Island of Sorrow Planning/Discussion Thread

[Child of the 7th Age]

Just to let everyone know I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. It is the last week and a half of school so things are just a bit more hectic than usual.

I am making progress but have sadly discovered that what I don't know about the history of Lindon (which is where my Elf has apparently remained) could probably fill several books. I hope to have things sorted out shortly.

Child

[Anguirel]

There isn't that much to tell, actually. It's just the scrap of Beleriand that Gil-Galad ruled over, and after the Dagorlad, Cirdan. It's divided into Harlindon and Forlindon, with the capital at Mithlond (the Grey Havens). In the Second Age it resisted Sauron after the fall of Eregion and the death of Celebrimbor.

But I'm sure you'll find out all this and more!

Oh...and I think I've discovered how to use Pio's method of taming the accents...

[Child of the 7th Age]

Perhaps I should call this "Good Elf Makes Bad Career Choices". Post to follow. Please let me know if revisions are needed.

*** POST PLACED ON PROPOSAL ~*~ PIO ***


CHILD'S CHARACTER - Elf of Lindon

NAME: Lindir

AGE: Born 1258, Age of Trees.

RACE: Noldorin Elf

GENDER: Male

WEAPON: Lindir bears a well crafted blade with a cunning design of flowers and leaves engraved in silver and surrounded by an inlay of fine jewels. It is a weapon that he himself designed and forged with his own hands under the direction of his father, who was also a talented craftsman. He has had little use for this weapon since the end of the Second Age. By preference, he now uses a hunting knife and a long bow of simple, practical design in making his way along the coast and up into the foothills of the Blue Mountains.

APPEARANCE: He has the face of an artist rather than a warrior, with grey eyes that hold a great depth of sorrow. His features are fine, and he is unusually short for one of the Noldor, standing just under six feet tall. His hair is black and straight, held back from his face in a single braided plait and secured with a simple leather band. His clothes are so plain, lacking any elegance, that some mistake him from a distance for a Man of common birth. Only an ornate silver brooch of unsurpassed workmanship that graces his shirt hints at his family and artistic heritage. This jewel at his throat is evidently a gift that Lindir holds dear, yet he does not say who gave it to him.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

Lindir is a quiet Elf who, in the past, was driven by his love to create beautiful things: weapons, jeweled necklaces, and rings. Over the years, he has become increasing closed mouth and secretive. Lindir's fierce desire to craft objects of beauty was both his great strength and his weakness. Because of his singleminded devotion, he chose not to take a bride. Since his return from Eregion (see below), however, he has laid aside his skills as an Elven-smith and has learned a totally different trade: that of a scout who wanders alone beside the seacoast and into the mountains, hiring out his services to other Elves and Men.


HISTORY:

Lindir’s father was an Elven-smith of Fëanor’s house: Lindir followed in his footsteps. As such, he inevitably became involved in the wars of the First Age, seeing his blades employed in fierce and bloody battles in Beleriand, as well as in the Kinslaying. After the drowning of Beleriand, Lindir had turned from the crafting of weapons to the making of rings and jewels, thinking that it was better to forge objects of beauty rather than destruction. He was perhaps moved by some impulse to make amends for the sorry events of the First Age.

In the Second Age, a time when many of his earlier companions had left the seacoast and journeyed eastward, Lindir remained in Lindon and joined the remaining Noldor Elves who were ruled by Gil-galad Ereinion. Lindir had been among those smiths who, led by Celebrimbor, grandson of Fëanor, moved across the Blue Mountains in 750 and founded the city of Eregion under the walls of Moria. These Elves had sought to make amends for earlier evils by helping to forge Rings of Power intended to heal the ills of Middle-earth. At some point, before the fall of Eregion, Lindir had fled back to the coast of Lindon. He refused to discuss the events of this period in his life, just as he refused to discuss the great bloodshed and sadness of his earlier time in Beleriand.

[Anguirel]

Followed Feanor, Maedhros and Celebrimbor? Ouch! Poor old Lindir...

[Child of the 7th Age]

I am afraid Lindir made just a mistake or two. Here's hoping he does better this time around.

[piosenniel]

I've started collecting bios and posts on the first page's proposal form. Please let me know if you decide to change anything.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio

[Firefoot]

Fea - I think travelling together is a good plan. Probably it would be better if they received the summons separately, but if you have a real preference I don't mind either way. There's nothing in particular that I'd like you to include; do as you see fit (helps a lot, doesn't it? ). I'll pick up wherever you leave off and bring them to the harbor.

