Kidnapped!

[Susan Delgado]

Nuhrive ran through the wood, the branches whipping at her face. He was close behind her, she could hear his breath, hard and ragged. She ran on panting, until she came to a clearing, a dead end! The barbarian was so close, any moment now… In a smooth movement she swung into a tree, hiding. The elf hating barbarian was now in the clearing, looking for her…

“Nuhrive Fleetwood, you know you’re not meant to be up there.”

The small slightly whiney voice made the elf maiden jump in surprise, almost making her lose her hold on the branches she was perched on, jerking her out of her dreamgame. Looking down irritably she saw a rather scrawny boy a few years younger than her standing below her awkwardly. She glared fiercely at him and came down in a way that would have been graceful if she hadn’t ripped her skirt. She winced but stood straight.

“You’re not meant to be out here either then.” She shot back irritably. He was always
following her! He looked hurt and uncomfortable, like a puppy that’s been told
off. She sighed and attempted a smile. Immediately he beamed back.

“We have to go to the Lady’s halls. There's a meeting about the bands of wild men, you know, the ones who’ve been wandering outside. They stole some more goats and they beat one of the young elves on duty and-“

“Yes, Sultir, I’m quite aware of which wild men.” It was all people talked about now
and she had to admit, more than a few of her daydreams had included escaping daringly from these men. But there were so many of these meetings…She sighed and the male elf looked anxiously at her again.

“Oh come on then.” Immediately she took off again towards the Great Halls. The scrawny boy stared after her for a moment and gave a small moan then followed.

[ December 29, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Morai]

Harlon Nowane leaped into three cartwheels as he entered the Galadriel's Royal Court. His hat jingled as Harlon's head turned scanning the room. A goofy expression appeared upon his face as he greeted the guests, wild men. The Lady's fool bowed.

"Greetings my Lord. My,my! Did you cut your hair, Lord Celeborn? New tailor maybe? Or could it be...." Harlon's silly antics were interupted by his audience's growl. He gulped

"Hm, this is a tough crowd. No matter, I need my meal." The elf thought. Turning around, he ran in the oposite direcion.

"Oh dear, I forgot my pies!" Harlon shouted crashing into a pillar. Dizzily stumbliling around, he thought aloud:
"My! Three Galadriels and three Lord Celeborns! I wonder what's going on?" He ducked out of sight and picked up his pies. Holding it up he asked:
"Who whishes to have the honor of throwing this at the Royal Fool?" Harlon asked sweat dripping from his face.

[Ithaeliel]

"Noro, noro Ithilion!"

The hooves of a white horse sounded across the Fields of Celebrant, mingled with the cries of the frenzied rider as he raced on, his brilliant green eyes straining desperately for a glimpse of the familiar Golden Wood, his thought bent on whether he would ever see it again. But a few hours ago the rider had caught word of a band of Easterlings who were dangerously close to Lothlorien, his home. But now, exhausted by his constant yelling and sore from riding rugged parts even his great steed could not make smooth, he was forced to stop. Sliding to the earth, he stroked the muzzle of his weary mount. "Well done, my friend, to have gone so far uncomplaining." So saying, the dark-haired elf left Ithilion to graze and, sighing in frustration, jumped nimbly to the top of a boulder that jutted out of the ground. Fiddling with his bowstring, he scanned the barren plain for a target. Yet his eyes spotted not one sign of life other than his horse. "The Wild Men must have gone hunting the harts," he muttered with indignance.

From behind came thudding hooves and voices crying out his name. Looking back, the elf saw it was his companions, a husband and wife who took a surname of Fleetheart.
"Feadhros," called the woman, "You must not ride off so suddenly ever again!"
"The Lady would not will you to panic with this news," chastised the other.

Feadhros hung his head. "No, she would not," he said. "Yet I feel it is in her best interest that we be there to protect her from harm. These Easterlings are said to be ruthless."

"Lady Galadriel will be safe until we arrive, of that I can assure you, young Feadhros. In the future, you must stay calm. Your nerves could be the death of you," said the woman.

Feadhros relinquished. "I am sorry for abandoning my post so recklessly. I shall not do it again."

His companions smiled. "It is forgiven. Since we have come this far, let us continue." And mounting their horses, the three scouts of Lorien went once more toward Lorien.

[ December 29, 2002: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

On behalf on Aylwen Dreamsong...
Jemel walked through the forest, her hawk Aniram close behind. The Lady Galadriel had asked her, yet again, to inspect the borders and talk with the scouts. There had been strange people and things around the Golden Wood lately. Jemel strode through the woods until she came to the post of one of the smaller scout groups. The woods had grown thin, trees spreading out more as the forests of Lothlorien ended. She stopped suddenly as someone ran to her from behind the trees to her left.
“Mistress Jemel! Come to report?” the taller elf bowed and eyed Aniram.
“He doesn’t bite. Not often,” Jemel smiled as Aniram flew to perch lightly on Jemel’s shoulder. “Yes, the Lady has sent me to get tidings. Things of late have brought need of haste and worry.”
“Yes, they have. Not much here, but we received a message from the northern border asking for backup. We sent some of our men, and we haven’t seen them for two days,” the scout leader watched as Jemel wrote down everything he said on her parchment. Jemel’s ocean blue eyes looked up at the elf, wondering whether or not he was telling everything.
“Are you sure that is all? Do you need anything from the capital? Horses, food, supplies?” Jemel could easily send such things once she made it back to Caras Galadon.
“Would you be so kind as to send a horse or two? We came up here, not expecting to be here so long, and some of our men need horses,” his eyes began to search the woods.
“Certainly. Good day, be careful.” Jemel rolled up the paper and held it out. Aniram flew from her shoulder to grasp the paper within his talons. Jemel whispered something to him and he flew off into the woods. Jemel smiled and bowed to the scout, and then turned around, ready to make her way back to the capitol.
Jemel walked slowly back through the woods, contemplating the goings on throughout the area. Just the day before she had been out to the eastern border, and news came that a band of wild men had been wandering in the distance. Many orcs had been in the area too, coming from ways of Moria. Of course, any of the disgusting things stupid enough to come close were killed, for no foul orcs had ever been into Lothlorien and lived. These tidings were disturbing, though. According to other messages from some of the other nations, things elsewhere had been going astray as well.
“What a world we live in.” Jemel spoke softly to herself. She was more than halfway to Caras Galadon, so she ran the rest of the way to the Golden Woods’ main city.

[Amanaduial the archer]

OCC: sorry about the spacing in my first post, the one susan posted; i copied and pasted from word with messes up the spacing.

Nuhrive and Sultir caught their breath just outside the door and then creapt into the hall as quietly as they could. Nuhrive silently used a word her parents wouldnt have known she knew; everyone was there already. Peering through a crack between the double doors, she looked into the hall. Yep, Isolde and Milar Fleetheart were both there.

"Come on. We'll go up to the gallery." She whispered, beckoning to her friend. Sultirs eyes widened.

"The gallery? Its not safe! No one goes up there!"

"Wrong. Lots of couples go up there, but for exactly the reason that there is no one else there! Come on, Sultir, please?" She grinned. "Or would you rather like to go in there in front of the Lord And the Lady herself?"

