ROHAN RPG

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin was a dwarf that didn't like being upstaged, especially by an ELF! Especially an elf under orders from the witch Queen of the golden wood. Dwarin was very uneasy near and suspicious of the Elfwood. He almost attacked him when he threatened the men of rohan. "I don't like Elfs" Dwarin mumbled under his breath as he cleared a space in his cart.

Then the white rider came. Even though the men of rohan didn't seem to be bothered, and as much as he didn't like it, Dwarin agreed with Elfwood. There was something suspicious about the old man, even though he couldn't tell what it was.

A little while later Dwarin saw Thenamir talking with the Elf and decided to listen in. Even though he had been for the most part ignored until this point. He took along his Axe, which was to Dwarin just as neccesary in everyday life as the britches he was wearing.

He heard Thenamir and elfwood talk about the course of action to take. But when he heard Elfwood say "....I do not care for the presence of the dwarf...." Dwarin finally could hold back any longer.

"You! I was here first." Dwarin said as he stepped directly in front of the elf. "I offered assistance, I offered comfort and ease for the wounded men and their horses, you threatened!" Dwarin punctuated the end of every sentence with a light jab of the end of the Axe in the stomach of the elf who was easily two feet taller. "I don't like being upstaged my elves. I have done nothing wrong!"

Dwarin then turened to Thenamir to with a huff. "Good sir, I have blankets, bedrolls and food for your men. Which is more than I can say for that Elf. Also, I have prepared A space in my cart for the wounded men, if you choose to travel they can ride in ease with me. That is if you havn't decided to abandon my help."

"Fooloish dwarf! Could you have protected these men against the evil that passed by, do you have the skill in healing to tend Taradan. I doubt it very much." Elwood said. "I knew many of your ancestors, they were a fine and upstanding people but I see that the years have taken their toll on the mannar of Dwarfs." Elwood replied anger in his voice and the dwarf seemed to be poor and weak compared to the grandur of Elwood.

[Thenamir]

Thenamir watched in surprise, amusement, and mild alarm as the diminutive dwarf tongue-lashed the tall elf. He wondered whether it was great courage or foolhardy rashness that made him challenge the one who, only hours before, had unveiled such power in defending them against the old rider.

He stifled a smile as the dwarf rounded on him and spoke as if the group had been ignoring him. In fact, several of the riders had taken advantage of the graciously offered food and supplies, and the blankets and bedrolls were already gratefully in use by some, and each had expressed their thanks.

Thenamir's alarm ratcheted up a notch as the elf responded in seeming anger. Thenamir interposed himself to defuse the situation before the dwarf could formulate a stinging retort. He took a kind but firm tone.

“Good master dwarf,” he said, “we are indeed most grateful for your assistance, which will be difficult for us to repay, and by your continued kindness, we would ask that you stay with us overnight that we might rest. But tomorrow morning we are going to take a different course, out of your intended path, away from our homes and into unknown dangers. It is a path I would hesitate to ask anyone but my own men to take…”

“But you asked this…this…this ELF!!” Dwarin stammered.

“Master Dwarin,” Thenamir replied, “his purpose and ours are one. I would not trouble or delay you any more than necessary, nor put one to whom I am already indebted in danger…”

“Hang the danger! I am no less brave nor strong than this elf, I do not run from danger like a wood squirrel, and…” Here Dwarin motioned for Thenamir to lean over so that he could whisper, “…and you are a lot less trouble than my family back home!” Thenamir smiled. It looked like one more had been added to their small force, and they needed all the help they could get.

Now he turned to Elwood. "Master Elwood, we are a small band, and the forces which will come against us may be large. Our enemies are common to all of us." Thenamir spoke now to both, "Can we set aside our differences and move forward?"

=================
Thenamir of Rohan
Dwarf-Elf Relations Manager

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

"Sir Thenamir Your nation has protected me from maurauding orcs in the past, I will gladly repay my debt, but I cannot travel with one who has put down my people in such a manner. I will gladly put my differences aside and go along with you. IF AND ONLY if this ELF will take back his words about my people." Dwarin stated as he pointed a stubby calloused finger at the tall being standing behind him. "Never let it be said that a Dwarf fled from danger where an Elf will go." The dwarf said as he turned and looked the Elf square in the eye.

[shieldmaiden]

Baranthôl and Gurthden sat wrapped in blankets and listened to the fight quite amused.
"I didn't like those two at first but they turned to be very entertaining in the end, especially the Dwarf." Baranthôl whispered to Gurthden.
"Indeed they are but don't let them hear that or you'll be in a big trouble. They might seem funny now but I wouldn't like to be on the enemy's side when they get really angry.
"Ah, men, they are so silly when their pride overcomes them," thought Haleth but Baranthôl didn't say that out loud."I just wish they could decide more quickly, I want to get some sleep before we set off.
"Me, too," said Gurthden."I feel like I haven't slept for ages."
"That Dunlanding Ulfwine seems a little strange, though. He hasn't spoke more than few words since the battle.I wonder what he's thinking about," said Baranthôl.
Gurthden was already asleep.

[ October 31, 2001: Message edited by: shieldmaiden ]

[Thenamir]

<Sorry Imbadian, we wanted to wait for you...I'll be glad to edit or delete this if you like>

Elwood looked down on the iron-helmed head of Dwarin with a half-smile. "If the words of dwarves are not pleasing to the ear, it is more than made up for by their courage, rash though it may sometimes be. I do not seek your enmity, Dwarin Thunderhammer. If you will consent to travel with us, I will be content to watch and hope to see my words proved wrong."

Dwarin puzzled on this statement for a moment, trying to see whether it worked out to an apology. After a couple of moments wearing a knitted brow, his expression grew a little, a very little less fierce. "I'll show you the valor and the courtesy of the dwarves," he growled finally, "just keep a civil tongue in your head."

Thenamir breathed an even deeper sigh of relief. "Now my good people," he started, "it is high time we all got some rest." Elwood, not needing sleep, volunteered to take the first watch, to which even the dwarf did not disagree. Dawn was only a few hours away, and Thenamir wanted to make the most of it. He made sure the horses were well picketed, and then fell asleep atop one of Dwarin's makeshift bedrolls.

[Gilthalion]

So it was that men of Gondor, riders of Rohan (one little more than a boy and another a maiden in disguise), a Dwarf, and an Elf found themselves following a mixed band of Dunlenders and strange orcish men who sought some relic from the ruins of an Elvish city for the wizard in Orthanc.

Ulfwine was of great help. He knew some of the folk of the northern-most village of the Dunlenders. Storwolos had been sent this way by Borleg, with the orcish folk and several of his best men. When they had left, following a little used track that in ancient times had been a road, Ulfwine knew that it was safe to enter the village, buy provisions, and get whatever news there had been of Storwolos and his men.

"I just hope there's a pub or tavern," said Thenamir.

"What are those?" asked Ulfwine.

"Uh, drinking houses. Places where travelers can go to get food and drink and a place to stable horses and a room for the night," replied Thenamir.

"Perhaps you have such places where you are from. We have little in Dunland. You can buy whatever you need, but we will camp outside of the village. Food is good here, and thiere is beer and wine and we make a drink from fermented goat's milk that you will never forget," said Ulfwine.

"Ugh," said both Baranthol and Kalohern at once. They looked at each other and laughed.

"Does this village have ANYTHING?" asked Taradan.

"Oh, you can buy most anything you need, Ulfwine smirked. "There are the women. There is one lady in particular whom you must meet. She is a gorgeous radiant creature who could tame the birds from the trees."

"The plainest elf maiden could do as much," said Elwood.

"Ah, but her personality! her warmth! She is no cold creature of the forest!" said Ulfwine. "She is the pride of the village, and I can't wait for you to meet her."

"She's ugly, right?" asked Kalohern.

"We have a saying in my land, when one is very ugly, we say that she has been hit with an ugly stick," Ulfwine grinned. "This woman was blindfolded as a girl and sent running through an ugly forest!"

"Great..." muttered Taradan and Thenamir together.

The band rode into what could only be called a village out of charity. It was really collection of primitive log and sod houses and livestock pens where two roads met. Here was such trade as the people knew, where the surplus of farmers in the valley was sold to buyers from Orthanc and the more populous regions of Dunland to the south.

"We are in luck," said Ulfwine. "There is the woman I spoke of. She knows everything that goes on around here. Let's go."

The band rode into the central area as various villagers looked out from their stalls and barns. At a well, drawing water, was the homeliest woman that any of the party could ever remember having seen...