About how well they know each other: do you have thoughts on this? I was thinking that maybe they'd know each other, but not really well.

[Anguirel]

As two Feanorian fugitives after the Nirnaeth, I think you'd get to know each other pretty well, though you could easily not even have met before then.

Would it help if I specified the form the summons took? Say, a falcon with a message on its leg? That seems more practical than an other Elf riding east on the whim of a reclusive and disliked smith...yes, let's make it a falcon for Lothlorien. Lindir I will have contacted in person, as he's in Lindon, while I will have communicated with the twins in Imladris via Galdor, who attended the Council of Elrond. I think that makes sense. Incorporate the summons if you like, though I think the Imladris first posts are perfect as they are.

[Firefoot]

As two Feanorian fugitives after the Nirnaeth, I think you'd get to know each other pretty well, though you could easily not even have met before then.

I see your point. The way I thought of it was this: Tasarënì became Galadriel's handmaiden pretty immediately after the Nirnaeth. Lómwë did not join Galadriel until quite some time after the War of Wrath, and even then it was more of a scout/warrior position than anything else. Once in Lórien, Tasarënì would presumably spend most of her time in Caras Galadhon, whereas Lómwë would spend most of his time on the borders of the forest: this would not seem to afford close contact between the two. However, both being 'Fëanorian fugitives,' as you put it, living in the same general area, I figured they probably would know each other.

That was my reasoning; if it is preferred that they know each other better, I am open to that option.

[Anguirel]

I think that that's perfect. So they have on the face of it little in common except for a past both are, to an extent, eager to gloss over...that means strife, angst and other phenomena beneficial to the plot...

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

I agree. They don't need to know each other well, but certainly know each other. What of a certain pure avoidance, since seeing each other brings up memories that they'd both prefer to forget? It would explain two people who have known each other for years beyond count staying entirely aloof even though they live in the same neighborhood, so to speak.

I like travelling together for pure convenience, but it'd be far more interesting if they only did it because of that. They'd quite frankly rather be anywhere else, but ride together for safety (not that a whole ton of thought is needed on that count) and so that everyone gets there at roughly the same time?

Oh, and I've edited Tasa's eye color. Instead of golden-brown, they're more of a shimmering grey.

[Firefoot]

Sounds good to me, Fea.

[Anguirel]

Looking forward to your posts, Fea, Firefoot, and Child, especially if they're as impressive as your Histories...I'd like to get this started on Monday...is this a bit impatient?

[piosenniel]

Anguirel

Once the posts are all in, please look them over and list them in the order you want them put on the game thread, by PLAYER NAME.

I'll then open the game thread for play.

~*~ Pio

[Firefoot]

I was going to wait until Fea wrote her post to write mine, but I have an idea instead. Fea, what if you did the beginning of the journey (when they leave) and I did the end (when they arrive)? That way I could get my post in sooner.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Please let me know if changes are needed.

Anguirel - - Since both our characters dwelt long years in Lindon, I am assuming there may be some friendship between them. Is this alright?

_____________________

Child's post for Lindir -- ** POSTED TO GAME PROPOSAL ~*~ PIO **

Lindir stood silent on the banks of the Lhûn, vacantly fixed on the churning waters that emptied into the Gulf. Far beyond, he could glimpse the distant Sea. At his back, to the north and west, hung the peaks of the Ered Lhûn. It was strange, he reflected, that the river and the mountains were called by the ancient Grey-elven term that meant “Blue” in the Common Tongue. In the past week, he had seen no hint of blue, only brown and green, in the miles of tangled forest and matted bracken through which he had trudged. Nor did the waters in front of him show any bluish hue, despite the bright sunshine that beat down from the heavens. He saw only dusky grey waters that gave no promise of comfort or a glimpse of better things to come. A lone gull appeared overhead, circled once, and then disapeared.

Lindir felt he had come to the end of his journey. He could not stay on in Middle-earth. The shores of Lindon and the lands further east brought no relief to his aching discomfort. Yet that decision held no measure of joy or anticipation. His journey from the Havens was not a well deserved rest after a life of purposeful activitity, but almost an admission of guilt of too many mistakes and missed chances that had slipped through his grasp. The events of the First Age as well as those of the Second had left him uneasy, deeply aware of the evil that shadowed the world and the fact that he was seemingly unable to do little to alleviate it. It was not only the bloodshed of the First Age that preyed on his mind, as ghastly as that had been, but his bungled attempts to atone for things at Eregion that had ended in such disaster.

