale, Anuion faced him.

"I think we both have the same opinion about the books escistence Master Rosfin. But only several in Arda share it. That makes us rare and sort of connected in a way. I am looking forward on traveling with you."

Anuion caught the dwarf completly of guard. Rosfin did not expect this from an Elf. He looked at Anuion and smiled.

"Jack", He said," fill me up. And give one to the Elf to. My treat."

Anuion nodded and smiled aswell. This trip could be special indeed.

[ February 17, 2003: Message edited by: Helkahothion ]
________
Jaguar xf picture

[Ithaeliel]

Angalos sat with both hands holding a mug of sweet ale, all the while talking to Jadae. When she asked his opinion of the book, he shrugged nonchalantly. "I am somewhat undecided when it comes to believing in such things as could easily be a false tale spun by a storyteller. However, this book- Wanaparma- seems like an interesting prospect, and it could well be real, but might contain otherwise than what we expected: it could be the history of a race that already exists. If that were the case, even the information that we find could be as good as that of an entirely lost race. So I believe that it is quite possible for this book to exist, even if it is not all we say."

Jadae nodded, listening with intent. Angalos was surprisingly insightful, more than she had expected him to be. "That may indeed be true," she agreed, somewhat sadly. "We may find nothing of a lost race."

Angalos smiled as he read the worry in her voice. "Yet as like as not, we may find the lost race. Who knows," he elaborated, "we may find it there: on a pedestal, bathed in blue light, its cover and spine dyed a deep red, embroidered with silver in a strange and alien script... and upon opening the dusty book, we would see more than we'd ever looked for." Angalos envisioned all this vividly, and as he spoke his head went into a dreamlike stance. "The lost race of Middle-earth... a further sundering of the dragons, or the elves who fled from Oromë at the Pool of Life; maybe a completely different race that none ever knew of save the Valar. Think of it, Jadae!"

"It is much to hope for," Jadae answered, bringing Angalos suddenly and brutally back to reality. His head almost ached. "Yet we must hope for that much, if not more. Otherwise, why go on this journey at all?" he said.

Jadae smiled and nodded. "I suppose you're right, Angalos. We must not waste our reasons and dash our hopes. We leave Dale in the morning, and that must be final."

[ February 12, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Mattius]

Jack took a step back and looked at the group. They seemed tired, not physically but mentally and emotionally they were strained. He clapped his hands to get their attention before he spoke.

"Good adventurers of the Dale. The night is late and we all need a good nights rest before our journey begins in ernest. You are all welcome to stay for free in the rooms upstairs and I suggest that we set off at the dwan of the new day."

Rosfin yawned and streched his small arms as the others began to realise that it was getting late.

"Thank you Jack," Jadae said, "it is much appriciated by all of us." As Jack led them up the stairs he fingered the thin braclet on his right wrist. He owed it to her to wear it.

"May these beds give you a good nights sleep ladies and gentlemen," he said opening the individual doors to the rooms.

Jack returned to his old room to spend the night. He took out the small elvish knife. It was a work of great craftmanship, or elfmaidenship. Jack sighed heavily as he sheathed it and blew out his candle.

[ February 17, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Jadae smiled as she walked into the warm, cozy, and free room she had been led to. The tough, strong wooden floor was clean of dust, and in one corner a small rug covered the wood. There was only one window in the room, in the center of the wall across from the doorway. A bed was against that wall, next to the window. A lone rocking chair filled the corner along with the rug.

Jadae placed her pack on the rocker, and then walked to the window. Down below in the streets, women rushed home with last-minute purchases, while other mothers called their little boys and girls inside for the night. Men closed up the last shops, and only the light from the tall, street lamps shone on the street. Jadae had been a lamp-lighter for a few months, just the year before. Many other jobs had come and gone before she had enough to buy her shop.

For that was what Jadae loved: her shop, and her trade. Nothing pleased Jadae more than to feel the heat of the fire upon her face, to watch the flames and sparks fly when she blew the bellows. That was her home. She had worked her hardest those years, and Jadae had earned her keep in the trade town of Dale.

Peering out the window, Jadae let the cool, night air blow on her face. The sky was clear and the moon showed full. Stars sprinkled the velvet sky, Varda's gifts. Jadae had loved to sit outside when she was a child, and look at the stars.

The shutters of a window next to hers flew open, and Angalos poked his head out the window. Jadae waved, and smiled giddily. Angalos smiled back and then went back into his room. Jadae did the same, closing the window.

Jadae couldn't wait until morning. Of course, food would have to be purchased, but she had a friend who might be able to cut them a deal on what she had once claimed to be the best bread in all of Dale, Erebor, and Mirkwood. Whatever other supplies they needed could be easily found in a place such as Dale, and Jadae knew her way around better than anyone else she knew.

Jadae decided to get some rest, for she knew it would be a big day tomorrow. Besides, who could tell when the group would get another full night of sleep?

[Orual]

Arethin walked silently through the streets of Dale. The night had fallen, and it would've been difficult to navigate the streets had Arethin not been so familiar with the area. He had been born here; he had been raised here. Dale was the only place that Arethin knew. Did he really want to leave?

He waved dispiritedly to a few of his friends as he headed home. He'd miss them. He'd miss all of it. But the question wasn't really did he want to leave; he realized now that the question was, did he have a choice?

He saw a flickering light in the window of his house when he arrived. Elethil, his seventeen-year-old brother, would undoubtedly be reading by the light of the lamp. He was an avid reader. He read anything that he could get his hands on. So much so that Arethin doubted if he should tell his younger brother that the thing he was searching for was a book at all. He chuckled at that thought, and knocked gently on the door.

