Search for Rhûn RPG

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Haenir settled his bones into the hard wood of his chair and indulged himself in a slight sigh of relief. The day’s march had worked its way into his body and the prospect of a couple days’ rest was appealing to him. He shifted his shoulders beneath his armour, reflecting on the days of walking still to come. It had been years since he had marched forth in his gear of war and it would take some time before it felt natural once more. He drank a great quaff of his ale and then banged the tankard to the table for more. A servingman hopped to his side and filled it once more with foaming liquid which soon followed its predecessor down Haenir’s throat.

The other Dwarves in the party had finally found their tongues, it seemed, but Haenir had fallen into something of a brood as he reflected on an incident from earlier in the day. When they had reached the city gates, the guards had asked where they were headed. When they had heard the answer, eyebrows had been raised and knowing looks had been exchanged among the men. Haenir and the other Dwarves had thought little of this reaction, for Men were a superstitious lot. But the echoing chatter had followed them into the Silver Stable. Even now, from where he sat Haenir could hear whispered fragments of conversation from about the room:

“Off to Rhûn you say they are? What madness could drive them there?” he heard in the slow tones of a Lakeman.

“Such is always the desire of Dwarves to seek their fortune far from the safety of home,” came the whispering music of an Elf from the Greenwood.

From the far side of the room he heard, “If half of what I’ve heard is true…” and from nearby, “death by darkness, they say about those lands. Death by darkness.”

This latter claim caught Haenir’s attention and he turned in his seat to find the speaker. At a small table not far from where he sat were two richly clad Men from Gondor – merchants, it seemed. They saw Haenir looking at them and quickly busied themselves with their food, embarrassed at having been caught gossiping about him. The Dwarf rose and bowed to them deeply before speaking formally. “My apologies, sirs, for intruding but I could not help but overhear your conversation about our destination. You seem to know somewhat of it, whereas I know nothing of it. As I am now on a road that will lead me into the heart of a great mystery, I would be grateful for anything that you might know.”

The two Men looked at one another quickly before the taller and fairer of the two responded. He was clothed in rich cloths and bore a large amulet of gold upon his chest. He was obviously one of high and noble birth and his eyes held Haenir’s as he spoke. “I’m afraid, Master Dwarf, that there is little that we know beyond the tales told by old women by the hearthside in our land. What value there may be in their stories I know not, but what I remember of them is yours for the asking. They speak of an empty land, devoid of people, and yet with all the signs of habitation. It is as though a race of spirits inhabits that realm maintaining paths and roads but living nowhere – being seen by no-one.”

Haenir’s countenance grew thoughtful as he took this in. “You are right, sir, that is not, perhaps, as helpful as I would like. But beggars cannot be choosers! You spoke, though, of ‘death by darkness’ – I note that you do not do so now. Do not worry about scaring me with old tales, sir! If there is aught to hear of this land, I desire to hear it.”

The Men looked at one another once more before the slighter one responded. “Like my friend, sir, I know nothing for sure of the land where you are headed. The line you heard is part of an old rhyme that I remember from my youth:

“The night like daggers glistening,
Cry out for the sun,
Fear a death by darkness,
In the land of Rhûn”

“As I say, Master Dwarf,” the Man continued, “it is an old rhyme and meaningless to me. Take it, for what it’s worth, and may it be of some use to you on the road you have chosen to travel.”

Haenir thanked the Men and bowed once more, returning to his seat. Cry out for the sun, Fear a death by darkness… The rhyme was a riddle to him – and he hoped that it would ever remain that way…

[Himaran]

Bali sat at the bar, sipping at his fresh ale. He was satisfied that the dwarves had managed a full days march, but he knew that there would be no inns from Laketown onward. It would be rough country, and it would take them time to adjust. After all, Erebor had been an incredibly safe and comfortable home.

Seeing the Bartender without anyone to wait on, Bali motioned him to come over. The man seemed uncomfortable, knowing that the dwarf wanted information. He came slowly. "Uh... you must be Bali. Many folk know ye in these parts. You saved the Mountain, didn't ye?"

Bali smiled. Ever since he had led a group of warriors from the Shire to Erebor, in an effort to stall the orc army threatening his home until a Gondorian army arrived, he had gained quite exaggerated recognition. But it was not entirely unwanted. "Aye, but I didn't save Erebor. Twas the warriors with me. One of em's with me now, over there. Durin's 'is name. Fine young lad. But that's not why we're here."

The Bartender looked even less comfortable. "Aye.... word is that you're goin' to Rhûn. Rough country out there."

Bali leaned forward, interested. "Rough country? Not from what I've read. Mountains on one corner, forests on another. Straight, flat land surrounding the sea..."

"Well, I can't say I know much about it, but from what I hear, most maps are wrong. Its a rocky jungle, the whole way around." The man lowered his voice to a discreet level. "And some folk say that spirits haunt the land... paths, there are, but never anyone on them. And the paths never get grown over. No, not many travel out to Rhûn."

Bali sat back, disgesting the information he had recieved. The maps, maybe they were wrong. And there might be no treasure at all. But spirits? No, the dwarf knew that such things haunted mountains and caves... the deep places of the ancient dread lord Morgoth. But not Rhûn.... And so the dwarf began to realize what the Bartender's words meant. It couldn't be spirits, but then.....

Rhûn was inhabited.

The thought struck the dwarf like a thunderbolt. There were creatures there, nocturnal, which made paths by night. They were stealthier than wolves or wargs, quieter than eagles, and probably fairly large. But what about people... could they exist? No. Contact would have been made.

Bali suddenly broke away from his thoughts. The younger dwarves were probably drinking in the stories and worries, and would be asking to return to Erebor by the following evening. The dwarf walked over to where Dwalin was sitting, and wispered into his ear: "We leave tomorrow morning. Spread the word, and if asked why... say that we are short on money, and wish to save some for the return journey."

Bali was surprised, and pleased to find that his brother merely nodded. Dwalin had already thought about the same things, and had probably drawn the same conclusion. It is about time that he started to think like a leader.

[Novnarwen]

Dwalin was tired. After today's long march, all he could think of was a good night sleep. He watched the others, impatiently, as they drank their ales and were merry. He couldn't quite understand how and why they found so much pleasure in drinking. What was so special about drinking huge amounts of ale? The Dwarf wanted to go upstairs and sleep. He felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, and if it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting he would have fallen asleep that very moment. A voice, whispering, interrupted his thoughts and Dwalin turned his attention to a man who was busy talking to Bali. He watched his brother's eyes, now wide open. What was going on? Dwalin had never seen this kind of face expression before, certainly not in his brother's face.

He tried to concentrate on staying awake, and didn't care to eavesdrop.

Moments had passed, without Dwalin being able to hear anything, as Bali turned to his brother. "We leave tomorrow morning. Spread the word, and if asked why... say that we are short on money, and wish to save some for the return journey." Dwalin felt Bali's breath, as it tickled in his ear. Happy about his brother's suggestion, he nodded merrily. Finally, he thought. Sleeeeeep..As he was about to return to his brother and ask if they really were short on money, he found that Bali had gone. He shrugged, but spread the word. Some seemed to be pleased with this decision, others seemed to be hesitant. But it didn't matter. Dwalin was going to bed, and they were going to Rhûn.

The Little Dwarf hurried up the stairs at the Inn, leaving the others, to find his room. He looked around for a moment, being pleased with the standards. Thereafter, he went to look out the little window. Outside, it was dark and yellow spots on the sky glittered as diamonds. He giggled. It reminded him of the treasure he was seeking.

The Dwarf undressed and went to bed. Shortly after, he fell asleep.

[Arestevana]

“What do you think of them? Do they serve the purpose that they were made for?" Nephil’s question remained unanswered. Bestialán seemed to be pondering the question, but thoughts did not disrupt the silence. Now even Maulká was becoming edgy. Hours had passed in the threatening stillness, and it seemed that more would follow.

In fact, it was only several moments before the brooding quiet was disrupted. A sharp noise sounded from farther up the hallway, the steady, even sound of someone walking. As the figure approached, Maulká could see that it was a man. He glanced curiously at the three observers, but turned to Kínadhen.

The replacement guard. Maulká realized. She watched him duck his head to whisper to Kínadhen. Now the silence was much appreciated, as the words carried clearly across the hall, quiet as they were. "The Council of Elders has spoken,” The man murmured. Maulká leaned forward to hear the rest.

The man continued, his voice softer yet. “They will hold a night of feasting, to honor the Spirits of the Sea.” Kínadhen nodded, then handed his spear to the other man before leaving. Maulká watched for a moment as the guard took up a wary defensive stance. She smiled inwardly. A night of feasting!

There would surely be a hunt; meat would be needed if the entire colony was to be fed. I will attend that hunt. Maulká decided. Her eyes glowed as she thought about the last feast. It had been long ago, but she well remembered it. The cruel glare of the flames, dimmed as they were by the depth of the fire pits, the long tables set in a rough circle on the jungle floor, the deep shadow of the trees that hid the starlight. The firelight had danced on the surface of the lake, mirrored by the Lights within it.

Maulká quivered with anticipation. It would be many days yet, but the waiting would be worth it. There was the hunt to look forward to as well. She clenched her fist compulsively, imagining a javelin in her grasp, blood and poison dripping from the point. Memories merged with her thoughts: the fear in the eyes of the last catch, a weak, pallid creature, as it was hauled, alive, to the fire pit. This feast would doubtlessly be different, as circumstances changed, but it would be unequaled in the memories of the younger persons; entirely worthy of the Spirits in whose honor it was held.

[Himaran]

Nilpaurion Felagund's post

"Lorien calls me, so I must go now. Besides, we'll be leaving early tomorrow."

Narvi has just been talking with old friends, fellow veterans of Dale. Some had gone on to be official explorers for the Reunited Realm, and a few of them had even gone to Rhûn. Rhûn. Still a funny name.

Despite the fact that none were sent anywhere near the Sea of Rhûn, their knowledge of the terrain of the East has been helpful. But not very hopeful. Rough rocky outcrops as far as the eye can see. Except for a few trickling streams, the land is almost a desert. And yet the men who assailed us came from that part of Middle-earth. How could they have lived there?

There was something else that caught his attention during the description of Rhûn. There have been some sightings of strange shadows trailing those that dared to travel through the Eastlands. Rhûn loathes outsiders, he concluded, followed by a warning, What are we doing?

Of course, heat plays tricks on people's minds, he said jokingly. Joke or not, once they reach Rhûn, he'll keep his axe a little closer to himself.


Eruantalon's Post

Seeing the inn made him feel oddly comforted. There was new hope in a place where everyone could relax. Things couldn’t be rushed but they shouldn’t be made slower either. Now Looking around the inn he saw many travelers. They all seemed to be on there own business and need there own space. It seemed that all of them where preoccupied. Not this traveler he thought to himself. This was neither the time nor the place.

Moving through the inn it was hard to talk to his fellow companions. He needed to get through and find time on his own. Where would he go and how would he do this? He found a place outside around the back of the inn where there was still a grassy yard. He felt a fondness for green things and felt comfortable there.

Just as he sat there a familiar face showed up. A fellow traveler that had been on the last journey he went on for the dwarf lord. They sat and talked for some time and enjoyed the cool air of the night. Things began to quit in the town. This was the time he loved most the simple quit that could cover the land. The two laughed and enjoyed the night till the moon had risen farther up and tale telling was over.