When Malris had come to him some time ago with the suggestion that they pay a final visit to Himring and then sail from the Havens, Lindir had promised to think on the idea, but had not given his consent. Now, after spending a week secluded in the mountains, he had finally decided that Malris was right. It was time to leave behind the past and sail West. Whatever awaited him there surely could not be worse than what had happened in Middle-earth.

He had thought of asking Malris to forego the trek to Himring and have the group head straight out to the West. Himring was fraught with bitter memories, and Lindir could see little good in awakening these images. But Malris seemed determined; Lindir felt he had no chance of changing his comrade's mind, and he did not wish to disappoint him. There were too few Elves whom he could still call by the name of "friend". With a sigh, he picked up his pack and hoisted it onto his shoulders continuing on his path towards the harbor as he wondered what the morrow might bring.

[Anguirel]

Love it, Child. And Firefoot, good idea-that way you can echo the twins. It does mean that Fea should probably write about finding the hawk with the message in her post.

[Firefoot]

Here's my post. Let me know if anything needs to be changed.

~*~*~*~

*** POSTED TO PROPOSAL *** ~*~ PIO

Dreary step by eager step, Lómwë drew ever nearer to the Grey Havens. He and Tasarënì would reach their destination by midday, he estimated. The journey had been long if uneventful, and traveled mostly in silence. It was not that there existed any particular aversion between the two; rather, they had nothing of importance that they cared to share. Lómwë could scarce remember the last time he had had a lengthy conversation of any real import – import to him, that is. The truth was, very little seemed important to him anymore. Now this trip; this was important. It was everything he had longed for and tried to escape for the last six and a half thousand years, and naturally, after so long he had some very strong feelings about it, feelings which he had expressed to no one. He had made it clear early on (subtly) that this topic was not open for conversation on his part, and fortunately Tasarënì did not seem overeager to discuss the subject either. Always though it lurked around the corner, ready to come up in discussion like a dark cloud preparing to storm. So, they hadn’t done a whole lot of discussing.

As was the norm, Lómwë was wrapped in his own thoughts, and currently his mind was turned towards the thought of home. He was going there, he supposed, though he was not exactly sure where “there” was. Certainly, home was not Lórien, where he had dwelt for so many years. In sunken Beleriand? Maybe. Valinor? Perhaps. He honestly wasn’t sure. He had long since lost a feeling of belonging anywhere. He wondered if finding this home, this sense of belonging, was his desire for the trip to Himring – now Himling, he corrected. He honestly did not know, for with the belonging he had also lost an ultimate purpose. It had all seemed so clear before we left Valinor, when Fëanor explained it, he mused. Yet it hadn’t been clear at all, nor was it now.

With a shake of his head, he cleared his thoughts. He had found that dwelling on these things changed the past not at all and his feelings about them hardly. If he did not fear to forget, he would not think of it at all, if he could help it.

Instead he concentrated on the path, for something to do rather than for need. He tried to think of something to say to Tasarënì to lighten the quiet, but found nothing. Thus the remainder of the trip was continued in silence.

They knew they were getting closer as the grey gulls wheeled overhead in increasing frequency. Soon the harbor came into view: the end, and the beginning. One of these grey ships would carry them on a voyage into the past, a past Lómwë felt ready to confront, or at least knew he needed to. It was a past full of sorrow and defeat mingled with valor and glory. Yet none of these were what Lómwë sought.

He sought peace.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

I'm sooo sorry... I know I promised to have my first post up on Friday but I got home on Thursday for a four day weekend and discovered that my internet is down.

Firefoot, I love your idea of me doing the first part and you getting us there. I'd actually planned on asking if you wanted to do that.

I'll get my first post tweaked and posted and then you can work off of it. Sorry again about the delay... I will definately have my first post up within the next few hours.

Fea wanders off muttering about stupid technology.

[Anguirel]

That's fine, Fea. As for the order, I suggest-

Child of the Seventh Age (in Lindon, provides a link to first post)

Feanor of the Peredhil (summons, journey from Lothlorien)

Firefoot (approach to Grey Havens)

Envinyatur

Piosenniel (opens dialogue I can react to)

So when Fea's post is in, we're ready. That leaves the Imladris group by the ship, with the Lothlorien group and Lindir still encountering Cirdan on their way. If you like you can brush over the poor old chap and skip straight to Malris' boat as the twins did...