"Lets go."
~~~~~~~~~~~
The pair climbed up to the old gallery above the hall. Nuhrive settled into a small nook where she had left her dagger and a few books. Sultir looked accusingly at her but she grinned at him again, causing him to smile reluctantly as well.

The sound of the Fool playing drifted up to them from below. Pressing her eyes to a crack she looked down, getting a perfect view of the stage and she smiled as she saw it was Harlon. Harlon Nowane was one of the best Fools in the court by Nuhrives reckoning, but by the look of the crowd, it seemed they didnt think so well of him.

"Who whishes to have the honor of throwing this at the Royal Fool?"

Nuhrive closed her eyes. No one was going to say it this time. It was just the adults today; there were no little children to volunteer.

Harlon looked around desperately and chanced to look up, catching Nuhrive's eye before she could duck down. His eyes pleaded with her silently for a moment and she made up her mind. She jumped down the rickety stairs, leaving the gasping Sultir hissing after her.

"Nuhrive? What are you doing? Nuhrive!?"

She ignored him and burst into the hall to the shocked gazes if the courtiers and Harlons smile as he began improvising.

"Ah, and here comes my beautiful assistant! Nuhrive, No one will toss my pie!" Here Harlon made a mock sad face before handing her the said pie. Glancing up at the gallery, the elfmaiden caught a glimpse of Sultir's horrified expression and knew exactly what he meant.

My parents are really not going to like this...

[Susan Delgado]

Sultir watched in horrified fascination as Nuhrive joined in the Fool's act. She was obviously enjoying herself, but was too engrossed in her fun to observe the expressions on her parents' and some of the older Elves present. Sultir wasn't. He loved Nuhrive like the sister he'd never had, but right then, he was glad he was up here and not down there.

Presently, the act ended and Nuhrive realised her danger. It was too late to escape it now, though, and Sultir watched from hiding as her parents deposited her in her room and said some things he was too far away to hear. As soon as her parents had disappeared back down the corridor, he slunk through the hidden passages until he came to the one that opened into her closet. She was not particularly surprised to see him appear in her room. She turned to him with a sigh.

"What am I going to do now?"

"What did they say?"

"They told me I was not allowed out of my room until further notice. They're tired of finding me in places I'm not supposed to be, etc. You know how they are."

Sultir supressed a smile. He did, indeed, know how parents were, and he only had one to deal with! "You're not actually going to stay here, are you? How boring! Come on, they won't be back for hours."

"But-"

"They'll never know."

Convinced by this impeccable logic, Nuhrive nodded and they snuck through the palace (utilizing the secret passages when discovery by some adult seemed imminent) until they were outside again.

[Morai]

Harlon sat, leaning back on one of huge trees. He sighed, his stomach growling. Groaning, Harlon threw his hat. A strange jingle sound as it hit the ground."Not a single enertained soul, except Nurhive. Oi !" The Fool thought.

Standing up, he pondered his next act. Silently he moved about, mouthing words to an invisible audience. Other elves stood and watched usual antics of Harlon. He tripped over an invisble object. Harlon struggle to unstick himself from something non-existent. Biting his sleeve, Harlon ripped himself from the ground. Making sure he stamped his foot on the scrap of clothing.

Some children aplauded, begging their parents to give Harlon food or money. His stomach finally satisfied, Harlon left the scene.

[ December 29, 2002: Message edited by: Morai ]

[Ithaeliel]

After taking Ithilion back to the stables, a weary yet relieved Feadhros retired to what he claimed his resting spot, which also served well as a perch. It was one of the higher branches of the ancient mallorn tree upon which the palace lay in all its splendour. From there he espied many a curious activity, and in the past he had seen suspicious things happen, in which case he reported it to Galadriel immediately. His infamous wily ways were surpassed only by his love and loyalty for the Lady.

On this day, however, Feadhros was too careworn and exhausted to be attentive of his surroundings. Heaving himself up onto the branch, he lay down cautiously and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. He heard the laughter of children playing together, the more soothing voices of the grown elves, and he felt magic in the air about him. Seldom was he home of late, and all that was beautiful of the Golden Wood was greatly accented now. The young scout basked in the glory of these things, and he was nearly lulled to sleep by it all. Then he heard two whispering voices nearby.

Sitting up quickly, Feadhros glanced about him, trying to discover who was speaking. Looking down toward the back of the palace, he saw two young elves sneaking out. One of them he recognized as Nuhrivë, the daughter of his partners Milar and Isolde Fleetheart. The other was a border guard he had seen a few times but had never spoken to. Leaping lithely from his perch, Feadhros landed quietly on the next limb, making his way downward until he was just above the two. Then, nimbly as a cat, he sprang in front of Nuhrivë and her companion. The girl gave a yell and jumped back. "You...!" she gasped.

Feadhros grinned a little. "What are you doing out here?"

[ December 30, 2002: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive leapt back with a little yell as the figure jumped out in front of her.

"You!" She gasped, trying not to sound too dismayed. Of all the people she could have met, did it have to be her parents partner?! She knew she was being rather unfair to Feadhros himself; she knew him to be friendly and a good friend, as well as funny, something proven from the mischevious way he was now grinning at her. There were very few adults in Lorien who actually grinned.

"What are you doing out here?"

...and that was another thing about Feadhros. He could spot mischief a mile off. But Nuhrive was good at covering up on the spot; she spent half her life doing it when she had to explain what she did all day.

"We were just going to run a few errands for-"

"Oh dont tell Milar and Isolde please, Nuhrives meant to be in her room!" Sultir rushed out in one breath.

...however, Sultir was not so good at covering up. But suddenly very good at avoiding his friends eyes. She kicked him sharply on the ankle and he winced.

"But....but thats only because she, erm, had to do some...some....things in her room that were, um, very...important..." He improvised but Feadhros laughed and Nuhrive couldnt help smiling. "Sultir, you're hopeless at lying!"

"I will take that as a good thing!" her friend shot back, but he was also grinning. Then Nuhrive turned to Feadhros, who was still waiting for an answer, and she was not going to beg him not to tell her parents. She stood up straight and looked him in the eye. "We have a few things to do in the Wood."

"Oh really? What sort of things then?" He was still grinning and Nuhrive was getting angry.

"None of your business!" She said, feeling her cheeks getting hot. Why was he so hard to lie to? She knew the elf better than her own parents. She started to storm off but Feadhros caught her arm, speaking gently. "Hey. I just asked. Hang on..." Nuhrive winced; she knew he had heard something about Harlon, and he would be able to have guessed about her parents reaction. She pulled her arm from his grasp angrily. He was just another of her parents friends, she should have known it, just another one who would tell her parents of her whereabouts and stop her from doing anything.

"No." She said angrily, her temper flaring up. "No, Im not going back. They'll make me do embroidery again, and just sit in my room. I dont want to do embroidery; I want to be one of the scouts! Not even my mother will let me- she says I am to well bred, even though she does it!" She was backing off all the time. "I hate just being 'well bred'!" Turning she ran away into the forest, taking a cut through to the palace, leaving Feadhros and Sultir gasping on the path.

Taking the rickety stairs up to the gallery two at a time, she grabbed some of the lembas and dried fruit she kept there for snacks. Then taking up her elegant dagger in its sheath she put it on and ran down the stairs again.

Sprinting through the forest, Nuhrive reached the borders of the Golden Wood. Staring out from a hiding place out of sight of the guards, she saw past the trees, gasping. There were entire expanses out there which might have no trees at all; she trembled at the thought then became more resolute. There would also be no embroidery. When the guards changed in an hour or so, at twilight, she would be gone.

