ROHAN RPG

Elwood produced a number of herbs and soaked them in water before mopping her brow. He then bound her wounds with bandages. "That should keep her alive for now but I can do no more for the wargs will be upon us soon," Elwood said.

The elf ran into his tent and returned with his bow on his back and his sword in his hand. "Arise! Wolves are near!" he urged, moving lightly from man to man.

All preparations had been made and Elwood, Thenamir, Dwarin, Baranthol and Gurthdan all stood ready to fight. All fell silent for a few seconds and then the largest wolf that any of them had ever seen stepped into the light of the fire....

[ January 24, 2002: Message edited by: Gilthalion ]

[shieldmaiden]

Baranthôl drew her sword ready to fight. She was choleric and this was a good opportunity for her to waste some energy and anger , it was better than shouting at people or throwing and breaking things. She never favored killing animals or people, she didn’t like looking in their faces while they were dying, but she had no problems with killing wargs, the only thing better than killing wargs was killing Orcs.
She almost smiled. She took a branch and put its end on fire. Come on,come on, attack, i can't wait to slit your necks.
[img]smilies/evil.gif[/img]

[Leighlei]

The Girl awoke slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dark swiftly. She was sweating all over, freezing cold and so tired...
She shifted her gaze to her surroundings. It was some sort of tent...shaking her head, she tried to sit up.

...Ah...my arm

It hurt so bad, they had dressed and bandaged the wound, but still it bled, soaking the bandages.

...What happened...a...a wolf? No...it was too big to be a wolf...it was...was...

She forced herself to a stumbling hunch of a stand.

IT WAS A WARG!

She yanked from her boot the blood encrusted sword and staggered out of the tent.

My God...

The legions of peoiple stood before the Wargs. The fire separated the two opposing forces. In the fire though, the largest Warg's eyes gleamed like embers of an inferno.

...No, not to kill them as you do so many...

She took a deep, shaky breath and raised her sword high, forcing out of herself her last burst of strength as the Warg leapt, and she rushed into the crowd that immediately moved foreward.
The battle had begun.

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin was extremely tired; he hadn't slept in three days straight. Dwarin had been the first to setup his tent and fall asleep. Unfortunately the sleep didn't last. Suddenly outside he heard A growl and a roar. Dwarin quickly grabbed his ax and stumbled outside. On his way he saw a girl stumble out of her tent. In the light of the fire he saw a huge warg, and plenty of eyes in the woods glimmering. Suddenly the wolf sprang at Baranthol. The Dwarf cried in rage as the girl fell to the ground. In a split second the rest of the pack was upon them. The dwarf leapt over the fire and grabbed one of the flaming pieces of wood from the fire. Distracted from his fallen prey the great warg fixed his eyes on the dark figure flying through the fire. In a moment Dwarin was between Haleth and the warg. Time and time again the warg struck and every time the dwarf managed to ward off the blow or at least dodge it. Dwarin had fought many wargs in his travels and he slew many in the battle of five armies, but this was one of the largest he had ever seen. Slowly weariness began to overcome him. His heart was on fire more than ever but his body was unwilling, slowly the dwarf gave ground. The other riders were hard pressed themselves. Dwarin felt like he was in a drunken stupor, he valiantly waved his torch in the face of the wolf but it was to no avail. The wolf bit at him, he warded the bite off with his brand but he couldn't avoid the next blow. The wolf struck at Dwarin with sending him flying, Dwarin let out one last cry of "Aiii!!" His limp body a tree and all went black.

[ February 05, 2002: Message edited by: Dwarin Thunderhammer ]

[shieldmaiden]

Baranthôl got up and took her torch again. She yelled and ran after the warg that attacked the Dwarf. She jumped in front the beast, weilded her sword and stabbed the giant animal trough it's throat. Then she put it on fire with the torch she made. She didn't have time to wach it burn. Many more were comming to replace it.

[ March 02, 2003: Message edited by: shieldmaiden ]

[Thenamir]

Thenamir thought grimly that night is not the best time to try to sleep when one is a warrior. Night attacks were the worst. He'd only had a brief and sleepy glance of the girl being carried away to Elwood's care, but he was instantly awake upon hearing the word "wargs." So much had happened since they'd left the land of Rohan that he'd taken to sleeping in his battle gear..except for the helmet. No pillow, that.

Thenamir hurried to the spot where the girl had fallen and looked out, but it was no use, there was not enough firelight. The horses began to shriek with their fear as the smell of blood and of the approaching Wargs reached them. He began barking orders: "More wood to the fire! The light works for us and against them! And have torches at the ready! Elwood, stand ready with fire arrows!" Those standing near threw all that remained of the gathered wood and brush on the fire, which crackled and blazed up, sending showers of sparks upwards, reflecting all around them at least a dozen pairs of eyes in the sudden light. What seemed a pitiful few of them took up makeshift torches and stood ready as the first Warg padded slowly into view, fully half the size of one of their horses, the half-open mouth showing rows of glistening fangs, firelight flickering in the eyes of a deadly and purposeful stare.

He watched helplessly the lead warg leapt and began ravaging Durin (who gave some of his own in return), for the attack seemed to signal the rest of the warg-pack to leap forward from the shadows, each only slightly lesser in stature than their leader. He barely registered the girl he had seen in passing, bandaged and running to Dwarin's aid before he was overtaken by two more of the snarling beasts.

Thenamir's heart pounded as they padded round him, circling. There was intelligence here, malevolent and cunning. Thenamir spun first left, then right, trying to keep track of both wargs at once, to keep shield on one and sword towards the other, hoping one would make the mistake of coming too close to his blade.