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

** POSTED TO THE PROPOSAL ** ~*~ PIO

Tasarënì wiped away a quiet tear as she slowly passed through her deserted home for the last time. She had lived in Lothlorien as a maiden of the Lady of the Golden Wood for years beyond count. Though named for her love of the willows, the mallorns quickly became their equals in her heart, and she was loathe to leave them behind. She had watched silently as many of the first born passed from the land, tarrying long. For what had seemed an age, Tasarënì waited for an unknown sign, certain she would recognize it when it came. Every twilight she would walk the silent woods, marvelling. Song birds came to her, singing quiries of her sadness, and she smiled.

She looked to the sky, noting a single ray of starlight passing through the canopy. She smiled softly, eyes downcast. It was time. She turned, glancing for the last time at the water by her feet, the trees that had been her silent companions for many long years, bearing witness to her grief, never condemning her, and never asking of her what she cared not to answer.

A harsh cry pierced the air and she looked up, startled. A swift falcon was weaving carefully through the trees, making its way to Tasarënì. She lifted her arm, sending out a quick prayer that the handsome bird's sharp talons not hold too tightly. He landed gracefully and met her eye with the intelligence of his kind. She looked at him in amazement, noting not without a start the roll of paper bound to his leg.

She removed it quickly with one delicate hand as he perched patiently. With a flick of her wrist, Tasa unrolled the letter, tears coming to her eyes as she received the long awaited message... Malris requested her presence, accompanied by Lómwë, at the Grey Havens. It is time, she thought. Time to go home.

Silently, but with a small smile, Tasarënì walked through the woods, seeking for Lómwë. They would leave at the first light.

--------

So I'm thinking that Tasa's going to be having the falcon with her as she and Lomwe travel back... because she likes birds. And he would make for better conversations than a reluctant Elf.

[piosenniel]

The game is now open for play.

Please remember to remove your signature from every post to the game thread – including SAVES.

Try to fill any SAVES put on the game within 48 hours.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio

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An additional thought:

Please remember to use other writers' characters very carefully.

Don't speak for them or have them perform actions unless it is okayed by the character's owner.

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[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Since I have a feeling that my posting may be a little sporatic at first (I'm really busy right now, but it'll die down to almost nothing very soon), I give permission right now for anyone to write my character when needed, as long as she's not saying any words that I would hesitate to put in her mouth. I trust you all know me well enough to know what I'd do, and if there are doubts, just reread her bio.

Firefoot: since we're travelling together, feel free to interact with Tasa whenever you please.

[Anguirel]

Cool, as long as, when you do post, you leave us plenty of stuff to extrapolate and gnaw on...oh, this is exciting...

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Off with you, m'boy. Go do some gnawing.

[Child of the 7th Age]

My save will be filled in Wednesday afternoon.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Ahem... I didn't quite make my afternoon deadline but the save is now filled in. I do believe Lindir's middle name is "Cassandra".

Cami

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

I do believe it may be time to depart. Shall we?

[Anguirel]

I'm off to see some relatives now, I'm afraid, so we won't be able to set sail till tomorrow...

[Child of the 7th Age]

Any response to what Lindir has said, or can I simply assume the members of the company have averted their eyes and turned away without any outward show of how they personally feel?

Child

[piosenniel]

Endamir has had a private word with Lindir. There is room for discussion if Lindir chooses.

~*~ Pio

[Child of the 7th Age]

I have put up a save for a brief response to Endamir, which will hopefully be filled in this afternoon.


Anguirel - Please feel free to push off with our vessel as there will be nothing in my post that will directly affect the action.

Cami

[Anguirel]

I'll get us sailing off before nightfall...I responded a wee bit to the bloodsoaked ground (kudos to Cami, reminds me of the Oresteia-as you intended of course. I tried to answer in kind)

[Anguirel]

Notice of absence-I won't be here tonight, but will be back, I hope, tomorrow night, or the day after tomorrow's morning at the latest. in the meantime, feel free to react to the sail, get aboard and put to sea...it will be calm till my return, after which we'll have fun battling a storm, methinks...

[piosenniel]

A quick note - if you see and "edited by piosenniel" on your game post, I'm just removing your signature.

~*~ Pio

[Envinyatar]

Firefoot

Just an FYI -

I've had my character approach yours and ask for his help. Feel free to start a dialog if you wish.

- E -

[piosenniel]

I've sent The Ghostbearer heading westward toward the mouth of the Gulf of Lune . . .

[Anguirel]

A storm is coming! Prepare to repel it, my valiant crew...

[Envinyatar]

Child

Orë's given Lindir a bucket and thrown him a rope if he wants to secure himself to the ship rail.

Prepare to man, or rather, elf the buckets!

- E -

[Child of the 7th Age]

I do believe that Lindir forgot his umbrella and is getting rather wet!