[onewhitetree]

As Aspida drew her daily supply of water from the well, she heard the approach of horses and men, some speaking with strange accents. "Well, well, something new for once," she muttered as she slyly watched them out from under her frazzled head of graying hair. A young boy, barely out of childhood, approached her with a poorly-hidden smirk. She knew at once who he was, an undisciplined brat who had disappeared from the area some time ago, disillusioned into seeking some nonexistent "fortune," no doubt. Who knew what sort of company he had foolishy gotten into?
"Wise Madam," he began. "These men are-"
"Shush, fool!" she croaked, her voice broken with the strains of age and bitterness. "Do you think I'm so blind as I can't see what's going on in my own town? I can see these men are injured, some dying, whether they know it or not. While I'm probably saving the lives of some lousy scum who are just planning on pillaging the town as soon as they get what they want out of me, it's my job, so don't you assume that I would shirk my duties! And don't think I don't know you, either! Why, your mother almost died giving birth to you, and this is the thanks she gets? A curse upon men and their callousness!"
Ulfwine, somewhat abashed at this outburst and that all the men were snickering in the background at his being scolded so by such a specimen, retreated back into the group with as much dignity as he could muster. Elwood, seeing that this hag was deluding herself into thinking she was going to Heal these men, decided to step forward and take the matter into his own hands. He approached, and she amusedly motioned for him to speak, saying, "Go ahead and get it off your haughty mind, Elf, so I can do my job and you can keep quiet about it."
Deciding this was no one to waste kindness on, Elwood announced, for about the fifth time since the men had met him, "Woman, I am Elwood son of Arathrol of Lothlorien and I, too, am skilled in the arts of Healing. We do not seek your knowledge, only a warm bed for these men for the night! Whatever cures they need, I am more than able to supply, for my father was renowned among Elves-"
"Alright, that's enough, Elthol son of Lothlorien!! I will not have my hard-earned skills be disdained by anyone, especially an Elf! Your people are more foolish than the men that inhabit my village, and you are the worst example I've laid eyes on in my long life! You may think you know what you're about, but if you are so great, why do your companions lie dying? Can you answer me that? I thought not. You waste your time rambling on about your irrelevant heritage when you could be helping, but I suppose such simple matters are below your notice. I know your type! If you want those men to live, which I would not blame you if you did not, you will leave your lofty thoughts about yourself outside my village and you will follow me! I'm not doing this because I like you, or even because I want to heal those men, but because I have to. I am no more happy about it than you are, but seeing as it is my house, you will listen to me and do as I say, Master Elf. And wipe that mud off those dainty little shoes before you even think about setting foot inside any dwelling of mine!"
Elwood angrily wheeled around and marched to the back of the group, showing as much anger as Elves let themselves show, at such a dismissal by the mortal. He knew that the men needed a place to stay, and so was unwilling to burn a bridge to the only suitable place in the village. Aspida suspiciously glared at each of the men in turn, passing judgement with a few sarcastic words to each. She claimed she needed a helper to gather from her herb garden and someone to assist her in the kitchen, and chose Dwarin for the former.
"I don't approve of Dwarves and Elves associating with men, but while you're in my house, you will make yourself useful!"
The Dwarf, still chuckling on the inside over the way she had handled the Elf, graciously accepted the task, which seemed to annoy the woman even more.
"Don't patronise me, that won't get you anywhere!" she snapped.
Aspida stopped for a moment when she reached Baranthol, giving her a piercing gaze that made the soldier flinch from the hideous ugliness. Aspida grunted knowingly a few times as she looked up and down the object of her attention. Baranthol fidgeted nervously under the keen watch of the woman, afraid she was not being fooled by the disguise.
"I see. You will aid me in preparing for these injured worse than you. I trust you are not so selfish as to demand care before the others?"
Baranthol shook her her head astoundedly, and breathed a sigh of relief when the woman turned away with a grunt of acknowledgement. Aspida hobbled back toward her cottage, having forced her water vessels on one of the more able men. She cursed the thought of having to aid the strangers, but it was part of the vow to become a Wise Woman she had taken when she was young, and she would not be a Healer, had she not taken the vow. There was nothing else to life, so why not send them on their way? The people they would hurt during the lives she was lengthening probably deserved it, anyway. But that Baranthol, there was a story behind that one, and Aspida was determined to get to the bottom of it. Perhaps those idiot men were foolish enough not to see, but she knew that was a woman hiding under the rough, armored exterior of a soldier.

[ November 05, 2001: Message edited by: onewhitetree ]

[shieldmaiden]

[img]smilies/eek.gif[/img] Haleth felt a relief when the hag turned her squnting eyes away from her. She was not sure why she felt so nervous while the old woman was looking at her. "She can't possibly know what I am," she thought,"or can she?"
She pulled her hood over her forehead to shade her face and followed Aspida to the cottage.

[Sharkû]

Slowly the nervousness which had held Storwolos in its tight grip during the debriefing he had to go through waned, and the satisfied words of the leaders he had to visit made him openly show his pride. Still, although he would not admit it - now that he had been promoted to lead a small unit of two dozen Dúnlendings –, retelling the events of the past few hours to one of his men, was quite a relief to him. Now he finally understood why all who ever met Saruman himself spoke of him only in awe and fear.

Storwolos and Swartewit now walked side by side as they left the courts of Isengard, and made their way southwards along the Isen.
“Still, I don’t get why Sharkey wanted to see you in person,” Swartewit said, again expressing his amazement, “what in Middle-Earth was so special about the scouting you did?”
“The White Hand only wanted to see me after I had told my debriefing over and over to the army leader, and then to his new favorite, it seems, that spy from Rohan, Gríma… it seems the description of a black- and a brown-haired rider surprised them more than my anger at our traitor. All Rohirrim seem the same to me, I don’t distinguish one enemy from another, but the bosses appeared interested.”

“What’s more, even the Wizard himself could barely hide his surprise when he heard Borleg wasn’t back yet. Maybe that’s why I got entrusted with the new mission, and not old Borleg. Not my problem, old man!” Storwolos laughed, he was well aware this was one big step forward in the grace of his leaders.
“So how was Sharkey?”, asked Swartewit, interrupting Storwolos’s rant. “- How often do I need to tell you not to call Him that!” Settling from his short outburst of anger at what he found a derision of his Master, Storwolos continued, “Even if he wasn’t the greatest mind ever to walk among us, even if he wasn’t more skilled in the hidden crafts as noone in our legends of old, he’d still have no problems becoming the King of all! His appearance is breath-taking, his voice and speech is utter truth and beauty. Only fools could be so blind not to look in his face or hear him speak, and not to kneel down at once and swear fealty forever to him.”

“Whatever you say ‘boss’…” Swartewit could again not hide his mistrust in the leaders’ decision to promote Storwolos, even though that earned him another grim glance. “But just what exactly did he tell you to look for in the north?”
“That, I can of course explain to you, Swartewit...”

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

As the dwarf was unloading the things neccesary for night, he was asked to help get some herbs and such. He bowed low took off his hood and: "Dwarin, son of Doren at your service! I will gladlly assist m'lady" When Aspida sharply retorted, Dwarin was expecting it (seeing how she had treated the other men in the party with such disdain). So Dwarin retrieved a few small bags from the pantry (if it could be called that) cart and went outside. Dwarin rounded the corner of the house and found a gerden full of vegtables and herbs. He was framiliar with some and was not with others. Nonetheless hea dressed himself to his work, softly humming and singing to himself as he gathered the herbs. The dwarf got quite a few stares from people passing by, but he ignored them. When he was done he carried all the herbs inside (making very sure to take his muddy boots off before he went back in the cottage. Aspida Snapped again "What took you so long?" Dwarin ignored the comment and handed over the herbs to aspida saying: "What do you want me to do next? I am not an expert at cooking but I am no novice. and I would gladly assist you in the kitchen."

[Thenamir]

Thenamir bustled about as best he could, unpacking, sorting, setting up makeshift tents, making sure the wounded were comfortable, and being as useful as possible -- he had not yet been singled out by Aspida's acerbic tongue, and hoped to avoid it as much as possible. But Thenamir thought there was something in this old woman, something undeneath the derision and hard words, something that had not yet been smothered by age and ill-treatment -- perhaps something as simple as the desire to be respected.

After things had quieted down a bit, Thenamir went to speak to Taradan. While he wanted to make sure that Taradan was alright, he also wanted to discuss plans. He carefully (and bootlessly) entered the house where Aspida, ever grumbling and complaining, was tending her patients. "Wise Woman," he began, but as usual was cut off immediately.

"Get out of my way! I've no time for..." This time Thenamir did the cutting off, catching and holding her eye and speaking in a soft and respectful tone that caught her off guard. "I know better than to meddle in your work, good woman, I merely wish to know if Taradan is able to have a visitor."

"Why, yes, for a short time," Aspida stammered before regaining her normal tone, "just don't weigh him down with a lot of tomfool talk, he needs some rest." Thenamir bowed a thank-you to the busy woman and stepped up to Taradan's cot.