As if on cue, the darker demon-wolf made as if to leap for Thenamir's shield arm, then ducked and sank his yellowing teeth into the leather greaves he wore just below the knee. The fangs could not penetrate the stout leather, but his leg was squeezed as in a cider press, and he was dragged off balance and began to fall. The wolf's teammate, waiting the opportunity afforded by Thenamir's awkwardness, aimed to rip the wrist from his sword arm which seemed to be flailing as he fell. The warg had no way of knowing that, as in the earlier battle with the Dunlendings, falling backwards was one of Thenamir's well-practiced tactics. The flailing arm was in truth regripping the sword in a peculiar fashion via the guard which allowed him to sever most of the warg's muzzle from the rest of his face. The deformed warg retreated in haste, deprived of his most deadly weapon, howling in anguish from a bleeding mouth that he would never close again.

The second warg, seeing his comrade depart, released Thenamir's leg and tried to make a quick grab for his throat, but Thenamir's shield arm came up as quick, and all the warg got was a bloody nose and a mouthful of metal shield. Still the warg was above, and Thenamir, try as he might, could not wrest the weight of this fell beast from atop him. With the shield over his face, he could not deflect the warg's slashing teeth from his midsection, and again the warg was thwarted by iron mail. The warg roared as a tooth broke, and then fell again atop Thenamir, not moving for a moment, seeming content to slowly suffocate him by his sheer weight. Then Thenamir smelled it -- the unmistakable smell of burning hair. Elwood had shot the beast dead with one of his fire arrows, and the fire was keeping the other beasts from coming to finish him off. But if he could not roll the fell corpse from over him, he would roast alive beneath it...

[Rinurion]

Gurthden charged into the fray with a cry that made even his comrades flinch. His frustrated anger, so long kept in check by a wall of reason, now came out in a flood. His blade sang of blood as it cleaved through hide, flesh and bone alike, while his heavy sheild warded off the few blows that ever got to him. He dispatched the wargs in seeming rythm, for indeed he was in a grim dance with death. Through his rage he felt a shape brush past him, another victim for his fury. He unleashed a massive blow, only just stopping it when he realised that it was the girl he had saved earlier in the night. She ran lightly, her lithe body moving in a fluid motion. The realisation that he must protect her came at the same time as a ripping pain in his side. He whirled around, knocking the warg senseless with the flat of his blade. Cursing himself for letting his guard down, he ran after the girl, and into the heat of battle.

The girl hit the wargs bare moments before Gurthden did. She drove herself at them with a wild cry, twisting as she plunged her sword between the lead wargs eyes. In a blink, Gurthden was bye her side, his long, flat, unadorned blade lopping off another warg's head. His fury had been replaced by another feeling, one he had never felt before, but was just as strong. The girl beside him fought with such skill and determination that her injuries and slight build seemed not to matter. Dispatching another warg, Gurthden thought he heard a muffled cry for help. Redoubling his efforts
he slew two more wargs in quick sucession, and the wargs fell back momentarily. Grabbing the fiery girl's arm, he ran back towards where the noise had come from.

Kicking the burning carcass away, Gurthden could hear the wargs regrouping in the backround. He quickly bent down to survey Thenamir's stricken body, and was happy to see that he was regaining concience.
After a few seconds, his eyes were open, and he was looking around. What a tough campaigner, Gurthden thought as he smiled. A sickening howl cleared the sound of the battle, as a hand tapped urgently on his shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts. Whirling around, Gurthden prepared to again enter the battle...

[ February 05, 2002: Message edited by: Rinurion ]

[Leighlei]

The girl took a spinning slash at a Warg about to pounce on the man who had guided her here. With one swipe it's head fell from it's shoulders. Without saying a word she looked directly into his eyes, wide with surprise, then turned, and began to hack away at oncoming enemies. However great she was in battle, her arm bled profusely and her strength soon dwindled. Finally, a large Warg got the best of her and leapt upon her, knocking her to the ground. The girl made no noise, her sword knocked from her hand, she grabbed it by it's throat, and tried to keep its snapping jaws from her face, while even then they were only blessed inches from crunching her head to a pulp.
She let out a small cry and in a dwindling effort knocked it from herself.
"Why are you here!?" She yelled at it in perfect english, speaking for the first time so her compainion was even more shocked than before.
"We have wanted you for quite some time Arenia. You have caused much trouble to us." It growled, circling. "But 'tis not you we want." He let out a snicker and crept away. The girl, Arenia, staggered afew steps back before collapsing again. Her companion dove foreward and caught her, lowing her slowly to the ground and holding her head in his lap...


[00C-Better?]

[ February 09, 2002: Message edited by: Leighlei ]

[shieldmaiden]

Baranthôl quickly ran to help the fallen Dwarf. Dwarin was lying unconscious on the ground, his forehead was bleeding, he must have hurt it when he fell down. She took a flask from her pocket and opened it. She poured the water over the Dwarf’s face and slapped him a few times. “Dwarin, wake up, come on you, you..” she stopped herself from saying something harsh, she had already told him enough ugly things.
She heard a noise behind her and turned just on time before a Warg jumped at her and so it landed on the end of her sword instead of pulling her down to the ground. The animal fell over Baranthôl and it’s cadaver covered her. She barely managed to get out under the animal’s foul corps when another wolf attacked her from her back. It overthrown her to the ground and grabbed her arm in its jaws. She though that it would bite it off but suddenly pressure stopped, she felt blood leaking all over her and the animal became slack and rolled down from her. Baranthôl turned and noticed Dwarin with a bloody axe in his hands. “Thank you” she uttered without breath. “
“No, thank you.” the dwarf replied.
Baranthôl picked up the torch she dropped when the first warg had attacked her. A terrifying thought crossed her mind. “Our horses! The wolves must have attacked them too!”

