An Audience With The King RPG

[The Barrow-Wight]

* * * * * Rhûn * * * * *

Kasteni coughed and spoke quietly to Lovek. “Do not address me as Great Captain. His lordship Mislavini is the only one worthy of that title. You may call me Advisor, as is my proper title. Someone of your experience should set an example for your younger colleagues.”

He turned to the other two and said, “I see you have chosen appropriate mounts for our journey. Such strong beasts will be needed on the long road ahead of his.”

Grabbing the reins of his chariot he shouted, “Let us ride!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The representatives of Ozren rode at a moderate pace through the great west gates of Ozvalda. Kasteni led them, followed closely by his three chosen warriors. Around and slightly behind them, the 11 uniformed members of Mislavini’s Guards held a loose formation that would allow them to surge forward and protect the Advisor at the first sign of danger. Crowds of merchants and visitors seeking entrance into the city gawked at the site of the group, but all of them moved quickly aside to allow the Advisor to pass unhindered.

The group soon passed the throng and rode along the highway that ran westward from the city. On either side for as far as they eye could see were small farms surrounded by fields, mostly empty now that the harvest had passed. Most farmers were in the city filling Mislavini’s silos and selling what little was left for their personal gain. Occasionally the riders would pass a lone oxen-drawn cart that made its slow way toward Ozvalda.

After several miles the road left the great plain that surrounded Ozren’s capital city and climbed slowly into bare, rolling hills. Here there were fewer residences, but now and then they would see a shepherd's hut on some far hilltop. Flocks of sheep grazed contentedly in the distance and birds wheeled silently far above them in the afternoon sun. The land was very quiet.

Kasteni broke the silence, “As you know, the hills here are mostly unoccupied. Most of the larger cities of Ozren are to the north, east, and south of Ozvalda, and we will not find a decent-sized settlement for at least a week. But there are beasts here, and no man or group of men is safe in the open after dark. That is why the hostels have been built along the west highway. They serve as shelter for travelers, protection from the dark things that come out after sunset.”

He looked up frowning at the sun, now far past its noon apex and heading toward the horizon.

“Kiseljak is still many miles before us. Let us increase our pace.

[ September 29, 2002: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]

[ September 29, 2002: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]

[Ransom]

==Rivendell==

“My most sincere apologies for my clumsiness, Meneciriel.”

Elrohir handed her the packing list she had been holding. He silently cursed himself for his stupidity. Tripping his best friend’s wife certainly was not in his plans for the day. “I certainly hope I have not harmed you.”

Elrohir began to feel the eyes of the other elves upon him. He quickly murmered another apology to Meneciriel before slipping away. Elladan would certainly know how to deal with this new twist. He always knows how to make people happy. At least I hope he always does…..

[Elenna]

****Rivendell*****

Ciri shook her head as Elrohir ran off. It is going to be a long trip if that one doesn't stop being uncomfortable around me. she thought to herself. Maybe I should just defeat him in single combat or something. Erestor warned me... I know they are best friends, and Elrohir's worried about making my husband mad, but I don't think I can handle an entire journey of "Oh, I'm so sorry for touching you, Meneciriel!"

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-Jarl *****

Jarl was dressed and ready for the evening. He had received the information he needed, and given the messenger five gold coins for the old man and one for the himself. 'Tell him the other five will be his should this be true.' he instructed the man.

He made his way to the place where the dinner was being held. He glanced curiously at the others who had arrived, wondering which faces bore the names he now knew. He stepped up in the line at the entrance, and waited to be called.

'Jarl, of Dale! Trade Representative from Bard the Second, King of Dale!' came the ringing voice which announced him.

Jarl took a deep breath and stepped into the room. All eyes turned to regard this unimposing figure as he nodded and then was shown to his table.

[ October 09, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Susan Delgado]

******Shire******

Hardo glanced disapprovingly between the remains of the fire and the soundly sleeping Hobbits. He should have known they wouldn't be able to control themselves. Ah, well, it was too late to do anything about now.

He made breakfast for himself, bacon fried with apples. The bacon seemed all right, but the apples were old and mealy.

The smell woke the others, but Hardo had only made enough for himself. When they complained, he said, "Didn't you three already have breakfast?" and gestured at their unwashed dishes. As he spoke, he stomped on the fire, putting it out.

They grumbled and ate more of the omnipresent muffins with customary ill grace. Then they all saddled up and started out.

They rode along the eaves of the Old Forest. The road, while reasonably smooth, was littered with leaves and sticks and other detritus from the forest.

Hardo watched the trees apprehensively; he'd heard things about The Old Forest that he didn't like. Things like trees walking and malignant sprits grabbing folk and never letting them go. It was a place of terror for him, and he'd hoped never to be any nearer to it than his hole in Michel Delving, but here he was, with three rambunctious children who no doubt paid no heed to such stories and so had no caution. He wouldn't be surprised if one of them even decided it might be "fun" to explore the forest!

He shivered in an unsavory anticipation and firmly set his thoughts away from the forest and down the road to...where? They had no destination he wanted to reach. He would have cried if he could, but he looked at the sky and watched the clouds instead. Clouds had always been things of peace to him, one of the few things he was able to enjoy completely without reservations.

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

[Rose Cotton]

^^^^^^Erebor/Lonely Mountain^^^^^

Hringa left the King's hall and strode to where the preparations for the trip were being made by workers and servants. Some had been asigned to gathering food, weapons, tools, and other provisions. Others were charged with making sure the carts and wagons were strong enough for the journey.

Hringa presided over the work with the help of Halgen. Halgen knew more about the lands between Erebor and Minas Arnor then Hringa who had never traveled far from the Lonely Mountain before. It puzzled Hringa that it was he his master had chosen to go rather then someone more experienced but he wasn't going to question the decision.

He paced between the work looking for anything that wasn't going right. He returned his fellow servant's greetings with a wave as he went and occasionally offered his hand in help. Everything went on smoothly until as he was passing some of Frain's servants he caught a bit of what they were saying.

"So do you think Mr. Frain will decide to go to Minas Arnor?"
"If he goes it won't be for King Stonehelm.
"King. The dwarf dosn't deserve such a title. You've heard what Frain has said. Stonehelm is too young and too weak."
"If our master goes it will be for the profit."
"Or a change in status."

After checking to make sure noone need any anymore assistance Hringa made his way back towards the King's hall. He waited behind the tapestry for the meeting to finish so that he and his master could speak in private.

[ October 01, 2002: Message edited by: Rose Cotton ]

[The Fifth]

* * * * * Rhûn Nation * * * * *

Khuleln rode behind the other three, and just beyond the guards. The sounds of horses' hooves thumped heavily upon the grassy plains. They seemed to travel for hours; the plains and the hills were so vast and sprawling and the sun was beggining to beat upon their backs, although it was steadily, but slowly falling. Soon Kasteni spoke, his voice loud against the silence. Khuleln took in this information. He dared not think about the kinds of creatures that lurked in the hills.

The group of men urged their horses forward, riding harder and faster. The scenery passed by quickly in the neverending grasses.

[ September 29, 2002: Message edited by: The Fifth ]

[VanimaEdhel]

**********Rhûn Nation*********

"As you command Advisor," was Lovek's reply to Kasteni.