[doug*platypus]

It was early afternoon when the band of men neared the edge of the wood. They were strung out single-file, and only the first few initially saw what their leader did. They stopped in their tracks as their fellows joined them.

Their leader shaded his eyes against the bright light; his party had been in the closeness of the forest for the last two days of their journey, hunting. Across the other side of the flat, open meadows before them, he saw what could only be the Elvenwood. There seemed to be an unnatural light coming from the very trees themselves! And it was brighter the deeper he looked into the heart of the forest. This was yet another one time he doubted the wisdom of this venture.

"The Elvenwood," he said to his two closest companions, other brave leaders of the Easterlings, "surely it must be as perilous as we have heard. I wonder now if this raid be worth our necks. What things of value we shall find time may tell.
"Rogar!" he spoke to the large man nearest to him. "Drop the beast, we rest here until nightfall. I will not risk the open fields by day."

"Aye, Skara," the man grunted, slinging the huge buck off his shoulders and onto the ground. One of his companions made towards the carcass to divide it, stopping first at it's antlers to claim his trophy. The weaponsmith had made a brave strike to bring the beast down, and the magnificent 20-pointer was his to do with as he would.

Skara quickly counted his men, making sure all thirteen were there and none straggling, before posting some of the younger ones as guards. The Woodsman did not fear the Elvenwood as much as he had when a boy. And tales had now come to his village of daring raids into the Elves' territory, to steal animals or to hunt. One party from close to the Great Forest had even claimed to have seen one of the mysterious sentinels, and given him some bruises to carry home with him before he could escape. Nevertheless, these Elves were not to be trifled with. Although some of his companions carried much anger and hate towards the Fair Folk, Skara himself would rather return empty-handed than not at all. But, yes, time would tell how they would fare. He rested and awaited the night.

[ January 01, 2003: Message edited by: doug*platypus ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

As Jemel came to Caras Galadon, she first made her way to the small aviary, to see how Aniram's flight went. As she walked she bumped into Harlon, the King's Fool.

"How did the show go?" Jemel asked Harlon as she dug into her pockets for a coin or two.

"It went alright. Though I needed some help from Nuhrive," Harlon answered as Jemel handed him some lembas from her pack, since she couldn't find change.

"Nuhrive...Fleetheart? Isolde and Milar's child?" Jemel wondered aloud, searching her memory.

"That's the one. Thank you for the lembas. Must be off!" Jemel shook her head as Harlon ran off to Varda knows where.

Jemel strode into the aviary, and in greeting she recieved chirps, caws, and cries from every bird one could imagine. She became a perch for more than one kind of bird. Through the clouds of animals flew a hawk, magestic and smooth in flight. Aniram perched on Jemel's outstretched arm, and placed a parchment into her hands.

"Thank you, Aniram. Next time you can go straight to Galadriel though, and I'll be here to fill your food and water dishes," Jemel stroked Aniram's head with her forefinger. "Give this to the Lady, I know you are sure of the way. I'm going to send horses to the western border."

Jemel shook the other birds off her shoulders, and gave the parchment back to Aniram. Then she went to the stables, and talked to the stableboy about extra horses. He agreed to go to the border with two horses. Jemel thanked him and left, taking her time as she went to go and see Galadriel and Celeborn about the recent happenings. Lately there had been many meetings with Lothlorien's older residents, but Jemel often had private meetings with the Lord and Lady about her thoughts and findings.

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros was aghast. What train of thought had brought Nuhrive's temper to rise so, he knew naught, yet he felt badly. Perhaps he had pressured her too much for a straight answer. She knew he was close to her mother and father; it would be easy to suspect him of ratting on her. She also appeared to consider him an adult though he was not; he sympathized with mischevious souls being still young and rebellious himself. He almost pursued the poor girl, but his conscience held him back. What would she think?

Feadhros would still not let the matter go. Turning to the boy, he spoke in a hushed tone. "Sultir, as Nuhrive called you by, we must find her. She is not safe."
Sultir nodded. "You're right. She may run across the path of Milar and Isolde, in which case she will be in more trouble than she already is."
Feadhros looked anxiously around at the trees. "But that is the least of my worries for her. There are tribes of vicious Easterlings that are far too near these forests, and I have not the heart to think what may happen if Nuhrive runs across their path."

Sultir went white. "I know where she might have gone. Follow me!"

Weaving their way through the castle, Sultir and Feadhros' hearts pounded with worry. Though brave and clever, Nuhrive was quite vulnerable to be caught alone in the Golden Wood's present situation. Their friend was in grave danger.

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive made herself comfortable in a tree. Shifting carefully, she managed to not attract the attention of the guards and smiled to herself. They would be changing in a few moments and they hadnt noticed her in the hour she had been here.

The sound of a horn echoed through the wood and the sentries looked up, relieved. Coming down from his place, the sentry near Nuhrive walked away. Then he stopped and yawned, stretching his arms up. The elfmaid less than a foot above him froze, shifting her foot slightly so that his hand would avoid it. Then he left.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nuhrive placed her foot on the branch to come down...

"Nuhrive! Nuhrive?!"

...and once again froze. Two voices she recognised very well; Sultir and Feadhros. Now was the point in the stories when the hero would make a tearjerking farewell to fine friends, and they would resolve to come with him, but then would make do with giving useful and often magical items-

"Nuhrive! Where are you?"

-which was so not going to happen. She could see them coming now and gasped. Well, she hadnt waited here for that long, completely still without a reason.

This is a mistake Nuhrive Fleetwood.

Leaping down in a fluid movement, Nuhrive landed running, ignoring a twinge in her leg as she ignored the small voice of reason. Turning briefly, she waved cheerfully at her two friends, then turned back and ran into the open.

Feadhros would not have ratted on you Nuhrive. You know that. You just wanted an excuse

Running into the open, Nuhrive gasped, standing still suddenly. The trees...she could see beyond them, see them fading out.

Why are you leaving your best friend? Act your age Fleetheart. You shouldnt be doing this; its pure folly.

Leaping over a ledge, hearing her friends calls in her ears, she rolled as she hit the ground and stood, taking a moment to be pleased with herself.

Mistake.

"Hello my pretty." A voice murmered darkly behind her and a hand clamped her shoulder. Glancing at it, horrifed, she saw it was huge and rough, scarred and sword callused; definitly not an elven hand. Spinning away she looked at the huge men standing in front of her. One made a lunge for her. Nuhrive yelped and jumped backwards. Turning she started to sprint. Now her leg was really starting to hurt! Grunts and harsh sounding, brutish voices sounded behind her and she heard them start running as well.

Told you.

Ignoring the gloating voice of reason she sprinted through the wood, dodging the tress nimbly.

But not nimbly enough.

She felt the root beneath her feet and started to fly through the air, her mind pounding...

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Before she could make it to see the Lord and Lady, Jemel was distracted by the sudden rush about Caras Galadon. Someone appeard from around the trees and tried to catch his breath as he went up to Jemel. Jemel helped him steady himself, and looked questioningly at him.

"The north border! We were," The elf panted and spoke between deep intakes of air. "We were changing shifts. There weren't many of us. At least ten or fifteen of them!"

"Take a breath! Calm down. What happened?" Jemel's usual smile was cast down into a frown of worry.

