Search for Rhûn RPG

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen's post

The situation was only getting worse, there was no sea, only jagged rocks and thick jungle. Nerin was terribly afraid of heights but managed to scale the cliff face without looking down.

And after all the hours of struggling through the jungle's dense vines and trees, they finally had a rest. Nerin was about to sit down when a startled gasp came from Dwalin.

The young Dwarf couldn't understand what Dwalin was carrying on about, until he looked down at his foot. His brown eyes widened at the dark slippery creature inches away from his feet, but as he was about to step on its head it made a sharp turn and headed for Dwalin instead.

Frantically the whole company began rushing around as the snake chased after Dwalin with incredible speed. Try as they might they couldn't stop the snake before the poor lad fell over and was bitten.

Bali ordered Nerin to fetch the athelas, the wound was poisoned and needed to be tended to fast. When things had settled down they noticed Gortek was missing.

Luckily for his sake they managed to pull him up quickly before he fell to the craggy bottom. With these unfortunate happenings the group seemed to become tighter, better knit.
__________________________________________________ ___

The map was lost, and when they awoke in the morning the rest of their provisions and gear had gone missing. Nerin nearly fell to his knees with tears,

All thats happened, what's it worth, we havn't seen anything promising, no sea, no treasure, nothing

With a sigh he moved around the camp to see if anything was left. Nerin had felt a chill go up his spine as soon as they had entered Rhûn, he knew something was out their watching them; someone had stolen what they had in their bags.

"Theres nothing left" Nerin said sadly looking across at Bali "whatever, whoever took all that we had, what are we to do now?"

"We must press on, we will not have come all this way for nothing" Bali said determined to find and claim what they came for.

"Yes we must press on even if we starve to death" Nerin muttered to himself.

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Novnarwen's post

They awoke the next morning discovering that their food was gone. To Dwalin's great sorrow their provision couldn't be found. They searched the place, but nothing was left of their food. The Dwarf shook with rage. So much had gone wrong; the snake bite, the long way, which had turned to be unexpectedly hard to find, and now their food was gone. They barely had anything to eat at all! How were they going to survive in this jungle? Furious by their latest loss, Dwalin sulked all morning. Nothing could cheer him up, not even his longing for the treasures; if there were any in this horrible place. It struck him that this might be the end to their adventure, which made him even more unhappy about the fact that they had travelled so far for noting. If there indeed was a treasure, they would have to find it quickly however.

As Bali announced their departure from their current campsite, Dwalin rose from the stone he had settled on and went over to Bali.

"What's going on?" he asked frowning and eyes shifting. What was frightened him the most was Bali's look, which gave Dwalin the impression that he was uncertain. Suddenly, a feeling of anger arose in Dwalin and his eyes reflected this.

"It'll be okay," Bali assured him, patting him on the back. "Now, let's get going," he continued, muttering it into Dwalin's ear. He only wished Bali hadn't said this to comfort him. He hoped he had meant it, and that his was fully aware of what he was doing. Pressing forwards now, would mean so without much food and without a map. Both things had been important during their long journey, and now they had neither. Could they possibly survive here in the jungle, without the necessary provisions they had been depending on earlier? Where would the find their food, and what if the sea was too far away from them to reach it, as they didn't have much water left either? These thoughts scared him, but he remained silent, but sulky, as they set out for another days' journey still hearing Bali's words buzzing around in his mouth:

"We must press on, we will not have come all this way for nothing"

Dwalin avoided the other's looks. He felt sure they were talking behind his back, whispering foul words about him and their misfortune. However, he didn't really pay attention; he was trudging in his own pace, left in his own thoughts. Maybe he just didn't care anymore. Obviously something, or someone, was trying to prevent them for getting what the dwarven company was after. Dwalin just didn't understand why.

[bilbo_baggins]

Upon awakening one morning, Arasiniel and the others noticed rather quickly that their supplies and gear were gone, vanished. They were stuck rather frighteningly in the entrails of a dilemna.

Hiking onward, they fought trough feelings of despair. Wave after wave of doubt crept in. They hadn't reached the sea yet, they didn't know if this was really the jungle of Rhûn they had been searching for, and the local fauna didn't help much either.

Stepping on a snake, Aras barely saved himself from getting a bite on his leg. Cursing inwardly for letting himself be so careless, he glanced up at the others. They weren't faring that well either. It seemed obvious that no one particularly cared for the jungle.

Struggling on, they all stumbled for several miles. Dissension was beginning to grow rampant. Mutiny seemed imminent. Several dwarves, and even Aras, had some choice words for their seeming misadventure.

"It doesn't seem to be quite the picnic, nut-gathering outing you had planned, eh, Bali? Nothing ever turns out quite like we want," said Aras slowly, trying to stem the frustration and annoyance that was flooding his mind by bringing up the subject.

"I didn't think it would be easy. No one did," was Bali's curt, slightly spiteful reply. Aras didn't mind, he was expecting some reply like it, and looked forward to many more anger-filled comments on everyone's part.

Turning to Erulon, he asked, "So, we have traveled far now. I never got to ask you though, where do you come from? Arnor? Gondor, maybe?"

Glancing around while Erulon gathered some breath to use for words instead of the steady plodding that continued even in their dreams. He noted several angry faces, and many of the company were practically outright enraged and furious. He hoped that they would not act without reason or sense until the discovery of the sea perhaps, or some treasure. Yes, perhaps they could check their sweeping emotions 'til then.

[Himaran]

Eruantalon's Post: (from past days)


"I am from Gondor, good friend. I have no real home, and have always wandered far; however, after I met Bali and his father at Erebor, I have stayed under the mountain far more than in the south. But my heart still stays in Gondor. Alas! It is true... There is a story for this. I only tell it to my truest friends, but I consider every member of this company to be one. And so here is my tale, though I warn you, it is both strange and sad.

Many years ago when there was still a heir to the throne in Gondor. There was a guard by the name of Karis. One day he met a fair lady by the name of Niril. She was no common woman. She was quick witted and cunning. Her fother was a ranger as where all of her brothers and famly. They fell in love and where married. they had three sons. The eldest they named Korilen.

Many years passed untill Korilen was soon to become a man. He was a joyus boy who loved Arda deeply. Often he would be found on the roof top of his house staring at the stars. Often he would dream queer things and tell his fother and mother about what he had seen. One night he woke crying when his mother came to him.

She asked him what had troubeled him in his sleep. He told her of the white city and its waters that sang. The trees that whent up like mountains. The beauty of an endless spring. The halls of a great and beautifull place. Covered with pearls. The most beautifull ships that where burned on shores. How ugly things hated all the beauty. How they destroyed it and it made him cry. He only saw them before in beauty not ruin. But now they where gone. He hoped that one day he would go to see them. Now he knew that he never could. So when he awoke it made him weep.

His mother comforted him and made him honey and warm milk to get back to bed. But she knew he had seen things before his time.

So ever since that day he was weighted by the burden. Of the memory of thing that where long gone in days of old.

He grew older now. His time to become a guard of Gondor was at hand. His fother over saw his training. He was swift of foot. Keen of aim. As strong as his fother hoped he would be. So he grew to his full hight. He was a high guard of Gondor. He saw the day come when the stewarts of Gondor took to governing his home. He was still vary young though. He was not yet an old man,but he was into his man hood for ten years then.

One day he beheld a sight that took him back. Windamere fairest of all he had seen. Her fother was a ships captian for Gondor.

Windamere was fair skined tall and strong. Her hair was as gold as weat on the harvest. Her eyes deepest blue. Her face was striking and fair. She stired with the beauty of all of Arda. So that in her face was light to be seen.

When she first met Korilen she was struck by his mannors and friendship. He was as gentle and kind as any man she had ever known. But she noticed the pain of some unknown weight on him. So that time he met her he sang for her. He had been taught by his mother all the songs that where in Gondor apon his lute. He had enchaned her with his beautifull songs that night. Ever afer she would rember that night. For that was the moment that she had fallen under his spell.

A few seasons had gone by. The summer came now. He and Windamer where to be married. One day she was off to sea with her brothers. The moring was fair and calm. But as noon time came a storm was at hand. The seas tossed and rumbled under the planks of the boat. They where trying to make it to shore before it was too late. As they came towards shore the wind and water raised up apon them. Then there ship was thrased onto the shore. All of the people on that boat had fallen. None where lift all whrere gone.


Then the storm lifted shortly after. The seas calmed and the wind came to a gentle wisper. Then after hours of search her fother found her. They where not supposed to go so far out. There journy had taken too long. The storm came in when he saw them making there way to shore.

He weeped deeply there where the reckage lay. So he never sailed agian. For he looked with anger apon the sea ever after.

News came to Korilen of his love and her voyage. She was gone forever. Never agian would he see his fairest love. All was lost there was nothing left for him now. He took to traveling and wandering. Seasons came and gone, winter, spring, fall, and summer. But all was as coldest winter to him. Grey and warmthless life was for him.

He sat by the great river Anduin one day. Playing apon his lute and singing of his pains. The beauty he had seen and lost. The love that he had seen and lost. For days out of his count he sang. There was no day or night. Only his songs where left. He grew weary and hungered for the loss of his life. But he was not dying. He was left singing with out realease. He would fall into sleep then awake. Night had turned to day or day had turned to night. He was in shear torture.

Finaly he cried out to the river."Why do I keep living when all I seek is death? Why do I have the memory of things that are gone? What would I do if I cannot find death? Would I be left here till all time has gone? Is it not enough that I am mortal and doomed to die? Must also my burden be made higher?"


Then a great voice of them deep arose. "You have sung second born and I have listened. Now you will hear me."

The voice boomed so loud his ears ached. It was all around but had no source. It was like water but thrashed like a storm.

"You have been burdened by many thing Korilen. But I have not gone blind to what pains you. So I will give you a gift to ease your burden. Your life is shorter than the Oak or the river running. But know me for I am greater than all of these."

He knew now it was he who is master of the sea. He humbled himself and kneeled down now.

"I have not let you die! You will live on. You have many deed that need your work in. For that alone you should live. You will do the will of Eru. Now I give you your new name that all will know you by. Eruantalon do the good that is needed. You are spared for this reason. Now seek out those who would lose what you hold dear. Do not let darkness mar what you love."

Now new strength was in him as one who has seen the Valar.

"There are gifts you should be given. Osse would help you if you go to the great sea. Now look apon me and know all of the great works are not gone. Know no fear or pain for I have shown you all is never lost."


With that Ulmo was gone. He had given Eruanalon great strength. There was tasks for him to do. He would also meet the servent of Ulmo. He would give him what he needed.


So now he journed to the sea. His body had never known such strength. He was now ready for all to come in this life. He was to help all that had needed him. He would not be alone in life. All was saved but his tasked where to be many.

There apon the shores he sang again. the song had reached Osse. There he stood on the shores. With him was another of his kind. So they said to him.