[Thenamir]

Thenamir rose, heaving great gulps of air trying to recover from his near-suffocation. The wargs were now much fewer in number than when the battle was joined and the remainder seemed to be in retreat, but looking around Thenamir spied a good number of their company who were wounded and needed care. He barely had time to nod a grateful thank-you to Gurthden before he heard Baranthol's cry, "To the horses!" What little advantage they had over the Dunlendings depended in large part on the speed of their horses. They had been so busy defending themselves against the wolf-onslaught that the horses had had to fend for themselves. Thenamir grabbed Gurthden by the arm and ran, sword arm still swinging at wargs, to where the horses had been picketed.

The grim sight that awaited them was not easy to take. Several wargs lay where the horses had lauched mighty kicks at them in defense -- a few who merely had their ribs crushed still breathed, but were unable to move. Of the horses, though, not one remained. Not one. Thenamir's own Windwight lay lifeless, with horrendous gashes and open wounds. Baranthol knelt beside his own mount silently weeping. Thenamir turned away, both his explosive anger and his stomach threatening to well up again.

In turning Thenamir noticed something in the pale light coming from the campfire some yards away. One of the injured-but-not-yet-dead wargs had been trying to creep away unseen, the leader who was first seen in the firelight. Thenamir stepped close to the dying animal, who looked up into Thenamir's face with a scowl, and spoke.

"Have mercy...and slay me quickly...tark...end my suffering..."

Thenamir stifled his surprise and replied, "I will grant you this boon if you will tell me your master and your purpose. Otherwise I and my companions will end your days by throwing you into yonder fire!"

The warg emitted a weak growl of rage that faded into a whimper of agony. "Saruman...can do no more to me now...kill you if possible...slow you at least...aid Stor...wolos and...Dundlendings...now slay me, as you promised."

No matter how evil the beast, Thenamir could not watch it suffer. Thenamir raised the notched and bloodied Aranbold and gladly mingled the beast's blood with that of his comrades, but not without pause. A noble beast, one even to speak like Huan of old -- bred and tricked and turned to evil from birth by forces he knew not, for purposes he could not comprehend.

Thenamir then raised his head and began to walk slowly back to where the others were tending each other, wrapping gashes, setting broken limbs -- makeshift medicine, and how Thenamir hated it, all the more since the death of Aspida, the healer who might have joined them except for these barbaric servants of Saruman. It was a miracle any of them had survived this long, and Thenamir wondered how many would remain alive after tonight.

[Gilthalion]

Far away, in a great black tower stabbing high into the night, an old man stood gazing into a crystal globe on a high pedastle.

"So they are not yet dead," he murmured in a low voice. "But their horses are, and without them, they are no match for Storwolos and his band."

"I do not trust these Dunlenders!" said Grima Wormtongue.

"They will serve my purposes," the old man replied. "Or do you think you know better than Saruman of Many Colours!" His voice rose as he turned upon his servant, and Grima cringed before the wizard.

"No Master!" cried Grima. "You should have let me recover the relic. They will surely steal it!"

"So you wish to recover the relic?" the old man scoffed. "Fool! Neither the Dunlenders nor the Rohirrim will live to tell the tale! Do you think I sent those savages to find me a treasure?" Saruman began to laugh, a deep sinister laugh that ended in a cackle of wicked glee.

"I'll tell you what I sent them for," cried the wizard. "And then you can tell me if you would rather I had sent you! When the savages find the hammer, they will find something else that they will not expect."

He gestured at the Palantir. Dark images of shadow and flickering fires could be seen at an impossible depth within the crystal orb.

"And when they find what they seek, something else will find them, and I will be watching," said the wizard. "When Sauron waged war upon the Elves of ancient Hollin, many creatures were unleashed that were conceived in an earlier day of great tumult and darkness. Much evil was brought against them, but there was great arrogance and pride that was brought against themselves, for Sauron was subtle and worked long amongst them ere they learned of his Ruling Ring. Do you know who, or should I say what, lies buried in the elvish ruins of Ost-in-Edhil? Of course you don't! But soon, the savages will. And if the barbarians from Rohan are persistent enough, they will also learn!"

And with that, the wizard's peals of evil laughter rang throughout the tower and Wormtongue was indeed glad that he had not been sent to the ruins.

[shieldmaiden]

Haleth was not mad, it was a too small word to describe how she felt, she wanted to scream and yell and break something, she wanted to curse out loud the day she joined the riders ., but she had to keep all that inside of her.
She hugged her dead horse, Zelenko and cried without a sound, her tears made the animal’s
mane wet. For four years that horse has been her friend, sometimes the only friend she had. It was the only horse that left after her brother, Baranthôl lost their stables and farm, because just a few days before the happened, Zelenko had ran away and came back a couple of days later. She always had a special bond with it, she liked to whisper in its ears and many times Zelenko was the only witness of her thoughts and feelings.
Haleth closed the horse’s eyes.

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin limped over to where the horses had been tied. He found that the rope that he had tied his horse "Nim" too had broken. There was no sign of the horse anywhere. Nim had seen almost as many wargs in her day as Dwarin had so she knew what to do. Nim had bolted and, if she was still alive, on her way north to the stables in bree. Dwarin kicked the dust and muttered something in Khuzdul. When he looked up he spotted Haleth crying over the coprse of her horse. He walked over to her and did his best to comfort her.