"Wild men. They attacked. There could not have been more than five of our men. We could barely see them. Then we heard a scream. Most of them have left the woods, but we fear they may have-" Jemel hushed him and sent him to find water for himself.

Jemel turned and whistled louder than she ever had. Then in a loud voice she called, "Aniram! Nya mára mellon! Ettul, Lothlorien ná arwa mornie! (Aniram! My good friend! Come out, Lothlorien is caught in darkness!)" In response came a loud bird-cry, and Jemel knew Aniram would be close behind.

Jemel ran as fast as her strong legs could carry her, pulling out her daggers as she moved silently about the woods. She wasn't sure if she would need them, and hoped she wouldn't. As she reached the post of guards and sentries, people rushed around, and two bowmen shot an arrow once or twice.

"Miss Jemel! Jemel!" Someone called her name and ran to her, motioning for her to pull out a parchment and quill. She did so, listening intently.

"One of our own is wounded, but none are dead. We lost one horse, it ran off in fear. Also...we fear we may have lost..." He stuttered, maybe afraid to have to admit something.

"Yes?" Jemel prodded as Aniram flew to her shoulder.

"We fear we may have lost one of the citizens. Not a guard. A female. One of our men heard her scream once, and then we never heard her again. We think she may have either been killed or taken off. If someone finds their loved one is missing, well..." the guard stammered again.

"Varda hold up the stars! They may fall at this news!" Jemel sighed, and reluctantly wrote down the news. "How can this be? Orcs have never lived through Lothlorien, yet one of our own girls is taken by MEN! Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm not mad at you, I am reluctant to give such news to the Lord and Lady."

Jemel put a hand on the elf's shoulder for a moment, and forced a grim smile. She rolled up the parchment and held it out for Aniram. Aniram cried a chirp of either sorrow or dissapointment. Then he flew into the distance.

"I wonder who it was..." Jemel asked herself as two male elves burst through the trees. One she knew a little, Feadhros, whom she had met when sending news to Galadriel. The younger one she knew not, though he still held a look of little hope upon his face.

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros and Sultir were near the borders of Lothlorien when they met with Jemel. "What has happened here?" Feadhros asked.

"The border guards told me that Nuhrivë has gone missing, and they heard screams. I don't know if there's a chance we could catch them up."

"We have to try," Sultir said hopefully. "My name is Sultir. Come, let's find the creeps who took her!"

"I'm afraid that my fears have come true," Feadhros said as they ran, his voice full of worry. "Curse me that my bow is back in Caras Galadhon!"

"What fear do you speak of?" Jemel asked. "Do you know who might have done this?"

Feadhros' brow creased in anger and he gritted his teeth. "Easterlings," he spat.

As they reached the very borders of Lorien, Feadhros stopped short, Jemel right beside him. His eyes were wide as he crouched near to the ground. Sultir doubled back. "What is it, Feadhros?"

The young elf looked up at Sultir and Jemel and back down at the ground. There were huge footprints in the mud, and there were lots of smudged tracks. "There was a struggle here," he whispered. "There are also several smaller prints, like those of a young maiden..."

"Nuhrivë," Sultir murmured in horror. Jemel took a quick note of the findings.

Feadhros continued to follow the tracks out of the forest. "They carried her; there are no more small prints. She must have been unconscious because there aren't any inconsistancies in the tracks now; she didn't struggle."

"Enough tracking, Feadhros, we have to follow them! We can still catch up if we hurry!" Sultir cried.

"And then what would we do? We are unarmed; they would kill us or take us hostage instantly. Besides, these tracks aren't fresh. We couldn't catch them."

Sultir lowered his eyes in dismay. "Well, what are we going to do?" Jemel asked.

"We should go back to Caras Galadhon. I'm sure the Lady has been alerted by now; she will organize a search party and hopefully we will be able to join. I hope so," he said, looking wistfully to the direction that Nuhrivë had been carried. "I feel some of this is my doing."

[ January 01, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Morai]

The Lady of the Wood seemed troubled. Harlon couldn't figure what was the matter, though it must be serious. He tried his usual antics. Galadriel's expression remained grim. Hysterically Harlon begged at her feet for a smile. Still no grin appeared upon the Lady's face.

"I must be losing my touch. Dark days these have become." Harlon thought.

Suddenly a messenger burst throught the halls. Harlon glanced up to see Feadhros catch his breath. Following behind him were Sultir and Jemel, dragging their feet. Feadhros slowly brought his eyes to meet Galadriel's own.

"My lady, I have grave news." He solemly spoke.

[ March 08, 2003: Message edited by: Morai ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Yes. I have been informed." The Lady of the Golden Wood looked upon them now, Feadhros, Sultir, Harlon, and Jemel. Her blue eyes were dark, and as solemn as Feadhros's voice. Through the air flew Aniram, coming to a stop to rest gently on Galdariel's shoulder. In her hand already was the parchment from Jemel.

"It was Nuhrive," Sultir said sadly, even though Galadriel knew already.

"Nuhrive. Such life there was in her eyes." Galadriel stopped short, thinking.

"What do you mean, 'there was'? We can't just take her for dead, can we?" Feadhros tried hard to control both his temper and sorrow.

"Yes, Lady! She was captured, not killed! We must start a search party! If we hurry, we have more chance to find her safe!" Jemel reasoned as Aniram cawed in agreement.

"Very well. You are right. We cannot forsake one of our young ones. Not when she may be alive. Who do you propose we gather for this search party?" Galadriel stood from her seat, and held Aniram in her hands, petting him a little.

"We will find people suited for such a journey. We will not let Nuhrive go," Sultir answered, proudly and assuredly.

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

[Susan Delgado]

"We will find people suited for such a journey. We will not let Nuhrive go," Sultir answered, "In fact, I'll volunteer! No rescue party is going anywhere without me!"

There was silence for a moment. Then The Lady leaned forward slightly and asked softly, "What is your name?"

"Sultir, My Lady," he answered as softly, brazenly meeting her gaze.

She stood straight again. "Sultir. A valiant name for a valiant child. Why do you wish to join the rescue mission?"

Sultir glanced around nervously. Faedhros and Jemel were looking at him as The Lady was, as adults to a child. He was on the spot and knew it; what answer could he give to convince The Lady to allow him to go? Finally, he took a deep breath, stood as tall as he could, and said with as much dignity as he could muster, "She's my best friend, My Lady. We've never been anywhere apart and I would like to help find her. I can be useful. I can be a messenger or a scout. I'm small and can move silently and without being seen. I believe I can be an asset on this rescue mission." Braving her gaze, he knew he had not convinced her. He was not going. He sighed and glanced at the others. It seemed they agreed with her, and in a way, so did he. He knew that all the benefits of having himself along could be better done by someone bigger and more experienced.

The Lady saw the thoughts on his face and did not humiliate him by telling him 'no'. Instead, she put a gentle hand on his shoulder and said, "I think you should be the one to tell her parents. You must have known them all your life."

He looked into her eyes again and saw that she did understand about he and Nuhrive. Slightly comforted by this fact, he nodded and turned away, to find Isolde and Milar and warn them before the found their quarters empty and their daughter gone. As he left, the three adults had gathered closer and a heated discussion had begun. What none of them knew was that he had no intention of staying calmly with Nuhrive's parents while strangers found his friend. He was certainly willing to be the one to tell Isolde and Milar, but not beyond that. He was going on the rescue mission, even if he had to sneak behind them.

[ January 01, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Jemel watched as Sultir sadly left the room. Feadhros, Galadriel and Jemel began to speak of who should go on the search.

"I'll go. If Sultir cannot go, I will go for the both of us. I feel it may be my fault, to some extent," Feadhros hardly had to argue, Jemel knew without a doubt that the Lady would allow him to go.