------------------

Lovek hearkened as he heard the command to go faster. He clucked once to Ratislav, who sped up considerably, nearly passing Kasteni. Lovek pulled back on the reins before Ratislav passed.

"I apologize, Advisor. My horse is spirited, you see," Lovek said briefly.

The scenery continued at this pace and Lovek was lost in his own world of thought. Images of his past expedition out and the carnage that had ensued filled his mind. He had lost a great many men, although he emerged with more than half. He had been frustrated at his losses ever since. As the unchanging scenery passed by, Lovek reviewed the battle in his head, trying to figure out what, exactly had gone wrong. He tried to figure out why so many had died.

The land around him passed by...

[Ringwraith Number Two]

******The Shire******

Unsurprisingly, Orlo felt grumpy. He had had muffins again for breakfast, whilst Hardo had had bacon. Bacon. The injustice.

Orlo eyed the Old Forest warily. He had no desire whatsoever to go in there as Master Merry's tales of being trapped in a willow tree had given him nightmares for three weeks and a fear of willow trees for life. He fervently hoped that the younger hobbits had no interest in the Forest either. He gave what he thought was a stern look to Brando, who seemed even more lively than usual, despite the meagre meal of muffins.

He glanced at Hardo. The elderly hobbit seemed lost in thought.
"Sir?" Orlo prompted. "When are we supposed to arrive in Bree? Aren't we travelling...a little slowly?"

The instant the words were out of his mouth, he deeply regretted it. He reprimanded himself; the memory of the aching stiffness of the night before returned sharply and he groaned inwardly. Hardo would probably go at a pace to rival the energy of ten Brandos put together.

[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar ****

The rushlight picked out glimmering threads in Gramil's gaudy tunic as he dressed for the dreaded dinner. He had little time before its official start, but he needed more information. He could afford to be a little late.

Gramil had put the feelers out in the bazaar, and now the expected knock came at his door. He pulled a bottle of his friend's favorite and two glasses from under his dressing table, guessing which source it would be. He was not disappointed. Tarve, the owner of the 'Lion's Den' where Jarl was staying followed his knock without waiting for an invitation. He needed none.

The two men pounded eachother's backs and laughed over the sudden end to Gramil's 'retirement,' exchanging small news over their first glass. Tarve teased Gramil about not knowing the king was gone:
"Ah, everyone knew that secret."

Gramil shrugged good-naturedly, "Everyone but me. See how I was serious about retiring?"

"You?? Pah. You could never retire."

As the second glass was poured Gramil asked finally:

"So what brings you here today?" No need to make assumptions. Gramil was too old to be a fool.

"A song on the wind," Tarve snorted, "what else? You have only to name it."

Gramil turned the stem of his glass in his hand. "What can you tell me of Jarl of Dale?" He nodded, "Naturally the king's credit is generous." He knew his tacit offer would be refused, and Tarve brushed it aside.

"Of Jarl, from Jarl? Nothing. Experienced. Old campaigner. He makes you guess, and maybe guess wrong. But from his young apprentice, Garlin? Plenty."

"I thought the name was Garvin." Gramil marvelled, "Garlin? Young Tiger? How did a man of Dale receive a Harad name?"
('Garl' in the Harad tongue meant 'tiger,' while 'lin' was a diminutive, for 'young' or 'little.')

"No doubt a coincidence of sounds. I don't know what it means in his language. But interesting still I say. He is rightly called. Be careful of him with a weapon in his hand - if you have cause. With such claws he is as dangerous as his name! He is responsible for the deaths of one table and two lanterns, practicing this week alone.

"But Jarl, ah the boy is very proud of him, and he has told me much, and others more..."

*********

Gramil had much to ponder as his carriage trundled towards the dinner, delayed from time to time by the summer street crowds. Occasionally they had to get out and walk as a break in the cobbles made it impossible for a loaded carriage to pass.

As he feared, the contact with Jarl of Dale had been badly bungled. The King had not met with him once in two fortnights, leaving the man to cool his heels at The Lion's Den.

Jarl of Dale should have been given opportunity to assess the King in person, been given an official guide to pepper with questions, and a formal tour of the city. Of course Jarl would develop his own sources of information, but the fact he was getting his information from ol' Rav at The Typhoon... oh, he was truthful, but it was not a positive sign of the level of trust developed.

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

Black eyes bristled under even darker brows, with a madness borne of too little to do, and too much alcohol. The free-sword from Rhun growled at his companion, a man who knew his temper enough to back off and let it cool of its own. This Harad bazaar noise jangled his nerves. He looked about the tent for others less wise, and found himself surrounded by sniveling cowards who kept away from him. All but two. His bleary eyes discerned two young PUPS! The word fairly shouted in his mind. They were so green, their shiney swords still had the merchant's wax on their handles as they stood with their backs to him. Insolence! The spirits in his cup splashed on his tunic, and when he lifted it for another try - it was empty! He had looked at them. Now his cup was empty. He roared his fury and threw his cup at the guilty parties. He remembered to use his Harad name, but all other reason was gone from him.

"I am Iron Turtle! How dare you spill my drink!?!" It was hard to tell if his Haradric was usually this bad, or if the drink had slurred his speech nearly beyond recognition.

The taller of the two, with the pale skin, turned to speak, but the little dark one burst out laughing.

"Iron Frog? What kind of Harad name is that? Do you sink then?"

*********

Gramil settled a polite smile onto his face as he stepped into the dinner hall, completely unaware of Ethar's unwise comment deep in the heart of the Bazaar.

[ September 30, 2002: Message edited by: Marileangorifurnimaluim ]

[Bêthberry]

^ ^ ^ ^Erebor/ Lonely Mountain^ ^ ^ ^

Stonehelm stared hard at Frain, as if guessing both halves of the dwarf's mind.

We are met to discuss our plans, our ways, means, policy and devices concerning this invitation, which I have chosen to accept for Erebor's behalf.

I am sure, Frain, you will appreciate this opportunity to establish and develop trade with the new kingdom in Gondor. Bring what chattels with you which will allow you to take advantage of the trade possibilities and accept this as recompense for the trip. Your share of the profits will depend upon the quality of your negotiations with Elessar's representatives.

Glavin, prepare your briefs and scrolls, your testaments and parchments concerning Khazad-dûm--all historical precedents to our title. And explore the claims of the Blue Mountain dwarves. It would be unseemly to contest our brothers' claim, but let us determine what a rightful share should look like concerning them.

Even now Hringa my servant is preparing the caravan. You will leave after break of day tomorrow. Prepare for a journey through all the faces of the moon and a half and be ready to celebrate Durin's Day mid-route. You will join the elves at Thranduil's caves.

A nod dismissed the two dwarves, Glavin with a coughing fit and Frain with a subdued mood. If he wanted the spoils of trade, he would have to pay for the engineers' journey upfront himself.

Stonehelm then turned to the curtain and called for Hringa's report. His face he held impassive as he took in the news.

I thank Mahal--touching his hand to his heart, lips, and forehead-- that my father's faithful retainer survived to serve me. Hringa, I join this journey. Prepare a wagon and two ponies for me. Tell the Queen-Mother to prepare for my absence.

Stonehelm sat back, prepared to backtrack over Thorin II Oakenshield's famous journey, at least part of the way. That satisfied his sense of historical proportion.