"I am the servent of Ulmo. This is the servent of Lorien. We where bid to give you your gift. Your suffering was heard by Manwe. He was moved by your songs as was Ulmo and orthers. We where given this gift that was to ease your burden. It will give you what is needed. For no man has made song of such pain as yours. Take now and help who need you."

Then he gave to me the instrument that I have now. My life is ever with it. One day I shall sing apon the shores. Then they will come for my instrument. Then I will find a place to lay ever after. No songs will I sing or battels will I see. I will have the rest only the mortal know.

For with this instrument I have known the friendship of all of the living things of Arda. In me there is memory of long forgotten things. I am old but do not seem it. I am young but weary. Still I find happyness in those I have helped and will help. All of the fair things left in Arda I have seen. But now is the fading time. So my time here grows shorter.


That is the story of my beginning, my friend. The end is only known when it comes. The gifts I was given to help in battle must go back to the people that gave them. My instrument will go back where it came from. Then I will know rest."

[Himaran]

Bali pushed on through the jungle at the head of the party, tired and weak. They had lost their provisons, their map, and their equipment. All they had left were weapons and jungle; the latter of which each would have traded for a slice of warm bread. The dwarf knew that they would soon grow hungry. He had to find food; meat, preferably. After hunger set in, muntiny would be at hand. And Bali did not want to argue with Haenir again.

The elf happened to walk up beside Bali at that time, and the dwarf talked to him in a low tone. "You are an elf, with senses keener then most. I will stop the party up ahead. Can you slip away and scout ahead a little?"

"Certainly, master dwarf." The elf seemed surprised that a dwarf even wished to talk to him, let alone ask him to perform a favor. And so he moved off into the jungle.

Walking swiftly, the dwarf did not see the sharp rock approaching. Suddenly he gasped in pain and sat heavily on the hard, dusty ground. Blood was pouring from his foot, and searing pain shot through his entire leg. Bali quickly pulled the single napkin from his pocket and rapped it around his foot. He tied it off, and it held the blood. But the pain remained.

"We must halt for a while," he announced, much to the relief of the rest of the company. And then it attacked.

A warg of some sort leap out of the underbrush. It knocked Bali over and, ignoring him, charged the rest. It had an incredibly long and sinewy tail, which it used as a weapon, cracking Kain over the head and rendering him unconcious. It bullied through everyone, not stopping untill all had tripped or fallen. Then it turned for the kill, picking Durin as its target.

Bali, being hit first, already had his wind back; and stumbled to his feet. Seeing the creature plod towards the lying form of Durin, he pulled a hatchet out of his belt and hurled it. The flying weapon hit the warg in the side, and the creature turned in anger and pain. Pulling up his axe, Bali growled. "Alright, come and finish it laddie! The warg charged him. Bali ducked to the side and hit a glancing blow on its flank, but it whirled around and charged again. Bali stepped back and tripped over a rock. As he tumbled to the ground, the elf burst into the clearing and released a taunt shaft at the warg. The arrow hit the beast in the neck; it gurgled, struggled, and died.

Standing gingerly and favoring his right foot, Bali turned to the members of his company slowly moving around. "I guess meat's back on the menu, lads!"

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hænir had eaten some gamey things in his day, but the taste of Warg was one he was not likely to forget. He had thought that days of walking through a dangerous, insect infested jungle on short rations would have rendered him ready to eat just about anything, but the vile taste of the beast that Bali had brought down was almost more than he could bear. Still, in the end his hunger overcame his repugnance and he found himself gobbling down slice after slice of the beast.

The food went some way to repairing his mood, but still the anger and anxiety that seethed within him raged. He was not sure what or who, precisely, he was angry at. For days he had directed his rage at Bali, assuming that the discontent he felt was the result of poor leadership. But recent events had forced him to confront the very difficult fact that Bali was, indeed, a capable and competent Dwarf, fully in charge of himself and the situation. He had not panicked as had the others when the snake bit Dwalin; he had kept his head level when Gortek went over the cliff, and that had been a fine piece of fighting with the warg. Even Bali’s obstinate refusal to confront openly the truth of the fact that they were being stalked by the mysterious denizens of this land had some sense in it. Hænir did not agree with the decision to keep quiet about their danger, but he respected Bali’s right to decide that.

Hænir tore off another tough hunk of meat and chewed it contemplatively as he pursued his elusive thoughts. His unease had been growing ever since they had come out of the mountains. It was not the thought of their danger – which was real – for he had spent a lifetime preparing for adventures such as these, and he had been through worse (well, just as bad). He heard Nerin grumble about the insects, and his eye fell upon the sullen aspects of the other Dwarves. Like the flash of gold suddenly chipped free by the pick he understood that his temper had been roused not by Bali’s lack of leadership – for there had been no lack of leading, on the contrary, sometimes there had been more than enough leading for Hænir’s tastes – but by the company’s inability to cohere into the type of tightly-knit group that he had spent his life amongst. A sudden, overwhelming longing for the King’s Companions came over him, but he was hundreds of leagues from them now.

A shift in the wind brought an odd scent to Hænir and he froze, the better to catch it. It was an odd scent, one he had never encountered before, and it quickly vanished, as though the animal had sensed that the wind had come round. Only predators kept downwind of what they were following. Making as casual a show of it as possible, Hænir got up and, taking his axe in hand, said that he was going for more firewood. He leaned down to speak with Bali, quickly whispering that he should come. Bali was surprised, and was about to protest that he could not come as his foot was still paining him terribly, but seeing the glint in Hænir’s eye, he dropped his meat and joined him.

As they disappeared into the woods, Hænir quietly explained the scent he had picked up and indicated the direction it had come from. They pressed ahead into the woods, Bali wincing with each step but determined not to let Hænir see his discomfort, their axes at the ready. They passed through a screen of brush and into a small clearing. They both instantly saw the tracks of several people about, as well as signs that someone had lain on the ground as though in hiding. The signs were so fresh that some of the grass was still unbending from the sudden release of a person’s weight. Immediately, the Dwarves’ axes were up and prepared. Bali was the first to speak. “It is as I feared, we are being followed.”

“Aye,” growled Hænir, “and we have been for some days now.” He did not mention the falling tree, nor did he need to, for Bali understood him. “Where do you think they’ve gone?”

Bali shrugged and looked about. “I don’t know. The tracks are confusing.”

“Well, whoever they are, I just wish that they would attack and be done with it!”

Bali looked squarely at Hænir. “You would not wish so if it were to happen. We are in no shape to hold off a sustained attack of any kind, much less so now than ever we were when the orcs came upon us.” He saw Hænir flinch at the memory, and recalled the shame Hænir still felt at having left Durin and Dwalin behind. “I know that the memory galls you – I am afraid, Hænir, that you have become far too incautious because of it. Just because you were unable single-handedly to defeat the orcs, don’t look now to throw away your life in a hopeless battle simply to prove to yourself that you are not a coward.”

Hænir’s eyes shifted away from Bali’s as his face flushed red beneath his beard. Until this moment, he had not realized this about himself – and his respect for their leader went up once more. “Well,” he said roughly, to cover his emotion, “I do not think there will be any fight this day; whoever is stalking us has apparently decided to keep in hiding for now. Let us rejoin the others.” They turned and headed back to the camp. As they were nearing the others, a branch fell from above them and they only were just able to leap aside as is crashed through the brush. A quick examination revealed only that the branch was healthy and had no reason to fall, but there was no indication that it had been acted upon by anyone. Still, Hænir and Bali exchanged knowing looks before hurrying back to join their companions.

[Saraphim]

From his hiding place in the canopy, Nephil could see two of the small, thick creatures inspect where they had been only moments before.

Leaning in closer for a better view of the dwarves, the like of which he had never seen before, he heard snatches of their whispered conversation as they walked away.

They know we're here, thought Nephil. Interesting. No catch has ever known of thier peril. Before its too late, of course.

Nephil did not know where the other two had gone, only that there had been an uneasy truce as all three had seperatly picked up the tracks and scent of the dwarves.

After he had realized that Maulka and Bestialan were on the trail as well, Nephil had taken the intiative and stolen the traveler's provisions and map. He had feasted well on thier strange food, and laughed quietly at thier map, which was incredibly wrong.

The dwarves were now so weak that a simple wild-dog attack (which Nephil sespected had something to do with Bestialan or Maulka) had brought them down.

The dog's flesh will bring them sustainance. If you are to strike, then do it soon. Nephil thought, eyes narrowing.

[Himaran]

As soon as Bali and Haenir came out of the woods, they saw that the others were looking healthier. The warg meat, while foul, was of hearty sustenance; and left a reviving fire in the stomach of one consuming it. But they also knew that natives were at hand, and were not at all friendly. The party had to leave, at once. "Pack the remaining meat in dry leaves, and gather your weapons," Bali said. "We leave immediately!"

He motioned toward the thicket where the remains over the warg had been buried. "There may be other... things... waiting to harm us. The creatures of this jungle have proven to be deadly." But he did not elaborate further. The dwarves followed his instructions and, within a half-hour, were ready to leave.

Bali's foot was still throbing, as he had refused to use their remaining athelas for 'just a cut.' He reminded them that there might be more serious injuries to deal with at a later time. The dwarf did not, of course, mention that he suspected those injuries might come from poisoned weapons.

The group left the campsite, moving into the jungle once more. Bali continued to lead them east, following the plateau. Suddenly, the trees gave way to a sort of canyon. Bali was overjoyed when Erulon announced that it led through the entire plateau; heading south. The sea! It had to lead to the sea! "We follow the canyon," Bali yelled in glee. "The sea must not be far."

[Arestevana]

"Spirits protect this Spirit." Maulká said softly, standing over the small earthen mound that marked where the remains of the wolf had been buried. She had been fond of the creature, probably due to its vicious nature, and felt some regret at its death. Still, it had served her well enough, though its failure to kill one of the queer catch-creatures had been disappointing. Leaving the mound, Maulká slipped into the jungle.

As she walked along, Maulká kept to the deepest shadows, cursing the sun. For a while she had thought of trying to find Nephil or Bestialán, who presumably had left ahead of her. Now, though, she was enjoying hunting on her own. It irked that Nephil had beat her to the supplies first, but the wolf had been amusing. The fallen trees and branches were a nice piece of work, but she could not tell who had set them, even when one fell as she watched.

Ahead, the creatures had reached a narrow canyon. They slowed, and Maulká took the opportunity to examine them more closely. They were stout, beast-like creatures, but they spoke like men, and several men traveled with them. She did not recognize the elf, never having seen one before. Creeping closer to the group, Maulká saw that one of the creatures had momentarily set down the pack it carried next to a rotten log. And in one hollow portion of the decayed wood... Maulká slipped forward silently and caught the snake behind its head. She undid the top of the pack and dropped the animal inside before closing it up again. Then she vanished back into the trees.

The band of catch-creatures continued through the canyon, and Maulká became nervous. If they continued, the creatures would pass right by the entrance to the caves. She didn't want them to find that entrance, though she knew know reason why it was upsetting. They would never survive in the tunnels. Perhaps it was that there had never been any fighting in the caves. Knifings, yes, but never outright battle.