[Theodred21]

Taradan was having horrible aches again. Fully concscious he was, but in his paralysis, he was unable to join the battle. So there he lay, in his makeshift tent listening to the sounds of fighting growing dimmer. And when he could hear the sound of Wargs no more, he mustered all his strength and sat up. Pain shot through his skull, but he was becoming used to it, there always seemed to be pain.
He slowly sat up and limped outside. Thenamir was organizing the burning of the hideous corpses, he was a good replacement leader. Taradan hated his helplessness, but at least he was in his right mind. Often times he had seen those who survived bad head wounds go mad.
Suddenly, the sounds of crying reached his ears. Turning his head slowly to avoid more pain, he saw the horses all dead. Nimroch, he thought, his beloved white mare. He quickly staggered over to find Baranthol, already weeping over his horse. But his voice did not seem like that of a man, the sobs sounded like a woman crying. But Taradan's thoughts were not focused on that now, as he stroked his brave steeds mane. First Aspida, the lady who had saved his life had died, now his beautiful horse. Like many of the others there that night, his veins coursed with burning hate, and his heart yearned for revenge.

[shieldmaiden]

Haleth wiped the tears from her face. There was no use in crying, it only made her feel worse.
She politely refused the Dwarf's help. She needed to be alone.
"I'll go to the woods to get some wood to burn the corpses of the wolves"- she said.
Dwarin tried to say something but she stopped him "I can manage it myself, there can't be any more wolves out there".
She quickly left, not letting him reply.

In the meantime the others were clearing up the camp from the bodies of dead animals.
Leoden, one of the older riders noticed- "Has anyone seen Guthrin? I haven't seen him during the fight?"
"I'm here!" yelled Guthrin from somewhere above.
They raised their heads and saw Guthrin in a tree.
"What are you doing there little bird? The Wolves scared you away?" asked Gurthden.
"I gathered some rocks and threw them at the Wargs, that's what I did!"
"So that's what hit me in the head! And I thought that wargs threw rocks! Shouted Flandhere, the other rider from Erkenbrand's camp. "Come down you little bird, you haven't fought but you are sure going to do some cleaning."
"My horse has gone!", Kalohern yelled.
"Of course it has, all our horses are dead." said Thenamir.
"No, no, I mean it has gone, escaped, vanished. It must have run away when the wolves attacked. I hope that it survived."
"My horse has escaped, too", said Dwarin ."That leaves us with two horses, if they are still alive, that is, and that is not so bad after all."

[ March 02, 2003: Message edited by: shieldmaiden ]

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin turned his attention once more to the man up in the tree. "Rocks my foot" he began angrily "I have half a mind to cut that tree down with you in it. If you don't come down here and help." Guthrin still refused to come down. "I can't come down, I'm going to stay up here and look out. You do your own dirty work Dwarf!" That proved too much for Dwarin's patience. "You miserable rat! I ought to....." Dwarin continued to mumble as he grabbed his axe and let into the tree with all the strength in his tired body. Guthrin's eyes turned as big as saucer when he saw the Dwarf starting to destroy his refuge. "HELP!!!! HELP ME!!! THE DWARF HAS GONE MAD HELP ME!!!! HE'S INSANE!!!!" Dwarin did not stop, Guthrin continued to scream for help, and desperately hoped that somone would stop the dwarf from destroying his refuge and him with it.

[ February 13, 2002: Message edited by: Dwarin Thunderhammer ]

[Theodred21]

Taradan looked up from his sorrows to see what was causing this new racket. The sight first appeared comical, Guthrin in a panic up in a tree while Dwarin, obviously releasing his pent up anger hewed at the tree in a frenzy. But then Taradan saw the danger in his acts. He got up as quick as he could and lurched over to the foot of the tree.
It was a tall pine, and very soft-wooded. Already it was beginning to sway.
"Peace Master Dwarin," said Taradan, in the most imperative voice he could manage. "We are all upset, but it is not right to be hostile to friends."
Dwarin stopped for a moment to reply,"that boastful, windbag is no friend of mine!" and he resumed chopping.
"Dwarin, do you think that only you has suffered? I say, put down that axe right now!"

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin looked at Taradan and grudgingly hooked his axe to his belt.

"The tree should live" Dwarin started "But He wont! It wont be by my hand, but such cowards deserve to die."

"Thank you" Taradan muttered

"Now you must rest!" Dwarin replied. "Here let me help you to your tent." Dwarin took Taradan back to his tent and made taradan as comfortable as he possibly could.

When Dwarin left Taradan's tent he noticed that the situation with Guthrin hadn't changed at all. With the exception of Guthrin being scared witless. Dwarin walked over to the base of the tree and loooked up.

"You come down here right now and help!".

Once more Guthrin refused "I'm not coming down there you get back to work I don't need to do such mindless chores."

"If you're not down by the time I count to ten I'm coming up to get you"

"A Dwarf climing a tree! This ought to be a sight to see! I shall enjoy watching you fail" Taradan scoffed.

"One! Two! Three! Fo--" Splat something warm and wet hit the forehead of Dwarin's helmet. Guthrin had spat on him! From the tree above Guthrin laughed at his apperent victory. "ALL RIGHT I'M COMING UP TO GET YOU AND THROW YOU DOWN AND BEAT YOU TO A PULP! YOU SNOBBY COWARD ORCLING!!!" With that Dwarin started up the tree in a fit of rage Curing and yelling the whole way. Guthrin laughed once more at Dwarin's verbal attack, but his laughter quickly turned to frantic cries for help when he saw the speed at which Dwarin was climbing a tree. Dwarin ingored Gutrin's pathetic cries for help as he climbed relentlessly. Guthrins's only hope was that one of the riders would come nd save him from the enfuriated Dwarf, and fast!

[Theodred21]

"Oh no, not again," muttered Taradan. Guthrin did not seem to know when to quit. Some day the fool would get himself killed, but it wouldn't be this one.
"Thenamir, come quick, there is trouble brewing between Dwarin and Guthrin!"