[Robin Headstrong]

***Rivendell***

Fanelen looked through her things, making sure she had everything she needed. Clothes, food, weapons, etc....
"I'm sure I have everything," she muttered to herself, "but I keep getting the feeling that I'm forgetting something. I nearly always do..."

It was no wonder her father was reluctant to allow her to go on this trip; she wasn't the most organized of elves. Fanelen checked over her supplies once more to be sure she had everything. Nothing seemed to be missing.

"Good, now to get over to the stables..." She picked up her bags and headed over to the stables. Elladan or Elrohir would most likely be there packing.

"Hello?" Fanelen called. "Elladan? Elrohir? Meneciriel? Are any of you here?" The elf-maiden received no response but the snort of a horse. That's odd... she thought.

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-Jarl *****

The tedium of the evening had already set in. Jarl stifled a small yawn, covering it with a small sip of wine. On his left sat a richly dressed gentleman, already well into his cups. He had listened politely, a look of feigned interest on his face, as the man told him of his family's interests in the spice trade. It was a long, complex story, fueled by several glasses of wine, the intent of which was to feel out any interest Dale might have for trade agreements with the family.

This must have cost your family handsomely! thought Jarl. The information he had gotten placed this particular family near the bottom tier in spice trade. But I will give you points for a bold move to position your interests in their best light. The man had stopped talking, and Jarl roused himself from his speculation. 'A very interesting story, and an inviting proposition,' he rejoined. 'Dale had not thought to seek contacts in the spice trade at this time, but I should like to present your offer to the King for his consideration when I return. If I might, I would like something written from you, a plan that I might share with him. Would it be possible for you or someone from your family to drop round . . . say, in three days time with such a proposal? We will get back to you directly, once the King has seen it.'

Jarl motioned for the serving man to pour another glass of wine for his neighbor. The man beamed, and nodded a drunken smile, saying he would bring the document, himself. Jarl made his excuses, then, saying he had seen an old acquaintance across the room. He left the table and crossed the room, stopping to exchange some pleasantries with a guest. He clapped the man on the back, much to the man's surprise, then exited the hall to walk in the garden.

He had been sitting on the stone bench near the fountain, watching the large, gold fish swim in its basin, when someone drew near. Another guest, in the requisite gaudy tunic, he thought to himself. He turned back to his perusal of the fish.

[ September 30, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

^^^^^^Erebor/Lonely Mountain^^^^^^

Frain was allowed to bring one smaller-sized company of dwarves, which he would have to pay, if he wanted the spoils of trade. Frain was sure he could recover his losses. Frain also thought it was good that they were going with the Elves. Frain did not like Elves, but if they traveled with them, it was less the dwarves had to really worry about. They now had more time to prepare, instead of wasting precious time thinking up routes and such.

After the meeting, Frain strolled out into the cool, comfortable, and moist airs of the Mountain. He decided to oversee some of the work, and to speak to the engineers he would choose to go along. He walked at a quick trod towards the great hall where workers bustled about, making preparations.

Frain walked by several workers he had met once or twice in his time. He spoke some hello's and helped a few that needed it. He reached the end of the hall after a while, and after helping some people he thought were straying from their tasks.

He saw then the two people he was looking for. The two most intelligent engineers he had ever met, and they had somehow gotten to be the leaders of one of the best engineering companies Frain had.

“Hail, my friends, Burin and Curin!” He called, and proceeded to inform the brothers that their company would be on the move tomorrow, and that they should tell their workers immediately.

Frain smiled to himself as he began to walk more about the hall, helping a little as he went.

All in all, he thought this would be a good trip for him…

[ October 01, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Carnëiach]

Brando had once again had muffins (was there an everlasting supply or what?) and the sugar had him bouncing with energy, although he tried to remain composed and mature for the other hobbits.
The stared at the Old forest with eyes like saucers though; uncle pips stories were always in his mind and terrifying as they were, they sounded so exciting...
He looked at the other hobbits to see how they felt. Hardo was miserably grumpy, (as per usual!), Odo seemed as excited as he was. They exchanged a look and grinned, a silent message of Tookish adventure passing between them. Orlo caught his eye also though and gave him what Brando guessed to be a stern look, had it not been so muddle with sleep and grumpiness.
He sighed. If they didnt do something soon, he was never going to get his sword. The young sociable hobbit grew bored of riding alone like this, so he rode up beside Odo, who smiled at him once again. Striking up conversation about elves he soon fell into an interesting conversation with the other hobbit, even though there were years between them, accompanied by the grumbles of Hardo about how noisy young people are today...

[GreatWarg]

* * * * * Rhûn Nation * * * * *

Ulwyte watched the lands slip by. Nothing really fascinated him much. He was eagerly looking forward to arriving at their destination. Good trades were not a thing to miss. Though for the son of a warrior, he would be expected to train first. Why couldn't he just be a merchant? They may not be as high in ranking as the warrior class, yet they were respectable enough for bringing in imports through dangerous lands.

Kasteni's warning was no surprise to Ulwyte. Many beasts lived in these desolate lands where no one dared live. It was just a matter of luck and skill to get through.

[Alkanoonion]

******Harad/Umbar******
After meeting with Herumir the day before, to report on a message received from one of his agents, who was in the service of the Bear, rumours said that the dragon had a spy in every town, this was not true, only one in every other town. The report was that Urken planned to take control of the ships in the name of the Harad Council and retain control of them indefinitely.

This was a serious matter for Fuinur as he needed ships later for trade and the cost of purchasing the ships would be an unnecessary burden if only he and Herumir could capture a couple of ships for themselves.

In the end they decided that it would be un-diplomatic to steal an entire fleet and this would unnecessarily upset the council. Fuinur settled on retaining control of the two ships, the pirate and the ship they planed to capture from the Corsiars.

Now it was dark, a sliver of the moon hung high in the sky, providing ample light for Herumir and Fuinur to see the entrance into the city of Umbar.

Standing in the entrance was Urken the Bear,

[Guildo]

<<<<Eryn Lasgalen>>>>>

Orodan & Nefros

Orodan, Nefros, and Isilya all mounted up and rode off to the meeting point where they were expected to meet the men and dwarves. They where perhaps halfway along the trail when Nefros spotted a small redbird.

“Ai! A messenger is following us, my word not even a mile from home and already excitement.” Said Nefros.

“Calm down” exclaimed Isilya. “its probably on its way to Dale.”

But Orodan knew otherwise, he stopped and gave out a quiet whistle. The bird lighted on his shoulder, and looked as though it was whispering in his ear, and flew off.

“Well it seems as though the Dwarves will be joining us after all but the will be a bit late at the meeting so they said they will catch up”

Nefros stared at Orodan with a wondering face and said.

“Wow they must be better foot travelers than I thought, they are giving us a headstart”

“Well I expect we will have to travel slowly until they come within contacting distance to us but even still I will gain a whole new respect for them if they catch up to us before we reach Dol Guldor.” Replied Orodan

“Hmm” nodded Nefros and began playing his flute again.

Shortly after their conversation about the dwarves they reached the meeting spot and within a few minutes of them being there, Girion and the men of Dale Approached.

“Whats for Dinner” Asked Girion.