[ November 09, 2001: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[onewhitetree]

As the evening waned, Aspida tended to all the injured men with a sharp tongue and a steady hand. When they had received all the care necessary for quick recovery, Aspida barked at Baranthol to join her in the kitchen to start preparing food. Baranthol nervously followed the woman into the other room and proceeded to shuffle about vegetables and spices, attempting to look busy.
"Be careful with those mushrooms, girl, they aren't made a stone!" Aspida snapped.
"Pardon, ma'am?" Baranthol choked, astonished and somewhat disbelieving that her facade was so easily seen through by the woman. She had spent years perfecting the disguise, now surely everything could not be torn down so quickly! She felt like a trapped animal and desperately sought her mind for a means of escape. "I am not...you must be mistaken...this can't be happening!"
"Girl, if you wish to pull the wool over old Aspida's eyes, you'll have to do better than that. And I don't rightly appreciate that you seem to think I'm out to give you away to all those idiot menfolk taking over my house. I've been around for many a year, and never would I have thought to see a woman trying to be a man. You are not leaving my kitchen until you tell me what you're up to, for it can't be any good from the looks a things. You could start out by giving up your rightful name. I don't hold with folks not telling true in my household."
The girl saw that there was no way out, for if she tried to escape, all the men would find out her secret and she would be cast out of the group. She did not know if the woman was to be trusted, but she had been pretending for so long that it seemed a relief to have a chance to talk about her real self.
"Well, ma'am, my name is Haleth. I once had a brother...."
As Haleth continued pouring out her story, Aspida noticed a slight movement in the doorway. It was the Dwarf, undoubtedly coming to pester her about offering his unnecessary assistance since she had ignored his previous suggestion. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he peeked inside the door. His mouth dropped open and his eyes became saucers as his eyes darted from Haleth, to Aspida, and then back to Haleth, who was beseeching the hard old woman to keep her secret. Aspida quipped that she was certainly no one to distrust and was not about to gab to those fool menfolk out in the living area, giving a piercing stare to the Dwarf.
Dwarin, disbelieving and knowing himself unwelcome in the discussion, quietly shut the door and rejoined the men in the other room.
Many minutes later, as Haleth started to slow down her torrent of words, Aspida was nearly done with the meal. Haleth peered at her progress and commented that she didn't remember if she had scrubbed those potatoes or not.
"Are you sure this is sanitary, Ma'am?"
She immediately realized her mistake as Aspida turned her hard grey eyes on Haleth's face and slowly recited, "I am a Wise Woman and a Healer. Do you think I would risk the health of my patients with unclean food? I always wash after cooking, and you would do well to learn my habits."

[ November 10, 2001: Message edited by: onewhitetree ]

[Sharkû]

Storwolos took a breath and began to brief those of his men whom he had not already introduced to their scouting mission. Six men gathered in a small group around him, and walked with him for a short while.
“All of this, the bosses told me bit by bit, and it seems the more important facts only the more important people knew. Whatever, we are to scout the ruins of an old city in the north. Some of you may have heard of it, it once was a big city of the western men, at the Greyflood. It is possible that there are still remnants of goods or equipment left which can be helpful for our great cause.”
Before Storwolos could continue, some interjected, “Don’t you think those ruins are plundered enough already? And how are we to take anything with us with so few men anyway, and no horses?”
“The White Hand knows more about that place than you do,” Storwolos replied, “and he ordered me on this mission. We are not looking for treasure or booty of that kind. The Wise Man himself related to me what he wants us to look for and retrieve if possible. Since the latest events, I believe I best keep this to myself until we’re there. I trust all of you fine men, but we never know when the strawheads may ambush us again in their sneaky way.”

“About those riders whom you fought, Storwolos, do you think they are following us?” – “Into the heart of our and the White Hand’s power? What for? No, they may be sneaky, but they aren’t fools. Besides, they’re far too afraid of us even if those riders had personal reasons or high orders. Just relax. This is going to be a quiet walk there and back, with some searching of rubble in the middle, no more, I promise.”

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin wasn't surprised that he had been ignored the first time he offered his assistance. So instead of working in the kitchen he went about the business of getting everything in order. He was surprised to find Thenamir outside unpacking the things that would be necessary for the next couple days stay at the house of Aspida.

"Friend, go inside and get some rest. You have come from a fierce battle and a long ride. You need to rest yourself for the days to come." Thenamir protested but Dwarin insisted. So the rider of Rohan finally gave in to the stubbornness of the dwarf and went inside.

It was not long before all of the supplies were unpacked and put away, and the horses were properly cared for. As twilight fell once more Dwarin decided to go and see if the old woman needed any more assistance. Dwarin had made it his personal goal to be as kind and as helpful as possible during the stay at her house. He wanted to see if he could crack her tough exterior. As Dwarin neared the door to the kitchen he heard a familiar voice, yet it was changed somehow. He slowed down and peeked around the corner. The sight he saw was one of utter amazement. He saw a young woman dressed in the garb of a soldier of Rohan talking to Aspida. Beneath the dirt and grim, of travel, part of which was a disguise, Dwarin saw one of the most beautiful creatures he had even seen. She had long beautiful rich flaxen hair, without the disguise her eyes seemed a deep piercing blue. It couldn't have been classified as cute or pretty, it was true beauty, not a cheap beauty, but a perfectly modest beauty that showed through the deception she had raised. As he looked closer, (still only peeking around the corner) He perceived that the young woman was actually Baranthol. As he was completing these thoughts he caught a glare from Aspida that told him that this wasn't his business. Dwarin noiselessly shut the door and stood in bewilderment. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. is first inclination was to scold the riders for being tricked in such a manner but then he realized he had also been fooled. His Inclination was to report her to the men, but a thought stopped him. If she was taking so desperate measures, she must have had a fairly good reason. So Dwarin quietly leaned next to the wall and began to listen.

When Haleth (for that's what he gathered her name was) finished her story, Dwarin was satisfied, he would not report her to the men. But he did have a new responsibility. By the rules and laws of his family, he was obligated to keep her secret and to protect her whenever she was in danger, even with his life if the need arose. This was the code his father had taken and his father before him had taken. It was a personal family oath that originated many many generations ago.

After composing himself, Dwarin went back into the main room and propped himself up on a bedroll. He lit a pipe and proceeded to mentally review all the recent events.

[shieldmaiden]

Aspida seemed a little nervous while she talked.
"What's the matter?" asked Haleth, "I think I heard something by the door a few minutes ago."
"Err, nothing, it was probably a rodent, don't mind it."
" A rodent indeed, did anyone hear us?" she asked and her words were filled with anger." Did anyone hear us, I said!?"
" All right, It was that fool of a Dwarf, but don't worry, he won't tell anyone my child, not after that fierce an meaningful gaze I gave him."
"You, you stupid woman, I should have never..." Haleth ran after the Dwarf.
She found him sitting alone in the main room. She grabbed him by his collar and almost lifted him up from his chair. Her blue eyes were gray and fierce and her lips were like a colourless straight line.
"There you are you, you eavesdropper, what did you hear? Tell me or your friends will have to scrub you from the floor with their pocket knives!" she whispered sharply.
"I swear on my ancestors' bones I won't tell anyone about your secret, ma'am"
"You better be telling the truth, cause If you tell anyone, I swear there will be no place you could hide, I'll track you down and make harp strings from your bowels!"
"Yes ma'am." whispered Dwarin.
"And it's sir for you." she said frowning.

[ November 17, 2001: Message edited by: shieldmaiden ]

[ November 16, 2001: Message edited by: Tar Palantir ]

[shieldmaiden]

Haleth went out from the cottage to get some fresh air. She was nervous but her anger was fading slowly. It was dark outside but she noticed Kalohern and Gurthden by the horses. The boy was currying his horse, a black nag called Telefax, and the rider was sitting on the ground playing with his dagger.
"Hey Baranthôl, when is that dinner gonna be done? We are starving here." asked Gurthden.
"You better find something else to eat. I wouldn't recommend you that hag's cooking, it's more dangerous than a dozen of angry Dunlendings." said Haleth laughing.
"I would rather die of food poisoning than of hunger and anyway, I could easily fight a dozen of Dunlendings."
"Whatever you say, Gurthden, but I'm warning you, you will be eating it on your own responsibility." She took a brush and started currying her horse, a dun and calm animal called Zelenko. "By the way, nice beast you have there, Kalohern." she said.
"Telefax is better than he looks." answered the boy. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you who his father is."
"Many things just aren't what they seem to be." said Haleth.

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin took the verbal beating from the young woman without anger. The female rider obvously no idea how well a Dwarf can keep a secret. He did his best to comfort her but it was to no avail as far as he could tell.