"Come on in, Ari," Elethil called, and Arethin could see through the window that he hadn't looked up. He opened the door and went in.

"Where've you been all day, Ari? Mom was worried." Elethil actually looked up from his book, so Arethin could tell that his mother had really been concerned. Arethin winced.

"I went to run an errand for Avaran, and got caught up in something. Is Mom asleep?" Arethin asked. Elethil nodded. "Oh, okay. Well, I'll just tell you. I'll have to leave tomorrow morning."

"Leave? What?" Elethil, to Arethin's great shock, closed his book and pushed it aside, focusing all of his attention on his older brother. "Where are you going, Arethin?"

Arethin took a deep breath and explained the entire thing, not leaving out a single detail, from the moment he stopped by to listen to the storyteller. Elethil didn't interrupt him once, but listened intently to every word Arethin had to say. The boy's face was solemn and progressively grieved, until finally, at the very end, he let out a little cry.

"You're really leaving, Ari?" he said in a hoarse whisper that Arethin realized was probably an attempt to cry out. "You're leaving me alone to take care of her? I'm seventeen, Ari!"

"I was younger than you when I started taking care of you and her," Arethin objected. "You're seventeen, you have a job, and if that one doesn't pay enough Avaran would be glad to take you on. Besides," he added, reaching into his pack, "one of my companions gave me this." He produced the sack of money that Anuion had given him. "This ought to help you."

Elethil stared, wide-eyed, at the money. And with some reason, too--this was a considerable amount of money for their family, which had never been wealthy, even when their father had been alive. (They had been considerably more comfortable, but never truly wealthy.) "Ari..."

"Just do it, El. Please. I have to do this. For Mom--and for both of us. Do you realize that if we both married, one of us would have to still live here and take care of her? If I do this--if you let me--then she can take care of herself, for another...oh, forty years. This could be our only chance, El. This could be the only chance we ever get to do this."

Elethil didn't respond for a long while. His youthful face was deeply troubed, and he looked like he was battling with himself. "Fine," he finally blurted. "Do it! Go find it, Arethin! But don't talk to me again before you leave. I can't bear it."

Arethin looked sharply at his brother, and realized that the battle was with tears. The youth's blue eyes were filled with tears, and he was trying to stay strong in front of his brother. Arethin pulled him into a tight hug, and they stayed there for a long while, until Arethin got up to pack. It would be a busy morning.

[doug*platypus]

Bidding each of his new companions goodnight, the dwarf drained his tankard and followed young Jack, who led him to a cosy room.

"Goodnight, lad, and thank you kindly for your *hic* hospickality!" he exclaimed cheerfully at Jack.

His tiredness and a rapid succession of ales had taken their toll. Funny how all the other races had a picture of Dwarves as heavy drinkers. Rosfin tried to live up to this as best he could, of course. Especially when drinking with the son of the landlord! It was also funny how many dwarves thought of elves as wine-drinking fops. Anuion of Mirkwood at least had not said no to a tankard of beer.

As the dwarf closed the door behind him, Jack wandered off to his own room, looking wistful and nostalgic. Bah! thought the dwarf bard, kids! Which was another one of those things about travelling with an elf. Rosfin always felt uncomfortably young next to them. The immortal folk were hard to get used to. You could live amongst them your entire mortal life, and yet never really comprehend them.

Well, everything had gone fine anyway. The dwarf was now part of an expedition to find a lost treasure of lore. A fairly disorganised expedition, to be sure, but that could all wait until morning. Moments after casting off his boots and his cloak, the dwarf was snoring loudly and restfully.

[Helkahothion]

Anuion followed Jack to the rooms. He laughed at the remark of the dwarf. He always tought that those dwarfes where heavy drinkers. But the one to beat me has yet to be born. Anuion tought to himself. Jack led Anuion to the room that he had ordered in the moring.

He went in and found everything like he left it. His package was still on the little cupborn by the bed. He looked in it to see if anything was still there. Dale or no Dale, any place could have a thief.He tought to himself. He found nothing missing and took out his light boots. With almost no sound they fell on the ground.

The bath was still there. Altough the water was turned cold. Anuion stepped in anyway. Afther 20 minutes of chillful bathwater he had enough. He stepped out and dried himself of. The room was nice. Nicer than the outdoors. Anuion laid hmiself in bed and as he watched the ceeling he fell into a world of dreams.
________
EXTREME VAPORIZER

[Mattius]

Jack looked out of the window above the town. The streets were desolate at this time, a couple of hours before sunrise. The sky was overcast and rain seemed likely. Jack turned back, he was fully clothed and packed, the excitement of a real journey into the unknown had whetted his appetite. Only yesterday he was resigned to living out a meaningless existence on the city guard, but no longer.

As he walked down the corridor he knocked on each of the groups door calling inside,

"Awake! Sunrise is close and we should be ready to set off!"

Most of the others were already getting ready except Rosfin who could be heard snoring from the streets below. Jack made sure to give his door a louder thud and was sure he heard the poor dwarf fall off his rather too tall bed. Fortunately the dwarf's curses were not as loud as his snoring.

Jack prepared a breakfast for them as he waited for them to come down the stairs. The first one to appear was Jadae looking nervous but excited.

"Today’s the day! Eat well before the off good smith!"

Jadae nodded in appreciation before tucking into the speciality of the house- bacon butties!