He made his way off to his room and slept a sound sleep. Like a quit before the storm he thought to himself. He hoped for the best on his journey. But he could feel something building in this time around.

[Himaran]

Bali was the first of the company to rise. It was early in the morning, an hour before dawn to be exact. The dwarf knew that most of his companions had stayed up late, and would probably sleep late as a result. But, knowing that it was his duty to see to arrangements for the departure, he dressed and hurried downstairs ungrudgingly.

Heading straight for the bar, Bali ordered a light breakfast; with a full days march ahead of them, one could get sick eating more! The exact details of his meal, however, are unnecessary to discuss. After he was finished, and had spoken at length with the bartender, the dwarf exited the inn and purchased a wide variety of supplies which (he had recently noticed) had not been brought from Erebor.

Finally, after having his weapons sharpened by a local smith, Bali returned to the inn. Dwalin was awake, as was Eruantalon; conversing over a hot meal. Smiling, the dwarf left the commons and went back to his room, where he gathered his remaining items. Bali then ambled downstairs, where he sat in a booth beside Erulon and toyed idly with his favorite knife. It was elvish in make, a prized gift from his elven friend, Halonir. The young elf had gone to live in Lothlorien, and the deadly weapon was Bali's only memory of him.

How long it had been since Bali had been in the Shire! On his past journey to Erebor, Bali had left the knife in the keeping of the innkeeper at the Green Dragon, a popular tavern in the region of the littlefolk. The dwarf had made friends with the elvish caretaker, Piosenniel, and it was she with whom he had left the weapon for safekeeping. Pio had gotten married and left, however, and Bali had collected his knife. Perhaps I will visit her again one day... after all this is over.

Swift movement next to the dwarf caused Bali to break out of his daze. Eruantalon was shaking his arm, and Dwali was laughing hysterically. Bali then noticed that the cup of ale in his right hand had slowly tilted, gradually emptying itself onto the man's sleeve. "Aherm! My apoligizes, good friend."

"None needed or asked for, friend. But sleep in a little later the next time we stay somewhere!"

[Himaran]

Novnarwen's post - the Company leaves the Inn

Considering how early Dwalin had gone to bed the night before, he felt terribly tired. His body seemed to have had enough of the marching, even though the company hadn't walked anything yet. The thought of going all the way to Rhûn seemed like a goal, which he had no chance in ever reaching. The thought of his body aching like this, seemed to him unbearable. Dwalin tried reproaching himself for his negative attitude, as he realised he had called for this adventure. He had approached this, not the other way around. He had a responsibility, which could not and would not neglect.

Luckily, he felt better, sooner than expected, as he found himself laughing hysterically by the fact that Bali had spilt ale on his sleeve. "Sorry, I just found that funny," he said, laughing again. Eruantalon grinned as well. "Too much ale, already perhaps?" he suggested, blinking. Dwalin broke into laughter again, but was forced to stop by the look in people's eyes at the Inn.

The two of them settled down with Bali, discussing back and forth about various things. It wasn't until late in the conversation, Dwalin remembered Bali saying, the previous day, that money was short. He thought about asking, but wasn't sure if it would be wise to do so. After all, Eruantalon sat here as well. Dwalin had never thought about this before, but could he really trust everyone and anyone? The company was going to Rhûn, to find treasure. Maybe some would be taken by greed? Would it then be wise to burst out about the company’s status, and whether they were short on money or not? The dwarf thought for a while, eyes narrowing.

"Dwalin?!"

It was the third time Eruantalon had tried getting his attention, and first now Dwalin seemed to catch his eye.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

Eruantalon looked questioningly at him, as if worried. Bali didn't make a grimace, he just sat still. "Are you ready to go?" Eruantalon asked, looking at Bali. Dwalin nodded eagerly, trying to avoid Bali's eyes. The two of them exchanged looks, as Dwalin raised to pack his last belongings, which were still at his room.

"I'll be back soon," he said and was off.

***

The dwarf turned around. He had heard noises just outside his door. The little man narrowed his eyes, wondering who it was. He decided not to let his curiosity take over, and ignored it. The Dwarf packed in a hurry, running desperately around in his dormitory seeking his belongings. His clothing was spread around; on the bed, in the chairs, in the bathroom and in the closet. The strange thing was, that he hadn’t brought that much with him, but still it was scattered all over the place. He sighed, hearing new noises in the hallway. He had had enough.

With firm steps he walked to the door, roughly opening it and halfway yelling: ”Will you stop that noise!" To his surprise he noticed that it was only his dwarven companions. Eruantalon walked merrily in the front. "I just woke them up," Eruantalon explained, giggling. Dwalin grew red. "Riiiight," he muttered a bit ashamed about his outburst. "I'll just finish here," Dwalin said quickly and went inside again, hearing the rest of his companions making their way trough the hallway and down the stairs.

***

As soon as he was done, he ran down stairs and announced their departure. It was a merry and rested (or so Dwalin thought) company, which left the Inn, heading Southwards.

[Himaran]

Bali did not look back as the dwarves left Laketown; heading south down the river. He knew that for the remainder of the day he must endure the complaints of the younger dwarves, who felt cheated out of a day's rest. But Bali also knew that his decision was a wise one; the dwarves could not afford to stay for two entire days in a town which considered their mission a doomed one. And the hardened traveller did not enjoy listening to the hushed chatter either. It had a demoralizing effect, which he would just as soon leave behind the company.

The sun was slowly rising to the east, and luckily their vision remained accurate (as the bright light was to their left, not before them.) They walked mostly in silence, except for the odd yawn. Dwarves are never very talkative in the morning, especially with a days march ahead of them.

__________________________________________________ ____


The following week of marching continued in such a patern. Early marches amd stops under tents at noon were standard procedure. No events of any significance occured, until the dwarves had left the edge of Greenwood and turned east; towards Rhûn. There, along the banks of River Running, they made a comfortable camp and decided to rest for two days; stocking up on supplies like fish, fruit and firewood. There was a small forest nearby, and Bali sent Dwalin and Durin to collect dead wood for the fire.

An hour past, and the pair did not return. Bali was anxious. What could have happened two them? The forest did not appear to be all that large; and they could have yelled if something had happened. He decided to investigate.

"Kain, stay and watch the camp. Erulon, and the rest of you, come with me!"

The party hurried into the forest, but slowed as Bali and Erulon searched for a trail. They soon found one.

The group followed the trail into the forest. At first, everything seemed normal. But then, they found a small pile of firewood. It was in an oddly arranged pile, as if thrown down in a hurry. The ominous signs continued. Durin's small hatchet, stuck in a tree. A patch of broken reeds. And a long, thin spear, snapped in half; lying off to the side of the overgrown path. But what had happened?

[Himaran]

Carlas's Post


The sun was high in the sky as the two dwarves walked through the small forest. The day was cool and clear and a soft breeze glided gently through the air, brushing at the dwarves beards. The forest was calm and quiet, but perhaps a little too quiet…

“It is good that we finally get a bit of a rest.” Durin said as he bent over to pick up some wood. “After being in Erebor for the last couple of years, I seem to have forgotten how much work it is being on a journey like this.” Dwalin laughed. “You are younger than me, yet you talk as if you were twice my age!” Durin laughed loudly at this. “I don’t hear that too often, normally it is quite the opposite! Though I have been quieter these last few days…”

“Why would that be?” Asked Dwalin curiously. “Oh, it is silly really” Durin replied, dropping a stick on the ground. “This is the first time I have travelled anywhere without my father. It is not as if I need him, but it feels different not having him here with me.” Dwalin nodded sympathetically and the two went quiet.

As Durin bent over to pick up the stick he had dropped, he heard Dwalin throw all of the wood he had been carrying on the floor, and before he could figure out what had happened he felt a large weight push him forward into a small clump of reeds. He turned onto his back quickly to see Dwalin on the ground beside him and a large spear sticking up out of the ground right where he had been standing only seconds ago. He pulled himself up onto his feet and looked around the area, but found no footprints. Where had the spear come from?

“In the tree!” Dwalin said as he stood up beside Durin. Durin looked back over to where he had been standing and saw an arm reaching down out of the tree just above the spear. Thinking quickly, Durin pulled out his hatchet and threw it as hard and fast as he could, but the arm was too fast. It shot back up into the tree and once the hatchet hit the trunk it grabbed onto the spear quick as lightening, and pulled it up into the tree. The two dwarves cursed sharply and took out their axes, holding them high above their heads. “A tree orc…” Durin mumbled to himself.

The two stood silently, watching the leaves above them for some kind of movement. Just as Durin was starting to think that they might be safe the spear shot down, just narrowly missing Dwalin’s arm. Dwalin grabbed the spear and snapped it across his knees before throwing it down onto the path while Durin swung his axe high above his head into the branches above, hitting the orc hard in the arm. It squealed and they heard it move through the branches away from them.

“Are you alright?” Asked Dwalin as he walked over to Durin.

“I’m fine, you?” He asked back. Dwalin nodded and looked over to where they had left the wood.

“We better be heading back to…” The two stopped quickly and looked over their shoulders. There was a noise coming from down the path, it sounded like it was coming from the trees…! “More of them, a lot more of them!” Durin whispered in surprise. “But they’re coming from the direction where camp is!” Dwalin looked over at him quickly. “We didn’t camp too close to the trees, so the others should be fine, but us…”

The two did not need to say anything else, they knew they couldn’t fight all of those orcs by themselves. They turned and ran.

[Novnarwen]

There was no time to think, no time at all. "ORCS!" Dwalin yelled desperately. "ORCS!" he continued, helplessly. "I noticed they were Orcs," Durin said alarmingly through gritted teeth. "Now run!"

The two dwarves found themselves running like crazy. Both were stricken by panic, and none dared to look back. They heard the foul Orcs behind, shrieking and laughing evilly. As he heard them snigger and call for them, Dwalin could think of nothing other than running back to the camp and to the others. However, he realised that if the Orcs kept this speed (and they kept their speed), they would probably be dead and buried before they ever saw another dwarf again. Dwalin shuddered, but ran on as he saw he was falling behind. He fluttered his arms, hoping he would catch a good wind which would make him fly away from this horrid place. There was no wind.

For a second, they both stopped behind a huge tree trunk, catching their breath.

"We are so . . dead?" Dwalin said miserably.

"No, we are not. Come on, be positive!"

"Positive!? We have a dozen with Orcs behind us and you tell me to be positive! I'll remind you of that statement when we're dead!" Dwalin said aggressively, suggesting that they should make a run for it, before the Orcs actually grabbed them and killed them.

"What we need is a hiding spot," Durin explained calmly.

"Like ... where? A Tree?"

Durin wasn't able to reject to this suggestion, before Dwalin was pushing him up the tree and afterwards hearing Durin make his way up to the top. Dwalin, unfortunately, smashed his head into one of the branches and fell down onto the ground. He let out a little shriek, but helped himself up again as he saw the Orcs coming closer. Had they spotted him? Of course. He fought desperately to get hold of a new branch, hearing Durin, from above, calling to him about several good branches ahead. "I don't care about those ahead! I care about getting up!" Dwalin called back, shaking. He tried to calm himself down, but he realised that the branch was too high and he was too short. He would never manage to get up there.