The lessening of the foliage inside the canyon would make it difficult to follow the creatures, Maulká realized. After a moment's thought, she walked a short ways into the canyon and began climbing the rocky wall. The walls of the canyon grew closer as they rose, and at the top they were only a few feet apart, leaving the canyon in shadow. Climbing through the narrow opening, Maulká discovered that if she lay flat on the ground beside the rift she could drop stones into the canyon while remaining unseen by those below. Selecting a stone about the size of her fist, she moved along the rift, seeking her quarry.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The party moved quickly along the canyon floor, fearful of another attack…and of the nameless dread that stalked them with such expert skill. Twice more that day Hænir was certain that he caught wind of that same elusive scent, and once he thought, for a moment, that he caught sight of something or someone darting through the branches of the trees more than the height of two Dwarves’ above their heads. He called Bali’s attention to it, but even his quick eyes could see nothing and they pressed ahead all the more quickly.

Hænir did not know how aware the other Dwarves were of their danger, for they had fallen into an even deeper silence than usual. Their hardships had come upon them so suddenly and so unremittingly that they had all been plunged into despair. Even the mad Gortek looked uncharacteristically subdued as he trudged along at the side of the straggling line, only occasionally jerking his head or squinting his eye. The Ranger and the Elf seemed a little better off than the Dwarves, but not much so. The Man in particular seemed to be suffering from the insects. For Hænir, the worst part of the trip was rapidly becoming the heat; encased as he was in his suit of armour and bearing his heavy axe, the sticky warmth of the jungle rose around him like a thick and uncomfortable blanket, stifling his breath.

At one point they reached a small path that headed off to the East. They peered down its length, and some among the party were eager to follow it, for it appeared to be well trodden and would be a much easier route than the one they were attempting to hack out through the dense growth. To Hænir, however, the path only sent a shiver of apprehension down his spine – it if were well used, he did not relish the thought of meeting the people whose feet had beaten it down so well. The snatch of rhyme that he had heard all those long weeks ago in Laketown, all but forgotten, came to him:

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

He turned to the others in the party saying, “This path may be easier, boys, but it does not lead the way we want it to go! I believe that Bali is right; if we are to find the Sea, we must keep ahead along the floor of the Canyon and follow it down.” He caught Bali’s eye as he spoke and saw that their leader both understood what Hænir was doing, and appreciated how he was trying to do it.

It was Nerin who replied to Hænir’s suggestion. “Perhaps this path will lead us to a village or even a city where we can obtain new food and gear,” he suggested. “At the very least, it might give us a way to get out from under this infernal jungle and away from,” he swatted the back of his neck, “away from these infernal stinging insects!”

Hænir could see Bali starting to reply but all conversation was interrupted by a blood curdling howl from up the very path they were debating about. All eyes stared down its length, fearful of what might appear, but there was nothing more. Still, it was enough to decide the issue – they headed down the Canyon. They had not walked for very long when a scent that was familiar to some in the party, but wholly alien to Hænir, came to them through the thick reek of the jungle. Bali quickened their pace despite his pronounced limp and they all pushed ahead to follow. Through the great trunks of the trees they caught sight of a distant glimmer, and there came to them a fresher breeze than any they had felt since coming to this land. The party practically broke into a run as they made for the edge of the Sea…

[Saraphim]

Nephil watched from the treetops as the strange travelers raced for the banks of the sea.

Never a very pious man, Nephil believed few of the religious tales surounding the lake. But no outsider had ever found thier way to the lake, and, pious or not, Nephil felt a strong desire to protect what his people held sacred.

He watched as the stubby men and thier more human-like companions rejoiced at the fresh water, drinking and even bathing in the precious water.

Nephil dropped down from the tree into the thick foliage and peered out from the underbrush. He heard Maulká come up behind him, but did not turn.

"This," she said, seething,"Is an insult too great to ignore!"

Nephil narrowed his eyes at the beach and its occupants. "They know not what they do, but by everything I have ever seen on this earth, they will live to regret it."

Nephil seemed to feel Maulká agree with him.

"We must find Bestialan," she said,"These ingratiating fools will pay dearly, and I do not want Bestialan to miss out on our revenge."

Nephil nodded. "We attack at night, the first darkness after we find Bestialan."

[Himaran]

Will Witfoot's post

Gortek marched on moodily beside the straggling line formed by his ragged and weary comrades, taking his sword to any bush or clump of weeds blocking his path. He swatted at a huge beetle possessed of a metallic sheen crawling on the back of his neck and spat out a curse. The accursed jungle was slowly wearing the party down, and even the mad dwarf's endurance was stretched to the limit.

He glanced at the young dwarves shuffling along like corpses with a gait crippled by the heat and eyes dimmed by fatigue and hardship. He knew that it was undeniably worse for the beardlings, who were not used to such hardship and danger. He wondered if they would be the breaking point for this party, the part from whence would begin the destruction of this expedition.
While Bali was a natural and able leader, the group lacked the bonding and camaraderie so desperately vital to any adventurers. You could never know when your life was going to be in the hands of your companions, after all, and the group was only as strong as it's weakest member.

The party continued to progress with a pace crippled by the harshness of the surrounding environment. After trudging on for what seemed like eternity they reached a well trodden path which seemed to head to the east. They stopped for a moment to debate about their next course and Gortek slumped down onto a boulder lying by the side of the path. It was important to harbor one's strength and rest whenever possible when facing such a cruel aspect of nature.
He felt more weary than he could ever remember feeling, in body as well as in spirit. Normally his indomitable happiness prevented him from loosing heart and gave him the strength to go on, but here, in this green, rotting hell that was the jungle he couldn't help feeling his age.

Hearing a bestial screech sounding from farther along the debated path, the group quickly changed their decision to take up along it. Instead, Bali and Haenir led them along the floor of the Canyon yawning in front of them and the march continued.

Gortek was jerked from his reverie by cries of "The Sea!" and "We found it at last!". Almost not daring to believe his ears he glanced up and spotted the silvery gleam visible from between the great trees, a gleam that could only point out to one thing.

With a new found vigor, Gortek joined the rest of the party in a wild dash for the Sea. Soon the trees parted to make way for the expanse of fine, white sand that was the shore. Gortek gained back his cheerfulness in an eye blink, giving a wild whoop of joy. Even the devil-spawned insects had been left behind into the jungle.

The moment Bali exclaimed that the water was drinkable, Gortek plunged his entire head into it, gulping and swallowing greedily. He resurfaced and hastily pulled off his leather gauntlets and plunged in again, this time sinking his arms into the sweet water up to the elbows. The coolness felt unbelievably good after weeks spent in the humid jungle.

After drinking enough and bathing in the Sea Gortek sat on the golden sand of it's shores, smoking the last of his tobacco. Behind him a few of the young dwarves were setting up the tent and getting a fire going. It looked like they might yet conquer this land.

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Himaran's post

The sea was beautiful.... so beautiful. Bali and the others halted their print on its sandy shores, admiring its sunlit waves from a distance. "It's really more of a lake, with two inlets," the dwarf explained. Walking out into the water, he bent down and scooped up a handful. When he tasted it, a smile spread out over his kind features. "Freshwater, as I had expected. We can drink it!"

The dwarves literally dove into the water, lapping up the cool liquid in heavy gulps. They had been without drink for over a day, and without a bath for weeks. Now the party could enjoy both! The young dwarves started to play, and soon a waterfight was in full swing. The water had a soothing effect, not only to the throat but to the mind as well.

Bali suggested that they dry off and break camp, and the group did so. There was nothing much to camp with, as only Durin still had a pack. Luckily, it contained the tent, and so they would have a little shelter for the night. "Dwalin, get the tent out," Bali shouted over the din of the other dwarves (who were arguing about the best way to light a fire). The young dwarve pulled up the strap only to leap backwards. A snake reared its head and hissed balefully, slithering down to the ground. Dwalin, who immediately remembered his past experience with a similar creature, did not turn his back but readied his axe instead. Leaping to the side, the dwarf swung downwards, severing the reptile in two. "I wonder how it got in there," he remarked, before continuing his work.

That night, the entire party stood at the sea, marvelling the shining lights which glowed brilliantly in its depths. "It must be treasure," Durin said. "Something of great value." The group began discussing the best way to investigate, but decided that it was best to wait until the morning. Bali was preocupied, however, watching Kain. The dwarf was staring intently at the lights, and had not taken part in the conversation. Bali hurried up to him, and took the lad by the arm, walking back towards the camp. "Come. You are on second watch tonight, so get some sleep.

In the middle of the night, the camp was woken up by a bloodcurdling scream. Bali rushed out of the tent, half-dressed and clutching his axe, and saw what he had feared. Kain was floundering about, a good twenty yards into the sea. He was trashing, as if ants were crawling all over his body. As his companions hurried to his side, Bali threw caution to the wind and dashed towards the shore. Diving into the cool water, (as he was an excellent swimmer), the dwarf struck out toward Kain.

Just then, Bali felt his entire body come alive in pain. Bright lights surrounded him. Then he realized it - they were glowing fishes! Flesh eaters! The fact that the treasure they had all come for was nothing more than a hive of devilish fish caused his heart to sink; and his body did so as well. Then an arm reached out, and he found himself being pulled up on dry land.

Coughing up heaves of saltwater, Bali looked out towards the sea. Kain was gone! The dwarf broke down into sobs, knowing that his companion had been pulled under and drowned. The entire company stood in silence, except for the sound of shedding tears. Many of the younger dwarves had never lost a friend in battle or by accident before; it was a completely new feeling of emptiness and loss.

"It was my fault," Dwalin remarked later. "He told me he was going to go out and find the treasure, to prove that he was strong and old enough to look after himself."

"No it wasn't, lad," said Bali. "If anyone is to blame, it it me. I saw the look in his eye, and put him on watch anyway."

"Tain't anyone's fault!" Shouted Haenir suddenly. "It is truely a terrible thing, but he was foolish. It was not a matter of leadership."

But at that moment, another howling screech was heard. Eruantalon jumped to his feet, only to be knocked to the ground. A dark figure leaped over his fallen form, and headed for the rest of the company, blade in hand...

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Novnarwen's post

Reaching the sea appeared to be the best thing on this journey yet. Finally, Dwalin too, cheered up. It was such a beautiful place. The water gave a trickling noise, which comforted Dwalin. The blue-green surface was bathed in the fading sun, and the dwarf smiled once more. He couldn't believe it at first however. The whole scenery, which he found himself in, seemed so surreal. It was like a dream-world which you only enter when you're asleep. It was idyllic. Yes, even Dwalin could put his hatred towards the jungle to rest now.

Ordered to get the tent out, he strode off and unpacked it. To his horror he discovered a long slimy oblong thing, having a great time inside the tent. Trying to relax and be calm, he grabbed his axe. Halfway running after it, he tried to make an end to its pitiful life, but missed by an inch. He dried his brow with the back of his hand, sweating like mad. He realised soon enough though, that he had been able to be perfectly civilised while handling the little creature. Proud of his accomplishment, he carried on; putting up the tent properly.