"I shall go as well. Aniram can trade messages back and forth, so you will not have to worry. You will have an idea what is going on and how long we will take," Jemel knew that Galadriel did not like to be in the dark about things.

"I could go," Harlon piped in, from behind the three other Elves.

"What?" came a nearly simultanious question from Feadhros, Galadriel, and Jemel.

"I could go! Nothing better to take your mind off things...right? Besides, I could make an awefully good distraction, should the need arise," Harlon continued, getting quieter with each word.

"Maybe this discussion should wait until tomorrow..." Galadriel suggested.

"If we wait, the Easterlings will get farther and farther away. Nuhrive's light grows dimmer by the minute," Jemel said quietly.

"Then who do you propose should go? Seriously, it is no field trip! This is real! Nuhrive is in danger!" Feadhros had lost his temper, but just slightly.

"We know, Feadhros. You are not the only one who has lost Nuhrive," Harlon commented carefully.

[doug*platypus]

Skara paused, listening. The night closed itself around the Woodsman and his two companions as he signalled for them to halt. Only a little while ago they had left the main body of their force several hundred yards back, hidden in the undergrowth. Skara and the other two leaders were scouting around the edge of the wood. Away south the forest stretched off into the distance, its secrets hidden for now in the middle of the night.

Skara was more cautious now that the the group was not together. He thought he had heard, almost felt, movement about them somewhere just now. Suddenly, a blur of movement from above the three men. A small, dreamlike form flew off a ledge to their left, landed nimbly, rolled and stood up... right in front of the weaponsmith, Ru-Sahn. Fortune was with them. She, for plainly this was a maid-child, stood for a second seeming pleased with herself.

"Hello my pretty," the weaponsmith murmured darkly as he clamped his hand down on her shoulder. The child stood horrified, staring at his hand as though the very touch of it pained her. Then spinning away, she looked at the three men standing in front of her. Ru-Sahn made a lunge for her, and she screamed out as she jumped backwards. Turning, the child started to sprint away out of the forest, her hair flowing behind her in the speed of her escape.

"After her!" Skara called under his breath. The others grunted their acknowledgment and tore off through the woods, Skara following. Then noises erupted behind them, back where the rest of the band was, shouts and the clash of weapons. The rest of the group must have been fighting with the sentinels of the Elvenwood.

"Gar!" Skara cursed the luck that separated the Easterlings now, a battle on one hand and a prize captive on the other. Trusting the other two to pursue the child, Skara raced back towards his men, drawing his short sword as he flew over the rocks and the tree-roots.

By the time that Skara arrived, the fight was over. The Elves were nowhere to be seen, but Skara saw a group of his men pursuing deeper into the forest at a pace. Shouting hoarsely after them, he called them back. Cursing and muttering, they re-joined the rest of the group.

"What happened?" Skara asked one of his fellows.

"We were lying hidden, when Elves came near. We would've been seen, we had to attack first. We managed to wound one but then they all banded together and fought their way out. They fled deeper into the woods, the cowards!"

"They'll be back with more of their kind, then," Skara noted. "We must leave the woods. Rogar and Ru-Sahn have our prize already. Come! Be quick! If you can't run now, you stay behind!"

All thoughts of wounds or weariness fell from them. The Easterlings had tasted battle, and now were hungry for more. Several bore marks from the fray, and one was bleeding heavily from his shoulder. Taking no time to dress it properly, they wrapped it around with beast-fur to halt the bleeding, and sped off after Skara down the trail.

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros sighed. "I am sorry," he said. "I feel I must go on the mission, for Nuhrive's parents are my friends, as is she. If Nuhrive dies, things will never be the same."

"No, they will not. That is why we must gather a party now, before the Easterlings are too far away for pursuit," said Jemel.

Harlon piped up with a suggestion. "I have much experience with gaining audiences. Perhaps, if I can do no more, I could send out a call."

Galadriel thought on it a moment, then smiled. "That is a good idea. Would you do that, Harlon?"

"Yes, m'lady. I'll get right on it."

When Harlon was out of the room, Feadhros turned again to the lady. "I agree that he may be of good assistance to us," he said respectfully. "He of course would not be taken for a warrior."

Galadriel hesitated. "Perhaps," she sighed at length. "Even so, we require more warriors than this."

"What about Sultir?" Jemel asked.

"I don't know, Jemel. I just don't know."

Feadhros looked over his shoulder toward the route that Sultir had taken to find Isolde and Milar, his heart sinking like a lead weight. He hoped Sultir would not tell about Feadhros' mistake.

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

Ru-Sahn ran close behind Skara, the unconscious girl slung across his back. He grimaced from the bruises she had given him in their struggle. She was surprisingly strong. Oh, how he hated elves, especially those from the Woods of Light. He would have cut the girl's throat had he not first considered what a trophy she'd make for this expedition. She would be a slave to his tribe, a pretty prize for all to look at.

Suddenly the girl moaned and her foot jerked, kicking him straight in the chest where his largest injury was. Ru-Sahn growled with annoyance, his patience growing thin. Someone else ought to carry this wild maiden around for a while. Let another take my hurts! But if he were to keep his dignity, Ru-Sahn would be forced to carry her uncomplaining. Striding ahead to walk beside Skara, he looked at his leader, who in turn grinned maliciously at the maiden who lay across his shoulder. "Such a pretty thing... she'll be worth something to anyone. And if it so happens that we come across her kind, they'll have to pay us for her. I can imagine the luxury we'll have with the worth of those elven goods..." Skara laughed.

Ru-Sahn said nothing, but nodded.

[ January 05, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive sprinted as fast as she could, forcing herself on despite her ankle, which was now sending shooting pains through her leg. She could hear one of the men, the one that had touched her shoulder, hear him gaining on her. But how close? Risking a glance over her shoulder, Nuhrive's eyes widened and she whimpered slightly; he was only a few metres behind her, and gaining.

Turning back she only just avoided a tree in her way, but stumbled off balance and wasnt able to stop herself. One of the men took advantage of this as he put on a final spurt of speed, grabbing the scruff of her neck and using her off-balanced momentum to propel her forward and then down. She hit the ground hard but turned on her back, scrabbling away from him. She tried to speak, calling to the power of the trees for help but the man slapped her across the face as he heard the elvish words, a look of disgust on his face, sending the elf maid reeling. As he was bent over her, she lashed out with her foot, catching him in the chest and then in the face. He gasped slightly, but his thickset form meant her kick didnt do much except make him angrier. Slapping her face again, he then grabbed her and slammed her against a tree, knocking the breath out of her.

Ru-sahn slung the near unconsious Nuhrive over his shoulder. She caught a glimpse of a girls wide eyed face and an elf lying probably dead on the floor before a hood was rammed over her head and she fell into half unconciousness to the sound of angry, harsh human voices.

[Morai]

The elf leaped from the treehouse. Landing face first into one of his own pies, Harlon gained his auplause. Slowly moving about, he portrayed the scene of Nurhives departure. Dashing away from an unseen enemy or friend, Harlon shouted unheared words. Stoping, the elf played three parts, Nuhrive, Feadhros and Sultir.

Sliently, Harlon brought himself into a heated argument. Jumping from here to there, he threw his hat to the ground. Before he could stop himself from leaving, Harlon ran. Dashing circles around the enertained, he pretended to hurt his ankle.

Arruptly the elf stopped. Grabbing his arm behind him, he pulled himself away kicking mad. One thing left was his hat.

The crowd stood in wonder. It seemed the pantomime scene had served it's purpose. A small child knelt down to pick up the abandoned object. Jingling the bells, the young one giggled. Being held up, it was snatched away by it's owner.