Time started to run. Paces away, the Orcs were gathering to get them, but Dwalin saw no other choice than to try. Moving swiftly on to another tree, he grabbed the lowest branch he could get hold of, and pulled himself onto it. The rest was easy. Soon he sat in the top, satisfied by his accomplishment. In the neighbour tree, Durin sat nervously and just below the Orcs grinned evilly.

"Durin?" Dwalin suddenly burst out. What a stupid idea, he thought shuddering. "Who said Orcs can't climb?!" Dwalin asked, not daring to look down anymore, frightened that the Orcs would come up and seize him by the wrist and force him down, or worse; just fell the tree.

"You pushed me into this!" Durin exclaimed.

It was true. Dwalin had in fact pushed him up in the tree, and now they were done. There was no way out. The two of them were separately stuck, as in: very stuck, at the top of two high trees.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hænir shouldered his axe and followed Bali and Erulon into the thickets. He did not speak aloud what he was thinking, but his unease was growing quickly into alarm. Durin and Dwalin should not have been sent out alone to gather wood in these lands. Since the fall of Mordor the lands were safer but by no means should their party be sent off wandering about in small groups. Now, they were following them into unknown danger, having made no plans and having left but one guard at the camp to watch over all of their provisions. Hænir found it hard to admit this to himself, but he chafed against the overbearing manner of Bali, who seemed to feel that it was his place to order folk about at will. For a week, Hæenir had done as he was told, but he was beginning to reach a point at which such unquestioning obedience could be dangerous – there was no order to their approach, and no discussion amongst the Dwarves of their strategy in the search. He looked back at Nerin and Narvi who followed him. He had grown quite fond of Nerin in the week since they’d left Laketown. Although conversation between them had been little – for neither of them were over talkative – they had found that they had much in common on this journey insofar as both of them felt a bit like outsiders in the group, and made a little uneasy by their status.

Erulon and Bali found a trail and they plunged further into the woods. More than ever Hænir missed the King’s Companions and the easy authority that he enjoyed within their ranks. He had never thought of himself as a leader, and he had no illusions that he had ever enjoyed rank or prestige among the captains of the realm, but among the Companions he had been considered one of the most steady and trustworthy foot soldiers of the King, and over the years he had grown accustomed to having his opinion both asked for and respected.

The discovery of Durin’s and Dwalin’s sudden flight brought him out of his reverie and concentrated all of his attention on their plight. Bali and Erulon were attempting to read the signs, but all Hænir could sense was the presence of an overwhelming danger. He sniffed the air, and picked up on the wings of the breeze the hint of a familiar and dangerous scent. Before he could form the word, somebody cried out “Orcs!” and in a moment they all saw the unmistakable signs of their foul passage through the trees. Without waiting to speak of it, the Dwarves rushed headlong into the forest to find their friends. Even Hænir, who would normally have railed against the lack of due order, flew with the rest of them, fearing what might befall the likeable Durin and Dwalin.

It was not hard to find them, for a sound broke out from the woods before them, and somewhat to the left, that sounded like the cry of a pack of wild and bloodsoaked dogs. But the cries were not those of mindless animals, for there was sense in them – but the words were in the rough and ugly sound of the Black Speech. Hænir had heard that speech before, and as he heard it his face became grim and his axe came to the ready. The five of them rushed toward the cries, speaking no word and trying to run as silently as they could. But there were heavily armed Dwarves, and not fleet-footed Elves, and even over the din of their hatred, the Orcs could not long miss the sound of their iron-shod approach.

The monsters were soon in view, flitting and dancing between the trees. There were just over a dozen of the creatures, and they had circled two trees. Some were casting spears up into the branches while four or five of the smaller Orcs were shimmying up the trunks. The Dwarves rushed forward, and at the very last moment that Hænir judged that they could go unnoticed by the Orcs, he roared his battlecry to strike terror into their foes, and hearten his friends. “Erebor!” he cried, “Erebor!” and with one swift flight of his axe he sent an Orc’s head tumbling through the air, blinking in surprise at the sight of its own decapitated body. The Orcs turned and cried out in hatred and rage and drove at the Dwarves. The first to come in reach of Hænir’s axe fell beneath it, but two more came at Hænir from the sides. He spun about to the one on the right and cleaved its sword arm from its shoulder, trusting in his armour to protect his back from the other beast. His trust was well placed. The blow staggered him and nearly forced him to his knees, but there would be nothing more than a bad bruise between his shoulders. He spun about once more and swept that Orc’s head from off its shoulders. He paused for a moment and looked to see how the others were doing, and if Dwalin and Durin had managed to come down from out of their trees and join the fray.

[Himaran]

"Defend yourselves," Bali screamed over the cries of tree orcs catapulting from nearby branches. They were acrobatic, agile and flexible, wielding primary long, thin spears. The dwarves were forced to move constantly, swinging their short axes in a defensive patern. But Bali knew they wouldn't last for long under the incoming onslaught. As he skillfully beheading an approaching orc, and snapped the spear of another before he disposed of it, the dwarf realized that much of his force had only fenced with targets and each other. They were not great warriors. And so his decison was a quick one.

"Run, follow Eruantalon! Back, out of the forest, quickly! I will pick up the rear." The dwarfs who were unengaged rushed to Eruantalon, who led them up the path towards the river. Nerin was still fighting, being pushed up against a nearby tree. The young dwarf ducked one blow, only to rise and find not an orc but Bali standing before him; his opponent was dead. The two raced after the others, scattering the orcs before them. And then it suddenly occured to Bali that Dwalin and Durin were still unaccounted for...

[Arvedui III]

There were times when the physical sensation of it almost stopped.

But for the most part, the pain was constant, soreness rubbing coarsely with newfound hunger pangs. Sometimes, rain would seep in through the crack in the cave that was his only window into the outside world, but for the rest of the time there was no respite, no relief from knowing endless pain and hunger and thirst. In the brief periods when he was able enough to walk, he found, much to his dismay, that he was completely sealed into his rocky prison. It was all he could do to stay lucid, let alone fend off the panic that keep washing over him every time he woke. The blessed times during the beginning of his confinement when he could lie in absolute, mindless lethargy were over. Now he had many hours to mull over his fate.

Most of the time he found himself wondering about his captors. Who were they? What were they? There was no chance in all Arda that they were the dwarves. An exploratory probe of his back proved that only a man or an elf could strike the blows he barely remembered. Blurred images, like something out of a nightmare, flashed before him in moments of terror, but were gone as soon as they had come, leaving him with nothing but a fresh sense of dread. He had learned to live with it, shrug it off, because all the screaming and crying he had done during the beginning had availed him nothing. He could only console himself in that, so far, nothing had happened to him. Perhaps nothing ever would. Maybe, just maybe, he would just be left here to linger and die.

He knew he must be in a bad way when he was comforting himself with thoughts of starvation.

However, he awoke one day, if indeed he could still judge time by days, to a most peculiar smell. The dank, musky sent of the cave and his own waste had become familiar, but somehow this waking period was different. He peered around, sniffing something quite intangible, yet he knew it was there. He turned over from the corner that had become his sleeping place, blinked, and blinked again. He wasn’t quite sure if he could trust his eyes, if he hadn’t finally gone mad. Because, before him lay the most beautiful platter crammed with steaming broths, frothing mugs and colorful, shining fruit. He crouched low, instinctively mistrustful of the bounty which had appeared innocently out of nowhere.

Perhaps it is a last, glorious fantasy. One final happy thought that manifests itself before dying men.

He moved toward the plate, sniffing the wonderful smells that were now filling the cave, and suddenly, painfully aware his stomach had never felt emptier, convulsing in protest. It was probably poisoned, probably would cause acute agony ere the life left him. He touched a large orange fruit, withdrawing his hand quickly. The thing was cool to the touch and certainly seemed real enough. He grasped it, feeling the wonderful weight of it in his hand. Resolve falling away, he brought it within inches of his mouth, but did not bite. The fear of what this food might contain pervaded through him, and he began to shake. Better to die sooner than later. He closed his eyes tightly as if facing a row of archers, and took a bite.

It was, perhaps, the most magnificent moment in his entire life. The juice was sweet and shiver ran down his spine at the wonderful taste. Before he knew it, he was crunching into anything he could get his hands on, sparing no crumb for the cave floor. For the first time in, well, a long time he felt genuinely happy and at peace. If he was going to die, he decided, he was going to die well fed.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hænir was dismayed to see that the battle was not going well. More orcs had appeared and were swarming about like vermin. He saw young Nerin being held at bay and tried to help him, but three foul orcs dropped from the trees above him and attacked with their spears. Quickly lopping off the head of the first spear, he then did the same to its owner. The other two drove at him, howling and spitting with hate, but Hænir was the veteran of innumerable battles and was not to be dismayed by them. He brought his axe down on the head of the foremost orc and clove his head to the chin. Letting go of his axe where it had stuck, he caught the spear of the hindmost orc in his hands and wrenched it loose. A mighty punch sent the orc reeling into a tree, its face now a contorted mass of pain.

He wrenched his axe free from the bloody mess it had made and turned to look for more prey. But a cry came to him above the sounds of battle, sounding the retreat. Hænir glared at Bali with open dismay – the orcs were many, but so far none of the Dwarves had taken any harm and with stout hearts and steady hands could still hold sway. For a moment he considered ignoring the command, for Dwalin and Durin were still trapped behind a wall of orcs, but as he saw the others move off, a lifetime spent in military service took over and he went after them.

As they got back to the camp Kain came forward, demanding to know what had happened, and looking more than a little relieved to see his companions. They quickly told him about the orcs and about Dwalin and Durin’s dilemma. There was a prolonged silence after that, as the Dwarves shuffled their feet nervously – and, perhaps, a bit sheepishly. It grated upon Hænir’s conscience to have left two companions in danger. He looked at his axe, and at the engravings upon it that had been laid down by his ancestors to commemorate their honourable deeds. There was no cause this day for him to add to them.

Snarling at himself, Hænir faced the forest. Nearby, Bali and Nerin were standing bent over with their hands on their kness, catching their breath after their efforts in guarding their retreat. Before he had time to think, Hænir spoke to the leader of their expedition. “It doesn’t sit well, leaving those two to their deaths at the hands of those orcs. I’ve never before fled when a companion was in danger, and I can’t believe that I’ve gone and done it this time.” He paused for a moment, weighing his next words carefully. When he spoke next he did so with his feet planted apart and his hands clasped upon his axehead, which he held propped before him so that he looked like a statue of old. “We must go back and get them. Heedless were we in our first attack, and the orcs made use of that against us. If we take counsel now and proceed carefully, we might be able to gain the advantage over them!”

[Novnarwen]

Suddenly, when Dwalin could feel his pulse rising to another level, something happened down on the ground. He tried to get a proper look, but realised that a person like him, who was scared of heights, would only fall down if he attemtped to look downwards. "What's happening?" Dwalin hissed at Durin apologetically. All of this was quite embarrassing. Here they were, stuck in two trees, Dwalin was scared of heights, there were Orcs on the ground, and who knew what was happening now. On top of all of this was Dwalin, who had claimed to be a true adventurer, but the truth however, was that he was scared to death of all of this and especially of the situation he found himself in now.