After haleth left the room Dwarin thought it might be a good idea to visit some of the other members of the party. He found Thenamir kneeling at the bed of one of the riders who was hurt the worst. He was very suprised to find a man he had long knew. It was Taradan!

Seeing the suprised look on the Dwarf's face Thenair said: "Sir, is there something wrong? Do you know this man?"

With a hint of excitement Dwarin replied "Indeed I do! This is the man I asked for upon our first meeting, before we were "interreupted". He and I met on a journey a while back, much like the one I am on now. I was crossing the misty mountains and I was ambushed by a group of at least twenty orcs. I would have surely been killed had it not been for him. He was heading home from some errand for your king I assume. He found me almost overwhelmed and rushed into the fray and saved my life. As a gesture of my gratitude I promised that I would deliver him a full suit of armor, personally made by myself, to his home." Dwarin explained.

He then added with a heavy heart: "It seems I have been too late though."

"Please keep me informed on his health, if he wakes up again I would like to talk to him. I am going to turn in now. I will be asleep if you need me."

Dwarin then removed his hood, bowed and retired to his bunk.

[ November 27, 2001: Message edited by: Dwarin Thunderhammer ]

[Thenamir]

Thenamir waited by Taradan's cot until he awoke rather than risk Aspida's wrath by waking him however gently. After an hour, during which Aspida gave Thenamir a respectful distance, Taradan's eyes fluttered and opened. He tried weakly to raise his head from the pillow, but the sharp-eyed Aspida would'nt have it.

"Here, now, none of that," she spat, hurrying over, "you lie down and rest, even if you are awake. That bonk on the side of your head won't do with too much jostling." She turned to Thenamir, who seemed to be the only one in the crowd who could return her look with a steady eye, "whatever you have to say to him, make it short and easy -- he shouldn't be under too much stress tonight."

"I will," returned Thenamir with a respectful nod, "and thank you." Again Aspida found herself at a loss for a reply, but she covered it by hurrying off mumbling something under her breath and shaking her head.

Thenamir moved around and kneeled at the head of the cot. "You've looked better, my friend," he said to Taradan, who looked over with a half-smirk. "You don't look like the picture of health yourself," he replied in a voice tired, but not weak. "How is everyone else?"

"That's a long answer, but I'll make it as brief as possible," said Thenamir, and began to recount all that had happened since the beginning of the battle, the arrival of the ROhirrim reinforcements, the Dunlending retreat, the addition of the dwarf and elf to their company. "Which reminds me," Thenamir concluded, "the dwarf claims to be an acquaintance of yours -- Dwarin Thunderhammer."

A look of recognition came over Taradan's face. "Yes...yes I know him. Had to forcibly remove him from an impromptu Orc celebration on his behalf..he was having such a good time slitting orc throats with his axe that he didn't want to bid them good evening..."

"He brought you a gift, armor I believe if I'm not mistaken."

"Ah. Better late than never," Taradan responded, sounding tired. Aspida gave Thenamir a look that said, "that's enough" and he nodded in return. "You rest now, and we will talk of our plans tomorrow. If you are well enough, we should leave soon." But Taradan was already asleep. Thenamir walked out silently, put on the boots he'd left by the door, and decided it was time to do a little tracking.

[onewhitetree]

Aspida bustled about the cottage bringing bandages and poultices to those in need with sharp comment to those who were unfortunate enough to get in her way. They all scurried away when they saw her coming. All, that is, except for that Thenamir fellow. A steady eye, and not a bad way about him, either. That man was raised right, like so few were in these sad days. Yes, Thenamir was all right.

Aspida gasped to herself. Was she actually condoning the actions of a man? This was new, no doubt about that. She wasn't sure she liked this turn of events....

As she boiled over the turmoil this band of travellers had brought to her house, Aspida took a moment from nursing the men to prepare some things for Haleth. Having spent so much time in the company of men, the girl was downright rough. Sometimes it seemed as though she cared nothing for her own well-being. She could, however, take better care of herself without giving away her identity. Aspida stuffed a few small things, such as a rather rich hairbrush and some soft garments into a pack that she deftly hid inside Haleth's belongings for her to find.

As Aspida returned to her work, she wondered what was coming over her. First a rogue girl softened her heart and made her feel like the mother she never was, then a strange man, of all things, demanded respect which she was unable to refuse! These conflicting feelings put her in an extremely snappy mood, which she took out on the Elf, as usual. Aspida had always been a little jealous of those who shared her few talents.

[Theodred21]

Taradan was having a nightmare.

He was walking slowly through a forest. He seemed to be walking through a thick fog. All of a sudden he heard the beat of a horse's gallop behind him, and he began to run. But his legs seemed to be stuck in place, and he remained rooted to the spot.

Now it seemed as if he had turned around, and was facing the direction from where the horse seemed to be coming. But now, the sound of the hoofbeats were everywhere, and getting louder. And suddenly, the mist cleared, and the rider came into clear view. It was his father, only his face was distorted in pain, and he was covered in blood. He called Taradan's name in a low moan, and Taradan wanted to help him, but when he tried to move, he stayed rooted, and when he tried to call to him, no sound came out of his mouth.

Then everything dissolved, and one last image appeared, a giant wooden club swinging for his head....

Taradan woke with a start. His long black hair was wet with sweat, and it coursed over his pale face. He sat up, and immediately the throbbing pain in his head came back.

"Sir, please lay down at this instant, how do you expect to get better if you keep sitting up that quick?"

As he tried to regulate his breathing, Taradan looked to see the silloutte of an women beside him. She lit a lamp, and as his eyes adjusted to the bright light, noticed that she carried some poultices, and was old and ugly. After a moment, the face registered in his mind, and he recalled the healer who had been treating him earlier. He lay back, and she applied the poultice. It stung, but if it reduced the pain, Taradan was willing to bear it.

[Thenamir]

Thenamir wandered down the mud track that served as the village main street. It was now late in the evening. Some high mackerel clouds scudding across the moon were a portent of rain tne next day, but for now there was plenty of moonlight to do some impromptu tracking. Something not best done alone.

He stopped in at the small tent camp near the hut where Aspida was tending the wounded. He tossed back the flap of the tent he recognized as Baranthol's and looked in. Baranthol was musing nervously over his pack.

"Baranthol! Good to see you up and about. Aspida finally let you out of her sight?" Baranthol stuffed the items back into his pack and turned slightly ashen-faced to Thenamir. "Oh!...yes, she let me go this evening after I had finished helping her with the dinner preparations."

"Excellent. I am going to do some scouting north of here. Find Ulfwine and come with me. It chafes me to have to wait restless while we tend the wounded. The Dunlendings who passed here may have left some token or hint of their purpose. If so, I intend to find it. Meet me at Aspida's hut in half an hour."

Baranthol/Haleth had been looking forward to some sleep, but warriors, she thought, sleep at the oddest times, and least when they need it most. She stuffed the soft items back into her pack more securely and went off in search of Ulfwine.

[Theodred21]

Aspida wandered off to treat the others, and left Taradan to himself. His head stung from the poultice, but the throbbing had somewhat reduced.
By now he had calmed down from his eerie dream. The dream had seemed to reawaken an old wound, not a physical one like that on his head, but one inside him. For the first time in many years, his father had strayed into his mind. He constantly pushed thoughts of him away, so hed would not be tormented by thinking of him. For it was his fault why his father was dead, and why he was a soldier in Rohan, and not Gondor. But he was not willing to reveal his stiry with anyone, he hadn't yet, and he didn't intend to...

[shieldmaiden]

When Thenamir left Baranthôl could breath normally again. If Thenamir had come a second earlier he would have caught her with a female hair brush and a dress in her hands. That insane hag, Aspida, was getting her into danger of unveiling her disguise all the time. Haleth didn’t really know what to do with the dress, she couldn’t remember the last time she wore any kind of feminine clothes and she probably won’t be wearing it in a long time.

She put herself together and went looking for Ulfwine. She hadn't seen him since their arrival, but then, she spent the whole day with Aspida in the kitchen.

She checked every tent but she had found only Gurthden, Kalohern and other three riders sound asleep and snoring like bears. She entered the cottage and went to the main room where she found Dwarin sleeping in a chair. The only person awake was Aspida, who was cleaning up the kitchen (with no visible results, the walls and the floor were covered with soot and grease and there was no hope that they would ever gain their true colour again, there was also that stench of rotting herbs that were hung around the ceiling to make an atmosphere of mystique).

“Where can I find Ulfwine, ma’am?” Haleth asked.
“I’ve sent that brat to get me some water, he’s probably still at the well, I provided him with many a jug, ” Aspida grinned.

Ulfwine was bent over the well and was getting the third bucket of water when Haleth arrived. He hadn’t noticed her and when she said “Ho there”, he dropped the bucket on the floor and spilled water over himself.