[Thenamir]

Thenamir gauged the speed at which Dwarin was climbing and figured he had a good half-minute or so to meander over to the tree. He was not pleased with the way Guthrin had quitted himself since they left Rohan, and thought a good scare might do him good, and thus was in no hurry to slow Dwarin down.

Taradan stared as Thenamir unhurriedly approached and pulled a small dagger from his boot. Thenamir barked a commanding, "Dwarin!" from where he was, but the dwarf showed no sign of slowing down. Guthrin had been climbing higher into the tree, but now the branches were dangerously thin near the top and threatening to break under Guthrin's weight. Thenamir eyed the distance carefully, then with a zing threw his dagger into the trunk in the narrow space between Dwarin and his prey. As the dagger hit home inches from Dwarin's outstretched hand, Thenamir shouted "Khuzd!" in a gutteral scream. Dwarin stopped short, looked at the dagger, then slowly down at Thenamir.

"Khuzd Dwarin!" repeated Thenamir, "Dzik bund mak shakr shathûr! Baruk khazâd narag nik tumun theket turg-bark ghethen zrakh! Baraz kharesh ai-mênu, Dwarin, buzundushul!" ("Dwarf Dwarin! Your head does not belong in the clouds! The axes of the dwarves are black and hollow to so slay beardless cowards! A red curse upon you, Dwarin, son of a black root!")

Dwarin's mouth fell open in amazement hearing the words of his people from the mouth of a man, but his face flushed red at the last remark, and he scrambled down the tree, leaping the last 15 feet and bringing his axe down to meet the drawn sword of Thenamir. As the metal and the eyes locked, Thenamir said in a low and menacing voice, "Your petty argument with Guthrin will not stop the Dunlendings, nor avenge those we love who are dead."

Dwarin jumped back as if shocked. Thenamir's thought had brought back memory of Aspida, whose last breath had admonished him to follow Thenamir and no other as a man of honor. Thenamir continued, "your axe will not be honored to draw the blood of one such as Guthrin. I say he has learned his lesson, and ask you to put away your axe. I chafe also at the cowardice and haughtiness of Guthrin, but to slay a man for churlishness is not the way of the dwarves, or so I have heard. If you would slay him, you must first slay me."

[ February 18, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[ February 19, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

The wave of fury washed over the Dwarf "You defend him?! He could have saved our supplies! He could have saved our horses. HE COULD HAVE SAVED ASPIDA!! FOR THAT I WILL NEVER FORGIVE HIM! THE ANGER OF A DWARF IS NOT SOMETHING TO BE TRIFLED WITH!" In a moment the anger had passed. The complete weariness once again took Dwarin's limbs. He lowerd his axe and bowed his head. "I am sorry for my Rashness. I let my anger get the better of me." Dwarin sighed heavily. "These last few days have been heavy on my heart and on my body. I pray your forgivness."

[Thenamir]

Thenamir nodded. "If we fight amongst ourselves, then Saruman wins. Go to your tent, Dwarin, and rest." Aside to Dwarin as he walked away, Thenamir added, "the insult was only intended to get you out of the tree quickly. I am not fool enough to willfully make an enemy of a dwarf." Dwarin grinned a moment, then headed for his tent, making a mental note to ask Thenamir how in the name of Moria he learned to swear so well in Dwarvish.

Thenamir turned to the tree, where the ashen-faced Guthrin was just beginning to regain some pale color in his face. "Guthrin, you will come down out of that tree and get to work, or I will finish chopping it down myself. You have shamed yourself and your family by your actions, and deserve to be horse-whipped across your bare back and sent home. You have been worse than useless -- you have endangered our lives and shown yourself to be a thrice-proved coward. What shall we do with you?"

[ February 19, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

"String him up by his thumbs!" Dwarin said, just loud enough for Thenamir to hear. "Or better yet, feed him to the wargs!" The Dwarf said without stopping. Thenamir stifled a grin and ordered Dwarin to get back to his tentfor a second time. Dwarin was extremely curious about how Thenamir knew Khuzdul but he was more weary than he was curious. When dwarin finally got back to his tent he cdidnt even bother to unhook his axe from his belt. He simply fell over and slept like a rock.

[Theodred21]

"Handled well my friend," said Taradan with a weak smile. "But I fear this affair of violence and grief has worn me out, and my strength has not yet recovered. It will be a hard journey for me on foot. So now I bid you goodnight, and go to rest now," he said with a sigh.
Taradan limped over to his tent, which he was sharing with Dwarin. The stout dwarf was already asleep, his beard rising and falling with his breath. The sight amused the weary rider as he lay down on the hard ground. He took off his cloak, and rolled it up to use as a pillow, and soon was dozing off. His last thoughts concerned the unknown maiden he had seen battling, and...was Baranthol really a man, or was he really a woman?

[ February 21, 2002: Message edited by: Theodred21 ]

[Thenamir]

Thenamir saw Taradan off to his tent, then returned his attention to Guthrin's tree. Guthrin himself was climbing down with the slowness of a child who knows his guilt but dares not avoid the summons to judgement.

THenamir spoke, loud enough for those standing by to hear, "Guthrin, son of Guthmund, you are of the body of the Rohirrim by your own choice. I am an outsider to the Rohirrim, fighting with them only by their permission. I cannot judge you -- that is the province of your commander, Taradan, and your fellows. By the law of Rohan I am the least of the members of this party."

Thenamir now turned to the rest and spoke louder, "But I ask those who stand by to vindicate my decision now: that you be bound hand and foot to this tree, to prevent your cowardice from goading you to flee yet again, until you can receive the judgement of the Circle of the Rohirrim in the lawful manner in the morning."