A roar could be heard from down below. Well actually, several roars and screams and the sound of steel against steel. It made a severe sound, which pierced through Dwalin's ears and caused pain in the left part of his brain. "Ouch," he muttered, still waiting for Durin to reply.

"I don't know. I can't see properly. But from what I hear, it must be some kind of a battle.." Durin answered at last, being uncertain by the tune in his voice. Dwalin sighed. This too, was bad news. Who were fighting the Orcs? Was it Bali and the rest of the group, or was it someone else who was after them? Dwalin shivered when thinking of more of these foul creatures. However, as long as they sat in the trees, no one would even give thought to them as there was a battle to attend to on the ground. Dwalin sniggered, leaning his back to the tree. "I don't think we need to be afraid. I mean, those Orcs are probably busy with that battle," Dwalin said, comforting himself as he heard more of those horrible noises from the steel. The left part of his brain was again in pain.

Durin seemed to be pleased by this argument, and said nothing more.

***

"Defend yourselves!"

Dwalin froze. He bumped his head in a branch, forcing himself to look downwards. It had sounded like something Bali would have said, or at least it sounded like his voice. A fire lit up in the Dwarf's eyes, as he gathered his thoughts. If it was Bali and his other companions who were down there, everything would be okay for certain. Dwalin and Durin could, by now, probably just slide down the tree trunks and join the battle and Bali would see them and be immensely happy and then they all together could just bring down those Orcs. It sounded like a good plan, but was probably more difficult to put into action. Dwalin shurgged. They could at least try.

"Did you hear that?" Dwalin started quite eager now and relieved that his brother had come to his rescue. Yes, it was Bali. Dwalin was sure of it. "Hear what?" Durin said sarcastically. "Do you mean the battle in itself, the screams of those who are being killed or the Orcs sniggering? Yes, of course, I can hear it!" Dwalin chose to ignore his annoyed tune, and leaned over and pulled himself to another branch, being a bit more visible to those on the ground. But this didn't matter, they were saved anyway. "No, I mean Bali. Did you hear it? Bali and the rest of our companions have come to get us! We're being saved!" With much enthusiasm he waved his hands in the air, letting go of the branch. He grinned ecstatically, catching Durin's eye in the other tree.

"Watch it!" Durin said alarmingly.

Nonetheless Durin's warning, Dwalin was already halfway down the tree. With a shriek he had lost his balance. By pure luck he had managed to cling himself to another branch on his way down, but the medium sized dwarf was too heavy for the thin branch. With a crack, it broke and again Dwalin was falling.

He landed on his back. Writhing in agony, his eyes were searching for light to hold on to, as he wandered into darkness.

[Carlas]

Durin watched as the branch that Dwalin had grabbed, snapped and sent Dwalin plummeting towards the ground. As he hit the ground, the branch struck him across the head, and he fell into unconsciousness. Durin sat stunned, not sure what to do. Their situation seemed to be getting worse by the minute, where were all these orcs coming from?

Durin suddenly noticed an orc that was now advancing towards Dwalin with his spear tight in his hand. Without even thinking, Durin jumped from the tree, narrowly missing a few branches, and ran towards the orc as fast as his short legs would allow. Just as the orc made it to Dwalin, Durin swung his axe, hitting the orc hard in the stomach and sending him sprawling onto the ground. Once the orc was dead, Durin went over to Dwalin and checked his head. There was a large bump, but that seemed to be the extent of his injuries, he had been lucky that all the other orcs were now too busy fighting to notice them, but Durin doubted that would last long.

Just then Durin heard what sounded like Bali yelling for the others to retreat, and felt himself freeze. This was bad, the orcs were blocking the way to camp and Durin would never be able to fight off all the orcs by himself, he had to get Dwalin to wake up quickly or they would both be dead. He looked down at Dwalin; they first needed somewhere to hide for a short time at least, but where? He looked around, but all he could see was a large patch of bushes nearby. They would do for now, at least until Dwalin woke up.

He lifted the unconscious dwarf onto his shoulder and quickly carried him into the thick bushes, hoping he would not be seen. Once he had found the safest spot he could, he lowered Dwalin back onto the ground and sat down beside him, as he did, Dwalin opened his eyes and gave a small yelp as he touched the bump upon his head.

“You have got to be quiet.” Durin whispered quietly to Dwalin. “ Bali and the others retreated, how is your head?”

“Sore, but I should be fine.” He answered quietly looking around at the bushes surrounding them. Suddenly he looked back up at Durin. “They retreated? Why would they just leave us?”

“There were too many orcs it seems, but right now we should start to think about how we’re are going to get back to the camp…” He said, and Dwalin nodded in agreement.

The two sat quietly for a moment thinking. “Going up into a tree didn’t work last time, so let us do the opposite!” Dwalin said, breaking the silence. “We cannot fight all of those orcs ourselves, so why not crawl through the bushes and shrubs where they cannot see us?”

“It seems to be the only thing we can do, so let us crawl then! But make sure to keep quiet as we go.”

The two dwarves nodded and set off through the brush. It was a slow journey, and having to stop whenever they heard orcs passing by did not help the pace or their nerves, but they knew that they had to keep going if they were ever going to get out of this forest. After what felt like hours Durin stopped suddenly causing Dwalin to bump into him.

“What is it now?” Dwalin asked quietly.

“I hear something, but it doesn’t sound like orcs.” Durin answered

“Could it be…?”

“…the others!” Durin finished for Dwalin happily.

The two stood up cautiously and stumbled out of the forest, happy to finally be able to stretch their legs. They saw the camp immediately and started to walk over, glad to see that their companions seemed to be uninjured. The other dwarves who had been packing up their things turned to see them as they walked up to the camp and Bali came running up to them, looking very relieved.

“You’re alive!” Bali said happily, not sure what else to say.

“You didn’t think we would let you leave without us did you?” Durin asked grinning.

[bilbo_baggins]

Mulling around, Arasiniel decided to go find Gortek at the riverbank.

Seeing him tying some line together, Aras stepped over to him and sat down.

"You know, Gortek, I shouldn't have treated you like that. I am sorry for the way I acted. It was uncalled for, as you have as little right to trust me as I have. Will you forgive me?"

"Aye, lad. But don't expect me to be your best friend too soon. It will take time to smooth out this incident." Then, after a pause, he turned to Aras and said, "This fishing line is giving me some trouble. Would you help me to untangle it?"

"Of course!" he said, overjoyed to have some time growing closer to Gortek, "Maybe we can catch some fish and have them for dinner."

"Aye, that would be good."


After some time spent fishing, Aras turned to the Dwarf and said, "You know, I have the funniest feeling that I should pack quickly and be ready to move very soon."

"Really? That just came to me, too. Fishing is not that good, here, anyway. Let's get ready to leave."

Returning to the camp in the small knoll, they found the Elf, Raendin, waxing his bow, and packing his things. With a nod, they agreed they all had the same premonition of something great happening. Hurriedly wrapping the warm meat, Aras stuffed it into his pack, and readied his few belongings.

Something tingled in his mind, something warning, an eerie specter of gloom. Doom approached.

[Himaran]

Bali grabbed Haenir by the arm, pulling him away from the other dwarves. In a stern voice, he wispered: "I realize that I have two young dwarves lost in the woods. But there were far too many orcs, and there are many in our company not as skilled as you in warfare, Haenir. And I am not one of them. I saw the odds back there, and those young lads would not have lasted another five minutes against those orcs. Durin has been on a campaign before, he will lead them out."

__________________________________________________ ______


And he did. Within three hours, Dwalin and Durin stumbled out of the forest. Bali was too overjoyed to ask how they escaped, and so the question was effectively dropped.

The next day, a forced march resumed. The dwarves had wasted precious time around the forest, and they had to complete their time in Ruhn before the summer ended. They needed the months of fall to return to Erebor safely, before winter drifts began to hinder their progress.

Days passed, fairly uneventfully. Erulon had seen traces of wargs, but there was no other sign of life; friendly or the opposite. The plains were wide and vast, but there were always trees along the river.

After weeks of travelling, however, the dwarves finally arrived at the cross the twin rivers. A forest now swallowed their path, but they continued through it without fear. There was no sign of man, orc or beast.

__________________________________________________ _____

"We shall camp here for the night," Bali stated. "As soon as we find a clearing, we can start a fire and get something to eat."

But it had been done for them. In a small clearing, the dwarves found a campsite and a small ring of stone, with smoke wisping from the wood. No one could be seen.

Durin knelt and inspected the ground. "Man, elf and dwarf tracks. Been here for some time."

Bali moved to his side. "Aye, a month or two at least. But why? The weather is fine, but what about shelter? They have none!"

Erulon gingerly touched the dead wood lying in the campfire. "Warm. This wood was burning an hour ago."

Then the arrow barried itself in the ground, an inch from his outstreched hand.

[Himaran]

Fordim Hedgethistle's Post

Hænir’s axe was in his hands before the arrow that had embedded itself in the ground by Erulon’s hand had stopped shivering. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at the surrounding trees and his nose twitched for the scent of danger.

The long days of their forced march had begun to dull his spirits and place upon him the heavy burden of his cowardice during the attack upon their companions. Bali’s words had been wise that day, they had been no match for the numbers of enemies they had stumbled upon, but still Hænir had had difficulty in accepting that hard truth. Never before had he fled before an enemy…and never again would he. ‘Tis better to die in the defence of friends and pursuit of honour than to flee to protect one’s hide he told himself for the thousandth time.

Beside him stood Nerin, nervously clutching his weapons and glaring at the woods. Hænir had taken a liking to quiet fellow in their journey and in their conversations he had found that they had much in common. It was obvious that the younger Dwarf looked to Hænir for guidance in this quest, and it was only with the greatest reluctance that Hænir had accepted the silent charge of duty that this placed upon him. To the other side stood Bali, who had snapped to alert as quickly as Hænir. For a moment, the party stood quietly awaiting whatever else was to follow the arrow, but the woods remained silent. “What think you of that, Master Bali?” Hænir asked under his breath. “More orcs?”

“I think not,” was the reply. “That arrow is not of orcish make.”

“Well,” Hænir said, “whoever shot it is not being overly friendly. Ahoy there!” he bellowed, “If you wish to pick a fight with us then come out in the open where we can see you and we’ll be happy to oblige you. But if you’d rather play hide-a-seek like young ones then be off with you, for we have no time for such amusements!” At first it seemed that the silence would be their only response, but the three figures stepped from the trees and advanced toward them…

[Himaran]

Will Witfoot's post - Gortek

Gortek and Arasiniel made their way back to the campsite. Gortek's wrath had already been cooled by the appology of the man, but dwarfs by nature were a stubborn lot. Forgiving the ranger so soon seemed impossible somehow.
As they entered the clearing in which their common camp with the elf, Raendin, was situated, they found the elf already packing his things as if expecting to leave at any moment. Gortek himself felt a strange predicament nagging in the back of his head, and he had found these kind of impulses to be right on many an occasion, so he made ready his own things.

He had just got all of his few belongings packed and was just fumbling for his pipe, when he thought he caught the sound of something approaching. His senses, honed by years of living in the wild, instantly alerted him to any possible danger connected with the noise. He glanced at his companions and could tell that they had sensed it also, and three such persons so accustomed to the outdoors were highly unlikely to be mistaken on such a matter.
Now they all could definitely hear something approaching. Reaching a wordless agreement they dived into the cover of the trees like wraiths, even Gortek moving with a stealth that his short, stocky body seemed to dennie. Readying their weapons, the trio made ready for whatever was approaching.