“Baranthôl, man, you frightened me, I haven’t heard you comming.” said Ulfwine trying to shake down the water from his clothes.
“Thenamir wants us to go trekking with him, he thinks that we might find some clues and since you know the land well you could be of great help.” said Haleth
“Yes, I’ll go with you but I have to deliver this to Aspida first, she’ll kill me if I don’t bring it on time.” Ulfwine filled the third and the fourth bucket.
Haleth helped him to bring the water back to the cottage.

[Thenamir]

Thenamir walked to the edge of the village and looked down the road, musing on the path which had brought them there before joining his companions at Aspida's hut. He let the thoughts flow unimpeded through his mind, somthing he usually did when trying to clear up some mystery. Sometimes two thoughts would crash into each other and actually make a connection.

He muttered softly to himself as the ideas spilled and mixed. "The wizard Saruman...powerful, mysterious...seeking something...useful to a wizard...slaughtering innocents...using Dunlendings...striving for secrecy...king's counselor Grima...giving orders to those who killed my wife, her people...Saruman...what could he want..."

He went on like this for some minutes, but nothing came of it except the resolve that whatever this item was, it was probably important that Saruman not get it, not as long as he was in league with the men of Dunland who indiscriminately killed men, women and children in their pursuit. At length Thenamir sighed, turned and marched resolutely to Aspida's hut.

He rounded the corner and almost ran into Ulfwine, with Baranthol next to him. After the quiet of his thoughtfulness, he was startled, but recovered himself quickly. "Ready to go, I see," said Thenamir, seeing that they were lightly packed, carrying only a weapon and a water bottle each. He was also pleased to see that they had noted the coming change in the weather -- each had a rain-cover rolled into a small backpack. "We should not be gone too long -- the path they kept too is not far from here, right, Ulfwine?"

Ulfwine thought a moment. "Their track should have led them past here to the north, and a little east, about an hour's walk, maybe a bit more if we go with a bit of stealth."

"Good. With any luck we'll be back in three hours. I want to get a sense of the size of the group -- how many men, whether they are mounted -- and to see if they might have left a camp near. Any dropped item or throwaway might give us some ideas...especially you Ulfwine, since you have travelled with them for so long."

They tightened their belts and moved off at a moderately brisk pace to the east, led by Ulfwine, with Thenamir and Baranthol following.

Elwood, who never slept, espied them from the camp with his sharp elven eyes, even as darkly as they were dressed. Having no desire to cross paths with Aspida anytime soon, he took his knife and bow, slung his quiver on his back and followed them at a discrete distance.

[ December 13, 2001: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Gilthalion]

Ulfwine led them quietly along the way. His guess had been correct.

There, in the northern reaches of Dunland, far from the Isen and the land of Rohan, Storwolos and his band camped without fear of spies or enemies. After all, as wounded as many of them had been, they could hardly follow the fierce Dunlenders through unfamiliar lands. Or so they told themselves when the thought of watchful eyes crossed their minds. Storwolos was still intoxicated with the spell of his meeting with the Old Man, but still was more watchful than his men.

So it was that Thenamir and Baranthol looked on the camp as Ulfwine strained to hear what his countrymen were saying.

He could not hear much. Some of the men grumbling behind their leader's back, as was often enough the case. But they seemed unsure and uneasy. Something was different. Clearly, Storwolos had visited the Old Man, and was taking them somewhere strange. An ancient city to the north.

When they had stayed longer than Thenamir thought was safe, the three made their way as quietly as they could from the Dunlender's camp, and set off to return to the village.

Ulfwine was congratulating himself, wanting to be accepted by his new companions. "I thought we might find them in this area! And we have seen them without being seen. That is something! Perhaps we can follow them and find out what the Old Man is doing."

Soft laughter greeted them from the forest. "But you have been seen!"

Elwood stepped out into the path in front of them. Baranthol had his sword drawn in a flash of polished steel. Thenamir slowly released a sharply drawn breath.

Ulfwine had nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Do not do that again!" he cried.

"Then do not be so confident you have escaped the view of others. Who can say that we are not watched even now?" asked the elf.

"You might have let us know you were following," said Thenamir.

"Forgive me," said the elf, who could not quite wipe the smirk from his lips.

Thenamir decided to let it drop. "Ulfwine, a moment ago you were saying we could follow Storwolos to this ancient city to the north. What more did they say? Did they name it?"

"No, they did not," said Ulfwine. "I do not think they themselves know it's name."

"Ost-in-Edhil," said Elwood. "That is the only ancient city in such parts. But it is an age since any last visited. The Noldorin Elves once lived there. Evil things happened. None now know its location for certain. Like as not, we will follow these Dunlenders on a chase of wild geese through ancient Hollin, and never find anything."

"Perhaps there are some who have visited, or who at least know where it might be found," mused Thenamir. "If any of them are left..."

"Who do you mean?" asked Baranthol.

"My people once ruled mighty kingdoms in the northwestern lands of Arnor. Their kingdoms are gone, lost to plagues and wars centuries ago. If any of the people remain, we have not heard. But if they do, they perhaps they remember still something of the ancient lore, and being nearer to site, might tell us where we may find it."

"Then we might find it before they do!" cried Baranthol.

"And have a nice surprise waiting for them!" smiled Ulfwine.

"We'll see," said Thenamir. "It is a long shot in the dark."

They discussed their plans to find some lost remnant of the Northern Dunedain as they returned to the village.

Storwolos smiled from his concealment. Perhaps his mission would be made easier by the work of his enemies...

[ December 13, 2001: Message edited by: Gilthalion ]

[Sharkû]

When he knew that the scouts of Rohan were out of sight, Storwolos slowly walked back to his tent, pondering what to do.
The few Dúnlendings, who apparently did not take the mission very serious, were already settling for a prolongued stay in the camp. Some made fires, and most laughed and joked over drink and food and playing dice. Some seemed to be dozing in one of the small brown leather tents the Dúnlendings always carry with them, which can be put up and packed away again with few movements in a glimpse of time.

This leisure behaviour irritated Storwolos, after what he had seen and heard just now. Upon entering his own tent to think out the situation before moving on, he noticed that one of the men was standing alone with his back to a small fire just behind his tent, apparently deep in thought, unlike the others. Storwolos saw that it was Smrtan, in whom he saw a rival in the grace of the leaders, but also one of whom he knew that he could be trusted in a plight, such as this could become.

“What is it you are pondering, soldier Smrtan?”, Storwolos asked, not bothering not to surprise Smrtan, whom he approached from behind. Smrtan did not stir for a while, and only answered after a few moments had passed, slowly turning around: “Nothing. You did not command me to, but I thought at least someone needed to look out. And it gave me time for thinking. Such as, it simply cannot be so easy to walk into Elf ruins and back without any trouble.”

“Noone ever mentioned the word ‘Elf’!”, Storwolos replied sharply, mainly irritated by the sharp thinking of Smrtan. Of course it was Elf ruins to which they were headed, he just did not want any of his men to know, most of all being aware of their inherent distrust and even fear for anything which has to do with this legendary folk.

“Well, you may say what you want”, Smrtan laconically replied.

Storwolos tried to sneer in vain, and bade the soldier to join him in his tent for a conversation. “And we also have to talk about your assumption that I, as the leader here, would not be caring for necessary reconnaissance.”

In reality, Storwolos would have been loath to admit, but he preferred to fell decisions, not to think them out himself. He would try to let the other one do the analysis, then fell a decision, and claim the plan as his own invention. That, and the use of big words, Storwolos saw as the mark of a great leader.

They went into the tent, which was only little bigger than the others, and barely provided enough space for two logs to sit on, and a blanket for the night. Storwolos closed it, and clinged a small torch to the middle staff, lighting the tent with a flickering red, causing shadows to dance on the rough brown hide of it.

Smrtan sat down, and Storwolos in front of him.

“As I said,” he began, “you were not the only one to be wary. What I just saw only a few minutes south of our place, were those same people of the strawheads we fought earlier. I think the strange raven-haired one was there, another one, and also the traitor, Vlkodlak. They are indeed about to follow us. They withdrew, so they will still be a bit behind, but it also means there are still the rest of them. Maybe even more… but what irritated me was another strange person I could see from afar. Tall and cloaked… maybe even one of the rangers the White Hand had warned me about, although they shouldn’t come as far down south as this. However, they seem to know where we are headed, and I thought I could also hear that they were trying to contact the rangers of the north, should they find any at the crossings of the Greyflood. They will be trying to trap us…”

Storwolos paused, and what he wanted to seem like a rhetorical pause was indeed an attempt to have Smrtan utter his thoughts first. Whether he knew that or not, he did not hesitate to answer this time.

