The White Horse

[Galadel Vinorel]

Galadel gazed athe ranger, she sensed a bit of hostility from him, and the elf wondered if it had been a good idea for her to come over here.

Looking over at the elf that was sitting across from the Ranger, Galadel smiled at him, and said, "And what is your name, sir? If I may so inquire."

[tom bombariffic]

At this point, a cacophany of clapping and cheering sifted in through the windows. Dark was falling, and outside the followers of the gwaith-formen had built a large bonfireon an open patch of land facing the White Horse. All now sat in a circle around the fire, seated on long logs that stretched full circle, and sang songs to keep them active and warm, while they waited for the performance of the gwaith-formen. a maid from the inn kept them well served with ale, and the mood was one of merriment. Even the stable-boy could be seen watching from the stable beside the inn.
The players stood on one side of the fire, and announced that their tale would soon begin. Esgaltaur headed quickly towards the inn, while Aranna and Tathartaur. the third of the players, talked between themselves.
Esgaltaur opened the inn door and cleared his throat.
"For those who wish to see and will brave the dark, our performance will begin shortly".
General murmurs arose, suggesting that the gwaith-formen should perform indoors, in the warmth.
"Sadly not, dear friends" said he, silencing the tavernfolk, "for our tale takes place here in middle earth and concerns the Moriquendi, therefore we must perform under the stars."
with that he bowed, and made his way back outside.

[Ivy of the Woods]

Mariah looked down grinning at the dress she wore. It was a little long but fit quite nicely and she loved the forest green colour. It was plain but still lovely. Helda's had much embroidery, it was not hard to see why she had claimed it before Mariah could even get a word out. They found a large mirror, broken into three pieces and they smiled on the new, fresh look.
Mariah didn't so much look at her clean hair or dress and more looked into wonder at the changes in her face. No longer did she look like the meek girl that was, she looked stronger and proud. She knew she would never be beautiful but she was far from plain or ugly. Helda on the other hand giggled at her reflection and flipping her golden hair over one shoulder, she really was quite something to look at. She was gorgeous really, and very mcuh aware of it
"It's getting late Helda, let's head back to that Tavern, the White Horse" said Mariah
They walked back into the White Horse and saw the players were about to perform. Helda sat near the bar, she winked and smiled at the bartender. Mariah rolled her eyes knowing now that Helda was her old beautiful self the flirting would be back just as strongly as before. "She'll never learn" said Mariah quietly to herself and sat down beside her.

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel sighed and made her way to get ale. She got a mug for Estelarion as well.

"I suppose we should get rooms soon," Estelarion said.

"No!" Menelduliniel said, "I wish to see what will happen!"

"But it is so boring here..." Estelarion muttered.

"Then find someone to talk to. I like watching," Menelduliniel said.

Estelarion scanned the room, trying to catch someone's eye so he could have a real conversation...

[The Barrow-Wight]

The Barrow-Wight looked out from the storage room at the interesting group of travelers that filled the Horse this day. He had not seen so many female adventurers since the Helm’s Deep Invitational Volleyball Tournament last Spring, and though he would like to think they were gathered here because of his manly presence, he knew it was more likely the bitter cold that had brought them hither. Still, it was pleasant to hear the soothing voices of women in the Inn. Since Bethberry had gone the place had too often rang with only the raucous laughter of the warriors of the Rohirrim.

He looked to where her bird sat now nibbling on a crumb some gullible visitor had given it. That creature is going to be too fat to fly soon. Wyrd had served as a reliable messenger over the years, and an insatiable eater of snacks. Eats like a bird obviously doesn’t apply to you, old friend.

Everything seemed under control for the moment, so the Wight slipped between the stacked crates and out the back door. The icy wind coming off of the White Mountains reminded him so much of the cold of his barrow, and he stood for a while simply enjoying the numbing paralysis it brought on.