Orodan smiled and said. “well the finest travel food of Eryn Lasgalen and the finest wine of Dale I hope”

“Sounds great said Girion”

Orodan dismounted and asked Nefros and Isilya to ready the dinner while he discussed matters with Girion.

“Nice to see you good friend but, important matters need to be delt with first, I need you to send word to some of loyals still in Dale, and asked them to take the old forest road and as fast as the can and secure some of your fastest sailing boats for us. I have already sent word to ask for the use of boats of Lorien but that will be a last ditch effort to go into Lorien with this party.”

But at that moment Rubin Steped foward and made a very intelegent suggestion about friends of Dale along the great river that could get boats ready.

“Very well Rubin, your begining to outsmart the elves, but your plan will work very well, i know of many message birds in the woods that could get our favour to them hastily enough. Now friend let us eat and I will tell you of a message I received on our way” said Orodan.

[ October 02, 2002: Message edited by: Guildo ]

[Ransom]

Alas, Elrohir’s normally efficient tracking skills failed him. Elladan appeared to be lost in a maze of management, or slacking off in the woods. Either way, Elrohir decided that, for the moment, his time would be better-spent thinking and packing for the trip.

He returned to his room and began to pack for the trip. This did not take very long, for someone had taken the time to clean his messy room. He briefly contemplated swearing vengeance on the soul who had moved his scrolls before pulling out his traveling bags.

In the space of a few hours, Elrohir had assembled a meager pile of clothing. Before his sister had been married, she had always berated him for his narrow views clothing. Elrohir believed that clothing should be chosen for its usefulness, not it’s looks. He could still hear his sister’s scolding before her wedding. Of course the color matters! No brother of mine is going to a wedding dressed in black!

Arwen would have to suffer through his black and gray clothing. He opened the bag, methodologically placing his clothing in orderly piles. His mind began to wander through the dusty libraries of his past before being jerked back into the present by someone knocking on the door. He pondered the identity of his guest before moving to open the door.

[Belin]

*********Rivendell************

In fact, Elladan's mysterious whereabouts were not that surprising. As Elrohir left the stables, Meneciriel had taken his hapless brother to task for the rather obvious smile twitching around the edges of Elladan's mouth.

"What are you looking at?" she'd demanded, as she stalked out of the stables in an attempt at highest indignation which was only slightly damaged by the infectious nature of Elladan's amusement. He followed her into the halls, now smiling openly.

"He can't help it, you know, Ciri."

"Is he trying?" she snapped.

"Of course. He spoke to you, didn't he?" They had reached a small audience hall, and went in. Meneciriel sighed deeply. Elladan continued. "What do you expect from him after spending so many years in the wilderness?"

"You're a traveler as well, and so am I," answered Meneciriel, absently. She was fingering her throwing daggers, seemingly lost in thought.

"But he loves it, Ciri."

She was unimpressed with this, and told him so at great length. He listened patiently and carefully, only occasionally considering how much nicer it would be to be slacking off in the woods. Her elaborate rant finished, and acknowledged, Meneciriel sighed again. "Please tell me won't be like this the whole time, will he, Elladan?" Elladan was reassuring. Surely his brother would feel more at ease on the road than in the city. Besides, he was certain to become accustomed to her presence as time went on. In any case, she must prefer it to-

His recommendations of patience were interrupted by the loud voice of someone apparently journeying through the halls at random. "Elrohir! Meneciriel! Elladan! Elrohir! Meneciriel! Elladan! Where is everybody?" Elladan closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his stores of the very qualities he had recommended to Ciri. "Is she really coming with us?" he asked quietly.

It was Meneciriel's turn to grin. "Why, of course, my friend, what journey would be complete without her?" she asked, opening the door to allow them a view of the irritable but still eager Fanelen.

[The Barrow-Wight]

* * * * * Rhûn * * * * *

The sun sank quickly below the western horizon, leaving the company in a mirky land of shadows. The hard-packed white gravel of the road shone palely, a wavering line that ran straight to the crest of the next hill. The darkness seemed to muffle the sounds of the horses even as they quickened their pace. The riders lit small lanterns, which cast away some of the gloom as they crested the hill and could see a light in the distance, not more than a league away.

“There is the hostel!” shouted Kasteni, startling everyone. “We have taken long to reach it, but now we are safe.”

He snapped his reins, and his chariot rushed forward with the rest of the riders fast behind. But his claim of safety was too soon. For as they plunged down into the wide valley there came suddenly the loud howl of many beasts from both sides of the road. Dark shapes crossed front of them and from behind could be heard the sound of claws on the hard rock of the highway. Kasteni drew his sword and urged his horse to more speed.

“Were-bears!” shouted Kasteni. “Like those in the great Khandian Circus that sometimes comes to Ozvalda. But these are wild and much larger than the captive creatures in their cages. And they hunger for the blood of Men.”

The Guards surged forward to surround the Advisor and his companions, but before they could reach him a snarling animal, covered in thick black fur and nearly as massive as Kasteni’s horse, pounced on the chariot, overturning it and sending its occupant rolling into the shoulder of the road. The riders slowed to protect him, but they were already past him before they could come to a stop. The party watched, aghast, as two more creatures leapt onto the road by where Kasteni stood, and the monster that had attcked him sprang over the remains of his chariot and leapt toward him, great fangs bared. More of the were-bears could be heard approaching in the darkness.

[ October 01, 2002: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]

[VanimaEdhel]

* * * * * Rhûn Nation * * * * *

Lovek quickly drew his sword and looked around himself, looking for more were-bears. He moved a bit towards the chariot, but it appeared to be too late. He took in a deep breath and tried to figure out whether to try to save Kasteni or to fight the oncoming were-bears. If it had been nearly any other man, Lovek would have left him, for three cannot go down for one. But, this was his superior. Should he rescue Kasteni? He saw the Guards already moving towards the were-bears, but not quickly enough.

"Olwyte!" Lovek heard himself shouting, "Khuleln! See if you can get those were-bears off of the Advisor!"

Lovek felt himself wheel and try to gallop to Kasteni. He closed the gap between the guards and himself, but could not get to Kasteni. He heard the were-bears behind him...

[ October 01, 2002: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]

[The Fifth]

* * * * * Rhûn Nation * * * * *

Khuleln quickly dismounted Spidernose. The horse stared and whinnied as the were-bears surrounded Kasteni. The guards had their weapons drawn, and the blades gleamed as they reflected the starry skies. Khuleln heard the fierce, primal growl of a were-bear lustful of blood. Having no time to think, and jerking his sword out of its sheath, he pointed it forward like a deadly lance and charged at a were-bear.

The bear heard Khuleln's footsteps, and stopping whatever it had been doing, bared its yellowed, daggery fangs at Khuleln. The man lunged towards the bear like a falcon for its prey, but the bear's reflexes were quicker and with the swipe of a massive claw, knocked the sword out from his hands and clattering onto the floor. The bear loomed up upon him. He was burning with fear, but he also heard the cries of Kasteni and the guards, Ulwyte and Lovek as they were battling the bears. He wanted to join them.

The bear was soon upon him, and Khuleln was knocked down towards the ground. His back ached from the impact, but he still groped for his sword, mere inches away from his outstretched fingers. He could hear Spidernose's hooves clomping on the road, and the hooves went slightly nearer. The great dark-brown bear raised a gigantic claw, about to swipe it down...