Nevertheless of Dwalin's accomplishment, the night ended terribly. To Dwalin's surprise, Kain had gone over to Dwalin's side just after putting up the tent, telling him (amongst other things) that he longed to prove himself useful. Dwalin who hadn't considered this to be at all very suspicious, saw to his surprise later that very evening, Kain braking the glassy surface of the water. Struggling to get up for air, Dwalin turned his head towards him, blinked, and saw him no more. He didn't realise that Bali had gone after him, but was already on his way back as the shore as the devilish fishes had indeed been Kain's downfall.

Unable to react as he would usually have done, he stood stiff watching the water stream over his companion. "No!" he found himself screaming, but there was nothing he could do. Reproaching himself, being shocked, he claimed his feeling of guilt. "It was my fault. He told me he was going to go out and find the treasure, to prove that he was strong and old enough to look after himself." He didn't hear Bali's reply, but he could see by the look in his eye that he wasn't blaming Dwalin for this accident However, nothing could help Dwalin now. Too shocked for his own good, he didn't notice a man coming out of nowhere attacking the dwarves.

[Himaran]

Fordim Hedgethistle's Post:

The strange Man from the forest whirled and darted amongst the company like a demon from the stories of old, his knives flashing in the moonlight like the movements of an animals talons. He drove at Bali first, who had been amongst the first of the Dwarves to recover from the shock of his attack, and had it not been for the quick reactions of Durin and Hænir, who were soon at their leader’s side, it would surely have gone badly for Bali. At first, Hænir was confident that the battle would soon be over, for they were many against a lone warrior – but the speed with which the Man moved, and his almost magical ability to see through the darkness that cloaked the beach were amazing.

Having been countered in his initial attack on Bali, the Man swung on Hænir. The Dwarf was able to counter the lightning-like blow with the shaft of his axe, and with a speed that almost matched that of his enemy, Hænir swung for the Man’s legs. So practiced was Hænir in this move that it did not occur to him it would fail, but the Man leapt into the air as the axe whirred through the space where his legs should be. Simultaneously, he lunged at Hænir with his knife, and only by lowering his head just in time was the Dwarf able to catch the point of the weapon upon the dauntless steel of his helm, rather than have the blade sink deep into the eye socket for which it had been aimed. Like a cat, the Man twisted in the air and came down on Hænir’s back, driving him into the earth, he then spun and threw himself upon the other members of the party.


Himaran's Post:

Bali watched the man drive Hænir into the earth, only to leap up again and attack the company. He struck at Nerin first, but the young dwarf held his ground, and slashed the attacker's arm before diving to the side. Bali charged towards him, and swung his axe in a long swipe aimed at his opponent's back. But the native must have sensed him there, as he dropped to the ground underneath the dwarf and then lurched upwards, sending Bali flying over him and onto his back.

The attacker charged again, but the dwarf jerked his knife out of it's case and slashed his enemy's leg. "Charge him at once, overpower him," Bali yelled. As he pulled himself up, knife in hand, the man disappeared. Suddenly, the dwarf whirled, sensing the wistling of the blade behind him...


Fordim Hedgethistle's Post:

As he struggled to his feet, Hænir heard the hue and crash of a hotly contested battle. He turned to rejoin the fray and realised that their opponent had cunningly managed to lead them all closer to the edge of the forest and under the darkness of the overhanging canopy where his apparent ability to see through the darkness was giving him the advantage. Hænir watched as two Dwarves fell with wounds, but the inky shadows beneath the trees made it impossible for him to tell who had been injured. He heard the unmistakeable sound of Bali’s voice crying out orders, but the clamour drowned out his words. Hænir stood beyond the edge of the shadows, looking in with the greatest intent. As luck would have it, a sudden breeze tossed the branches of the tree that shrouded the battle, allowing a single shaft of wan moonlight to pierce the scene. In that moment, Hænir saw the form of the Man swing his blade at Bali, who was turning towards him.

Without having to think of what he was doing, Hænir hefted his axe above his head with both arms, and with a well-practiced move he sent it whirling through the air. There was the sound of tempered steel rending bone and flesh, and a slow strangled cry. The wind died and the shadows once more fell over the scene. Hænir rushed forward, unsure if he had hit the Man or his leader. He called out, “Bali! Bali! Are you all right, lad?”

“Aye,” came the slow reply. “Better at any rate than this fellow.” Hænir came to Bali’s side and looked down at their enemy where he lay with Hænir’s axe buried in his spine.

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Novnarwen's post

As surprising as a lightening from clear sky, the attacker had come forwards and gone straight towards Bali. No one where really prepared for this battle, but the dwarves and the three travellers, where cast, unwillingly, into it. Dwalin looked nervously around, rising his axe aggressively. He turned to see Bali being cast into the air, landing several feet away from the attacker. The unknown man turned his attention to Hænir, who amongst others was backed up by Durin.

Dwalin wanted to rush over at Hænir’s side too, as his companion was forced to the ground by the barbarian. However, in his eagerness as he was about to run over to help, he tripped and fell to the ground. His face buried in the sand, he felt his nose crack. Blood streamed out of it, and made the sandy ground red. All the same he could feel his back ache and in his leg, where he had been bitten by the snake, pain arose and made him shiver. Unable to rise, by fear or pain he didn't know, he lay watching the wild man attacking his companions.

After a few seconds, which felt like minutes, the pain in his back and leg stopped and Dwalin made himself able to stand up. Axe raised, anger in his eyes, he darted over to the wild man. But just as he came over, ready to give his utter most in the battle, which had come like a surprise, he heard the sound of Hænir's heavy breath going over to a sigh. He had flung his blade into the man's flesh. Writhing in agony, the attacker fell to the ground.

Being witness to this he could think of no one other than Bali. Being assured he was okay, Dwalin breathed heavily; happy that everyone was alive.

[Himaran]

Arestevana's post

“Bestialán!” Maulká breathed, watching the man charge the loathsome creatures who had desecrated the sacred waters. Maulká watched, thinking, He is a fool, but only if he is killed. If he is victorious, he will be called hero. Aloud she said, “It seems we have found Bestialán.”
“He is outnumbered,” said Nephil. “He will be killed.”
“Yes, and he doesn’t need our help to do that,” Maulká replied. “I have no wish to die fighting beside a fool.”

They watched as the dwarves recovered from Bestialán’s wild attack. Once the element of surprise had faded, numbers quickly turned the battle. Even the native warrior’s superior reach and skill brought down only a few of his opponents, whether dead or merely injured Maulká could not tell.

She and Nephil watched the battle impassively. Bestialán fought well, but he was soon overwhelmed. The faint moon was sinking when Nephil murmured, “Spirits protect his spirit,” and the sounds of battle were silenced. Maulká observed the creatures return warily to their camp. “They fight with more skill than I had expected, and their numbers are too great for us to overcome.” She noted. “We should return to the caves. Others will join the fight when they hear of the sullying of the sacred water, and Bestialán’s family should know of his death.”

Nephil agreed, and they crept past the creature that stood guard nearby, moving more quickly as they reached the canyon entrance. They hurried toward the eastern tunnel, merging with shadows in the hour before dawn.

[Himaran]

Bali and his companions stood around the native's body in silence. Erulon was helping the few injured or unconcious, but most were too shocked to even move. They had been attacked by a person - a person from a strange land. A deadly warrior had nearly overpowered an entire company of fighters; if the dwarves had ever felt despair and fear, it was now. Bali decided that the trance needed to end. "Bury the body, and collect your weapons. There is no treasure here; just a cursed jungle and a treacherous ocean. It is beautiful, yes, but evil. It has already claimed one of our live's, and that is too many for me!"

It took two hours for the wounded to recover enough to travel, and Bali was already nervous. His and Haenir's suspicions had been fulfilled: Rhûnian's did exist, and were hostile to outsiders. They had to get out of the land as soon as possible, despite the fact that no treasure had been found. Rhûn was a place of deception; it was a place where nightmares, not dreams, came true.

"We head north up the canyon," Bali announced. "Than west along its edge, until we can scale it and find a way back over the mountains. We will make it, but not without cost." He was quiet for a moment, and suddenly walked away from the others and down towards the sea. Finding a piece of driftwood, he etched a sentence in it with his knife, before placing it in a nitch in a group of rocks. A single arrow shot from the elf's bow, soaring into the sun before dipping and falling down towards the sea. It vanished into the waters, sinking down through the depths until resting on the rocky bottom. "Goodbye, Kain," Bali said loudly. "May your new journey be blessed." Then he turned, and the entire company followed him away from the sea.

______________________


The final blow to the company's already strained morale was when the weather turned for the worse. There had been no rain for the weeks that they had travelled in Rhûn, and now a turrential downpour drenched them as the weary band heading north through the canyon. The wind began to blow, and it seemed as if the entire rock passage would give way. "We must get out of this," Arasinel yelled over the storm. Then they saw the crack in the eastern side of the plateau. The group had not ventured there previously, but the prospect of getting to a dry overhang dispersed past fears. "Perhaps we will find a dry place to stay until this quits," shouted Gortek. "Common, lads!"

Everyone waited to hear Bali's opinon. He seemed nervous, looking behind them and scanning the ground. Then he shrugged. "What could it hurt? Perhaps you are right." And so they entered the passage.

(in progress - will finish post later)

[Saraphim]

"Elders, we have found something beyond anything that has been seen in our lands before"

Nephil stood before the Council of Elders. Maulka stood to his side, arms crossed.

Nephil had rarely spoken to the Elders, and it was a rather new experience to speak in a room that was filled, not only with the leaders of his community, but with many watchers who stood behind him as well. Nephil took a deep breath and continued:

"There is at this moment a group of travelers in the forest, whose very visage is unkown to us. All but two are small and rather stubby, and the others, while in shape like us, are different in many ways. One seems... "

But Nephil could find no words to describe the human-like creature that was not human, and, after a hesitation, went on:

"The entire group seems to have been looking for something, but what it is is impossible to tell. They found...they found the Lake, and disgraced it with thier foul, outsider flesh. One was destroyed by the holy fish, and it was then the Bestialan attacked. He fought well, but the sheer numbers of the enemy were overpowering. Maulka and I had no wish to ourselves join him in death, so we watched from the shadows as he was killed. After the battle, we came directly here, to seek your..."

A rustling and voices from the back of the room interrupted Nephil, who turned, along with everyone else to see a gaurd rush panting in.

"We have intruders, in the caves!" the gaurd said, "Strange folk, outsiders!"

"It is them," said Nephil, turning back to the Council, "With your permission..."

The Head of the Council spoke, his old voice creaking, but full of strength, "Go, you two, and take many hardy warriors along. Prove to them what it means to trespass in the land of Rhun!"

Nephil nodded and ran from the room, followed by Maulka and the gaurd, and many others who were armed and ready to fight.