[*Varda*]

Varda dozed peacefully in the Inn, before suddenly awakening. She blinked twice, and looked around the room. Certainly more travellers had appeared than there had been before she fell asleep. There were people from all races of Middle Earth, and although she wished to disclose little about herself, she wanted to know more about these people.

[Mithadan]

A rider wearing the livery of The Mark burst into The White Horse bearing a rolled-up scroll under one arm. He waved to those he knew, then proceeded to the end of the bar where he unrolled the scroll. He tacked up the parchment over the bar, then cleared his throat and cried "Adventurers wanted!" Then he backed away as the patrons crowded around the notice which read:

Findereg, Elf of Mirkwood, seeks adventurers to assist in a trade mission to Laketown. Reasonable pay and usual benefits. Payment of wages guaranteed in the event of untimely death. Death benefit doubled in the event of consumption by spiders or dragons.

For details, speak with Susan Delgado in The Shire. Please refer to the mission by name. It is called "Roll Out the Barrels."

[Kiara]

After weeks of travel, a lone she-dwarf wandered into the inn marked by a white horse. Desperate for companionship and aged beyond her years by her travails on the road, she timidly entered the room, where flickering firelight seemed to welcome her. To her dismay, a brief look 'round proved that elven characters abounded here.

The dwarf's quick intake of breath created a sharp sound that attracted the attention of some in the room. "Will they accept me here?" she thought, remembering all her parents had told her of the division and tension between elves and dwarves. Confusedly she began to back towards the door.

OOC: Sudden inspiration. Going to put this character on hold for a while.

IC: Without a word, the ranger slunk from his seat and made his way to the door of the inn. Nothing more was said as he left.

[VanimaEdhel]

Estelarion saw a she-Dwarf backing towards the door. He took a quick intake of breath.

"Estelarion," Menelduliniel said calmly, seeing his reaction, "Why do you not go over and intercept that pretty young Dwarf at the door?"

Estelarion shot her a dark glance.

"But...she...is...a...Dwarf," he growled.

"And you are an Elf, so?" she responded cooly, "And it is not like we can choose our companions anymore. She is a creature of Eru as well...well, most of Aule, but Eru still allowed them to prosper as they have."

"But...she...is...a...Dwarf," he said again.

"You said that before," Menelduliniel said in a sugary-sweet voice, "Now come on!"

She suddenly stood up and dragged him (literally) across the room. There, they intercepted the Dwarf.

The Dwarf gave them a startled glance, with a worried glimmer. She was obviously worried that there would be a conflict.

"Vemu ai-menu," greeted Menelduliniel in Khuzdul, the Dwarven language. The Dwarf looked at her with wide eyes.

"Vemu! she replied, "You speak Khuzdul?"

The Dwarf looked at the female Elf suspiciously. Menelduliniel did not know whether she had done well in this greeting. Dwarves were very protective of their language.

"I only know how to greet," Menelduliniel said, truthfully, "And to say farewell. I have heard them said upon meetings and partings in my travels. I do not know anything of much use."

She flinched at the hard look the Dwarf gave her.

"I am Estelarion," Estelarion said, breaking the ice, "And this is Menelduliniel. What is your name?"

Menelduliniel shot Estelarion a thankful glance as they awaited the new Dwarf's reply...

[Morai]

Jaellyn looked up. A messenger mentioned Adventure, and pay. She felt that was exactly what she needed. The girl immediately left to pepare for a perilious journey.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Galadel looked up as the messanger entered the White Horse Inn. The elf listened to what the messanger had to say. This suddenly made her remember why she had come here. To see the King of Rohan.

Galadel decided that she would stay at the inn a little longer and enjoy herself after her long journey, before she would leave for Edoras. The elf looked around the room, wondering who she should visit next and if Amanduail or Jaellyn were still there.