"If you would like to help in the search of Nuhrive, meet in the Lady's hall at sunset. We are in need of many warriors." The fool spoke doing cartwheels away from the audience.

Once again the child looked into it's hands, instead of a jingle hat, she saw an elanor flower....

[Ivy of the Woods]

"Come on girl, we're going." Blair's harsh voice rang in her ears and she hesistantly looked up at him from her sewing.

Nura's large eyes bore heavy weight after staying awake the past few nights repairing breeches and shoes for her brother and his friends. "Why brother?" she asked

"You question me?" he snarled at her and raised his hand.

Quivering slightly she replied hastily "No Blair, of course not."

He snorted, pulled her to her feet and went to catch up his friends. Following obediently, Nura tried to ignore her aching legs. She had never been very strong and after long hours of sewing and fetching dry wood Nura was ready to colasp and would have, if the fear of her brother's hard blows hadn't kept her going.

As she walked, Nura packed her needle and thread into a tiny bag, her only possesion besides her sewing equipement and the clothes she wore. Anything else had been sold a long time ago.

[ May 04, 2003: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Are you sure you told them when? Did you tell them where?" Jemel questioned Harlon. They waited with Feadhros and Galadriel for anyone to show up about the search party.

"Honestly! I had quite a crowd! Anyone not there would certainly have heard from their friends," Harlon was sure that someone would show. The sun sprayed bright and endless colors around outside as it set.

"What if no one comes?" Feadhros asked, as if coming out of a trance.

"Stop thinking the worst. Someone will show. I know it," Harlon assured them.

He was right. A few minutes after the stars began appearing in the sky, people began to enter the Lady's hall. To Jemel's dissapointment, no more than ten people walked in.

"Well, I told you so," Harlon shot a mock smile Jemel's way.

"Okay, fine. You were right. Happy?" Jemel looked at the volunteers. Did any of them even know Nuhrive? Were they looking for adventure? Did they fear blame? Did they merely wish to join the cause? An awkward silence filled the room. Jemel looked around, waiting for someone to break the silence.

[ January 04, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

Arriving breathless, and fire in my eyes, I, Lilebrian Longbow, hold forth a hand in friendship.

"Long have I traveled to reach you. Only days ago I heard of the trouble caused from crude men encroaching upon our lands. I come for revenge of my own kin at the hands of Men such as these, and to lend a deadly bow against your foes."

Lilebrian was grasped in the familiar welcome that citizens of the Lady's Woods reserve for one another.

"I am eager to be off, and on the hunt for your kin. I'll tarry not long here waiting for others to assemble. If haste you need, I am ready."

Lilebrian took out a long shaft from her worn quiver and expertly fitted it into the bowstring. Silver gleamed from the sharp tip, cold icey fire burned in this firece Elf's eyes.

Tall and deadly, swift, and quiet as a shadow. The scar on her right cheek held a dark past that forbode of deadly contests. The Longbows had a history of defending their people from great and fell beasts. Songs were sung about Lilebrian's fore Father, Beleg Strongbow.

Today was a day to be worthy of song. May the foes of the Lady of the Wood be gone ere dawning....

[doug*platypus]

Escape from the Elvenwood

"Such a pretty thing... she'll be worth something to anyone. And if it so happens that we come across her kind, they'll have to pay us for her. I can imagine the luxury we'll have with the worth of those elven goods!" Skara laughed.

So far the Easterlings had eluded capture, and emerged victors from a small clash of arms with the sentinels - sentinels who everyone had thought before to be magic folk that could send an arrow quick as a look of the eye into their foes. Skara and his men were confident, for the time being.

Although weary from the day's toil they had not been long in the Elvenwood before Rû-Sahn had taken a prize of worth beyond their hopes, a live and mostly unharmed Elven-maid. Skara and the rest of the band had caught up with Rogar and Rû-Sahn just as the weaponsmith had thrown the girl roughly against a tree. Before falling unconscious the Elf had, as she lay helpless on Rû-Sahn's shoulder, been staring at the ground in fixed horror. It was as if she saw a terrible vision, perhaps of others of her kind lying helpless as she was. Skara knew this could not be. If the girl had had friends behind her, as Skara had guessed from sounds in the wood, they had almost certainly fled. Rotten luck, he thought, since all the Elves ever bred would soon know of the girl's plight. If they were not as cowardly as they had seemed at first, they should surely be tracking the Men by now.

When they were a league back out into the plain, the Men rested for a while. The girl Nura had scrounged enough wood for a fire, and cooked for them as best she could in a hurry. The lighting of a fire here was dangerous, but their provisions were so low that it was either roast venison or starvation. The flight back east would be a hungry one, Skara thought. There would be no time for hunting.

A quick search of the girl before had turned up some dried fruit and light cakes of a kind the Men had never seen before. "Light and flaky, just like them!" one of them had snorted in disgust at the cakes, speaking in the Trader Language so the girl could understand. She had also carried an elegant dagger with her, a weapon of fine make. Rû-Sahn had of course taken this. He was doing exceedingly well out of this venture so far. Nevermind, thought Skara, when we sell this girl off to the highest bidder, I'll have my share all right!

After a few hours' rest, they started off again, on their journey back towards their rafts by the Great River.

"Come on girl, we're going."

Skara could hear his companion's rough voice behind him, as his band readied themselves, scattered the fire and trudged on into the gloom of the hours before dawn.

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros bowed courteously to the Lady Longbow. "O daughter of Cúthalion, it is a great honor to know and work with thee, my fellow archer. I am Feadhros, scout for the Lady Galadriel. I am sure your coming shall be the greater for our cause."

Lilebrian smiled, bowing in return to Feadhros. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Feadhros," she said before being greeted by another.

Feadhros turned to the lady Galadriel, a smile of satisfaction marking his features. "Fair Lady Galadriel, forgive me, for my doubts were in vain. It appears that, eventually, we shall have enough to suffice against the Wild Men."

The Lady nodded. "I believe you are right."

Though outwardly occupied, Feadhros thought constantly of Sultir and the Lord and Lady Fleetheart. Why was the boy not back, and would Isolde and Milar return with him?

[Garen LiLorian]

The Sun shone down, changing the grass to burnished gold, rippling gently in the breeze. It gleamed off of the waters of Celebrant, flashes that caught the eye and forced you to squint at the same time. It shone off of the Men's armor, gleaming even brighter than the grasses. They were atop horses, all save one, who squatted in the grass. He straightened. "Lord, they were here. The tracks run south and east, away towards the Elfwood."

"The time, Surie. The time!" The voice was urgent, and rung through the summer air.

"Maybe two or three days ago, lord. Could be more. They could have reached the woods and been out the other side by now. We can't catch them, if that's what you're thinking."

The man he addressed looked out across the plains towards the woods, and spoke. But if it was for the others, they made no sense of it. "All these years, from the coming of Gareth down through Galthun my father." "Pardon, lord?" The tracker looked confused.

The youngest of the group, his hair outshining the fields as it streamed from beneath his helmet turned back to face his men. "Our pact, Surie. To protect the Golden Wood from all who would endanger it. To hinder those who would enter without the Lord and Lady's permission. The reason for our house, and our lands. We have broken it. This day will long be remembered as one of bitterness for the house of liLorien." He broke off again, staring keenly towards the wood. "Return to my father. Tell him what has transpired here. Inform him that I will be taking this news to the Lord and Lady of the Wood, to ask forgiveness."