Then, there was a neigh, and a black flurry of claws and hooves. It happened so quickly that Khuleln was quite confused, but then he realized that the bear no longer was there. Instead, the bear was wrestling with Spidernose, who was wild and mad with fear. But why did the cowardly steed do such a deed, and spare the Variag? Khuleln stood up, shaken, and grabbed the hilt of his sword. Spidernose and the bear danced together in battle, but the horse appeared to be beaten down by the bear, with ragged, raw scratches over his haunches and neck. Soon the horse fell when its eyes were gruesomely gouged out and blood was spattered everywhere...

[ October 01, 2002: Message edited by: The Fifth ]

[GreatWarg]

* * * * * Rhûn Nation * * * * *

Ulwyte's horse reared, neighing imperiously. With a flailing kick it caught the nearest were-bear in the stomach. Ulwyte didn't dismount. An upperhand against such creatures was to stay taller than them. His sword flashed dangerously, eager for the blood of victims. Arrows were no use here. The thick fur of the bears would protect them. Might as well have a young child armed with a sling to battle a warrior armed with a sword.

Urging the horse at a run, Ulwyte quickly plunged into battle to save Kasteni. Lovek and Khuleln could take care of themselves. The horse neighed with fear, veins popping in its neck. With one hand, Ulwyte pulled on the reins for control, with the other hand he fought with his sword. Always master your horse before you master your enemies, was a favorite saying of his father.

[Tharkûn]

*****Dale/Garlin*****

Before Garlin had a chance to address the Stranger and ask him what he meant, Ethar cut in, "Iron Frog? What kind of Harad name is that? Do you sink then?"

The Stranger lunged.

Diving into the crowd was but the work of a moment for Garlin, who was fast enough to dodge the blade coming from the Stranger. Ethar, however, wasn't so lucky. Although he was able to evade the main swing, the tip of the sword nicked his cheek, creating a long, shallow cut from the side of his nose to his ear. Shocked, Ethar put his hand to his cheek, and, seeing his own blood after pulling it away, was filled with rage. "You'll pay for that!" Ethar screamed, lunging at the unknown assailant. The crowd, including Garlin, watched in a horrific fascination, at least until one member of it shoved Garlin into the makeshift arena that was being formed. Seeing that his new friend was losing to the skilled (but slightly drunk) swordsman, Garlin drew the two small daggers he normally kept hidden in his belt. What a day to leave my sword in the inn! he thought silently to himself as he ran at the attacker, who hadn't yet noticed him, due to the fury of his attack on Ethar.

Leaping upon the attacker, Garlin held the two daggers up to his neck and said, in a menacing voice, "Stand down or be slain." The attacker stopped, in mid-swing, and stood up, dropping his weapon.

[ October 01, 2002: Message edited by: Tharkûn ]

[The Barrow-Wight]

* * * * * Rhûn Nation * * * * *

The great bear-like creature reared over Kasteni’s head, drool splashing from its ravening maw. The tall man lashed out with his sword, stabbing the beast high on its left shoulder. He pushed his weight inward and the blade sunk deep, but the creature swiped him away with one giant clawed paw, and he was throw back onto the ground where he rolled down an embankment and landed in a clump of high grass. The were-bear pounced down at him, the sword still wavering in its flesh.

Kasteni reach inside his shirt and removed a talisman that hung on a chain around his neck. It was made of a dark, shiny metal and was shaped in the likeness of a cat-like, lidless eye – the Eye of Sauron. As the monster jumped toward him he grabbed the ‘eye’ and shouted: búrz ghâsh durbul! Búrz ghâsh jarkul skai! The icon in his hand flashed red suddenly, and the springing beast burst suddenly into flame, caught in midair. Another of the creatures, quick behind the first, dodged around the burning figure, but it too ignited as it spang on the Advisor. A third monster stopped and looked at its two dying fellows and turned away from the deadly flames in search of easier prey.

Kasteni fell to the ground and beat his burning hands in the dirt at his feet. The moment he had spoke the last word he had know something was wrong with his spell, for the fire that had shot outward had also reflected back into his hands. His left hand had been only singed, but the flesh of his right had immediately blistered from the heat, and the sleeves of his robes had ignited. He quickly smothered the fire on his clothing, but the pain in his hand he could not so easily douse.

Fool! I should have known! The artifacts of Sauron are no longer safe to use. With the Dark Lord gone, the evil forces of nature will always demand a high price for their use.

With no thought of monsters or his companions he dug deep in is inner pocket for a vial of salve he kept for wounds. Oblivious to the shouts of his guard and the howls of the were-bears, he smeared his right hand with the thick fluid and sighed as the burning sensation immediately ceased. He ripped a piece of material from his now ruined sleeve and wrapped the wounded hand tightly. Finally, his attention returned to the chaotic scene on the road above.

The creatures had been frightened by his fireworks and now menaced the riders who fought hard but desperately to keep them at bay. One of the guards had fallen and lay motionless at the lip of the road above, but the fighting had moved about 50 feet away. Kasteni pulled his sword from the smouldering were-bear that had attacked him and crawled up to the wreckage of his chariot. It lay on its side with one wheel completely shattered. His horse had broken free and was nowhere to be seen. Petrij, I hope you yet live, for I will need your strength.

The contents of the chariot had spilled along the highway, but he quickly found what he was looking for: his bow and quiver of steel-tipped arrows. He slung the quiver over his shoulder, put an arrow to the string, and drew it back slowly. Then he silently strode forward toward the battle.

[ October 01, 2002: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]

[ October 01, 2002: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]

[Bêthberry]

^ ^ ^ ^ Erebor/Lonely Mountain^ ^ ^ ^

They had travelled out the lower slopes of the Southern spur, hearing the farewell cheers ringing around the Mountain for some time after they left. That had been yesterday, after a short ceremony of farewell. Ruthen had led them in the Ritual of the Road Parting. For the first time in many ages that ritual had not signified a sad dispersal of the dwarves.

Memories of the crowd and the cheers and the excitement had carried them through the first day, as had full bellies from the farewell parties. The weather was warm, the ponies hale and prancing eagerly, the entire company in good spirits. They had ridden long, for it would be a two and a half day journey to Thranduil's cave where the Erebor contingent would meet the Elves and Men of Dale. Some of the carts were heavy-laden and the pace of travel slowed.

Yet, at set of sun, the engineers had started singing, their songs matching the tread of the ponies and the turn of the wheels and it had been a good day. They had needed only light blankets to sleep that first night.

Now the first taste of the adventure was lost and the monotony of the trek had begun to settle in. The sun beat down on them hot. Frain had taken to walking his pony back among his engineers. Glaven, always coughing, had decided to ride in the second wagon, his pony trailing behind. Hringa rode beside Stonehelm, at the front, initially full of questions about the journey but finally lapsing into silence. In short, the adventure had settled down into appalling boredom. Not even the thought of riding with the men of Dale and the Elves could arouse any particular feelings.

Stonehelm turned around, and admired his caravan of three wagons, an escort of six engineers on their ponies and the several dwarves on ponies of their own.

I'll make a wager, he called out. A small keg of beer for the best story told before we reach Thranduil's Cave. Decided by vote of all of us.

The ride had suddenly become interesting.