“It is clear we cannot let that happen. As far as I see it” – Smrtan was perceivably proud that he already had a clear view of the situation – “we first have to depart immediately, to gain an advantage on them again. We also have to take care to cover our traces as well as possible. Then we will see whether we should try to get to wherever we are headed soon enough to be off again before they come, or try to ambush them in turn, or… whether we may want to let them do the work of finding those ruins. But of course I’m not telling you anything new, am I?”

“Indeed, you are not. What you say is correct, but I only wanted to reassure myself”, Storwolos replied. “Let us command the men to leave at once, and have an eye on those who seem to be careless. We cannot allow us any mistake from here on. Hurry northwards! I know quite clearly where the ruins are, have no fear. You might even have to know as well, so listen closely: 50 leagues from here northward, as the crow flies, between the swamps and the mountains. And now be off, and try to compensate your previous insult with deeds!”

Storwolos was content as he saw Smrtan leaving, and he shouted commands to those near his tent, before he started packing his own things.
At any rate, however it came out in the end, they would not let the enemy deal the first blow.

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin slept uneasily. The cold ground was not kind to him that night. He tried to sleep as best he could but his slumber was not to be. He gripped the cold metal handle of his ax, simply to comfort his troubled mind. The cold night breeze blew his tent open, and a few leaves swirled around inside. All was quiet except for the wind blowing through the trees. The dwarf felt uneasy, it was a feeling he had felt before, once he could remember was before the battle of five armies. Dwarin had slept in his armor (which he was accustomed to doing) so he had no need to clothe himself when he decided to look around at put his mind at ease. He was at the door, when fate it seemed made him look at his helmet and shield lying at the foot of his bed. Dwarin normally wore a hood wherever he went, but fate it seemed instructed him to don his helm and take up his shield. Thus did Dwarin step out into one of the coldest nights he had known. The cold breeze sent a shiver through his sturdy body. He fingered the handle of his ax nervously as he walked about the tents checking in to see if anyone else was awake. He was surprised to find Ulfwine, Thenamir Kalohern and Baranthol’s tents all empty.

As the night drew on, Dwarin felt no less uneasy, but there was no foreseeable danger. With a sigh (and some grumbling Dwarin Started back for his tent. The Dwarf began trudging back to hi bed, still uneasy of himself he took one last long look over his shoulder. To his surprise he saw lights in the distance, coming through the woods. Quickly the lights moved through the trees, darting and dancing about. Somehow Dwarin knew that this wasn’t a friendly welcome party. As fast as he could Dwarin scramble to conceal himself in a thicket on the edge of the wood, well away from the camp. He also knew that he had to think of a plan, fast. Quickly the Dunedlings were coming past his hiding place inn the bushes. He counted, as many as he could, there were 16 of them descending on their camp. They were armed mostly with torches clubs, spears and wooden shields. When all but the last straggler had passed, Dwarin knew the time for action was now. The last one was a short overweight man who was well behind the rest of the party. When he was no less than a foot past the thicket, he felt the a blade slice through his spine. As he fell he let out a horrendous scream. The Dunedlings rushed to see what happened, and perhaps take amusement at the plight of their comrade. When they arrived at the scene they looked at their comrade lying dead in the dirt and wondered what had happened. Suddenly there cam from the tree above the fiercest war cry they had ever heard. Down upon them descended Dwarin the dwarf, arrayed in all his glory, his shield glittering like the moon and his eyes flaming like the sun, shouting: “Khazâd! Khazâd! Khazâd aimênu!”

When Dwarin jumped from the trees, he came down fighting, he cut open the chest of one Dunedlings who was oblivious to the nature of the attack. Few of the savages had ever seen a dwarf before, and none had ever fought against one in battle. He had attacked the dunedlings rear, positioning himself between the attackers and the camp, this combined with the surprise caused much confusion and chaos among the attackers. Dwarin knew his advantage was at hand, and the fact was it would not last very long and once it passed he would probably never regain it again. So the dwarf steeled his heart, and set to hacking. He rushed at one of the men standing around looking for the fight, he came with such suddenness that the man didn’t have time enough to defend himself, he was just barely able to raise his wooden shield, which provided no protection, and thus he died. One of the men spotted the Dwarf and rushed him with his club afire in the midst of the chaos fiercely yelling as he approached. Dwarin reacted quickly, he took two steps forward and dodged as the club hit the ground beside him. The surprised man practically fell on top of the dwarf, who then used his shield to flip him onto the ground behind him. Dwarin then slew the man with his ax, by this time 2 more foes were on top of him. The first one lunged at him with a spear, which the dwarf warded off with his shield. Dwarin then hewed the legs beneath the attacker and the man came tumbling down to the earth. Just after this the second of his attackers sprang upon him with a dagger, which he thrust into Dwarins back. The Dwarven armor guarding Dwarin turned the blade easily and actually snapped it. The man was stunned for a second long enough for Dwarin to bring the broad side of his ax against the side of his head, knocking him senseless. Dwarin’s good fortune did not last forever though, twelve angry, dunedlanders saw their opponent, and gained confidence.

Thus Dwarin became on the defensive, mostly trying to ward off blows, and avoid getting killed. He was getting pushed farther and farther toward the tents. Dwarin was desperately hoping that one of the other uninjured riders would hear the sounds of battle and rush to his aid, seconds later his hopes came true. The taller rider, Gurthden, came rushing out of his tent fully arrayed for battle. With a battle cry of his own the man rushed into the thick of the melee. He crashed into the line of battle, his sword immediately found the belly of a decent sized attacker who was caught unaware and he felled him with one stroke. Their attackers had very little or no battle training and easily gave way to the new attacker. So the Dwarf and the rider gained the offensive for a moment. Dwarin tripped and beheaded one more foe as he eagerly rushed at Gurthden with a little to much enthusiasm. Gurthden himself was busy killing another enemy, by slicing his throat when he let his guard down. Nine was the count now, nine angry dunedlanders against a soldier of Rohan and A Dwarf of the iron mountains.

The night air grew thick with the sounds of battle as the attackers once more gained the offensive. Dwarin and Gurthden were slowly pushed back to the tents. It was only due to their skill, training, guts and sheer determination that they had not been killed or captured. With many wounds and bruises inflicted on both sides. Seeing their goal reached the enemies began setting their tents aflame. The fire spread quickly as the flames spread from tent to tent and from the tents to Aspida’s house. Dwarin and Gurthden were now fighting in the midst of an inferno. They smelled the stench of death in their nostrils. Its slimy hands were about their feet as the flames began to stifle them as they fought. The two valiant warriors were on the verge of death when the sound of thundering hooves reached their ears. Suddenly it seemed the tent burst forth in flames! Through the tendrils and the flame a horse and rider appeared. The rider was screaming a war cry at the top of his lungs, he brandished a short sword in his right hand and a spear in his left as he fell upon the attackers. He hurled his spear at one his foes, and hit his mark dead on, piercing him through the heart. The dunedlanders gave way. With one stroke of his sharp sword he decapitated a hapless dunlander standing in his path. Suddenly the tide of the battle had turned! Kalohern and Telefax gave much needed support and reinforcement to the tow warriors. The odds were now in the rohanian party, with superior training and renewed vigor they took the battle to the dunedlanders. Kalohern himself slew one more as the man tried to wrestle the boy from his horse. Telefax sent a man, who was approaching from behind, flying 20 feet with his hind hooves. Gurthden scored two more, one he stabbed through while dodging a spear. Quickly he grabbed the fallen spear and sent the shaft straight through the man who was upon him. Dwarin killed the last three remaining. Dwarin was cornered betwixt Aspida’s house and a fiery tent when the three descended upon him, the biggest of the three struck first he brought his club down upon Dwarin just as the dwarf raised his shield. So strong was the blow that the club shattered on impact. Dwarin saw his chance and sliced his belly open while he had the chance, but he was forgetful of the two other club-bearing men who had also cornered him. One of them hit Dwarin with his club and sent him two the ground. When he came to finish the dwarf off, Dwarin sprang up and sliced his arm off below the elbow. He now had the last one cornered so he picked up a spear and ran him through pinning him to Aspida’s wall.