"Captain, we've been ordered to escort you. To leave you here alone in the wilderness is not to my liking at all." This was from an older man, who sat in the saddle with an air of long patience. "After all, these men may be on the Northern borders of the wood. It is perilous to enter there, and more so for Men of that kind, I deem. It would be unwise indeed to risk the wrath of the Elves for a deer or two. No, my lord. I think they must have skirted the woods to the north, and made for the river Anduin."

"Your words are wise, Mablong, but you know as well as I that they are false." The young man answered kindly. "These Men have been arrowing towards the Wood for a tenday. To stop now would be unthinkable. And the quickest path to the River lies through the Wood, and not around. No. They have entered the Wood, and my heart tells me that great pain shall come of this. Ride home. I am in no danger here. Have I not played in this field since I was a lad? I know the lands between Dimrill Dale and the Wood better than any, I deem, and will make better time alone. And," he added a wry smile, "If that isn't enough, you may consider it an order from the heir of your lord."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Garen rode towards the wood with heavy heart. He knew full well these Men would not stop at the borders, and feared the Elves reaction when they learned of the breach in trust.

He entered the wood, and sounded his horn, the horn that all of noble blood carried, the horn that would summon any Elven ranger within hearing. He had not long to wait. Arrows pointed at him from the trees, and a voice carried from beyond sight. "State your name, and quickly. What buisness have you in the Golden Wood?" It asked quickly in the Elven tongue

"I am Garen, son of Galthun, heir of the House of Lorien, and I seek the Lord and Lady." He answered slowly and haltingly in the same tongue. Are there those among you who may speak in Westron, for my knowledge of the High Tongues is but scarce.

A ranger stepped forward, clad in the shifting cloak of Lorien. "Well do we know you, Man's heir of Lorien," he spoke, using the Common tongue, "but we have orders not to let any now save our own kin enter the Wood."

"Then I am too late!" Garen cried, "And some crime has been committed under these boughs?"

"You know of these matters, son of Man?"

"Indeed, yes. For many days now have I tracked a band of Men across the land from Dimrill Dale. But a short while ago I sent my men home, with orders for my father. I come to bear apologies to the Lord and Lady, for indeed their trust has been most greivously broken, and I would see it righted. I ask now that you let me go forward, bound as a prisoner. For I have broken faith, and deserve no more."

The Rangers conferred quickly in Elven, and Garen caught no more than one word in four as they talked. Eventually, one turned back to him. "I will escort you into the city, and take you before our Lord. If what you say is true, than mayhap your punishment shall be no more than you deserve."

Garen bowed his head, and allowed himself to be blindfolded and bound. He was then led forward into the Wood...

[dragoneyes]

Standing among the few who had answered Harlon's request was Thoriel, wearing a plain dress which touched the ground and riding boots. She carried a simple bow, it was not carved but it was still well made and very effective. Thoriel's face was fair, as are all of the elven kind, but hers seemed more used to laughing than most and it was true that a smile was more often than not upon her face, though not now, this was a grave matter.

After Lilebrian burst in, Thoriel spoke up,
"I have been sent by my parents to help you in your quest, they wished to be here themselves but their presence is needed elsewhere, so you'll have to settle with me." she finished with a small smile.
"You are most welcome, as are all of you." said Feadhros, adressing all that were waiting to join the party.

[ January 06, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Light and flaky, just like them." One of the men snorted, deliberately, she supposed, in the common tongue.

"Not quite. It is lembas. It would keep you going for days." She said quietly, not really expecting her captors to hear, or understand as she murmered it in elvish. The man who caught her turned on her though.

"See, she does it again!" He exclaimed angrily, pointing her own dagger at her. "Speaking in that filthy language they use."

Nuhrive glared icily at him, but wisely didnt speak. Another did it for her.

"I think its lovely." The small voice came from the corner, where that girl Nuhrive had seen before was sewing quietly. She had the look of a little mouse, and the elf wondered why she was here. One of the men turned on her though, cuffing her across the head so she bit her lip to stop herself crying out. As the girl looked up, catching Nuhrive's vivid eyes with her own sad ones, the elf knew how this girl felt and, mrather ironically, what with her position, she almost felt sorry for her. The mousey girl looked away first, continuing in silence with her sewing.

Nuhrive looked back to the one who had grabbed her, now pawing her sword his huge, ugly hands. I will get you back, beast. I will get back my dagger and you will feel in in your ribs...

[Ithaeliel]

Ru-Sahn constantly eyed the elf girl, each time his gaze coming closer to wrathful. He had heard the girl speak in her tongue. He was, in fact, one of few Easterlings who understood it. He turned her exquisite blade over in his hands, examining it cautiously, watching the curve of the blade and the gem placed within, hoping to somehow imitate the design in the future, if with less fine materials. It was greener than any forest Ru had ever seen, and in his time he had been to more places in the east of the world than many wild men ever dared to venture into.

Ru-Sahn glanced once again at the girl, who in turn spat at his feet- a most unladylike reaction for an elf. But the weaponsmith held his temper more easily than some, and he simply smirked with disdain and went back to the blade. I have yet to devise such a work of art as this, he thought. But finally, sheathing the blade, the man took a last sparing glance at the girl. "What do they call you back home?" he asked, to her great surprise, in Quenya, below the hearing of his fellows. The child looked at him in shock for a few moments before answering. "I... I... I think it is none of your business what my name is!"

Ru-Sahn gave a small laugh and shrugged nonchalantly before walking away.

[Ivy of the Woods]

Nura hands shook from the blow. The elvish words were lovely. Those ugly brutes are too stupid to realise it she thought bitterly but scolded herself immediately after thinking it. I should not think that way about Blair, he takes care of me. I should be thankful

The elven girl was beautiful and Nura very much wanted to speak with her but saw no way she could. Nura felt deep sorrow for what her people were doing to the girl, it was not right but maybe she just didn't know what was right, maybe they had a good reason she didn't know about

Her hands were shaking too much to continue sewing so she would go get some fire wood, it wouldn't do for anyone to see her without a task. Dusting off her wool dress, she stood and took a glance at the elven girl.

"Where do you think you're going wench?" growled one of the men

"Only to fetch some wood for the fire." she replied and took it as permisson to leave when he ignored her.

[ January 07, 2003: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Susan Delgado]

Nuhrive's parents were speechless with shock. They could accept the fact that she'd sneaked out of her room; they'd been children once too and remembered it well enough to know that such rebellion was almost to be expected. In Men. It was less common among the Elves. They could not understand what would have made her actually leave the Wood, though. What had she been thinking? And her lack of caution had proven disastrous. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Sultir quietly rose and left them to their thoughts. He could do little good here, but he might be able to help with the rescue mission.

Halfway to the Hall, he met Jemel coming in search of him. She didn't seem surprised to hear that Isolde and Milar were staying in their rooms. Sultir would be enough. She hurried him along to the meeting in progress.

[Garen LiLorian]

Garen was led for many miles through Lothlorien, bound and blindfolded as a captive. He felt and heard the gates of Caras Galadan opening before him, and many voices in the Elven tongue. He caught the words "prisoner," "condemned," and "criminal" in their talk. Then the blindfold was lifted. "Now you must climb, son of Man, for the Lady of the Wood desires to speak with you," spoke the ranger who had bound him, and gestured to a ladder up into the trees.