There was a murmur of assent among the few standing by, and one, Gurthden, moved to retrieve a rope from his gear. Guthrin blurted out, "Tied?! What if the Wargs come back? I'll be defenseless!"

"This is true," Thenamir replied, "which is why you will be on watch tonight -- since you have not exerted yourself whatsoever over the last few days, as the rest of us have, you should be quite well rested for a good long watch, and all the more vigilant since your life will depend on rousing us to defend you!"

There was a chuckle among the rest as Guthrin's mouth gaped open, but there was obviously nothing he could say. He watched helplessly as Gurthden first tied Guthrin's hands behind him, then tied his feet with enough slack that he could take a half-step at a time and no more. He then loosely looped the free end about the tree and knotted it such that Guthrin could not get away, but could move around the tree so as to be able to watch in all directions.

Once Gurthden had tested the knots, he stepped back and observed as Guthrin shuffled about the tree a couple of times to make sure the watchman could indeed watch. Then Thenamir called for everyone to get whatever sleep they could, except Elwood. Elwood he called aside and asked if he would try to track down and retrieve the two horses which had broken their picket-ropes and fled. There were a couple of wounded, Taradan included, who would not be able to keep up with the quick-march Thenamir planned for the next day unless the horses could be found. Elwood agreed and disappeared into the night, but not before drawing a long dagger into each hand.

Thenamir gave Guthrin a last look, threw some fresh wood on the fire, and then collapsed in his tent. Even the helmet-as-pillow could not prevent sleep from overtaking him that night.

[ February 22, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Gilthalion]

There were horses like none others among the herds of the Rohirrim, the foals of the Mearas. They were intellingent beasts, fleeter of hoof and stronger of wind than any other horses in all of Middle-earth and no animal except the great Eagles of the Misty Mountains could travel faster than these mighty steeds.

Telefax was such a horse, though still young and ungainly, not yet come into the full growth that would flesh out his awkward bones. Even so, the great horse easily escaped the makeshift paddock and evaded every warg that he did not slay with his flashing hooves.

He found his way northwest and came upon a road and was soon lost to the pursuing wolves who could not hope to match the speed of Telefax in the open country away from the confining trees of the forest.

Now the horse reached his real stride and riderless ran as far and as fast as his great legs could take him and the leagues passed behind him like the wind. He ran not from fear of wolves, but as if guided to be where he needed to go to find help for his master and friend, Kalohern. The young rider thought his steed slain, and sat numbly back at the camp, ignoring the foolery of the coward, Guthrin, and the constrained wrath of Dwarin the dwarf.

But Telefax knew his master needed help that only he could bring. Now it is a strange thing, but the horse somehow knew, by that special grace that is given to truly noble beasts, that help lay upon the road he now galloped.

He ran until the night became day, and as the sun climbed her courses, the mighty steed found the Rangers of Tharbad and they looked in wonder at the great horse.

[shieldmaiden]

During the “episode” with Guthrin and the tree Baranthôl was gathering firewood in the forest.

After some time she sat on a fallen tree and sighed. She didn't feel well, the death of Aspida, the fight with Wargs, the death of her horse, it all fell on her like a rain of stones and she couldn’t take it anymore. All she wanted to do was to wash off the sweat and blood and not think or do anything for some time.
She wondered through the woods until she reached a stream. It was not very wide and maybe 3 or 4 feet deep. She knelt on the ground, removed her helmet and hood and immersed her head into the water, she kept it under the surface until she was out of breath. The cold water helped her calm down and relax. Haleth wished she could take a swim but it was too dangerous, someone could see her and then her disguise would be revealed and all would be ruined.

She took off her boots and dipped her feet into the stream, she felt better immediately. She unbuttoned her shirt and took out a simple metal pendant on a chain that was hidden under several layers of clothes. She pressed a button on it and it opened revealing a mirror on one side and letters H and B carved on the other. Baranthôl and Haleth both got a locket from their father who made them so they could always see each other if they were separated. She looked at the face in the tiny mirror, it was strange but she couldn’t tell whose face she was looking at, hers or her twin brother’s. They were so much alike. She wondered what he was doing at that moment. Over three years have passed since she last saw him and heard from him. She missed him so much. She knew only one thing for sure, that he was alive.

Haleth was suddenly paralyzed from fear. Something wet and cold touched her neck. She was so frightened that she couldn’t speak. She slowly turned her head...it was Nim, Dwarin’s little horse. “You scraggy scallywag ! You are worse than your nosy owner” -she laughed. “I could have had a heart attack.” Haleth knew that it was in fact her fault that the horse had surprised her, she was lucky that it wasn’t something worse. She made a mistake, she was not careful.

She tied the firewood that she had gathered into a stack , put it on the horse’s back and headed back to the camp.

[ March 01, 2002: Message edited by: shieldmaiden ]

[Thenamir]

Thenamir was sore, in more ways than one.

The battle had marred and bruised him, his leg ached where the warg had tried to wrench it off, his chest still felt like the other warg was sitting on it, and in his extreme fatigue he had neglected to clear the smaller stones from where he fell to sleep exhausted, and they now felt like boulders in his back.

He rolled to a more comfortable position as the morning light waxed pale in the east, and tried again to think. The horses had been killed in the night, and he was sore about that too. And his mind drifted back to other hurts inflicted on him by Saruman and his band of barbaric Dunlendings...his wife and child...his best friend...now his faithful and beloved Windwight.

All the legends and stories said that Saruman was a good wizard, Saruman the White, who had helped defeat the Necromancer and drive him out of Mirkwood a few years ago. And yet he was responsible for all this carnage, all this destruction, all this sadness. Was it possible that Thenamir and those who followed him were attempting to thwart the good plans of a good wizard, who surely knew more than they?