[ October 03, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Harad/Umbar

Urken's fingers tightly grasped the pommel of his sword as he watched the party approaching from an easterly direction. The kings were mounted on oliphaunts as were two of their advisors. The giant beasts plodded slowly forward, the men atop their backs using the accustomed pointed rods to control both their direction and gait. About the feet of the beasts marched a goodly number of foot soldiers. Most of these carried spears and large oval shields which concealed the upper part of their bodies. The two kings were being careful in having the men assume a defensive posture. Urken would not have expected less.

Urken extended a hand in greeting to the strangers, dutifully nodding his head to acknowledge their outward superiority in rank. Beyond this gesture, however, he was not prepared to go, nor did local customs or laws compel him. For a warrior-priest represented a fount of authority separate from that which legitimized a king.

"Greetings, royal representatives from Harad. Welcome to Umbar. I think you will find the harbor holds exactly what you need to help you find your way to Minas Anor. Although fewer in number than before the war, the ships are swift, and well appointed. We will speak later about the course of our voyage, the route that we must travel and how long that voyage may take. But, for now, we need to turn our attention to the matter at hand: to secure the two vessels needed to transport us and our beasts. And this must be done swiftly under cover of the night."

He nodded to Herumir and Fuinur to follow him inside the gates to the entrance of the underground tunnels. They dismounted the oliphaunts and walked cautiously forward, surrounded by their retinues. They peered about in all directions to ensure that there would be no ambush or other foul play. Looking down into the depths of the tunnels, they seemed to hesitate again, but then went forward, driven by necessity.

Urken extended his hands outward with palms raised towards the stars. "I give you my word, on he oath of a warrior-priest that no trick lies within these shadows. My own desire to reach Minas Anor is even greater than yours. I will not say that our goals or desires are the same, but for this part of the journey, our interests are identical."

He led them, their beasts, and their soldiers down the broad underground ramp in the direction of the harbor. As they marched forward, he explained his plans for the assault. "We will come out on the rocky cliffs which overlook the harbor. You will get a good look at the ships and how many men are guarding them. Our easiest approach would be to silently take out the guards on at least two of the ships and then occupy them by force of arms. All should be done swiftly and silently. If we are fortunate, we may sail out before extra forces are even called into the harbor. If not, we will have a tougher fight on our hands, but I am confident we can win."

"Two ships?" Herumir queried. "Who will command these two ships, and why would two be needed?"

Urken shook his head. "I have no need to command any of these vessels. Each of you may chose the one that you wish, and I and my men will come along on wherever you will have us. But two ships will be needed to house the number of retainers and beasts that we bring."

The kings drew aside and spoke with one another, and gave their consent.

"Good," said Urken. He told them he had several men skilled in slipping into secret places by swimming under water and then launching a silent assault on the guards who were awake. It might work best to start with these, and then follow with a few swiftly placed arrows and a boarding party. Hopefully, a number of the men on the vessels would be asleep.

Herumir growled, "I am not adverse to slitting throats when it is needed, but what if some beyond the guards choose to surrender and join our cause. These pirates have no firm loyalties and, as long as we line their pockets with gold, they may be of some use to us."

"Do as you see fit," said Urken. "Only trust them not until they have proven their worth."

Fuinur, who was skilled in methods of ambush, volunteered to join the underwater landing party who would first ambush the guards. Urken nodded his head in assent, and the forces made their way quickly to the harbor.

[ October 02, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar - Gramil ****

Gramil passed into the wide open-beamed dining hall. It was festooned with an opulent display of oil lanterns of fanciful design; here a dragon with a wick in its mouth, there a serpent, its tail aflame. Unusual, he thought.

Dozens of glittering guests murmured amongst the columns in twos and threes. False laughter rang out in that special dirge of a dreary party: the louder the laugh, the more dull the gathering.

This laugh was quite pronounced, and Gramil's shoulders sagged as he was led to his assigned seat.

He shook his head and smiled at its location. His hosts had outdone themselves. Jarl's place was as far to the other side of the room as could be, and there were two.. no, three pillars between.

But Jarl himself was nowhere to be seen. Gramil extracted himself from a round of pleasantries with his tablemates, nodding to Peral as he passed. Peral the Donkey was a man with eye to dwarven metals and a half decent wine to trade. Unfortunate for him that Dale received a finer wine of the Dorwinion variety. Peral was deep in conversation with Lady Ivrel the Gull, (whom Gramil had called the 'spider' as a child - but they were adults now so he only used that name in his mind). She gave Gramil a welcoming smile that didn't reach her eyes. Here their interests did not contradict. The lamps would have been her idea as she dealt in exotics, anything unique and unusual no matter how costly. She took breathtaking risks, which sometimes paid off. Of course she would be interested in anyone foreign. It was amazing Jarl had managed to slip her clutches so soon. She must be losing her touch, else Jarl was as slippery as an eel - which was the more likely. Gramil raised his glass in a silent toast to their expert and elusive guest, and snagged another glass from a passing tray - he had just glimpsed a familiar form through the archway to the garden. And Jarl had no wine at the moment.

Jarl dismissed Gramil with a glance, which Gramil expected. No doubt Jarl felt like the fish he was watching, with all this inept fishing, each guest forcing their own interests. Gramil shook his head. More important to know who you were dealing with first, and what they needed.

"So, did you ever find an oliphaunt more to your liking?" he asked as he settled on the edge of the pool, studying the fish that fascinated Jarl so.

**********

Up until that moment Ethar and his new found friend had had a famous time... but even as the words left his mouth Ethar knew he had made a bad mistake. Before he could blink, steel flashed in the Rhunian's hand, and he felt a scorching heat across his face. He hand came away from his face bloody. The second stroke arced, but someone shoved him out of the way, catching the stroke on a dueling knife - it was foreign and oddly shaped. Worth a pretty penny, a stray irrelevant thought occurred to him.

*******

"So which do you think he is - ?" Gramil grinned as he asked Jarl. The Daleman had been surprised to learn Harad names translated to animals (they were not just being called for their family crest as a Daleman would naturally assume). Thus they entertained one another for nearly an hour guessing which animal each guest was named for. The current guest in question was wearing odd pointed shoes and had a slight stagger, though it was early in the party.

"I would say 'Loon' if it were polite, and you had them so far south." Jarl pondered, "Hm. 'Duck' perhaps?"

"Ah! Mallard it is. But you are guessing them too easily now. How is that?" Gramil rubbed his chin, amused and suspicious, but Jarl gave a cryptic smile behind his wine glass and wouldn't give away his secret.

An obsequious servant approached with a whisper.

"Please, come with me. There is an urgent message. They will not speak with any but you. There has been something.. of an, hm, accident."

[ October 02, 2002: Message edited by: Marileangorifurnimaluim ]

[*Varda*]

*****Blue Mountains*****

Serin looked back at where Theron sat, clearly deep in thought. The trap-cart clattered noisily as they made their way into the Grey Havens. Mikhelm sat silent, gazing straight ahead and paying little attention to the glances of the elves.

“Cursed Elves,” Mikhelm growled inwardly. “The war could have been over so much sooner, if they had only chosen to fight Sauron earlier.” Mikhelm was resentful towards the Elves, knowing little of the war except what he had heard from the dwarves returning to the Ered Luin after the war.