[Will Witfoot]

Gortek rubbed the scar the strange jungle man had inflicted upon his brow, just above his right eye. The rain was making the wound itch, but it was better than loosing sight from the other eye as well. That would be inconvenient to say the least.

The others trudged on beside him, grey panthoms behind the fleeting curtain of rain, silent as the dead. All their hopes about the fabulous riches of Rhûn had been dashed, and they would indeed be lucky if they managed to get out at all. The whole place had turned out to be one big death-trap.

The rain lashed at them like a thousand tiny deamon whips, and the wind tore at the members of the group like some savage beast clawing at it's prey.

"We must get out of this!" Yelled Arasiniel, his words barely audible over the storm. Gortek couldn't agree more. The stone floor of the Canyon was slippery from the rain and at some parts flowing water made it nigh impossible to move on.
The question was; where could they go? There was no shelter nearby, and camping on the spot was out of question. That was when Gortek's gaze fell upon a crack in the eastern side of the plateau. The others noticed it too, and all misgivings that each of them harbored for this land were laid aside by the prospect of shelter.

"Perhaps we will find a dry place to stay until this quits," shouted Gortek. "Common, lads!" Balin agreed to this, and they entered the cave.

Gortek was glad to get out of the rain. In all his journeys he had never witnessed such a storm. It seemed Rhûn was hell-bent on hounding them to their deaths rather than letting them escape, unpunished for their sacrilege.
To distract himself from these dark thoughts he began to explore the cave. It turned out to be many caves rather than one, linked together by tunnels uncounted. Whether originally hand-crafted or formed by nature it was difficult to say for certain, but Gortek only hoped that the caves held no unpleasant surprises. There had been enough of those recently, and even the mad dwarf's spirit was at it's lowest ebb to date.

[Esgallhugwen]

Everything was attacking his senses and perception, the heat was fatigueing and the vile insects were trying to get into Nerin's moist eyes. Sweat dripped off his nose, the meat they had all eaten earlier gave him strength but it left a foul thick taste in his mouth.

Maybe it might not have been so bad if they had a better chance of getting to know one another, it all seemed a shame really, to go on this quest without finding comradery. Of course some were friendly enough and that was all Nerin needed to keep going.

The company was nearly at the end of its strength when the young dwarf heard shouting, at first it was muffled because he was caught up in his own thoughts but then he heard it clearly.

The Sea!

Nerin's head shot up and he looked ahead of him catching the silver glimmer of water. His jaw dropped and he began to pick up his pace following the others with glee.

They sped through the trees hoping for what they've all been waiting for, the treasure. As they reached the beach Nerin couldn't help but stand in awe, the disgustingly dense, humid jungle did hide something beautiful after all.

Nerin followed suit after Bali declared the water was fresh and drinkable, he laid down his axe and took off his armour. The others couldn't help but stifle a giggle as they watched him jumping up and down trying to take off his boots as fast as he could.

The water was unbelievably cool and refreshing, he splashed about when a mischievious idea occured to him. He took a deep breath and being unable to swim he simply made sure his feet could touch the bottom.

Slowly, he crept up on the other dwarves and jumped as high as his height allowed, splashing them all profusely and soon a water fight began.

After the company had refreshed themselves they made camp by the shore. For once on this journey Nerin slept rather soundly dreaming of treasure and jewels in the depts of the sea, but all too soon his dreams were shattered.

A blood chilling scream woke up the camp and all came rushing outside with weapons in hand. Kain was floundering in the Sea and the beautiful lights seemed to be going in a whirlwind like motion around him.

No they weren't lights, they were fish! Nerin had never seen such a thing and didn't know what to do, after all he wasn't a very good swimmer and couldn't possibly get out that far without drowning himself.

Bali dove into the water without a second thought but was soon attacked by fish. The Ranger, Nerin couldn't remember his name at this moment in time, reached out his long arm and pulled Bali to shore, Kain was lost to the Sea.

They had no time to recover from the loss, or to wipe the warm tears from their eyes before they were attacked.

A large thin man came swooping down swinging his sword with a frightening fury, screaming at the Dwarves in a tongue Nerin could not understand. They tried to fight him off but he was incredible swift on his feet.

He lured them into the jungle and there they fought not knowing if they were indeed hitting the enemy or each other. But when the fray had ended they found that they had won over the crazed native.

Just then the weather turned for the worse and rain poured down in torrents, soaking the company to the bone before you could Khazad. They hurried along trying to find shelter, they headed for the caves.

[Himaran]

The caves were dark. Very dark. Bali and the company lighted their way with a single torch, ducking and often stumbling through the tight rock passages. "Perhaps these were made by water," Gortek voiced. "A flood, channeled through the canyon, pushed through into this cave, making tunnels. Maybe we will find an underground stream."

"It is certainly possible," Bali said, (simply for the sake of conversation). He did not wish to mention his growing suspicion that the network was purposely carved by the same race as that of the man that had attacked them by the sea. Could this be their lair? It is certainly possible...

The dwarves continued for over half an hour in like fashion. Their torch was burning low, but they still had a little wood left in Durin's pack. The tunnel curved and turned, staying the same width and occasionally branching off in other directions. They saw no sign of life, animal or man. "Its too quiet," said Haenir, and no one was inclined to disagree.

Then suddenly, the passage ended. A rough, stone wall stood before them. "Well, do we turn around," asked an exasperated Dwalin. Bali did not answer, but instead examined the wall. He knocked on it softly with his axe butt.

"Hollow. This, my friends, is not a wall. 'Tis a door!" An excited chatter ran through the group. They seemed to forget the attack and the loss of Kain in an instant. Perhaps there was treasure in Rhûn; just not where they had expected it!

"Well, what are we waiting for! Let's bust it down!" The dwarves began to shove and hit the presumed door at different angles, each hoping that a shining chest of gold awaited them.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The Dwarves attacked the door with more energy than effect at first, driven nearly mad at the thought that finally, they might have found the treasure that they had endured so much to claim. The weeks of privation and trial, the agony of their journey, the terror of Kain’s death and the surreal horrors of their battle with the Man of the jungle – all of it seemed to spill over into this wild excess of activity as they tried in vain to open the stone door. It was Nerin who first fell back, gasping and breathless from their efforts. “This will never do!” he cried. “We cannot get through that door with our bare hands – and I’m not going to dull my axe on that rock!”

“The lad is right,” Hænir said. “We must come to some order in this!” The other Dwarves fell away and all of them joined the Man and the Elf, who had stood aloof during their bizarre attack on the stone. Hænir stepped forward and tapped on the door with the head of his axe. He had fought many a war in the deep places of the earth, against orcs, goblins and other nameless beings, but in all those encounters he had never seen such a door as this. He stepped away once more and looked up above his head and then down either side. “Look!” he cried, pointing to one side. They all hustled in close and saw a slight crack, straight as an arrow, lancing up from the floor. “We must have opened the door a bit right here,” Hænir said. “Come on lads! If we all push together right here, we might be able to open this door! It looks like it’s hinged on the other side of the hall!” Much as he tried to deny it, the thought of treasure had gone to his Dwarvish heart, and Hænir’s eyes burned for the sight of gold.

The party worked together and strained at the door. At first, it appeared they would never move it, but a sudden metallic clang followed by the sound of rending stone told them that they had shattered some locking mechanism, and the door slid open easily. They light from the hall fell into the room and onto the most pitiable sight Hænir had ever seen. A young Gondorian man cowered in the corner opposite them, his clothes in tatters and his skin laced with the red welts of a whip both cruelly and expertly wielded. One whiff of the air in the cell told them of weeks of imprisonment without the benefit of any fresh water or cleaning. Hænir had to breathe through his mouth as he stepped toward the Man, who averted his eyes and tried to crawl even further into his corner as the Dwarf approached. “There there, lad,” Hænir said as gently as he could, “we’re not the ones who’ve done this to you. Come” he said, holding out his hand, “we’re leaving this place. Give me your hand and come with us.”

“Hænir!” Bali called quietly. “Hurry up! I think that somebody is coming!” Hænir’s attention was suddenly diverted from the wan and terrified countenance of the Man, and like all the members of his party he heard coming toward them the sound of many people, rushing through the tunnels with the clang and clash of steel. They were trapped.

Gortek chuckled most unpleasantly. “Well,” he said, “at least we won’t be tempted to run away!”

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

"I think that somebody is coming!" shouted Bali

"Well," Gortek said, "at least we won’t be tempted to run away!"

"Even if we had a way, we still can't," Narvi responded. "They know this place well. And they're quicker than us," he added, remembering their native attacker.

The combination of terror, hunger, and fatigue has affected the Dwarven warrior in such a way a battalion of Orcs could not. And I'm still wet, to make matters worse. He hated the rain. He was less alert in the rain, and it made him feel resigned. Emotion he wouldn't need now.

"What now, Bali?" he asked. Well, he thought, at least my quiver's still full.

Not for long, though.

[Himaran]

"Erulon, give me a hand with this door! Quickly now!" The man hurried over, and the pair heaved the stone block back up into its place. Durin picked up a large rock and shoved it into the crack. The others helped, handing them blocks lying around the room. After Bali shoved the last into place, he stepped back.

"Back up! Weapons at ready! Battle positions. Steel yourselves! No matter comes through that door, you will stand your ground. We will live to fight another day." It was then that he got a good look at their new companion. He was young, but was built like a warrior, and appeared well-trained. The man was squinting, adapting his eyes to the light. Bali presumed that he had not seen daylight for weeks.

Slowly, the man stood. He glanced around at his rescuers, as if gathering himself before speaking. "I need a weapon."

Bali could not help chuckling. What was his name? Who cared! He was a fighter, and swords would do more than words in this situation. "Here you are, sir," said Eruantalon, who handed him a longsword. Erulon then pulled out his axe, a shining and beautiful instrument of death. He had not fought with it for some time.

Just then, a scratching sound was heard near the far side of the room. The dwarves began to turn, but Bali stayed them. "It may be a trick. Keep your eyes on the door; Durin, see where that noise is coming from." Durin investigated, and reported that nothing was there.

Then the door shook violently under a sudden impact.

[Arestevana]

Maulká hurried along the dark halls with Nephil and the others. They headed for the cave exit, hoping to intercept the intruders. If the outsiders made tgheir way to the deep reaches of the caves, it would be many days before they were found. Not even the elders knew all the secrets of the lower tunnels.

As they drew near the exit, Maulká heard a faint noise echoing from one of the nearby corridors. She slowed, and at that moment a guard came running from the hallway. "They have broken into the hushed room!" He gasped. "We can no longer wait."

The company quickly overcame their surprise and dashed down the hallway. The noise, now identifiable as voices grew louder. Reaching the door, they found it blocked, the door enforced by some means from the other side. After some confusion, several of the warriors found a supply trunk in a nearby room and began to use it as a battering ram against the obstruction. For several moments the barricade held, until it was splintered by a well-placed blow. The trunk was thrown aside and warriors charged into the room, weapons drawn.