Thenamir shook his head to clear some of the cobwebs. The light was growing stronger, and with it, the conviction that Saruman, if he was good, had turned aside from his path into evil or madness...or both. If an evil wizard might be the equal of the Dark Lord, surely a mad one was worse. "Subtle and quick to anger," someone had once said about the wizards. Good, evil, or mad, his means could not be justified by any ends he could imagine. How he could hope to combat the purposes of a wizard, he had no idea, but fight him he would. It was time to move.

The sky was brightening as Thenamir began to rouse the others. Much to Thenamir's surprise, Dwarin's horse appeared at the end of the clearing, tied and getting an early start on breakfast. The Bonfire was still going, and Guthrin was wide awake though slumped against the tree he was tied to. Guthrin! His matter had to be disposed of before they could move on.

After a hastily prepared breakfast consisting chiefly of roast warg (tough and stringy meat, but alright in a pinch), Taradan called those who remained of the Rohirrim to the Circle, formed around the tree: Taradan himself, Gurthden, Baranthôl, Kalohern, Leoden and Flandhere. Once that was underway, Thenamir, Ulfwine, Dwarin, Elwood, and the mysterious girl walked apart, so as to leave the Rohirrim to their task. Thenamir used the time to discuss matters with the others.

Elwood had returned in the night, with news that Kalohern's horse Telefax had managed to escape northwestward. "The hoofprints that horse left are so deeply set in the hard earth where I last saw his tracks...the horse is moving with a speed I have never seen, and in the direction we wished to go. If he was not otheriwse hindered, he may well be beyond Ost-In-Edhil." Thenamir thought in wonder anout the unsightly horse Kalohern rode, and wondered if Elwood might have followed the wrong trail. He certainly hoped not.

Thenamir then turned to the mystery girl from the night before. "What is your story, lass? Why were the Wargs chasing you?"

[ February 27, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Leighlei]

The girl glanced at The man before her and glenced around, holding tightly her arm.
"My name is Arenia." She said, her aceent was the equivelant of what an irish accent would be here on earth. "And they chase me because I whacked off ear of their leader, big male who killed my mare. I cut out left eye." She motioned with her hands. "I come for food and shelter." She said after a moment. "Human company not...common in these parts." She had trouble speaking the language properly, then said something gutteral, like a grunt that was foreign to humans. It was the language she had spoken to the trees and the wind throughout her long past in the wilderness. And then she switched back to making words.
"Who are you?"

[shieldmaiden]

"Indeed, what are we?" thought Haleth, "A bunch of wounded men in the middle of nowhere. Riders without horses. Taradan can barely walk, Leoden and Flandhere haven't fully recovered yet. And the rest of us...a boy and a not much older Dunlending outcast, a cowardly rich brat, a neurotic woman who pretends to be a man, a strange Elf and a nosy Dwarf and two men. We are in the middle of nowhere tracking a group of Dunlendings who outnumber us a dozen times..."
She remained silent and waited for someone else to speak.

[ March 11, 2002: Message edited by: shieldmaiden ]

[Thenamir]

While the men of Rohan decided Guthrin's fate, Thenamir explained their situation to Arenia in the simplest words he could think of, interrupted occasionally by the dwarf, elf, and Dunlending who helped fill in the gaps--the king, the suspect advisor, the Dunlendings, the pursuit, the battles, the deaths. It was a lot for such a one to take in, but she absorbed it with the relish of a half-starved animal devouring a fresh kill.

Once she understood what was happening, she insisted on joining them. "I know where you go. Was there once, men there, dark hair, like you."

This comment raised the eyebrows of all the non-rohirrim in the huddle -- even the calm Elwood seemed cheered by this intelligence. Thenamir cried, "then there are men there, men who could help us! Arenia, how long will it take to go there from here? How many days to walk?"

[Gilthalion]

The wild girl answered the exile from Gondor after a moment's thought.

"Some here are wounded," she said. "So we would be slow. Maybe two leagues in a day. Many days. It is fifty leagues to the River Greyflood on the old road. The moon will be full again."

"And it will take us that long to return on foot through Dunland to the Fords of the Isen," said Thenamir. "All choices are fraught with peril! If we find these men you speak of, we may lose time. If we return to Rohan, we will never learn what the wizard is up to. It is a hard decision. We will have to debate it after it is decided what we shall do with Guthrin."

"We must give the wounded time to rest," Arenia said, as if she herself bore no wounds. "And perhaps there will be better news when we are ready to move."

"We would be ready sooner if Aspida had not been slain," said Thenamir. "We could use her knowledge of herbs and medicines."

The dwarf, who had turned in disgust from the Rohirrim's overlengthy (to his mind) debate about Guthrin, heard the name of Aspida, and remembered the map she had given him....

[ March 14, 2002: Message edited by: Gilthalion ]

[Leighlei]

After a moment of the others discussing among themselves, Arenia turned away. She felt odd, mismatched and cold in their warm circle, she wrapped her arms around her knees, which were drawn up to her chest, and rested her chin upon them. Ignoring the nagging pain in her arm, she remained like that for a few moments more before lifting her head, thinking of something, and getting to her feet.
"Name was man brought me here?" She inquired. After a managerie of confused looks, she tried again. "I fight Warg. Arm hurt." She motioned to her arm "I not awake. Who fine me asleep and bring here?" She said this slowly, so they could understand. She looked at them in a troubled way, asking with her eyes. "Understand words I make?"