They had only waited for a few minutes at the most when a group of creatures entered the small glade. Gortek squinted with his one good eye and mentally cursed his poor sight. The arivals were talking amidst themselves.

"Man, elf and dwarf tracks. Been here for some time."

The gruff voice and guttural accent drained some of the tension out of Gortek. At least they were dwarfs.

"Aye, a month or two at least. But why? The weather is fine, but what about shelter? They have none!"

Gortek was now completely relaxed, lulled into calm by the familiar sound of the strangers voices. He kept his sword ready though, just in case. You could not even be sure of your own kin at these times.
He saw one of the newcomers move over to their still warm fire pit and reach out with his hand, probing the ash.

"Warm. This wood was burning an hour ago."

Thwang! It seemed that the elf did not quite share Gortek's calm. The arrow he had loosed embedded itself into the ground scant inches away from the stranger's hand. It was met with a challenge from one of the newcomers.
Glancing at each other, the three travellers stepped into the clearing.

Gortek surveyed the newly arrived party from head to toe. Most of them were quite young by dwarfish standards.
He knuckled the eye patch that covered his left eye and grinned, atlast speaking into the silence.

"These ain't orcs by the looks of things, eh?" The statement was followed by a bout of jolly, if somewhat insane bout of laughter.

"Gortek, called sometimes 'the Mad-eye' at your service. Now who are you beardlings?".

[Saraphim]

Naphril stood impatiently at the entrance of his cousin's forge, looking in at the blacksmith himself, who was pounding a a blinding-hot spearhead with a heavy mallet. The noise was too loud for them to communicate, and the heat of the furnace too uncomfortable for Nephil to close enough to hear anyway.

Corith finally stood up straight and set his mallet down leaning on the wall. Taking off his protective mask, he pulled two rough wooden stools over to the doorframe where Nephil was standing.

"If you don't tell me something, Corith, I'll weld you to the wall," said Nephil impatiantly.

Corith smiled, "That's an unfounded threat. We both know that you wouldn't get near enough to the forge to melt a candle."

Nephil stared at him silently.

"Fine, I'll tell you," said Corith, "but first you have to tell me what happened with the catch today."

Nephril gave in, "Well, first of all, I didn't even see it. Some huge warrior named Kínadhen was blocking the entire door. But two others did show up."

"I know of Kinadhen. No one gets past him. But go on, please."

"You try my patience Corith. But the others were some exceedingly serious woman and Bestialán, the one you made the maces for." finished Nephil, "Now tell me, please! I know about the council meeting to decide what to do with the catch, but what else?"

"Well," began Corith, "I hear from Tarrela, whos brother's mother-in-law is actually on the council, that they're having a feast and an open discussion about the catch."

Nephil looked at him. "That's all?"

Corith nodded.

Nephil slumped. "I already knew that, you fool" He stood up and left, walking down the hallway to his room.

"Well then what are you going to do?" called Corith, leaning out of the open doorway.

"I'm going out!" yelled Nephil, who emerged from his room strapping on his weapons.

"Bring back something nice!" called Corith after Nephil's retreating back.

Nephil pounded along the corridors impatiently, looking for Bestialán. He emerged into a public room and spotted him, leaning against a wall and speaking softly to the woman from earlier.

"Bestialán!" called Nephril.

Bestialán turned to look at Nephil.

"I'm going out. Catches don't usually travel alone. If we hurry, there might be more, but not if we sit here and wait for the council to decide."

"Why do you want me to go with you?" asked Bestialán suspiciusly.

"Because if we went out alone, and against each other, you would probably kill me and take whatever I find for yourself. Of course, there is also the possibility that you might betray me no matter what the circumstances, but I'm willing to take that chance."

Bestialán looked at Nephil scrupulously. The woman watched this exchange blankly.

"My invitation is extended to you as well," added Nephil to her. He waited for thier answers with an unreadable look on his face.

[Arestevana]

Maulká watched impassively as Nephil talked to Bestialán about taking another catch. She had to admit, he did have a point about the creatures traveling in groups. It came as an unexpected but pleasant surprise when Nephil invited her as well. She pondered it for a moment.

What had the man said? Oh yes, ‘You would probably kill me and take whatever I find for yourself.’ Well, the idea was tempting, but she knew she stood no chance against Bestialán, and from the small amount she had learned of Nephil, he could likely best her on the jungle as well. It was the price she paid for the infrequency of her surface trips. And though it might differ with a catch as the prize, for Maulká the joy was in the hunt rather than in the glory of a victorious return.

She turned to Nephil. “A kind offer. I thank you for the invitation—I would be pleased to accompany you,” said she, though the courtesy pained her. Loath as she was to admit it, she was looking forward to a cooperative hunt. Even if the catch had companions which waited nearby, a single hunter could not hope to capture (or even avoid being slain by) a group. With more than one hunter though, such a quarry was not out of reach.

There is a rack of javelins in the second lower corridor. Maulká thought, remembering the feel of the fire-hardened wood in her hand. Having accepted the invitation, she was sorely tempted to ask ‘When do you go?’ Trying to maintain an expression of patient attentiveness over her excitement, she stared eagerly at Bestialán, awaiting his response to Nephil’s invitation.

[Himaran]

Himaran's post

Bali and the dwarves sat around the campfire with the other travelers. He could tell that many of his followers were suspicious of their new aquantinces, but Bali had travelled too long to be suprised or alarmed by meeting three wayfarers in a clearing. They were not enemies; that much was clear.

"And where is this party of dwarves going, Master Bali," the Ranger asked.

"To Rhûn." There was nothing else to be said.

The Ranger sat back, blowing smoke rings from his pipe. "Rhûn, land of riches and witches. Or so the rangers have said. But this journey of yours intrigues me; I have always wanted to travel that way..."

He sat back, deep in thought. Silence reigned for ten seconds before he spoke again. "And I shall. Arasinel, at your service."

______________________

Bali was overjoyed when the other travelers agreed to go with his party into Rhûn. They needed numbers, and now they had them; to a small extent at least. The dwarf gave the order to camp there for the night and head for Rhûn the next day, with their new companions. At last, the journey was quickening in pace.

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Esgallhugwen's post - Nerin Cloudfoot

Nerin was rather surprised he had not yet earned the nickname The mute dwarf or Master Tongueless . After all, his lack of conversation wasn't exactly helping him become aquinted with his fellow companions.

On the other hand he did share a few brief quiet conversations with Haenir, who seemed to take a liking to young Nerin. They shared many things in common despite their age difference.

That didn't help when the orcs came, Nerin's lack of experience in battle made him nervous and anxious. But despite his fear he tried to steady himself and cleave his way through to the others.

His heart nearly went up into his throat when he was cornered up against a large tree, he tried to cry out but he bit his tongue instead. Luckily for Nerin's sake, Bali came and disposed of the vile creatures that would have nearly turned him into a Dwarven pin cushion.

They frantically ran to catch up with the others cleaving off orc heads and limbs as they went. The distance to the camp seemed farther away now that they had orcs to deal with, but the two Dwarves made it safely enough, eventually clasping their hands to their knees to steady themselves as they huffed and panted trying to regain their lost breath.

Dwalin and Durin were still back there and Nerin could not help but feel a pang of guilt that he could not do more to help them. He sighed and straightened his back, it was then that Haenir spoke about going back now that they knew what they were up against.

Bali gave him a stern look and directed him over to a corner of their camp, he proceeded to tell something that Nerin could not overhear. It was decided that they would wait, Durin would lead them out to join the main group.

For three very tense hours, they waited fearing the worst but hoping for the best. Their hope prevailed and all exclaimed to see that Dwalin and Durin were unharmed, except for the rather nasty goose egg on Dwalin's head.

________________________

After weeks of traveling; the Erebor company found themselves sitting around a fire with an Elf, a man and another Dwarf. Apparently all friendly so Nerin allowed himself the leisure to let down his guard, if only slightly.

The young Dwarf sat close to Haenir whom he had come to trust and look to for advice on the long road to Rhûn. Nerin couldn't help but look across the fire at the Elf, he had never met one of the Fair Folk before let alone sit down with one, so it was no surprise the situation was a more than a little odd.

Nerin cleared his throat speaking to all for the first time, "forgive my rudeness, but the three of you seem strange companions, what brings you out here?".

[Novnarwen]

It was a rather cold night, or so Dwalin thought. His back ached, but he didn't complain. He refused to look weak in front of these strangers or travellers as they were called. Dwalin didn't really approve of the new part of the company. Going to Rhûn, and meeting someone on the way, just seemed odd. What did they want?

They knew the Dwarven company was going to Rhûn, since Bali had so nicely explained this to them. Suddenly, Dwalin grew annoyed with his brother. Was it wise of him to burst out to anyone they met, that they were going to Rhûn? What if they were untrustworthy? Had his dear brother given thought to that?

Dwalin realised however, that the travellers probably could be good company, since they all were used to these sort of things, but what if Bali was wrong about them? The confused dwarf decided not to judge too soon. He would keep an eye on them though, watching every step they took. Even if it meant being awake all night, he would keep his big eyes on them. With that, he decided to join the rest in the conversation. Nevertheless, he found himself uncomfortably sitting next to Haenir. It was not the other dwarf ho made him feel this way, but he couldn't help himself thinking of these travellers. Grim faced, he glanced over at one of them. A ranger, or so he; Arasiniel had said. The Ranger's eyes were lit up by the crackling fire, and they were looking curiously around and about. Dwalin, who happened to sit just opposite of the Ranger, turned away when Arasiniel was about to lay his eyes upon the dwarf. Dwalin avoided his piercing look, and pretended to be busy with something else. Eventually, when a few minutes had passed, Dwalin returned to his previous doings; staring at his new companions. Suddenly, he discovered that Arasiniel was not sitting opposite of him any longer. Desperately looking into all directions, the Dwarf shuddered. Where was he? Was he already committing treachery?

He restrained himself for panicking, squinting over at Haenir; who was eagerly talking to Nerin. He felt his hands getting sweaty and sticky. Trying to catch Bali's eye, wanting to tell his brother that all of this just felt wrong, he stood up. It was no use. Bali wouldn't turn his way, and he would never let Dwalin's gut feeling take command over how this company should continue on their journey. His stupidity struck him as he felt the heavy air choking him. It was useless to go around worrying whether these new companions would betray them or not. What possibly could they do, when the dwarves outnumbered them? That's when another horrible thought struck him. What if some of the other dwarves were in the lead with the travellers? Things were getting really bad for Dwalin now, as he felt his stomach turning upside down. He walked fast away from the others, not even excusing himself.

A few paces away he bent down, ready for anything, but nothing came. His stomach made a sound, which Dwalin tried to suppress as he head footsteps just behind. He turned slowly around, putting up a grimace.

"Is something wrong, master dwarf?" It was quite a friendly voice, Haenir; if it was up to Dwalin. He was about to reply, not even turned to face the person who had so kindly asked the question. "Everything is quite alright!" Dwalin exclaimed, now turning, looking into those big brown eyes which he had just half an hour found himself staring into. It seemed to him that his eyes were very much the same, although there was no fire lightening them up. The surprise made Dwalin's stomach turn once more, but he, once again, restrained himself. "I'm quite . . . alright," he muttered again, not very reassuring.