[Novnarwen]

Dwalin stood, trembling, behind Bali. Preparing himself; firmly holding his axe, he waited for the door to crack open. From behind, he could hear the others breathe. Other than that, it was silent. He felt awkward, but didn’t know whether it was the feeling of being scared or the excitement which rose inside of him. His hands were wet and slippery and he felt insecure about the whole situation. The company had certainly managed to get themselves into trouble now. It was not very fortunate how it had all happened, so quickly, so unexpected.

What if this was the last thing he did? He looked seriously at the others. If it hadn't been for Kain's death, the loss of their food and the stupid door, they would never have been here! Angry by his own lack of judgment, he frowned. He should have known that something was wrong long before Kain's death. He had heard rumours of people lingering here, but he never really considered that the rumours were true. He reproached himself for not thinking through this enough. Going on this quest had been a huge mistake, and for this he blamed himself. Then suddenly, he remembered when Bali and Hænir had come out of the woods the night when Kain died. What had the two of them been talking about? Dwalin remembered clearly that they looked worried, but even so they hadn't said anything to the others of what they had been talking about. Why not? Why hadn’t they shared their thoughts if it was something that worried them? Surely, if their worries involved the quest, and therefore the group, they couldn’t keep this to themselves. And why did they have that conversation in the woods? Yes, for Dawlin believed they had talked in the woods. About what, he didn't know. Did his brother know anything he didn't?

Hearing the voices outside, speaking in a tongue Dwalin didn't recognise, he started to shiver. He knew that the door would break up any second now, and he might even die before he could give Bali and Hænir another thought. It frightened him, but he hid his fear.

* * * BOOM * * *

With a big “boom”, which made Dwalin's ears explode, the door was forced open. He was only able to get a quick glimpse of the attackers before Bali made at least one of them fall into shadow. Surprised by the battle's sudden start, Dwalin found himself hesitating about what to do. Looking as the others as they strode forwards to fight the attackers; Dwalin held his axe low and waited. Eyes filled with wonder, he came to Nerin's side who was eagerly trying to kill his opponent. The attacker's skill with weapons was outstanding. He carried a long sword and a knife. He made several attempts to thrust the deadly weapons into Nerin, but the Dwarf escaped by an inch every time. As Dwalin raised his axe, he was cut off by another man, who had appeared from what seemed like thin air. The confused dwarf had to turn around, leaving Nerin, and darted towards the grim-faced attacker.

[Himaran]

As the door gave way, Bali dropped his hand and threw his weapon. Four shafts and five hatchets peppered the attackers, one of whom was felled instantly. The others stumbled over his body, (cursing in their native tongue), before reaching close range with their targets. "Defend yourselves!" was all the dwarf could shout before the enemy reached his company.

Bali dodged an attacker's blade, ducked a spear thrust and rolled over to the side, severing the rod in half. The Rhûnian slipped a knife out of his belt, swinging remaining section of his spear as a club. The dwarf leaped back, ducked again, then slashed with his single-headed Ereborian axe in a deadly upward swipe. The fight should have ended there. But it didn't.

The man had flipped overtop of the dwarf, and swung his club in mid-air. The short pole connected with the back of Bali's skull, and he stumbled forward; an explosion of light filling his vision. On his stomach, the dwarf rolled over instinctively, hearing the crack of his oppenent's knife hitting the floor. The warrior kicked his legs around, a move which the Rhûnian did not expect; as he was toppled to the ground.

Bali was the first to his feet, twirling to the side as the thrown knife whistled past his head before bouncing off the ceiling. The dwarf turned swiftly and swung his weapon down, finding a rest in the Rhûnian's chest. Just then, another attacker fell into him, and they both landed heavily on the rough stone. Bali immediately had his knife in his hand, but his oppenent had a larger weapon. The dwarf countered several blows, moving backwards. Then he shouted, "Erulon!" The ranger had a shaft in his bow and released it with perfect precision as his friend ducked. The arrow zipped into the Rhûnian's neck, and he fell to the ground with a quiet gurgle.

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Narvi was quiet. With bowstring drawn to his ear, his mind raced back to the end of the Third Age, during their battle in Dale. He smiled, knowing his advantage. He had done very well then, and this situation exactly matched that one before the gates of Erebor. Except...

Except this time they were the intruders. If the laws apply here, their death would only be right.

Snap out of it, soldier! That kind of thinking would get you killed.

Just then, the door burst open, and he fired. His arrow hit someone on the arm, forcing that man to drop his weapon. The attackers were too quick. Using a bow at this close range would surely bring the risk of friendly fire. He dropped the bow and drew his axe. All thought dropped out of his mind, save survival. He stood his ground, waiting for someone to approach him.

He was too fast. The man he wounded suddenly appeared in front of him, clutching a spear in his left hand. Narvi eluded the thrust, but not the punch. The man's blood stained his corslet as his hand connected with the Dwarf's stomach. Narvi dropped his axe, and fell to his knees. The man cried in his native tongue. A harsh tongue, a strange tongue, but the thought conveyed was not so strange. He felt the thought himself once. Die, stranger!

He rolled to left, the spearhead barely missing his neck, but hitting his right thigh. With his axe out of reach, his only weapon now was the arrows. He grabbed one and stabbed the man in the heart.

He had no time to pity the fallen. He staggered to his knees, and limped towards his axe.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The savages came at them like beasts of the forest, limber and agile as snakes with the reflexes to match. A large man thrust a long dagger at Hænir’s belly, but the Dwarf was able to deflect the blow easily with one hand. He brought his axe to bear, but he was not fast enough with his heavy weapon and the man was able so skipper away into the shadows. Hænir heard the sound of steel cutting air behind him, and he whirled in time to see another savage coming at him with a look of feral hatred contorting his features. The long dagger swooped at his head like an attacking raptor, but Hænir was becoming used to these tactics and he easily blocked the attack with the shaft of his axe. He then thrust the axe head forward like a battering ram, shattering his attacker’s chin and sending him into the corner a howling bloody mess.

Once more he turned just in time as his original attacker came at him once more. This time Hænir swung first, being sure to keep his blade high for he had seen the agility with which these demons were able to leap. To his astonishment, the man fell onto the floor and then sprang to his feet the instant the danger had passed. Hænir was in an impossible position: he had swung his blade with all his might and there was no time to bring it back to bear upon his assailant before the man renewed his attack. The Dwarf attempted to move backward, but the press of bodies was so tight in the room that there was nowhere for him to go. Desperate, Hænir tried to duck the blow, but the Rhunian was far too swift for him – the blade practically sang in the man`s hand as it plunged toward Hænir’s unprotected neck.

He had given up all hope of living to see the end of this battle when he saw Bali fly in front of his face, knocking the Rhunian’s arm to one side and deflecting the blade he wielded just enough that it clanged harmlessly off Hænir’s armour. Without a moment to think, Hænir dove at the savage’s legs and brought him to the floor of the room with a crash. Like lightning, the man was on his feet again, but this time, Hænir was the faster, and the man soon fell again, this time, never to rise.

Hænir turned to Bali and nodded to him quickly. “Thank you,” he said. But then their enemy was upon them once more, and there was no more time for talk.

[Will Witfoot]

The door burst open, rubble and pieces of the stone from which it had been made falling clattering to the floor. Through the oppening a group of shadowy creatures charged in, moving with unnatural swiftness and agility. In a blur of motion they were upon the party.

From a belt crossing his torso Gortek produced a cruel-looking throwing knife. It's edges were barbed, making it very difficult to withdraw from where it had wounded. He hurled it at the closest of the beasts, grinning nastily when the man howled in agony and began to paw at the hilt producing from his thigh. He wouldn't be up to causing any trouble very soon.

He met the savage's comrade in arms blade to blade. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, and the man withdrew his sword and resumed his attack, raining a series of swift and powerful blows at Gortek which the dwarf was hard pressed to parry. The savage sidestepped and lashed out, his blade biting into Gortek's flesh and staining his shirt red. Gortek gritted his teeth and ducked under a swipe which would have split his skull had it connected, and thrust out with his sword, aiming for the belly. Curiously, his target was no longer where it should have been and his blow met only air as his opponent dodged aside gracefully and aimed a kick at Gortek's outstretched arm. It connected with the wrist and sent the dwarf's sword clattering to the floor.

Before the man could administer the killing blow Gortek shoulder charged him, sending his assailant sprawling to the floor. Before he could rise, Gortek reached down and withdrew a dagger from his boot. In a heartbeat it was through the man's eye and lodged in his brain. The Rhûnian went limp instantly.

Sweeping the floor with his gaze Gortek's eye happened upon his fallen sword. Scooping it up, he made ready to face the fray once more.

[Saraphim]

Nephil entered every battle the same way. Silently, with a cold and calculating air that only appeared when he was faced with possible death.

He watched from the doorway as several of his people, who aught to have known better, rushed into the room, and got only metal in thier body for thier pains.

Nephil sensed that it was time for him to enter. Crossing his arms, he pulled two poisoned daggers from the sheaths on his upper arms.

The room was chaotic, with intruders fighting for thier lives and sanity in a foriegn battle. The native Rhunians were not faring well; Nephil could see many bodies of his people lying still, while none of the enemy had fallen.

In a flash, an axe appeared from nowhere. But Nephil was ready, and leaped over the weapon, slashing with his knives at the arm holding it.

Something howled in pain, but Nephil barely heard it, as an arrow slid into his arm like a snake. he followed the arrow's trajectory until his eyes came to rest on one of the larger intruders. The one that was like a man, but not.

Thier gaze met for an instant, Nephil sensing wisdom and age unimaginable deep within the eyes of the stranger. For a moment, the battle was forgotten, the arrow in his arm put aside, as Nephil struggled to grasp what, and who, the archer was.

Then, in an instant, he was gone, leaping out of Nephil's vision faster than he had seen anyone move in his life. Only the wildcats of the forest could have compared.

But nephil shook off his reverie and noticed that many more of his peopl were dead, and those left were not faring well. The intruders were hearty folk.

Nephil took the initiative, as no one else would have, "Retreat! Back to the caves! Retreat!"

Nearly having to drag Maulka away by the hair, Nephil and the others ran from the room. They were loathe to leave, but with so many dead and wounded, they had little choice.

[Arestevana]

Maulká hissed angrily as Nephil called for a retreat. She had only just managed to penetrate the crush at the door and her weapons were still unblooded. She ignored the order, trying to locate a suitable enemy. At once she felt something grab her wrist. Her dirk-hand trapped, she spun around to stab at her captor with her shorter knife. It was not an enemy, as she had supposed, but one of her fellow warriors. "Retreat!" the man yelled at her.

Maulká shook her head and tried to wrench her arm free. "Retreat!" the man yelled again, catching her other arm and pinning it behind her back. One of the intruders was fighting with its back to them. Finding both her arms pinned, Maulká spat the dart in her mouth at the queer creature, cursing as it bounced harmlessly off the enemy's helm.