Never before had Garen been in the Elf-city, and wonder was plain on his features as he climbed past many flets on either side. He climbed until his arms burned and breath came dear to him. At last he reached the top. The ranger spoke quietly to an Elf who stood nearby. He listened to the reply, then spoke again to Garen. "No doubt, son of Galthun, you have heard of the misfortune that has recently occured." Garen did not reply, but his face showed his ignorance. "A young girl has been taken from us by Men. Even now our Lady is assembling a search party." He searched Garen's face keenly, looking for some flicker of knowledge.

Then he straightened up. "I do not deny it, there are many among us who remember now your house and lands, and the Men under your banner. There is feeling that you must be held accountable, indeed there is the opinion that your men have themselves commited this crime. However, I see no such deception in your face. I will therefore take you before Lady Galadriel. For what it is worth, I hope that she feels the same." He turned away, and led Garen by many paths to where the search party had assembled.

A motley crew it looked. Several Elves of woodcrafty bearing, rangers like his escort, one wearing the greens and browns of an Elf in the far northern woods. A woman, clad in a simple gown. And, strangely, an Elf that reminded him of Fester, Lord Galthun's fool. Although this one looked far too serious to be engaging his profession right now. Garen wasted no more time on the assembled Elves, but knelt before the Lady of the Wood.

"Lady Galadriel. I am Garen liLorian, son of Galthun. For many days and nights have I tracked this band of Men across my father's lands, and I come before you now bearing an apology. Never before has my bloodline failed in our oath to you and to the Wood, but grievously now have we broken trust. I have naught but my word to say that these criminals were not of my house, and offer you my life as forfeit for the breaking of our oath." He looked up for the first time into the eyes of the Lady of the Wood. He saw her smile, and it was as if a great weight had lifted from his heart.

"I think, Garen son of Galthun, that a better use might be found for your life than the executioner's block, even had I the inclination to rid your house of such a courteous tongue." Laughter sprung from her lips, and all were amazed at the change; since Nuhrive had been lost, the Lady had been pensive, thoughtful as few before had seen her. "I give you this doom; to aid these pursuers as best you can, being at ease neither in heart nor body until Nuhrive has been found. Is this acceptable to you, lord of Men?"

And Garen climbed to his feet, bowing deep in Dwarf fashion. "Lady, you give me too much credit. Gladly do I take this doom, indeed it was my intention to ask it if my life was spared." But Galadriel said, "then take your place among the rescuers, son of Man, and hope for your sake and that of your house that no harm comes to the maid. For I do not forget that your oath was broken, and many great deeds must be done before the Elves can forgive it."

Garen, thus chastened, took his place among the group, yet he looked about him eagerly, and eager he was to be off.

[ January 08, 2003: Message edited by: Garen LiLorian ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nura's eye caught Nuhrive's and once again the elf wondered what a young girl was doing with these men.

Night fell and to her disgust, Nuhrive was tied to a tree with a rope. She leant against the tree, trying to make herself comfortable although her hands were tied behind her with the tough rope. Hearing a sound behind her, the elf maid did not turn around; this was often a mistake.

"Vedui tinu en'edan." She said sleepily, not really registering that she had spoken in elvish until afterwards, and how fatal this could prove. But, as she had thought from the sound of the movement, it was the girl. Nura gasped.

"What...what did you say there-" She whispered curiously, before realising she was in charge. "-elf?"

Nuhrive gave her a 'look'. The girl looked slightly embarrased but didnt say anything so the elf, friendly as she was, answered. "Vedui tinu en'edan." She murmered back. "It means 'greetings daughter of man."

The girl gave a small sigh. She seemed about to say or ask something else but then one of the men, one who in some way looked like Nura- Nuhrive guessed they might be siblings- called, or rather bellowed, for her to come over and she scurried away, but not without a brief smile over her shoulder for the bound elf. Nuhrive smiled inwardly- she may have made an ally. She knew the girl would come to talk to her again, or at least she hoped so. The beauty of the elves attracted many, but in this case, it might be able to save her...

[Morai]

Harlon felt quite shadowed. Surrounded by warriors, captains, and other important people, he realised what he was, a fool. He glanced up at the man. This elf had seen mortals before, but long ago. Not a single weapon did Harlon own, for he was to young at the Last Alliance.

Desperatly he tried to keep a smile upon his face. Overwhelming sadness and fear slowly crept upon him. Harlon gulped.

"Who knows how many wild men are there. You fool, you won't last long out in the wild. All you have is your silly actions and cartwheels!" He thought. Harlon hoped The Lady wasn't reading his mind.

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros approached the man who had just arrived and looked him up and down slowly. "You do not appear to be of the wretched Easterlings," said the elf. "Are you of much skill with a blade or bow?"

"That I am. My sword is sharp and light, and I pray that it will serve its purpose as it has in the past."

Feadhros nodded. "I am sure you will yet do good for your house and for Lorien. What name are you called by?"

"I am Garen, son of Galthun," he said, beginning to bow. Feadhros stopped him.

"We do not greet each other so in Caras Galadhon," the young elf said before clapping his hand on Garen's shoulder. "I welcome you to our city and search party, Garen Son of Galthun."

Garen smiled and clapped a hand on Feadhros' shoulder in return. "I am glad of that. And by what name are you called, young elf?"

"I am Feadhros, in the service of Her Ladyship as a scout. I also am joining the rescue."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Feadhros."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Feadhros."

Jemel walked in with Sultir behind her, just as everyone was making acquaintances. She walked up next to Feadhros, and looked upon the faces of those who decided to help in the search. Feadhros had finished talking with the human, and Jemel walked up to Garen.

"As Feadhros has said, welcome to the Realm of the Lady. Fair are these woods. Wise and experienced as the Lady herself. I am glad that it is your footsteps that mark the ground, and that the easterling's prints will soon fade as you help us. Welcome, Garen son of Galthun, to Lothlorien. My name is Jemel Skyesong, and I have hope and trust that the journey will end well," Jemel smiled as she welcomed the son of Man.

"Lorien's welcomes are as warm as the sun itself," came Garen's response.

After talking with Garen, Jemel noticed towards the back of the small group was an elf-maid, clad in a simple, flowing dress and riding boots. Jemel walked over to her.

"What is your name?" Jemel asked.

"Thoriel," she softly but proudly replied.

"Well Thoriel, welcome to the search party. I am sure you will do as well as anyone else here. Certainly you are more equiped and skilled than most others for our journey. Even if such is not true, much can come from a woman looking for adventure," Jemel finished with a quick wink to Thoriel and strode back to stand next to Harlon.

"A good bunch you have brought. I have not met all of them, but the looks in their eyes are enough to tell all. Thank you Harlon," Jemel thanked the fool quietly.

Jemel could see fierceness in Lilebrian Longbow's eyes. Her bow ready, Jemel could see the restlessness on her face. Was this all they could manage, or were there others? If they hurried, there was at least some hope that Nuhrive would be found.

Jemel still wondered about Sultir. In his shoes, I would stop at nothing to go and save a best friend,she thought. Jemel still wished he could go along, and wondered what he would do. Staying in Lorien would be hard and would break his heart.

[ January 19, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Morai]

Harlon ran over to Garen.
"Greetings, Garen of man..." He trailed off as he tripped over someones foot. Most rolled their eyes, while other tried to stiffle their laughs. Noticing some she-elves he strode in their direction.

"Hello Miss, Harlon Nowane at your service." He greeted kissing Thoriel's hand.

" It may not be wise to be kissed by a fool." Jemel spoke, slightly laughing as she said it.

"Well, at least he's a gentleman." Thoriel replied.