The Ranger looked at him. Dwalin thought the man frightening, as he was much bigger and himself, and there was something about the eyes. Insecure about what was appropriate to do in this kind of situation, Dwalin was silent. Usually, the Dwarf was very friendly and liked to talk, but now he couldn't really find anything to say. As a matter of fact, he found himself drained for words. He didn't know whether it was the surprise, or it was the feeling he had about this ranger not being trustworthy. Normally, he would bite his lip and just do something, but Dwalin just kept on staring in his eyes.

"Let's go back to the others," Arasiniel suddenly suggested. This was fairly shocking to Dwalin, who had not expected this behaviour. Slowly walking in the front towards the others and the fire, Arasiniel followed slowly behind.

[Himaran]

Bali could sense the distrust; it was as thick as the pollen floating throughout the breeze in the warm summer night. The dwarves were plainly scared of strangers, at least those in the wild. This cannot go on. We will not survive if we cannot pull together. The words struck the dwarf as strange. What did they have to fear? There was nothing out there, waiting to grab them in the dark of night and tear them to bloody shreads. But he continued to feel an unusual sense of urgency, the need to unite the group. With the new travelers, the job would be difficult.

With his natural leadership skills snapping into play, Bali turned to the members of the company. "Dwalin, Kain, empty the packs. We can use a good meal around here. Haenir, Nerin, gather some dry wood. The rest of you, gather some provisions. Then rest up. Erulon and I shall prepare a meal." The dwarf's keen ears picked up a dispariging comment from Haenir. [/I]Perhaps the travelers are the least of my problems.[/I]

Bali watched as Haenir stomped off into the woods with Nerin, axe resting on one shoulder, a haughty and rebelious air about him. Ever since the incident with the orcs, he had been tough to handle. Not in a disrespectful sense, but a competitive one. It was obvious that Haenir did not see his slightly older companion as the group's leader. Bali knew that he would have to deal with the rift soon enough, but decided to ignore the issue for the night; and instead duel Eruantalon in a cooking match.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hænir had noted Dwalin’s distrust of the travellers, and while he managed to hide his feelings somewhat more effectively than the younger Dwarf, he shared them. He still had not forgiven them the little ‘prank’ they had pulled when they arrived – no matter who the marksman, an Elf of the greenwood or not, it was no laughing matter to Hænir to have someone shoot an arrow at him or one of his companions! As a consequence, he made sure that when he sat down by the fire, he did so with his face to the travellers, and with Nerin and Dwalin on either side of him.

The travellers had seemed to settle right into the group and make themselves at home, and Bali had certainly taken to them. Hænir had spent several weeks now in the close company of Bali and had come to the conclusion that while he was a Dwarf of mettle and spirit, he was still quite young in spirit: brash, confident and quick to decide for others. Hænir was used to taking orders, but from his King, to whom he had sworn eternal obedience and loyalty. Bali, as true as he undeniably was, had yet – Hænir felt – to earn the right to assume that he was the unquestioned leader of the group. And yet, no sooner had they finished their evening meal, then Bali was ordering – ordering – himself and Nerin to collect more wood. Hænir paused for a moment, considering whether the time was ripe to openly question the imperious manner that had come to rankle him, but decided that it had not. He did allow himself, however, one muttered phrase as he stomped past Bali: “I did not bring my axe on this journey to cut wood!”

Nerin and he had little trouble finding dry wood aplenty in the forest and they each soon had an armful of fuel for their fire. As they were about to return to the clearing, they saw off to their side, well out of the light of the fire, Dwalin and the Ranger Arasiniel, apparently in conversation. Hænir beckoned Nerin to stop. The younger Dwarf followed Hænir’s gaze and then looked at him in alarm. “What’s the matter?” he hissed quietly. “Is that Ranger threatening Dwalin?”

Hænir shook his head slowly, “I do not know,” he said, “but there is something amiss. Dwalin has been uncomfortable all night – I do not think that he cares for these travellers overmuch.” He saw the Ranger move closer to Dwalin, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from crying out a warning. He still felt the guilt of having abandoned Dwalin and Durin to the orcs, and as a result had become more than a little protective of them since their miraculous escape. He saw Dwalin and Arasiniel move back toward the fire and he could not help but sigh somewhat with relief. He turned to Nerin once more, “Come my friend, let us get this wood back to Bali so he can build up the fire.”

“What was going on?”

“‘Twas nothing, my lad. Dwalin was, I think, seeking some time alone and the Ranger merely surprised him in the dark.” He was not sure that Nerin believed this. He was not sure that he did, either.

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Normally, he would have been the first to greet newcomers, but they were in a strange land, and they were a strange company. Why are they here, anyway?

So far, nothing untoward has happened to the company since reaching Rhûn, but that only made Narvi feel more paranoid. Rhûn might have kept its surprises, of the worst kind, towards the end.

He looked at the Dwarven newcomer, and his hands tightened around the axe, but relaxed moments later. He reproached himself for allowing paranoia control his usually gregarious personality. Dropping the axe among his things, he decided to approach the Dwarf, and strike a conversation. Then you'll see he's a true Dwarf, and not an illusion of the land.

"Gortek, right?" The Dwarf nodded.

He sat down beside Gortek, and said, "I am Narvi Silverfist. Tell me, what brings you here, with this," he lowered his voice, "queer company?"

[Novnarwen]

As Dwalin paced back towards the others, having Arasiniel close behind, he couldn't help feeling a bit silly. He had definitely been stupid, or paranoid was more the word. But at these times, one could never be too careful, right? He shrugged, as he settled himself again, away from Arasiniel. He didn't quite trust him still, would he ever?

The petty dwarf saw Hænir and Nerin coming back from the woods, after having collected wood for the fire. Dwalin wanted to tell them everything; maybe they shared his doubts. Eventually, he decided not to tell them. A Dwarf like him, with this position in the company, couldn't show any sign of fear. But all the same, doubt and fear were two different things. He could in fact tell them that he found the travellers untrustworthy, without revealing his fear. Though, Dwalin had been frightened by Arasiniel's way of approaching him, coming up from behind, he didn't necessarily have to tell Hænir and Nerin that. Yes, that was a good idea. But again, the dwarf grew uncertain. By the look in Bali's face, smiling and talking to these new arrived companions, he just couldn't do it. He knew that Bali trusted them, and Bali knew best. Throughout their childhood and adults lives, he had always known what was best. He had always been Dwalin's rescuer in this way, as he always knew what to do.

Dwalin bit his lip. Here they came; Hænir and Nerin. He wanted to rise and leave the others again, but Hænir had already caught Dwalin's eye. The two of them settled down, close to Dwalin.

"You okay, Dwalin?" Nerin asked curiously after a while.

Dwalin was busy thinking again, now biting inside his mouth. He felt the taste of blood, but turned at last his attention to Nerin.

"Yeah, sure," Dwalin answered dryly, looking into the fire.

Nerin continued by saying that Dwalin looked worried or concerned. This, Dwalin pretended to come as a shock. He waved his hands, speaking louder than usual and told him that this indeed was not correct. "Just a bit tired," he added in the end. Nerin seemed satisfied by this answer, though troubled, but asked no further. The three of them sat quietly, listening to the others. Dwalin caught a word or two, but didn't pay much attention to what was going on. The Dwarf soon determined that Arasiniel probably could be trusted, but the other two would still be under his close watch.

I'm watching you two," Dwalin muttered under his breath, glancing over at the travellers.

[Carlas]

Durin sat beside Bali as the two chatted merrily with the elf, whose name they had learned was Raedin. Durin had traveled most of his life and had met many strange folk over the years, but he had always enjoyed the company of elves foremost. Though most found this strange, he had grown up with his father who had befriended many elves over the years, and who had loved to tell Durin of the great deeds they had done. He smiled softly, thinking back on the tales he had been told and looked around the small fire where he and his companions sat.

They all sat speaking quietly with eachother, at first seemingly all right with the arrival of the elf, dwarf and man, but then Durin noticed that they all kept glancing at the three; as if they were scared that they would jump up at any moment and start attacking them. He sighed, he knew you shouldn’t trust anyone immediately, but he also knew that most strangers he had come across when he had traveled, had ended up becoming some of his closest friends. Almost everyone on this journey had been strangers at first, but they had bonded rather quickly, and he hoped it would be the same with Raedin, Gortek, and Arasiniel.

He turned back to Bali and Raedin who were now laughing merrily at something Bali had just said, and smiled. He knew some were questioning Bali’s leadership, he could see it, but he trusted Bali and would follow him anywhere. He hoped the others would too, if they were really going to find the treasures they had always heard resided in Ruhn, what the company needed most was trust.

[bilbo_baggins]

Aaah! the distrust was sown far and wide. Aras could see plainly that all the dwarves, Bali included held a small granule of distrust back to keep and nurture. Of course, that could only be expected after the sudden way in which they had marked their entrance into this strange drama. He could feel that a turning point had been reached and his trio had reached the end of their wait. Happily, he had no doubts about this group, yet obviously the group had their own dowbts. Strange, that one side should feel a portent of great import, and the other should have narry a specter or premonition.

Yet not that strange, it seemed, as the group of dwarves and ranger had a purpose in their journeying. Aras' trio had been sitting bye the two rivers waiting, for what they could not tell.

Turning to Durin, he asked, "So I have learned that you travel to Rhûn, but not for what purpose. Perhaps you can tell me?"

"Certainly, we travel to see the riches it has to offer, and to take of them."

"I see. Rather obvious, I suppose, that dwarves would seek riches there. They do so almost everywhere," Arasiniel said with a smirk touching the corners of his mouth. "I do believe that it will be some adventure we have in Rhûn, no doubt about it."

Watching the campfire thoughtfully, Aras did not notice the steady fall of dark. Dark was comforting, falling on everyone alike. Finding equalizers helped in strange situations. He thought of his favorite equalizer, death. Now why should he want to think of death at such a meeting? Aras was troubled by what had occurred, and what was nearly promised to occur. He had to win the trust of these dwarves, if they were to be his friends in a journey to the land of Rhûn.

[Himaran]

At the Camp

Bali was greatly relieved when the company began to pack the following morning. The campsite had been a evil nest, brooding distrust, anger and rebelliousness. Once on the road, the dwarves would move their thoughts onto the more important issue of Rhûn.

The dwarf gathered up his few belongings, cleaned his weapons, and rolled up his bedding. The others were doing the same, although clearly waiting for someone to direct them. They want an order, but they don't want someone to give it to them. Much like myself naught twenty years back.

"We leave in an hour," Bali voiced. "Be ready, long days of marching are ahead of us for the seeable future."

__________________________________________________ _________

Onward to Rhûn


Several weeks passed, and the dwarves had made excellent travel time. They had grown closer to the travelers, and had made better friends with one another. Grumbles remained, but on the whole the group was pulling together. For this, Bali was infinitely grateful.

Following the river, the dwarves had made a straight line for their destination. Then the day came. "Over the next hill, we may be able to see the sea!" Bali shouted happily. "We made it, laddies, we're here!"

The Dawning Moment

Then they saw it. The channel.

As the dwarves reached the hilltop, gasps of surprise erupted from the entire group; Bali included. The river suddenly became choppy, and a rapid flow of water shot into a channel. A rock channel, with walls towering over one hundred feet. It was impassible. Looking southwards, Bali could see the range of mountains extending beyone his keen vision's reach.