Serin looked back and nudged Theron gently, to shake him out of his contemplation. Serin could not help but wonder what Theron was so deeply in thought about. Theron jolted awake, and observed the Grey Havens and the sea rolling past him. It was now around nine o’clock, and the sky was slowly turning darker above them.

“I suggest resting here for the night, Theron,” Serin suggested. “We have had a long day’s travelling, and I hear the Elves have become more hospitable to our kind. At any rate, we cannot venture much further tonight.”

“Very well,” Theron replied. “But we must leave early in the morning, if we hope to reach the Shire in a few days time. We cannot be late to arrive at Minas Anor.”

[ October 02, 2002: Message edited by: *Varda* ]

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-Girion/Rubin *****

It was going to be a large party travelling through the Forest toward Minas Anor - Men, Elves, and now, Dwarves. It would be slow going by either foot or horse, no matter how hard they pushed themselves.

Rubin overheard Orodan's query to Girion about the possibility of moving toward the Anduin and using it as a means of travel. He stepped up to where they were talking and drew Girion's attention.

'If I may, Lords.' he began, as Girion signed for him to speak. 'King Bard gave me a list of instructions before we left. And, since he did not know what route you might prefer, several of them dealt with how we might proceed south to Minas Anor. As I recall, he mentioned that there were trade allies, loyal to Dale, near the Old Ford, where the Old Forest Road crosses the Anduin. If we had need of them, we were to contact them and they would provide us with boats for river travel.'

Girion eyed the number of horses and supplies already gathered and factored in the Dwarven contingent. He laughed, and clapped both Rubin and Orodan on the back. 'To my thinking, we might need two small ships if we mean to take all these animals!' He looked at Orodan. 'What say you we travel south to the Old Forest Road, and then make contact with Dale's traders as my Father has suggested? We can camp here until the Dwarves arrive and then proceed.'

Rubin raised the question of Rauros Falls. It might be better to leave the horses once they boarded the boats. It would prove quite a task should they try to portage around the Falls with boats, supplies, and horses. 'And has anyone thought about where along the route we should pick up additional supplies? I know the Elves eat lightly, but Men and Dwarves are hearty eaters, and what provender we have brought will not last the entire trip.'

[ October 09, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

***** DALE - Jarl *****

Jarl glanced up in surprise at the comment on the oliphaunt. He took in more closely the face of the man now seated across from him at the pool's edge. A memory nagged at the edges of his mind, and he smiled broadly as it came flooding back. 'Ah! Yes! The unfortunate incident of the Mumak and the chickens!' Jarl laughed, and extended his hand to the man. 'Gramil, is it not?'

The two stood, and shook hands as was the custom among the Men of Dale. 'Your knowledge of our language has improved since last we met.' said Gramil, seating himself once more. 'Though your accent and your paleness still mark you as a foreigner.' Jarl grinned, and sat down. 'Yes, well, the pallor is something I can do nothing about. But I must tell you that my skills in riding have improved somewhat, though I did decide that owning an oliphaunt would be more effort and expense than I would care to afford.' He smiled again at a further memory. 'And, by the way, I did pay, and handsomely, to unruffle the feathers of those chicken's owners! Best not to aggravate the tradesmen at any level is one of my mottos.'

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

He was enjoying his game of 'Guess the Guest' with Gramil. What an interesting mind, this one has! Unlike the many guests he had met and moved through this evening. He shuddered slightly at his encounter with the Lady Ivrel. He had had the definite sensation of being a tasty bug about to be caught in her web as she eyed him. Coming closer, she had sought to draw him into conversation about the possibilities of securing exclusive trading rights with Dale for her line of exotic merchandise. She would not be put off with his request that she draw up a proposal for him to present the the King - she was too aware that he carried the King's approval to initiate and close trading agreements as he saw fit for Dale. It was only when one of her attendants took her away, saying there was a certain matter which required her urgent attention, that he escaped her.

Now Gramil had received some urgent message also, and looked as if he would also be called away. Jarl stood. He looked about the garden as the servant spoke with Gramil. Perhaps I might find an exit from here. He did not relish the idea of making his way through the party to leave. He caught Gramil's eye as the servant spoke with him, then waved a farewell and strode off toward a likely looking corner of the garden for a gate.

[ October 03, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Alkanoonion]

**** Harad/Umbar ****
The water was cold, Fuinur had never felt water colder, it was like a knife in his side. As Fuinur swam up to the ship, he imagined that he could feel icicles forming on the end of his toes. He only hoped that the cold water would not affect his muscles. Fuinur turned to look at the first ship to see if the other group was in position. The attacks would be coordinated to take full advantage of the confusion. Behind Fuinur a strange tinkling sound could be heard. He turned his head towards the noise only to be splashed by a warm salty fluid. From above one of the guards could be heard saying “Ahhhh, out with the old in with the new” and the sound of gulping from a large flagon.

“ Good one, Anglak ” said the second guard who was also drinking from a flagon . Both guards moved back to the group playing a gambling game involving knuckles.

Fuinur dunked his head into the water and motioned to the man next to him.” The first man who laughs is a dead man” The men around him nodded, while trying not to smirk.

Once in position, Fuinur raised his arm and made a sweeping motion. It was the sign for the men to silently board the ships.

On board the second ship the men silently took up position. A number of them carried a bow with arrows. Now each of these took out his bow and arrow and made ready for the attack. The man to the bowmen’s left was to act as his shield to give the bowmen time to draw his sword.

Fuinur looked back and saw that the other party was ready; he bent his head back and screamed "Fire" . A volley of arrows spread across the ship's deck and five of the guards went down. Then the archers dropped the bows and drew swords. The remaining guards seeing that they were doomed , raised their hands in surrender.

Fuinur ordered that the prisoners be locked below until the ship was under way, then if the men wanted they could join with the force. If the prisoners failed or refused to join then they could swim back to shore once both the ships had left the harbour.

Once the ship was secure, Fuinur sent word to Urken and Herumir that they could begin loading the ships with the supplies and oliphaunts.

[Ransom]

Elrohir peered out the door. The mysterious visitor had disappeared, leaving only a small scroll on the threshold of the door. He broke the seal and quickly skimmed the first few lines of the message. The information contained therein would require his further attention. However, the sun was waning, and Elrohir desired to dine with his brother. He slipped the scroll into his robe before locking the door behind him. Packing could wait.

This time, finding his brother was relatively easy. Elrohir simply followed the sound of his laughter to one of the small audience halls near the stables. Meneciriel was conversing with Elladin about their newest traveling companion. It didn’t take long for him to remember the name of the explosively joyous elf that was seemed to talk circles around his older brother. Fanelen. One of the elves that could control the natural elements. But that was a matter for later.

Elrohir decided to take the risk of inviting his traveling companions to dine with him. He emerged from the shadows and clapped twice, instantly catching the attention of the three elves in the center of the room. “My friends, the day grows late and my stomach grows empty. Shall we dine together once before we leave?”

[GreatWarg]

Ulwyte's horse reared again as an arrow tipped with steel sank into the flesh of a great bear in front. Pulling on the reins and fighting for control, Ulwyte looked around wildly for the source. People did not usually come here. He soon saw Kasteni shoot another arrow into the beast's thick, matted fur. Bewildered at such offence, the other were-bears were soon rambling off into the woods from where they came from.