[Rinurion]

"That was I" said Gurthden softly as he looked up. "I was on watch. I saw what i thought was a wolf. I respct wolves greatly, they normally do no harm. But i was wrong. It was not a wolf. It was a warg. You were nearly killed, and it was my fault. I should have known sooner. I beg your forgiveness."

[Leighlei]

"Your fault? I do not understand how fault yours." She strode over to him and looked into his eyes, "Please forgive me for endangering you." She put her hands on his shoulders and rose on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Fault not yours."

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin hastened to find Thenamir. When he found the Riders they were discussing Guthrin's punishment. Dwarin shot a glare in the direction of the coward. He found thenamir and asked to speak to him in private. Thenamir pulled away from the group and asked Dwarin what he wanted.

"Sir, first of all I would like to apologize for my behavior last night." Dwarin began. "Secondly I would like to remind you of the map I placed in your posession when we left aspida's. Thirdly, I would greatly like know how you learned to speak my language."

[Thenamir]

Thenamir separated himself by a respectful distance from both the Rohirrim council and the conversation between Gurthden and Arenia. "As to what happened last night," Thenamir said, "think no more of it. I'm sure that several of the other riders had the same thought," he added with a half-smile. "If you can forgive my dwarvish insults, you are a better dwarf than the dwarves my father and grandfather knew in Gondor. They used to come from the Iron Mountains, and later from Dale and Laketown in the north, to sell weapons and metalwork. My sword Aranbold is dwarf-make from the forges of the dwarves of the Iron Mountains."

"Was it they who taught you the khuzdul?" asked Dwarin as they headed towards the tents. He no longer had to wonder how Thenamir's sword had withstood the blow of his axe.

"Nay," replied Thenamir, "My grandfather learned a bit from listening to the arguments between the dwarves with whom he traded to get arms for his men. He found his bargaining position was strengthened when he could insult their prices in their own language."

"I can think of no better way to a quick death," Dwarin mused.

"Normally you'd be right. The only thing that saved them was the fact that it would have been 4 dwarves against his 200 fully armed Tower Guards. A good deal for both the men and the dwarves was usually struck, though, and then they'd take the dwarves for a drink. The things they'd say when they were drunk..." Thenamir trailed off shaking his head. Dwarin smiled, thinking that Thenamir must be of good stock if his sires could handle 4 drunken dwarves without bloodshed.

Dwarin followed as Thenamir strode to his tent, rummaged around in his pack, and pulled out the dried-leather map rolled and tied with a thin strip of the same leather. He called Elwood, Ulfwine and Arenia over as he sat down on the ground, unraveled the tied leather and spread out the map on the grass.

The map appeared to be notated in the language of Gondor, but there were unfamiliar words, and some other recognizable words were spelled strangely. The Old North Road was rather obvious, and they were able to make out their position near enough.

Thenamir turned the map to Arenia, pointing. "We are here. Where did you see the dark-hair men, the men like me?" Arenia studied the map quizzically for a moment, then her face broke in a smile of recognition. She turned the map a quarter of the way around, saying "Sun rise from this side!" Everyone chuckled, then she pointed to a mark on the map and said "Here. Old broken city nearby, here. Many days walking."

Thenamir's brow was deeply furrowed. "Going straight to the Old North Road would actually take us somewhat out of our way. And that road is sure to be watched, both by the Dunlendings and...others. If we could strike a straight path through the woodlands, our path will be shorter, and more secret, although our progress will be slower. Arenia, is there a way we can go straight path to dark-hair men?" Thenamir thought that even this way they would need the speed of the great eagles to overtake the Dunlendings...

[ March 21, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Rinurion]

Gurthden looked up suddenly, and by the look in his eyes it was obvious that he had an idea.
"Its not going to work. Theres no way in hell that we can catch up to those Dunelings without horses, no matter what shortcut we take. We have to use our heads. We can trick them, Dunelings are not at all smart." Turning to Elwood, he continued.
"You said that the boy Kalohern's horse had escaped the wargs?" Elwood nodded in assent.
"Ok. My plan is simple. We have someone ride the boys horse to the Dunelings camp with a forged note from Saruman, with orders to turn back. I think it will have to be Arienia, as all of us are known to the Dunelings. It should stall the dunelings long enough for us to sneak ahead of them. Now I know how dangerous this is, but we are desperate. Does anyone have a better idea?"

[Thenamir]

"Gurthden, I have only two things to say to you," Thenamir said with mock indignance. "One: that is an excellent idea. Two: shouldn't you be over with the rest of the Rohirrim deciding Guthrin's punishment?" Thenamir broke out in a smile, the first he'd had in a couple of days.

"Well, there's only one problem I can see with this plan. Kalohern's horse has not returned yet, and may not. The only horse we have is Mim, Dwarin's horse, and I think the Dunlending's might be suspicious if Arenia rode up on a horse sized for...well...someone shorter."

Meanwhile, far to the north, some men who resembled Taradan and Thenamir were still puzzling over the great horse with the bony flanks which had appeared in their midst like a ghost out of the mists that lay over the old North Road...

[ April 05, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin listened intently to Thenamir's explanation of his knowlede of khuzdul. When he was sufficiently satisfied they went to retrieve the map from Thenamir's tent. Dwarin listened intently to Arenia and Gurthdens advice.

When they had finished Dwarin was ready to explain a plan that had been formulatiog over the last few minutes. After thenamir finished Dwarin began to explain:

"The deception is an excellent idea, but I think we should capitalize on our oppertunity. The letter should delay them long enough for a few of our fastest men, not myself, to get directy in their path. I suggest that we send Elwood and Gurthden maybe to start a fire in their way. It could confuse them and delay them even more. if we do that we will surely have enough time to reach our destination first."

Dwarin's wheels were turning so quickly that he almost missed the reply that came next.