"Look at the map," Dwalin suddenly stated. "The mountains are on the southwest side. We are on the northwest!"

Bali just stared, stunned. The maps were all wrong. Rhûn was surrounded by rocky hills and small mountains. But how far did they extend inward? Was there no sea afterall? Maybe the whole thing had been a huge joke. No, that can't be. There must be an entrance somewhere. Without even thinking, the dwarf snapped out an order.

"We can't pass through the channel. We have no boats, and there could be a waterfall at the far end. Let us travel south, there must be an entrance into Rhûn at some point."

"And what if there isn't," snapped Haenir."

Bali looked southward, finding no comfort in the undending range of hills. "Then we have made a journey for nothing." And there was nothing else to be said.


Fordim Hedgethistle's Post

From the beginning Gortek had been joyed by the arrival of some fresh company, and the last couple of weeks had certainly not dulled that feeling. Even the apparent distrust that some of the party's numbers seemed to hold against the three companions couldn't bring him down.

During his journeys he had, of course, heard rumors and stories about the land of Rhûn. Everyone with the slightest inkling of the subject claimed that Rhûn was filled with a myriad of natural treasure, but that in it's jungles, death stalked those foolhardy enough to cross it's borders.
He wasn't worried about the potential dangers of the journey. If he had wanted a safe and secure life he wouldn't have made travelling his chosen way of life.
As for the promise of possible riches, Gortek had a hard time containing his excitement. Where ever there was wealth to be gained, he couldn't be kept out.

The simple thought of all the upcoming excitement made him want to burst out in mirth. Even now he couldn't entirely suppress a jolly cackle from escaping now and then. Completely caught up in his daydreaming, he failed to notice that the rest of the company were giving him some berth, seemingly unnerved by his mad laughter.

That was when he heard Bali call: "Over the next hill, we may be able to see the sea! We made it, laddies, were here!"

Gortek almost leapt next to the expedition's leader, eager to catch a glimpse of the fabled land of untold riches and death.
Judging by the gasps of surprise, cries of disappointment and the confused look on Bali's face Rhûn wasn't what they had expected it to be.
Gortek's own expectations concerning the place had always been vague, as news of Rhûn were for the most part very scarce. From what little he had heard though, he knew that entering the land wasn't going to be easy.

He glanced at the company.
"Well, what did ye expect? 'Course it's got to be difficult ta get in, otherwise all the riches would have been taken by now."

He joined the others as they began to trudge southward, looking for a way that would grant them passage into the land of Rhûn.
They had been travelling for several hours when they found what they had been looking for. Overhead, high in the mountains, one could see a high pass that cut it’s way between two ancient and mighty peaks. To get there, though, they would have to scale up the sheer face of the rocky cliff that arose from the earth like a natural wall. It seemed like Rhûn itself wanted to be left alone into its brooding solitude.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The mountains reared above their heads like an unbroken fence as far as the eye could see. With nothing else to do, the party journeyed south, but their eyes were ever looking to the left as they went, scouring the high walls of this mysterious fence that seemed to have sprung from the earth specifically to bar them access to the riches that they were all now sure lay beyond. Hænir trudged along at the rear of the group where he could keep a ready eye on the newcomers. The Elf and the Man had been quiet and well disciplined during the march south, but still they were strangers to Hænir and not Dwarves – two very distrustful things in his book. The third stranger, Gortek, while a Dwarf was clearly not entirely right in the head. He seemed, in fact, to be on good terms with the Elf and the Man, which was proof enough, to Hænir at least, that his wits had turned at least partly.

The first sight of the mountains had plunged Hænir’s heart, normally so sturdy, right through the bottom of his gut and into his boots. He had glared openly at Bali as though the mountains had been his fault, and he continued to stare at their leader balefully throughout that day. Nerin had noticed this and tentatively asked what was wrong, but Hænir’s sharp reply, so uncharacteristic for him, had effectively concluded that conversation. Hænir, more than usually quiet on the subject, kept his thoughts to himself and did not know what the others thought of this turn of events. Some, he could tell, were disappointed, but he did not know if any shared his now very low opinion of the leader who had led them so far to find only an impassable road.

They had been marching south for several hours when the Dwarves spotted a high waterfall roaring from the top of a cliff. The spur of rock from which the water fell was apparently a far-flung shoulder of the mountains, and it swept out from them in a long, gently sloping plain that ended abruptly in an almost sheer cliff on all sides. It looked for the world like the prow of a huge low-lying boat settled into the earth that lay about the mountains. Hænir could see clearly that the plain at the top of the cliffs extended high into the mountains, where it narrowed into what appeared to be a high pass between two mighty peaks. It was possible that through that pass lay the way into the hidden realm of Rhûn – but only if they could find a way up the cliff…

[Himaran]

Bali walked in silence. The dwarves were restless, and there would be trouble if a path was not soon discovered. That waterfall there - maybe.... Just then, Haenir approached him. He was still smug, but seemed to have something important to relate. "Bali, if we could scale that rock face, we might be able to make it in. There seems to be a path into Rhûn behind the waterfall."

Bali pondered the thought for a moment, briefly disturbed by the fact that if the plan worked, it would be Haenir's idea; even though he had thought of the same thing moments before. Bah, what did it matter. If Haenir had had control of the group during the orc attack, they would all be dead. But perhaps he would prove instrumental to their survival later on...

"Its a far shot, but it might just work. Do you think the other lads are able to make the climb?" Bali lowered his voice as he spoke.

"Aye. They will have to; it is the only way."

_____________

And so climb they did. Up the rocky cliff, over the edge of the peaks, and onto a flat plateau. The dwarves were ecstatic. The ridge followed a group of mountains east, directly into the heart of Rhûn. Further along, a beautiful waterfall sent tons of water cascading down into the valley. Bali and the company were able to travel underneath of the verticle stream, and found a virtual stairwell down the other side.

Several hours later, after slow, treacherous scaling down the slope, the dwarves found themselves in a land much like Emyn Muil. The beauty of the falls was gone. Rocky hills and dense jungle forest spread out in all directions. It was impossible to tell if the land was flat of if it suddenly dropped hundreds of feet. The dwarves became restless. What if they got lost? They might never make it back to the mountains. And what strange beasts lived in the jungle?

Dwalin was suddenly angry. To have come all this way, and have them mumble that it was not safe? "Enough!" He yelled. "We either go in - or go back!"

The dwarves were silent for a moment, and one by one agreed that they could not go back. Forward was the only way now, and most did not savior making the long journey home. Exploring a new world would be far more exciting. "Then let us get on with it," shouted Haenir.

And so the party entered Rhûn, completely naive of what awaited them.

[Novnarwen]

The dwarf was pleased that everyone had agreed upon not going back. How could they even give this a thought, when they were so close to Rhûn? It didn't make sense. He found himself frowning, and wondering what in Middle-earth they were thinking. All this way, and for nothing? How could they be satisfied by that, Dwalin wondered. Although he had difficulties understanding what was going on in the other dwarves' minds (and the travellers), he refused to let it delay him anymore. The treasures of Rhûn waited for them, but it had waited long enough. It was time to go and find it.

The clear day made Dwalin feel optimistic. All their delays; the orcs in the woods, the new travellers and the difficulties they had approached when finding a way into Rhûn, would not make him go back or be afraid. Now they would finally get rewarded for their patience, and no one could stop him. These thoughts were encouraging for Dwalin, and he hurried over to Bali's side, who walked in the front. The jungle didn't bother him too much in the start. The map would lead them to the treasure. This just couldn't go wrong. Besides, Dwalin was an excellent map reader and could probably guide himself and this group safely to the treasure. "Not a chance!" he answered promptly as Durin expressed his doubts about going in circles. They had already wandered around for several hours at that time, but Dwalin was absolutely confident on the group being on the right track.

"I've studied this map," Dwalin said smartly, winking at him. Durin shrugged and continued his conversation with Hænir, further back in the group.

*******

Later that day, when the dark started creeping up on them, Dwalin noticed the many flies buzzing around. They were constantly in his eyes, up his nose or in the corners of his mouth. Trying to avoid hysteria amongst the others, Dwalin tried to restrain himself for screaming and waving his hands. He wanted to smack them with his hands, make 'em drop dead to the sandy ground, but he didn't want to make the others feel uncomfortable as well. However, due to Dwalin problem, he suggested taking a short break, before continuing. When asking the others, he interrupted himself by letting out a short shriek. Just paces away from Nerin's foot, a slimy oblong thing was crawling. The other's looked questioningly at Dwalin, who held his hands to his mouth, being disgusted by the look of it.

"What is it?" one of the others asked curiously, not even noticing how close it was crawling towards Nerin's foot. Dwalin pointed desperately downwards, trying to make his comrade understand. The oblong creature seemed to notice Dwalin's fear and started at him instead. Towards the petty dwarf it came; and the closer it came, the more Dwalin screamed. Suddenly, he felt the urge to run, and he turned on his heal and ran, having the snake after him. To Dwalin's surprise it was much faster than expected, and the dwarf was, and had always been, out of condition. Sooner or later, the snake would catch up with him.

Dwalin ran on, round in circles. He didn't even notice the others, or rather; he couldn't care less about what they were doing. All what mattered was getting away, but how he would do that, he had no idea. He screamed for help, but it was impossible to catch or kill the snake. It was moving too fast, and the others, no matter what they tried, weren't able to catch it or kill it. Soon, Dwalin collapsed. His pains in his back, (which was a result of his tree-climbing,) and the fact that he was totally exhausted, made him fall to the ground. Before the rest of the company were able to pick him up and give him some water, the snake had already taken a nice bite of Dwalin's thick skin. It crawled hurriedly away, showing it's white fangs.

The Dwarf felt the others surround him, when lying on the ground. The flies were swirling around him, but they were not his biggest concern now...

[Carlas]

It was getting dark now, and the forest seemed oddly quiet, even with the flies that swarmed around them. It felt as if Durin’s ears were covered and making the noises around him distant and muffled, even the crickets seemed to being chirping quieter than usual. He frowned, this was not how he had imagined Ruhn, he had thought it would be bright and lush, with animals everywhere and the lake, sparkling and shimmering as the legends from his childhood had said. Had they come here for nothing?

Durin looked around at the thick forest all around them. There were many strange plants everywhere and they were now walking towards a large tree, covered in mosses. Durin stopped suddenly, but was pushed forward again as Nerin bumped into him from behind.

“Sorry about that.” Durin said as he straightened up again, and ran up to the front to talk to Dwalin. Nerin shrugged his shoulders and kept walking.

Dwalin looked up as Durin ran up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you use maps often?” Durin asked before Dwalin could say anything. The dwarf looked at him, not quite sure what Durin was going on about. “Well of course! I have done so many times, and am quite a good at it too if I do say so myself.” He answered finally.

Durin smiled. “Well then I’d say it’s the map’s fault.”

“What?” Dwalin asked, surprised at Durin’s response.

“I think we’re going in circles…I’ve seen that tree already!” He answered, pointing over at the tree he had seen earlier.

Dwalin shook his head. “That can’t be, I’m positive we’re going in the right direction, I’ve studied this map.” He smiled and turned back to the path. Durin turned to Hænir and sighed. “I know I’ve seen that tree….”