The battle was over, but at a dear cost, the tents were flaming and Aspida’s house was ablaze. The final Tally was, Dwarin: 8, Gurthden: 4, Kalohern: 3, Telefax: 1, Dunedlanders: 0. Though the battle was done they were not out of peril, Dwarin ordered Kalohern and Gurthden to salvage as much of the supplies as possible. Dwarin himself went inside to find and save the injured riders resting inside. Due to his many years in the smithies of Erebor Dwarin took no notice of the smoke but plunged into the oven, which was Aspida’s house. Dwarin quickly carried all of the injured riders out to the stables where the horses and his cart was (which thankfully hadn’t caught fire). He had made sure they were all unharmed and all right was about to rest, when he remembered that He hadn’t found Aspida! Dwarin rushed back inside, twice nearly being crushed by a flaming timber. Frantically he rushed from room to room, shouting and searching. He found Aspida in a corner of her bedchamber crumpled on the floor unconscious. So the weary dwarf picked up the fragile woman and carried her through the fragile structure made of embers, which had once been her home. He finally reached the threshold of her home where she awoke. She bade him to hold her and listen to her last words. Dwarin held back the emotions of anger and sadness as she spoke to him thus:

[ January 02, 2002: Message edited by: Dwarin Thunderhammer ]

[onewhitetree]

Aspida awoke from a black sleep, with a feeling of great heaviness uncharacteristic of the slight old hag. She dragged open her eyes to see the worried face of the Dwarf that had been staying in her house, and smelled the stinging scent of fire. Her body was not getting any lighter, and her sight no clearer. A blackness started to creep over the outer edges of her vision, and she knew her time had finally come.
"Boy, I am dying, and this is no time to mince words, so you just listen up. You watch after that girl, Haleth, for she may need your help in the days to come more than she guesses. Perhaps she will welcome a friend in the loneliness of her existence, and don't you be turned away by her callousness. I tell you this, follow Thenamir and no other, for he is an honest leader.
"Also, in my herb garden, beneath the parsley, you will find all I have, which isn't much, but may help you on your journey."
She coughed and drew a ragged breath as her eyes started to drift. Aspida fought off the blackness, for she had to get one last thing out.
"According to the innkeeper's wife, a band of men who passed through the town just before you arrived has been sent by old Sharkey to find some ancient ruins. I don't know what's there, but I get the feeling your little fellowship does. It may be that the West Men, if there are any left, will know where to guide you...."
With that, Aspida's body gave one last, frail, shiver as her ancient, embittered spirit passed on to other places.

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin listened to aspida's final charge with profound sadness. Then Aspida's tired body finally went limp and her spirit left her. A single tear rolled down the craggy face of the old Dwarf. He thought of the persecution she had endured. The leers and stares of people at her because of their ugliness, the smirks behind her back as she passed places of meeting. Never to have known the love of a man, or the close bond of a family. Now the final injustice in her sorrow filled life was that she was killed by her own kind. Some men she quite possibly could have delivered as babies. Men she had healed and taken care of. A new fire awoke within the stone heart of the old Dwarf. Not only did he accept her order to watch after Haleth, but he decided to the best of his abilities that he would be the family Haleth never had. He also swore an oath to seek out and kill anyone ascociated with the attack.

Thus it was that among the ashes of a house. that a new foe arose. One more terrible and feirce than any they had ever seen before. So Dwarin once more picked up the frail body of Aspida and carried her to a small green mound behind her house. There he laid her down among the long grass. He picked some flowers and clasped them in her hands, and he set her hands upon her bosom. He then set Gurthden to watch the body until proper burial could be administered. Dwarin himself went to Aspida's garden. He dug with his hands until he found a small iron box. Dwarin then stood as he opened the chest, every bone and muscle complaining as he arose. Inside found a cloth bundle. He carefully unwrapped the material from it's contents. amking sure to fold it and set it in it's box with reverence. Inside he found an emrald brooch. It's beautifull jewel was set in simple silver with a pin on the back. After dwelling on it a moment he put both of them back in the box. The other contents were a map and a small journal. They were both very old and fragile. The cloth map seemed to be a chart of lands to the north, Dwarin made a mental note of this and set it back in its place. Dwarin then removed the journal. it was Aspida's personal diary. He decided not took invade the privacy of the dead woman. But he did notice that the last few pages were empty. He gently laid the journal in thebox. He then stashed the box in a locked compartment of his cart (which was undamaged).

It was drawing nigh on to morning so Dwarin trudged back to the green hill where Aspida laid and relieved Gurthden. He asked gurthden to tend to the wounded men who they saved from the burning house. There, with a heacy heart, he awaited the return of Thenamir and his party.

[ December 21, 2001: Message edited by: Dwarin Thunderhammer ]

They were still a good mile or more from the camp when Elwood stopped so suddenly that Baranthol and Ulfwine nearly ran into him. Thenamir, bringing up the rear, saw Elwood standing rooted to his spot like a troll caught by daylight, head cocked slightly to one side, listening. "What is it, Master Elf," Thenamir managed to whisper as his concern and suspense mounted.

"I was unsure for a moment, but the wind bears news -- there is fighting ahead, near or in the camp. I can see firelight reflected in the air above the trees, and there is a smoke rising. There is faint shouting and the clash of steel on steel. We must hurry!" And with that Elwood sprang up and away with the speed of a hart, nocking an arrow to his bowstring even as he ran. The three others followed as they could, but soon Elwood slowed. As the others caught up he motioned for them to stop and take cover, which they did.

"The fighting has stopped," Elwood murmured, "but the burning grows greater. We must approach with stealth -- if the attackers worsted your men we may be all that is left of the pursuit."

"You have the best eyes and ears to see what our options are," said Thenamir, "how should we proceed?"

Elwood listened to the stillness again for a moment before answering, "I hear voices, excited and troubled, but not like those of the Dunlendings. We may have new enemies to worry about, or our band may have routed the enemy in our absence."

"I know this area well," contributed Ulfwine, "and there is a place not far from here where we can get fairly close without being seen, on that little rise to our right. Our hawk-eyed elf might be able to get us more intelligence than his ears and nose from there."

"Lead the way, Ulfwine, and quickly, for the camouflage of the night will be passing soon," Thenamir responded. They each made their way, half-sliding, half-crawling between bits of cover to the south for a couple hundred yards until they came to a stand of trees on a low hill overlooking the village. The first weak light of morning was beginning to show in the east when the elf got his first clear view of the village.

"Aspida's hut is engulfed in flames," Elwood said in a low but not emotionless voice. "Several of our men who were within lie nearby. They are alive and unmolested. The only living I see are comrades. The dead mostly lie on the edge of the camp, except for..." Elwood paused, "...Aspida herself, who lies dead under the vigil of Dwarin not far from her burning hut..."

Thenamir and the others cast aside what remained of caution and ran full tilt to the camp, swords drawn, but it was useless. Thenamir himself came first to Dwarin who barely noticed his arrival. When he did look up from his seat on the ground, all the dwarf could do was mutter, "Where were you..."

Thenamir fell to his knees near Dwarin as Ulfwine, Baranthol, and Elwood approached, and each allowed the tears to flow freely for some minutes, each in his (or her) own remembrances of the wise woman who had so touched each in a unique way. Thenamir then stood, and hoping that she found some peace in death he ordered a couple of the men to raise a mound over her in the manner of Rohan with full honors. Dwarin insisted that he should direct the effort, and Thenamir assented.

The rest of the men who were able to ride were ordered to make ready to leave in two hours. Taradan or no Taradan, this band of savage barbarians had to be crushed and their errands turned aside.

Once the burial was complete, Baranthol, Dwarin, Ulfwine and Thenamir, along with the rest of the Rohirrim who could still ride, gathered at Aspida's fresh mound. Thenamir tried to speak, but no words would come. Having no wine with them, they watered the mound with their tears, and none more than Baranthol, before dispersing to finalize their departure preparations.

[shieldmaiden]

Baranthôl stood by Aspida's grave. Her eyes were full of tears she was trying to suppress. She was both sad and angry. She was angry at Dunlendings but also at herself because one of the last words she said to Aspida were "You stupid woman". She felt guilty, she wished that she said something nice to her when they were leaving to trek the Dumlendings but she didn’t even say goodbye.

Someone will have to pay for her death. She will be avenged.

[Gilthalion]

The Rohirrim and their friends did not stay long in the village after the burial of Aspida. Some of them were hot to pursue the Dunlendish band to the ruins. But they all needed rest after the tragic night and the funeral the next day.

It was before dawn of the day after that they set out. Ulfwine led them out of the village and back to the encampment of the Dunlenders in the darkness. They arrived just as a red morning illumined the sky.

"It will mean bad weather," said Thenamir, remembering an adage of his sea-faring ancestors.

"Very bad weather," agreed Elwood.

The camp was abandonned. Dwarin felt the coals and the earth underneath and said, "Stone cold. They left a day ago at the latest."

"Then they left soon after we found them," said Elwood.

"Then we may have been seen," said Thenamir.

"Not necessarily," said Taradan. "They may have already planned to leave early yesterday morning."

"Perhaps," mused Thenamir. "Is there a trail to follow?"

Ulfwine was perplexed. He cast about the rough encampment and sighed. "They might have seen us. They took extra care to cover their tracks. I think that they have headed north, but I cannot be sure."

"Do you think you can pick up their track again?" asked Dwarin.

"Maybe, maybe not. And if we find them, we may lose them again," replied Ulfwine.

"At least we know where they are going," said Kalohern, hopefully.