Ulwyte checked the horse and dismounted quickly, wiping his sword against a few plants near the road first before sheathing it. No one ever said travelling was easy.

'A good show, Advisor,' Ulwyte congratulated, admiring his skill with a bow. One had to be rich to have such finely crafted arrows. He then turned to Lovek and Khuleln, who seemed to have both lost their horses. Inexperienced, eh? he thought to himself smugly as he surveyed the outcome of the battle.

[The Barrow-Wight]

Kasteni strode forward shaking his head in amazement that a few arrows had frightened the were-bears away. That was atypical of such creatures who normally would fight until their last breath. Still, it was good they were gone, but it was likely they would return soon. He surveyed the carnage they had created.

Three guards lay dead and at least five horses were dead and his was missing. The young Ulwyte looked in good shape, but Lovek and Khuleln were badly battered, though not seriously injured. His chariot lay in ruins, but most of his belongings lay nearby. He spoke to his companions.

“Men! Prepare to move immediately! The beasts will return, and in greater numbers. Ulwyte, Lovek will ride with you and Khuleln and I will each ride with one of the guards. We must make it to the hostel!”

Ulwyte nodded, but Lovek and Khuleln did not respond.

“Did the two of you hear me?” the Advisor asked.

[Bêthberry]

^ ^ ^ ^ Erebor/ Lonely Mountain ^ ^ ^ ^

Do you get it. Do you get it, Burin said for the twenty-first time to Curin. The miller stuck his face out, putting his lips out and he was expecting a kiss when along comes...

Yes, yes, we know,interrupted Curin. You've explained it to us already enough times.

Well, then, why aren't you laughing, cried the exasperated red-beared dwarf. I wouldn't keep on about it if I thought you had understood. See, here the miller was expecting ...

Stonehelm called out to his insistent bard. Believe us, we get it; we get it. Now stop or you will forfeit that keg you've won.

Stonehelm's word was of course the final word. There were many in the group who in fact wished he had given the final word a little sooner, but who could really be the judge of that.

Everyone was strained by the need to catch up quickly with the elves and men of Dale; the King had pushed them hard yesterday. They had ridden until after dark and even with the racous, rough-humoured stories they had felt sores rising where none had been. Saving precious time for sleep, they had not stopped even to light fires for the meal. They had eaten in silence, cold dried meats, some biscuits, fruits, water only to drink. They would have been happy to have had a cook that night, running sores or not. And then they were up before dawn, wishing the ponies would show some signs of fatigue, but none obliged.

The sudden silence brought about by Stonehelm's command meant for the first time they could hear the Forest River running. Immediately, Frain called to his boys to straighten up, Glavin straightened his back, Hringa drew his pony up beside the King. Down the slope, where a small tidal pool of sand and silt spread out along the river, they could see the elves camped. One even 'halloed.'

Have they got pointy ears? inquired Burin. Stoneheld did not need to give the order. Curin swiped him across the face with a pony blanket.

Now would be the real start to the adventure.



[ October 03, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

^^^^^^Erebor/Lonely Mountain^^^^^^


Frain sighed a very deep sigh as he saw the Elves over the hill. He had many sores on both his feet and rump, from both walking and riding. He was bored more than anything else during the trip.

I hope we get to have some real food now! Yelped the happy Curin.

Frain silently agreed with the thought. His mouth was dry and he had sores on his tongue and his teeth hurt, from eating so much dry and cold meat. He looked foward to lighting a fire up tonight.

As the band traveled a little faster now, excited to get to a resting spot for at least a while, Frain looked among the engineers. Curin and Burin were two of the six men he had been allowed to bring, and the others now laughed at another joke Burin threw out. Yet Frain knew that they laughed at him, not with him.

He looked over their heads, and yonder he saw the blonde heads and the green garments of the wood-elves. He also saw some Men of Dale among them. He was anxious to talk to anyone besides Burin for a while.

Frain hoped the fun would start now with the Elves.

When they reached the bottom of the hill, some of the dwarves unpacked a few minor things. It wasn't as if they were staying too long, of course. Frain's eyes caught a strange Elf, with a look of wandering and daydream in his eyes. Strange... Frain thought to himself.

Another Elf caught Frain's grey eyes. This one though, unlike the other, had a giddy smile on his face. He looked as though he could run around the world and not be tired when he got back.

I told you Elves were odd Glaven saw Frain stare.

Well, Glaven. I might be old and i might seem evil and sneeky, but my dear old father always told me not to judge a book by its cover. I believe that, don't you? Frain relpied with a smile on his usually grim face.

This might actually be fun... thought Frain to himself.

[ October 02, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Faye Took]

****SHIRE*****

Odo couldn't stop thinking about what the Old Forest was going to be like. He had heard tales of the forest when he was a lad, and still today he hears them. Each time they would be different, and each story gave him the chills. ' I wonder if they are true.' Odo muttered to himself softly. Slience creeped over the four hobbit. No one spoke a word until there was a grubbleing sound. Orlo, Brando, and Hardo stopped there ponies in there tracks. 'What was that Orlo asked a little frighted.' Odo looked at the three frightened hobbits and began to burst out laughing. 'No worries my friends! It was just me stomach growlin! Guess I'll be havin some bread then aye?'

[ October 05, 2002: Message edited by: Faye Took ]

[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar - Gramil ****

"Sir! Sir! - " The servant called after Jarl, but his overly soft voice was lost in the din. The party, under the influence of alcohol, had begun to pick up. " - this message is for Dale of Jarl?? About a little Tiger?"

Jarl had made a speedy disappearance, perhaps due to that special trader's instinct for self preservation: Lady Ivrel had spotted them. She unfortunately caught this last part and was left to speculate on Jarl's interest in Tigers without him. Exotic animals was one of her trades. She faded into the crowd in search of her new prospect.

Gramil caught the reference at once. "Garlin? Is there a problem with Dale's - I mean Jarl's - assistant?" He suddenly recalled Garlin and Ethar were seen together at the beginning of the evening.

"I.. I don't know. The tiger is being held by the guard. At the lion's den. The message, tigers and lions, it makes no sense."

"The guard??" Gramil abandoned the servant and strode off in search of Jarl. He hoped Ethar was okay, and he hoped he was still with Garlin. The guard was not friendly to foreigners, they would not be able to tell the difference between a Dale man and one of Gondor.

Now, he thought, where would a trader seeking to avoid attention go... Gramil's eyes caught the opening to side passage. The kitchen.

**********

He caught the edge of the stranger's blade and threw it aside with a wobbly parry, feeling the impact to his knees. Ethar had recovered enough from his bloody rage to realize he was losing, and felt a bitter salt edge of panic as he forced two fast cuts that were easily turned. Now he had to defend. And defend, driven back into the crowd. "Defense is where you die," a teacher once said. Ethar really wasn't a swordsman, though he knew enough of the basics to realize this drunk Rhunian was not an average fighter. He was dressed as a free-sword, but this was a trained soldier. What was he doing in Harad? A deserter?

Ethar was about to make a desperate lunge inside the man's guard, when someone jumped in his way, nearly getting skewered. It was those beautiful dueling knives again - Garlin! He was fast. In a moment it was over, and Garlin was somehow on top of the soldier, crossed knives at his throat. And that is what the guards saw as they entered the tent.