~*~

It was not long after when Dwalin let them have a short break and the dwarves sat down on the cold earth, happy to be stopping. Durin sat thinking for awhile, tired and still convinced they were going in circles when he heard a quick shriek. All the dwarves turned to see Dwalin pointing at a snake inches from Nerin’s foot. It stopped and turned to Dwalin who now looked completely terrified, and started to work his way over towards the dwarf. Before anyone could do anything, Dwalin started running as fast as he could away from the snake, which quickened its pace, chasing after the poor dwarf.

The Dwarves yelled and jumped up onto their feet to try and pursue the snake. Durin stood up quickly, hoping to help the others, but then noticed the map that Dwalin must have dropped was starting to fly away in the wind. He ran towards the map, but the wind now had it and it was blown away before Durin could grab it. He growled, they might have being going in circles but at least they had had some idea of where they were going with the map…things just couldn’t get worse for the small group of travelers…

“Durin!” someone called from behind. He turned and gasped as he saw Dwalin lying on the ground pale and unconscious. It seemed things were getting worse…

[Will Witfoot]

Gortek used his short sword to hack through the weeds and plants obscuring their path. The vicious, fat-bodied flies buzzed all around him, occasionally landing on his head. Shaking his head to keep the insects away Gortek went on hacking.
It seemed Rhûn was not the land of beauty and peril that most tales would have you believe, he thought. The glorious mountains with their waterfalls were simply a pretty casing, which held inside a country covered by the green and humid hell that was the jungle. He was beginning to suspect that the whole 'death by darkness' part mentioned in the stories was just an account of those who died of the heat or got lost in the jungle. He seriously doubted that anything could live here and still have the necessary energy left to deal out death, let alone by darkness when this place was likely to be at it's most dangerous.

His theory was shattered, however, when during a short break they were taking Dwalin was attacked by a snake. None of the party were quick enough to catch the creature, so they all hurried to it's victim.
While most of the others were busy inspecting their leader's wound, Gortek turned back to one of the lads, Durin, that had been left behind by the sudden rush of Dwalin. He turned just in time to see the young dwarf fail to grab the map that was being borne away by wind.

Gortek couldn't stop a curse in Khuzdul from escaping through his lips. The map could well be their line of life in this hostile land. As fast as his short legs would carry him he raced after it.

Caught up in the furry of the chase, he failed to notice the end of the tree line and the looming edge of the plateau in front of him. Before he knew it, he was tumbling through nothingness with the thought that it hadn't been the brightest of ideas to go running blindly like that in unexplored territory racing through his head. Desperately he struck out with his hands, and his heart skipped a beat out of sheer joy when the fingers of one of his huge paws closed around a small ledge jutting out from the cliff side.
It wasn't enough, however. With his heavy bag filled with provisions adding to his weight, even his strength wasn't enough to get himself up. There was only one option, though a bitter one at that.

Gortek sighed and let his bag fall. He could hear it thump against the rocky cliff side as the wind threw it around like a vicious child. Then, straining all his strength, he began to pull himself up.

[Himaran]

Bali saw Durin run towards him, and noticed the map blow off into the foliage. He grabbed the younger dwarf by the arm. "Stay! We can't have anyone getting lost again." Then he turned his attention to his brother.

Dwalin lay on the ground, writing in pain. The others gathered around him, not sure what action to take. Bali pushed through them. "Give me room, laddies!" He quickly inspected the bite on the twitching dwarf's leg, and grimaced.

"Poisoned. Erulon, prop up his shoulders so it doesn't spread. Nerin, dig some athelas out of the bags, quickly now!" The dwarf knelt again and squeezed the skin around the bite tightly, preventing the deadly venom from spreading. Pulling out his favorite knife, the gift of Halonir the elf, Bali cut into the skin and sqeezed harder. Thankfully, Dwalin was already unconcious, and did not feel the searing pain of the sharp blade. Slowly, the poison began to run out, mixing with blood and spilling out into the sandy ground. Nerin brought the athelas, and Bali administered it to the wound; wrapping the leg with a strip of cloth.

"Keep him propped up and let him rest. Tomorrow, he will feel terrible, but should be good as new in a day or two." It was just then that Bali realized that Gortek was missing.
_______________________

Erulon stayed with Dwalin while the other dwarves hurried after Gortek's path through the forest. Kain was at the front, with Bali just behind. Suddenly, Kain stopped, apparently leaning forward and rapidly losing his balance. Bali slowed and caught him, pulling the young dwarf back. Looking down, Bali could see Gortek pullin himself up. "Rope, rope!" He yelled. But the rope was in Gortek's pack... and the pack was gone. On an instant reaction, Bali eased over the edge, slowly climbing down towards Gortek. The dwarf was barely holding on, having fallen on a steep area. Bali reached out - "The axe! Hand me your axe! Gortex, holding onto a jut with one hand, pulled out his axe and reached out to Bali.

Grabbing the axe, Bali heaved it up onto the plateau. Pulling himself back up, he called the man and elf over. "Hold my legs!" He leaned over the edge headfirst, and grasped Gortek's hand with his own. "Pull!" And pull they did.

______________________


The entire company seemed to have a newfound respect for Bali following the two incidents. Thanks to his treatment, Dwalin was completely recovered by the following day; although he would walk with a slight limp for few weeks. Any sense of distrust was gone, and Bali was now close friends with Gortek. But the company's position had not completely improved. The flies still swarmed around them, and their map was gone.

"We must press on, or these insects will be our deaths," Bali remarked. And so they pressed on, following the edge of the ravine Gortek had nearly died in eastward.

[Arestevana]

Moments had passed, and Maulká grew increasingly edgy. Bestialán appeared to be weighing Nephil’s invitation, testing its merits. Maulká waited for a few tense moments, as eager as a child. It had been many months since she had hunted anything but squirrel, black or no. She shifted her weight impatiently, and Bestialán seemed to notice. The corner of his mouth moved slightly, in what might have been a smile. Then he turned to Nephil to reply.

Maulká bolted. It took some effort not to run, but she managed a quick walk out of the hall. Then she turned and hurried down a corridor, her eyes gleaming. A rack of javelins stood to one side of the hall, opposite a small table. Maulká pulled several of the weapons from their stand and examined them meticulously. If she found imperfections in the wood or disliked the weight of one of the weapons, she placed it back on the rack.

Finally selecting a javelin that was to her liking, the woman crossed to the table on the other side of the hall. From the tabletop she removed a large, square jar and a rag. She dipped the rag into the jar, she withdrew it, dripping liquid, and then ran it up and down the wood of her javelin. Some of the liquid dripped onto her fingers, tingling, but its slight acidic quality could not penetrate her leathery skin. When the liquid had saturated the wood, she leaned the javelin against the wall and brought out a small pouch from about her waist. Inside the pouch were half a dozen hollow darts. Maulká soaked these with liquid as well before returning the rag and the jar to their places on the table. The darts she returned to their pouch, except for one which she put in her mouth.

Returning to a main corridor, Maulka hurried toward the exit onto the jungle. I should be able to catch up to Nephil before he reaches the exit, and Bestialán, if he decided to come, she thought, quickening her step. She rolled the dart in her mouth across her tongue, relishing the bitter, oily taste of the poison. It could not harm her, but the acidic poison caused agony to many other creatures.

Maulká allowed herself a rare smile. It was a rather frightening expression; a bizarre, predatory leer with an uncanny intensity. Rolling the dart in her mouth again, Maulká produced a hissing whistle by blowing across the hollow end. The hallway became brighter as she approached the exit onto the jungle, and Maulká squinted. She halted at the bend where the main corridors met, keeping a corner between her and the blinding twilight of the jungle. Here she could adjust to the light and keep an eye on the tunnels to wait for Nephil and, maybe, Bestialán.

[Himaran]

The dwarves had walked for several hours when they were forced to stop their march along the plateau. Fallen trees and boulders blocked the entrance into a thin canyon. "Well, what do we do now," muttered Bali. But he kept the thought to himself.

"I suppose we must head into the jungle again. We cannot break out way through this with so few people." And so they did. The dwarves, grumbling and already shouting about flies, headed north into the jungle, as they could not climb down over the plateau without rope. They went around the bottom of the plateau, hoping to find a passage south to the sea.

________________________

Bali hacked his way through the weeds, thoroughly tired. When would the grass end? Some of Rhûn was a barren wasteland, and the rest was a dense jungle. To show some encouragement to those behind, Bali called back, "The grass is thicker. The sea must be near!" Then the tree fell, narrowly missing his head. The dwarf jumped back with a shout.

The others gathered to investigate. "Looks like it just fell naturely," remarked Durin. "No smooth cuts in the wood."

Haenir stared at it a bit longer. "But this is a young tree. It could not have fallen on its own. Here, look at its leaves. Green, full of life. This tree was cut!"

The company stood for a while in silence and shock. Then Rhûn must have inhabitants, and they were not friendly. But Bali broke the phase quickly. "Don't jump to conclusions, Haenir. It could have fallen over. After all, there are not tracks. Come! We must move on."

Later, as the dwarves walked, Haenir came up beside Bali. He wispered across to him, "You know as well as I do that that tree was cut! There are people living in Rhûn, and they wish to kill us!"

Bali wispered back, "There probably are, but why scare the younger dwarves without any proof? This jungle is doing things to their minds, and we don't need an assumption to send them into a terrified frenzy. We must keep the peace, Haenir."

The dwarf nodded, but still mumbled loudly, "Why do you always keep the peace by making me look stupid?"

[Carlas]

Durin sighed. They had been walking for hours and the weeds seemed to be getting thicker and thicker which made it nearly impossible to walk and even harder to run. Though Bali had mentioned it could mean they were getting closer to the lake, it did not really help lift Durin’s spirits. Nothing seemed to be going right, the trees and boulders that had forced them into the forest had been a big setback, no one had liked the idea going back into the forest.

It was now getting dark, and the dwarves decided to stop for the night, not wishing to get lost in the deep tangles of the forest. The company was mostly silent, except for the occasional grumble or complaint as they put their bags down and found a place they could sleep. The dwarves settled in quickly and soon fell asleep, tired from the day’s march.

~*~

The morning came quickly, and the dwarves woke up to the loud buzzing of flies in their ears. The air felt warmer than it had the last few days, and the dwarves were not terribly excited to be starting off through the forest again. Durin yawned and pulled himself up onto his feet but turned when he heard Narvi call out in surprise. “The food, it’s gone!” The dwarves stopped what they had been doing and turned to see their packs open and strewn across the ground.

The company stood around their empty packs in disbelief. All their food and gear was gone, and there were no signs of tracks. It was almost as if it had all vanished into thin air.

“We have not seen many animals in this forest, what would have done this?” Durin asked, looking over at Bali.

“Or who?” Haenir added walking up beside Durin

Bali looked at Haenir but ignored the comment. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. We have to keep going.” He said sadly. The others looked at eachother not sure if they agreed or not. Without any food they would starve, and they doubted they would find much to eat in this forest.

“He’s right.” Erulon said looking around at his companions. “We didn’t come this far to turn around now!” The small company nodded together, knowing that they could not go back empty handed. Bali gave a small smile, glad that they all agreed.

“Alright then, search to see if anything is left and let’s get going.” He called out to the group.