"Retreat! We must retreat!" said her captor again. Maulka twisted her head around and bit him. He released her in surprise, but she found herself swept out of the room by a tide of her own people. She understood the reasoning behind the retreat, but it did not keep her from cursing. They ran a short ways down the hall, the few warriors who had bows guarding the rear. When they stopped, Maulká asked with some apprehension, "How many did we lose?"

[Himaran]

The bodies lay twisted and contorted on the stone floor, gaping wounds showing from neck and torso. Hatchets and arrows littered the ground, along with the knives and spears dropped as the Rhûnians hastily retreated. They had been soundly defeated, with no loss of life on the dwarven side; although many had been cut and bruised. Bali look around the room again, surveying the carnage spread out before him. It seemed unreal; manufactured, like one of the violent and heroic plays he had watched at a theater in Rohan. The battle-hardened warrior was no stranger to combat and death; it was his life. But something about these foes had disturbed him. They fought well... almost too well; like animals trained from an early age to be savage killers.

Pushing such thoughts to the back of his mind, Bali snapped back into reality. "Well fought, lads! We showed them that the warriors of Free Lands are not so easily defeated. Now come; take these bodies and pile them further down the passage, or the stench will kill us all." The company followed his instruction in silence, some thoughtful, others pale. Most of the young dwarves had never killed a wolf before, let alone another person. War was a new concept to them, and one that seemed to be more depressing than inspiring.

Later, the company sat around a small fire, using the wooden spears of the natives as fuel. They ate half of their remaining warg meat, which was certainly not a nourishing amount, before sitting back against the wall to relax. Bali managed to find a bit of weed in his tunic, and took out his pipe. He looked it over, smiling at the golden inscription: To Bali. It had been wrought by his half-elven friend Burzdol outside the Green Dragon Inn... all those years ago.

Turning his head, Bali noticed Haenir walk over and sit down next to him. "Barak Kahzad, Bali. They stood not a chance."

The dwarf nodded. "Aye. That we did."

They sat in silence for a while, each thinking of past experiences, places and friends. Then Haenir spoke again. "Bali, I have heard that you are an experienced traveler, and saved Erebor at one time. I know that story by heart, but what of your other journeys? I feel that the rifts which occasional split this company are catalyzed by our lack of knowledge regarding one another."

Bali sat for a moment before replying. "Aye, 'tis true. When my company and I made the journey to Erebor, we became fast friends who would die for one another in an istant. There is less of that in this group. Ah, but I am not helping it by reminiscing about past days, and... better times. These dwarves have no reason to be joyful and friendly; they went on a treasurehunt and stumbled into the pits of Morgoth. But about myself!

I was born in Erebor, and lived there until I was twenty or so. My mother died after giving birth to Dwalin, and thus was only there for my earliest years. I grew up around warriors and weapons, and was taught how to fight as soon as I could lift an axe. My father wanted me to be a warrior, I think, and there was great need for it with Sauron's power growing.

I always wanted to travel, but my father thought it a foolish and wayward path, not one fit for the nephew of Erebor's King. "You will not grow up to be a lazy sluggard, traipsing about the meadows while our people fight the great Shadow," he told me once. My aspiration was not aided by my brother, who was already training to join the small dwarven army as an officer. But then the day came when I had my chance to prove that I was born to traispe around meadows - and fight the orcs hiding in them!

My father was going hunting, and decided to take me along. We rode out on ponies with some good dwarves and our bows, but upon arriving at the edge of a clearing were ambushed by orcs. Most of the lads were shot, and the rest turned and retreated back north towards the mountain. They didn't realize it, but I had fallen off the horse as it turned, and had been left behind.

Lying in the tall grass, I watched the orc archers hurry towards me to check the bodies. Then crawling -- slowly, very slowly -- over to side, I lay quietly and waited for them to leave. Instead, they made a camp there! You can imagine how frightened I should have been, but thankfully I did not fully understand my danger and was therefore not unduly scared. I was simply mad.

Then late that night, one of the orcs was patrolling around the edge of the trees when he spotted something. The object was me, of course, and he called his band over. Suddenly, I did a rather stupid thing. I stood up. The charged me, and (although terrified by this time) I managed to run into the forest. One orc closed in quickly, and as I looked back my foot hit a tree branch. He leaped at me, but I rolled to the side and he fell too; landing on his knife. I pulled the weapon from the dead orc and jumped up, facing the others. By now, I was less scared than mad, and I made for the first with a furious bound. He was not expecting it, and the knife ran him through. The others were closing in on me, but I dashed straight at them. One fell to my short weapon, than another. Then two hit at me simultaneously, and (although I blocked one slash) the second tore the flesh on my arm. I moved to the side swiftly, and the orcs (obviously surprised that I was even brave enough to attack them) were felled with two quick thrusts.

The following morning my father was furious, and sent out a large party to search for me and kill the orcs. They returned two days later, ashen-faced. Nothing was there except orc carcasses. What a surprise those dwarves must have had when they saw me eating breakfast in the great hall!

At any rate, after my father saw that I could not only fight but travel and survive on my own, he view of me change. I was soon being forced to make long trips outside of the mountain. I think he suddenly wanted me to be his personal warrior, perhaps a deadly assassin. But I wished to be neither. My dream was to be free, and roam the world in a carefree fashion. Which I did for many years, until the siege of Erebor.

But enough about me, I am sure you are bored by my lengthy story. What of you, Haenir? What paths have you tread outside of this land living death?"

[Saraphim]

It was a ragged band indeed that limped away from the battle. They had gone to a large communal cave, seeing to thier wounds and planning thier next move. Nephil had eased the arrow from his arm and tended the gaping hole, and then simply sat, examining the arrow itself.

A voice near the door alerted Nephil to the presence of his kinsman, who mad his social way over to Nephil, speaking to almost everyone in hushed, vehement tones. Corith sat next to Nephil on a rough bench, gently taking the arrow.

"Beautiful worksmanship," he said, surprised at the prowess that an outsider had shown at the forge.

Nephil knew that Corith was only making small conversation, but it was something that had been haunting Nephil since he had first set eyes on the strange creature.

"The oustider that it came from was...a rather interesting specimen as well," said Nephil, touching his arm where he had been wounded, "It moves like a wild cat, but it's eyes...are not that of a beast. Something... more than a man." he finished, staring off, remembering.

Corith looked thoughtful. "Perhaps..." he began, but stopped.

"No, go on,"said Nephil, interested in any information.

"I've heard some very odd tales, about creatures, Quendi, I think they are called, who were like men, but different, who could not die. It is said they were born before men, but that they do not seem to belong here, on this earth. If that makes any sense."

Nephil concentrated on something Corith had said. "They cannot be killed, you say?" a flutter of fear passed through him.

Corith shook his head, "I'm only telling you what I heard."

He stood to greet another, leaving Nephil to ponder Quendi and await new orders for battle.

[Novnarwen]

The dwarf was still shaking by the thought of the attackers. They had been so swift and so experienced. It was like they had done nothing else than carry weapons and train all their lives. Still, they had retreated. Dwalin wondered why, but didn't want to complain. He was lucky to be alive without too many wounds.

When he had met his first opponent, he had been struggling to keep his feet on the ground. Nevertheless, he had fallen with a crack, and found himself staring into the attacker’s eyes. They had been filled with hatred and disgust. Dwalin, who had been scared to death, thinking that his last minute had come, was surprised to see Nerin accidentally nudge Dwalin's attacker hard in the ribs. Being immensely relived, Dwalin had gotten to his feet and swiftly ended the attacker's life.

He chose to watch the conversation, as he had too much going on his mind. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hænir and Bali talking. It still annoyed him that the two of them were acting as if they were hiding something. Both of them were avoiding socializing with the others. Whether it was intentional or not, Dwalin did not know.

The Dwarf ate slowly. The meat from the warg was something of the most horrible thing he had ever tasted. But his hunger overcame it. Swallowing it, reluctantly, he went to sit next to Nerin. He hadn't yet thanked the dwarf for saving his life, even though it was by mere luck. Dwalin owed him something nevertheless. Trying not to make too many grimaces by the taste of the meat, he turned to face Nerin.

"What a fight, eh?" he said with another jerk. Nerin nodded. His black beard shimmered in the dim light from the fire. "I must thank you.." Dwalin started after a while. He watched Nerin's sparkling eyes, as if he was surprised. "I must thank you," he repeated before he continued:" You saved my life, you know... This company is very lucky to have you.." When finishing, he felt relived, but also satisfied. "If there's anything you need anytime, just come and ask. I will certainly repay your deed," Dwalin added hurriedly.

Nerin smiled humbly, looked seriously at Dwalin, before both of them broke into a laugh

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

“That’s quite a tale, indeed,” Hænir said through mouthfuls of meat. “Although I’ve never heard the full story, it is one I’ve heard before. All the King’s Companions are very well aware of your exploits – how could we not be aware of the doings of our King’s own nephew!” He smiled at Bali and spoke in answer to the question in his eye. “I have not spoken of it before, as you did not. I did not know if you would relish of having one of the Companions with you – I assumed that part of your reasons for journeying forth on this adventure were to escape your life in Erebor, for whatever reason. I knew that I could only be a reminder of that life.

“But you ask to know somewhat of me. Indeed, Nerin and I have spoken much on this journey, but even to him I have not revealed much. Having been alone for so long, and unused to the company of friends I have not the practice I need to unburden myself. But I shall do my best, if it will do you ease; for I see that you wish to know more of the folk with whom you are likely to be spending your last days!

“I was fostered by the King at a young age, when my parents were killed by orcs during our journey from the Iron Hills. I fought by the King’s side in the War of the Ring – many of the Companions fell about him that day, but we were unable to save him. Alas! That I was forced to live beyond that day, carrying the shame of having outlived it when my lord did not!”

Bali said the words that many had uttered to Hænir over the years, “It was not your fault; I’m sure you fought with great honour and did requite yourself well – you must not bear the burden of that guilt!” But Hænir only smiled wanly and shook his head, “Nay, lad,” he said sadly, “I know all that, and I’ve heard it from many a Dwarf as I look up to and respect, your uncle among them! But I cannot feel it in my heart. I should have fallen that day in defence of my King, but the numbers were too many. They parted us and I was knocked down and unconscious before I could join him in death. This is why I have travelled on this journey…” He looked at Bali with a stern frankness and thought for a long moment before speaking next. When he did so, he spoke evenly but Bali could tell that it was only with a great effort. “When I heard that the King’s own nephew was going on a near hopeless journey to near certain death, and that he was doing so without so much as a single one of his uncle’s troops or Companions to protect him…well, the memory of my failure in the War began to stir and I saw why I had been spared. I would not let the issue of my King’s blood go into isolation and death unaccompanied. I left the service of my King and joined your party – if not to protect you, to at least die by your side. I have done the first already, now I hope that if it comes to pass, I will be able to the other with honour!”

[Esgallhugwen]

Nerin chewed on the warg meat slowly, his whole body was aching. He recieved quite a beating from the natives.