"But we do not know where Ost-in-Edhil is," said Elwood. "And none have been there in ages."

"You forget my northern kindred," said Thenamir.

"If we can find any of them left," said Taradan.

"We won't find them here!" said Dwarin. "Let us find the old South Road. That leads to their lands, and by it the dwarves once had commerce to the lands of Eriador, where there are a few men to be found, of a different sort than these Rohirrim, and these Dunlenders. More like Taradan and Thenamir here, though taller it seemed to my eyes. They are Rangers in the land, and we may find some at their southernmost outpost. Tharbad it is called."

"You call it the South Road," said Ulfwine. "Our name for it is different. If it leads to Tharbad and Rangers, I cannot say. But we can find it easily enough."

And easily enough they did find it, and that day they passed out of the lands that Ulfwine knew and into a region long abandoned, seldom traveled, and shrouded in legend.

~~~

Far ahead, and now well off the South Road, Storwolos led his band north across the wilderness, striking directly for the river where Ost-in-Edhil was said by Old Sharkey to have been situated.

Only Storwolos knew what they sought there, and his men complained when they thought he was out of earshot. Nevertheless, they followed their leader for league after league and day after day until Storwolos was sure they had found the river...

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin fidgeted in his saddle. He was unaccustomed to riding for long periods, and this trip didn’t look like it was going to be brief. Dwarin would have rather walked but if he was to keep up with the other riders he needed to ride. He had been obliged to hide his cart back at Aspida’s grave because they would be traveling through forests he could not navigate the cart through. He knew it would be safe from being stolen because the local villagers were scared silly of the place, since the great fire, and the loss of their husbands and sons. They thought it was cursed. Dwarin had packed most of his stuff into the saddlebags of his horse he dubbed “Surefoot” including Aspida’s iron box. What he could not take he buried near his cart, hoping to come back for it later.

When they came upon the greenway, something clicked in Dwarin’s mind. He quickly retrieved Aspida’s box from the saddlebag. Once more he carefully took the map from the box. As he looked at it he realized it was a map of the greenway and the surrounding area. He quickly spurred his horse to reach the head of his pack. He reached Thenamir in the lead. Catching sight of Dwarin’s haste Thenamir said: "You look troubled, master dwarf. What is wrong?". “I think this might be of use to you” Dwarin replied as he handed the map to Thenamir. “I found it in a chest that Aspida gave to me on her deathbed. It is a map of the old south road and the surrounding cities, some of which I have never seen, or even heard of. I feel there is some treachery about. We might even use it to predict our enemy’s destination. For now I leave this matter to you.” With that Dwarin slowed up to let the convoy pass, so he could take up his position in the rear, where he had been posted.

[Leighlei]

...Camp? Why so many?

The human girl peered out from behind the trunk of the tree, watching with peculiar gold-green eyes the party that had settled for the night.

Not seen so many in a long time...

She tilted her head to the side, her hair, which was cut rather sloppily to hang just below her jaw in uneven locks of gold, swished across her shoulder. It was matted with blood, impossible to tell if it was her own, and stringy with perspiration. She couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen, but the air about her was more mature, she seemed somewhat wise beyond her years...

I wanted to fight...I should join them...

But she knew she could not approach them, not after impersonating a man and fighting in a tournament. No, she had been cast out, having abandoned the ways of her people to be a warrior.

...Ah...why am I here?

She had come hunting a wolf who had killed her horse, a black mare who had been her only companion. But the animal seemed to have dissapeared. She turned, preparing to vanish into the shadows as always she did when strangers camped nearby, but something was thrown onto her back and before she knew it she had tumbled out of the woods, the jaws of a beast clamped on her arm.

SHE-WOLF!!!

She swing a desperate blow to the side of the wolf's head. It released her, and she felt the warm spill of blood down her arm. She rose, yanking a small, blood-encrusted sword out of her worn leather boot and growling at the animal.

Kill...

They leapt at each other at the same time, they went tumbling again, she thrust upward over and over again with her weapon, into the fur of the animal. Blood spilled from each, coating both bodies. Finally, the beast sagged atop her in a limp heap, and she had won.

Ayee...Pain...

She reached back with her good arm and felt her wounded arm. She lay still for a moment, then shoved the body off, reaching into it and pulling out her weapon, stuffing it back in her boot. She got onto her hands and knees, her body and clothes sticky with blood, and she rose slowly, the animal had put up a good fight. She couldn't move her wrist and was beginning to feel light headed, her chest was stinging something awful. The white and gray fur of the wolf had been stained red, and already flies were coming to feast on the carcass. She looked at it, and then the camp.

They saw me fight the wolf...

She rose to her full height, tall for a girl, and was still, staring back until consciousness left the wild girl and she knew nothing more.

[ January 15, 2002: Message edited by: Gilthalion ]

[Rinurion]

As the rest of the party slumbered, Gurthden slowly pondered his fate. He had taken first watch, as he often did, wanting some time to think, some time away from other people. He had always liked to spend time thinking of things, even when he was a child. But the last few nights had been different. He had been given somthing real to think about.
That old hag, he cursed silently. As much as he tried to banish them, Aspida's words flooded through his head …your doom is near... A voice in his head admonished him for blaming the messenger, but he ignored it. She was just an old hag trying to rile me he decided. But then how does she know about my secret… and why do her words bother me still?.
A sudden rustling in the bushes pulled him out of his reflection. His eyes snapped to a large shadow behind some tall grass to his right. A wolf he concluded. It will cause no trouble unless it is really hungry. By its size, he somehow doubted that it was. Gurthden had lived in the woods for all his childhood, and had learned that wolves had no interest in killing humans, and were animals to be respected, not feared. He settled back, keeping an eye firmly on the wolf, but not acting.
As the wolf crept slowy forward, he realised it was hunting something. Curios, he moved silently forward to get a better view. It was then he realised there was something wrong. The wolf was impossibly large, its pearly teeth were too white and too sharp, and its eyes had a very menacing quality under the moonlight.
Suddenly it pounced, a blur of teeth and fur. Its quarry turned, too late. When the moonlight hit the poor creature, just before the wolf did, gurthden realised what it was, and the wave of shock and grief brought him to his knees. A woman he anguished, little more than a girl. She stands no chance.
With practiced ease he cleared his sword from its scabbard, but he knew he would be too late. He choked out a sob of horror, as he saw the wolf tearing at her flesh. As quickly as it had begun, it was finished. Tears flooded into the eyes of the grim, silent rider of the mark.
But then, beyond all hope, he saw the young woman, not the wolf rise from the carnage. Blinking, he saw that she was tall, and had an air of maturity about her. By the blood streaming down her arm, he was unsurprised when she slumped down again, unconsious.
He rushed over to her, his mind reeling at the fact that the wolf had attacked. As he looked down at the wolf, a jolt of realisation swept through him. This was no wolf, he shuddered, it was a Warg. And wargs don’t hunt alone.

[Leighlei]

The girl looked impossibly pale in the moonlight, the animal at her feet seemed a bit too big to have fallen to her. She lay with her mouth slightly open, her hair slowly beginning to become soaked in the growing pool of blood. The rise and fall of her chest was gentle and shallow...
she needed help.

[shieldmaiden]

Haleth slept uneasily, she had dreams about her twin brother, Baranthôl, again, she wondered where that irresponsible brat was now . The noise that came from the bushes awoken her. She quickly stood up and took her sword. She saw Gurthden rushing off to the woods. In a few moments the whole company was on their feet...

[Rinurion]

A howl peirced the crisp night air. Gurthden scanned around for any signs of immediate danger, his grey eyes peircing though the veil of night as if it were day. He bent down, gently picking up the girl. She was thankfully light – she had obviously not eaten much in a while. Putting her over his sholder, he retrived his sword, and stealthily padded back to camp.

Baranthol was waiting at the edge of the camp. Upon seeing him, Gurthden breathed a sigh of relief. At least someone was paying attention. A questioning look from Baranthol was rewarded with a quick answer.
“She was attacked by a Warg. She managed to defeat it, but she will die if we don’t get her to Elwood soon”
Baranthol raised his eyebrows. “Wargs? Then we have no time. Elwood will be needed in battle”
Gurthden sighed patiently. “The wargs will not attack yet. The fact that they attacked the girl and not us must mean that they were after her, not us”. “But they will be now” he mused grimly. “Yet it will still take a good half hour to coordinate the attack”.
“Then we must get her to Elwood straight away”
“Indeed”

Elwood was already in the cart rummaging for his stuff by the time that they had got to him.
“How did you know…?”
Baranthol left the question hanging. But Elwood seemed not to notice, he had found his pack, and was now inspecting the girl.
“Hmmm. Not good. Not very good at all” Elwood murmured to himself.
“Can you do anything for her?” asked Gurthden in a rising tone of concern.