His jaw was throbbing from a blow he had taken from a fist that was bound in leather; his forehead was grazed with a dagger leaving a red mark and he had been tripped numerous times by the animal cunning of the Rhûnians. Many times his life could have ended if it wasn't for his companions coming to his side in the nick of time.

Nerin too had tried to do his best to defend his fellows, sometimes without even intending to. He had whipped out one his throwing hatchets at his attacker but he dodged it, so it continued to hurtle through the air, making its home in the back of another Rhûnian's head who was about to ambush Hænir from behind.

Another chance came to show Nerin's uncanny ability when Dwalin was about to be chopped to bits. The young Dwarf was swinging madly trying to deflect anything that came at him when he struck Dwalin's assailent in the chest with his elbow.

And now Dwalin sat beside him thanking him for saving his life. Nerin smiled slightly as his cheeks turned slightly red, they both laughed.

"It was the least I could, I'm sure you or anyone else would have done the same, we're all in this together even if we don't know eachother that well, which seems such a pity to me. If ye don't mind me askin' since we're on the subject, would you care to tell me a bit about yourself? It long overdue that we start to build friendships".

[Novnarwen]

"Tell you about myself, eh?" Dwalin asked humorously. Nerin nodded, and to Dwalin's own surprise he found himself thinking about what to say. He realised that there was nothing much to tell. There was nothing remarkably funny, exciting or interesting about his past. He hadn't gotten that far in his life yet. He had in fact, never had the opportunity to do something special. However, as he thought about the recent events; the snake bite, the loss of their food, Kain dying and the fight, he figured he needed a friend.

"Well, I was born in Erebor as you probably know. I was raised there and spent my childhood there. Together with Bali, you know.." Dwalin nodded towards his brother who was still talking to Hænir. "Yeah, we were really close when we were children. Always dreaming of getting away, you know, on quests like this one." Dwalin gave a laugh before continuing dreamily. "But as you also probably know, Bali was much more of an adventurer in practice. He was always a few steps ahead." Nerin nodded, but smiled.

"So, this is your first adventure?" Nerin asked excitedly.

"Well, yeah," Dwalin approvingly. "That's basically why Bali is with me. Due to the fact that we are very good friends and probably would have brought him with me anyway, he is good to have as he has done similar things before. I do admire him in a way, for all he's done," Dwalin concluded silently. "It's ironic isn't it?" the dwarf said at once. "We've come all this way, and for nothing. We've almost got ourselves killed several times, and we're not even home yet. Yes, it's ironic how we as children, and adults, keep dreaming that we're far away from home. But once we truly are away from home and in grave danger, all we wish for is to be ... home.."

He fell silent, as if saddened by his own thoughts. He shrugged, thinking over and over again about the day when he had been in the Hall waiting for the other Dwarves to arrive. Everyone had been so enthusiastic then. No one hesitated. It was as if nothing else mattered. It was all about Rhûn and the treasures in that distant country. Now they were there, and the only treasures here, were their own lives.

"So, what about you?" Dwalin forced on a smile, waiting to hear Nerin's reply.

[Arestevana]

"How many?" Maulká repeated. The warrior standing nearest to her turned. "Too many," he said. "The intruders fought well. Regilen is dead, as are Soreth and Kinadhen. Two others were killed as well, I don't know their names. Metheled was minorly wounded. Something bit Astalon. . ."
"I bit Astalon," interrupted Maulká. "And I can end his suffering if it's too severe to be considered 'minor'. Go on."
The guard looked startled, but he continued. "Ustaghar took a blow to the face, shattered his chin. Corith is missing, Nephil was shot. . ."
"What?" said Maulká. she ignored the guard, who had begun to repeat his list of casualties and turned to look around the large chamber. Nephil was speaking to the 'missing' Corith a short distance away.

By the time Maulká reached the pair, Corith had already wandered off. "Does he know he's been labeled 'missing'?" she asked Nephil, gesturing to where his kinsman was speaking animatedly to an injured warrior. Nephil shrugged, seeming deep in thought. Maulká frowned at the arrow he held loosely in one hand. "I didn't think you were that slow."
"I'm not." said Nephil tersely. He told her what Corith had said about the Quendi.
"They can't be killed, you say?" Maulká repeated, her eyes gleaming. "Sounds like a challenge to me."

[Esgallhugwen]

Nerin listened to Dwalin's story about himself, scratching his black beard and nodding all the while trying to make fragments of a story about himself, for there was nothing much to tell for him either.

Nerin was glad to hold a conversation with Dwalin who was on his first adventure as well, he thought perhaps that way they could relate to things more.

"It's ironic isn't it?" Dwalin said at once. "We've come all this way, and for nothing. We've almost got ourselves killed several times, and we're not even home yet. Yes, it's ironic how we as children, and adults, keep dreaming that we're far away from home. But once we truly are away from home and in grave danger, all we wish for is to be ... home.."

There was silence for a moment as each Dwarf went into his own thoughts.

"So, what about you?" Dwalin asked with a smile

He nodded sympathetically at Dwalin's earlier statement, for it was all too true. Nerin looked up at Dwalin "yes, when young you seek to be like the characters of legend or fairy tales ready to stop if it became dangerous, but in real life, in real peril you can't just wake up knowing that your safe in your bed. You have to try and get by as best you can or die in the attempt".

Nerin smiled, "but as for me my story is no better than yours, this is my first adventure as well and it isn't exactly turning out how I would have liked it", he rubbed his sore jaw and continued "I wasn't born in Erebor, but moved from the Iron Hills with my Father and Grandfather when word reached that the King under the Mountain had returned and the Dragon was defeated, of course we moved there a few years after the news when things had become more settled"

He shrugged and tossed a few twigs into the fire "not terribly exciting but I hope its a start to our friendship".

[Will Witfoot]

Gortek sat with his back against the cavern wall and the meager fire they had been able to construct from their assaulters spears in front of him, holding a red rag to his left biceps. The piece of cloth was tainted scarlet from blood, and it was all his. The thrice-damned savage had been quite crafty with his blade. Still, he supposed he shouldn't complain. Had he been a mere heartbeat slower or his opponent a fraction quicker, he would be lying face down on the cave floor, watching his own life-blood pooling up beneath him. It was the Rhûnian with a sword-shaped hole through his body and not the other way around, and for that he was profoundly thankful.

He looked around, gazing at the other members of the party who sat close to the fire in little groups, the quiet hubbub of their conversation like the murmur of an underground stream in the cavern. It seemed that they had all gained some new measure of strength from the previous conflict, finding it easier to accept the possibility of their most likely faith. That they would all die here, leagues from home and surrounded by jungle which in itself seemed to thirst for their life.
Now it seemed that all of them had come to the conclusion that they would rather entrust their lives upon the arms of comrades, people they knew and trusted rather than faceless strangers of whom they knew not a thing about. The process was long overdue, but as always, inevitable.

Gortek spotted Bali sitting a bit further away from the rest with Haenir, engaged in a hushed discussion like most of them. He had not forgotten how the young leader of the expedition had saved his life all those weeks ago, when he had been a hairsbreadth away from death dangling from the high stone plateau, far above the ground. It was Bali who had pulled him to safety, and Gortek resolved to learn more about him before the end.

He cut a fresh strip of cloth from his worn and old cloak, wrapping it tight around his wound as a makeshift bandage. He then got up and sauntered to Bali and Haenir.

As Gortek got closer he noticed that Bali was smoking his pipe. The sight of it sent a stab of pain searing into his heart; he was all out of leaf.
There seemed to be a brief pause in the talking between the two dwarfs, and Gortek approached them. He tapped Bali on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting, but could you find it in yerself to lend me a bit of that leaf? I'll repay you as soon as we get out of here."

He was probably being unduly positive about the future. Who said they would be getting out at all?

[Himaran]

Bali stood in the small cavern and stepped into the middle of the room. He watched the other members of his company, all talking and reminiscing about past days. Good. Maybe they will bond... on the journey home. Taking a deep breath, he began.

"Dwarves and Travelers, you have all come far from your homes to travel to this nightmare land. Every one of us made the journey for the same reason; to find Rhûn's Sea, and find the supposed riches beneath its waters. Can you even remember the talk now, for that was all it was. Talk. The sea has no diamonds, the mountains have no mithril, and we have no.... fuly party. Kain is gone.

I realize that all you have right to despair, for we lost a brave fighter, with perhaps nothing in return. But whether you are tired, sad or angry, all journeys --on this earth-- must come to an end." He paused for a moment, as if willing himself to speak.

"We are going home."

[Novnarwen]

"Not terribly exciting but I hope its a start to our friendship".

Dwalin was quite satisfied about the official 'foundation' of his friendship with Nerin. A truly wonderful feeling arose inside of him and made his cheek turn reddish. His delight was only interrupted by the movements from the corner in the room, of where Hænir and Bali sat. They were talking louder than before, and Dwalin could hear some of the words, such as:"leaving" and "tunnels". This didn't at all sound great, as Dwalin had expected to stay here a bit longer. In fact, Dwalin didn't mind staying here much longer. Surely, the Rhuians wouldn't come back when they had been so roughly defeated, and just that would make this place the safest place the dwarves possibly could be. He frowned, standing up as Bali had raised from his seat.

He excused himself, as Nerin looked questioningly at him, and went over to Bali's side. With a serious look, he goggled at Hænir, and the two brothers were left alone.

"Are we leaving?" Dwalin asked stiffly. There was a low "yes", before Dwalin turned, leaving to pack the few belongings he had.

**

Bali had told the rest of the company that they would be going through the tunnels. Dwalin hoped that it wouldn't be too dark in there, but the sound of tunnels made him, nevertheless, want to stay here in the room. Even some of his companions looked rather nervous. But they would eventually have to leave anyway, so why not now through the tunnels? With a sigh, he walked hurriedly towards the exit, which was nothing but a big hole in the stone wall. Muttering to himself about how everything could go so terribly wrong, he ignored the fact that he was scared to leave a place he thought so safe.

There was nothing really special about these tunnels. It was dark, but he hadn't expected it to be otherwise. The company found themselves surrounded by stone walls, bending into every direction possible. The sound of their steps echoed and made Dwalin feel most uncomfortable. What if someone heard them? he thought, looking suspiciously around. But he couldn't see more than about five paces away. He realised that he was only being paranoid, like always. It was ridiculous, really, but he couldn't help it.

"Do you think these tunnels end somewhere?" Dwalin suddenly burst out to no one in particular. Bali hushed at him, but smiled. Dwalin hoped this meant that there was an end.

Even though he settled with this thought, he couldn't help thinking of if the tunnels didn't lead to an end, (if that was possible). What would happen then? They were already short on provision, both food and water. He pictured himself leaning his back to the grey stone wall, cold as ice. He saw himself, eyes red with horror, mouth dry and his face thin and pale. Yes, if they didn't find a way out, they would starve! Dwalin gave a huge gasp, which made the rest of the company either turn towards him, or run up to his side. "Something wrong?" they asked eyes all over him. Dwalin excused himself and showed them off, telling them he was just yawning. "I'm tired," he said moaning.