[Ivy of the Woods]

Mariah listened to the rider of the Mark speak of adventure and untimely death, with interest though no thought of going. She could not call herself an adventurer and wasn't going to risk her neck for a little excitement, in fact she had had enough excitement as it was.
She had decided to ignore Helda, the woman just infuriated her and thought about her and her sister future. Maybe she could ask some one if they knew of any Ladies passing through.

[Kiara]

"Parin Stonemouth," she finally responded, after much dubious lookings-up-and-down of the two elves. "From whence do you hail, and how is it that you come to be so friendly to one of my race, so much so as to great me in my own tongue? I am not used to such treatment, so I beg forgiveness of my skepticism. You see, I have travelled long and hard, and have not met many who would call themselves 'dwarf-friend' on my difficult road. Share with me your history that my trust might be gained of you all the more quickly," she demanded with a still gruff-edge to her tone. She hoped she looked tougher and more experienced than she felt...

[Estel the Descender]

At first his own people did not know [him], who went out young and strong, and returned now seeming as one of the aged among mortal men, because of his torments and his labours. . .

No one would have thought that the stranger who entered The White Horse was an elf save by his clothing and weapons. He wore an elven cloak of the Golden Wood, and he was armed with two knives which were made in Rivendell. His bow and quiver, however, were of the sort that the people of Thranduil would have borne, and though the bow was longer than usual it was neither as long nor as graceful as the bows of the elves of Lothlorien. The arrows of his quiver were evidently gleaned, being of various forms and of slightly different lengths. Yet his bow would have been of little use: it was in need of repair ere it would be effective once more.

What was unusual (for an elf) was his apparel: aside from his grey cloak, he was clad all in black.

Once upon a time, he was fair, but now had a somewhat haggard look. His hair once silver was now streaked with grey, the colour of his eyes. Lines marked his face, so as to give the impression of deep pain and sorrow mingled.

He had a sword once upon a time, but it had become so damaged that it had finally become useless and had to discard it but not without deep regret, for the sword had been made in Rivendell. He came now to Rohan, hoping to find himself a new sword if possible.

In the meantime, he desired to sup and rest at the inn ere he continue his journey.

As he entered, he noted that there were more females than what he would have expected at an inn such as this, but he had heard that the proprietor was a lady so this probably was not unusual. But the person who just left the counter did not look alike a lady at all. . .

"Vemu ai-menu."

Dadrantor (that was what the elf called himself) was startled to hear an elvish voice speak in Dwarvish. Presently, he saw two elves, a male and female, conversing with a dwarf. Though surprised, Dadrantor was pleased to see that there were still some elves and dwarves who were friends. Just like in the Elder Days he thought. Then he noted the suspicious look of the dwarf, and when the lady-elf spoke once more the dwarf gave her a hard look.

Oh no, not again. . .

The male-elf then seemed to pacify the angry dwarf, for the dwarf responded courteously enough.

After much hesitation, Dadrantor decided to join them. But as he made his way toward them, his attention was caught by another elf-female who looked strangely familiar.


It was then that Galadel, who was looking around the room, noticed that a Dark Elf in black was looking at her strangely.

[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: Estel the Descender ]

[Ivy of the Woods]

"Mariah, just stop worrying and have a drink with me. It'll calm you down and bit" said Helda
"Where did you get a..." Mariah saw the pouch of money on the bar counter. "Helda you fool woman!"
Mariah jumped to her feet and didn't bother to quiet her voice.
"What are you thinking?! Do you realise we can't be wasting our money on drinks?! Do you realise that is all the money we have?! You're going to lead us to a life of begging!" she yelled
"Mariah, quiet down. We'll find some more money soon-" said Helda through her teeth, looking around her at the people staring at them.
"What on earth makes you think that?! You can't get by all your life with a wink and a kiss! I've put up with your flirting and your spending long enough Helda!"
"I liked you better before Mariah," said Helda cooly though her cheeks were red with anger "You can just get along without me"
Helda grabbed the small pouch and almost ran out the door. Mariah made to stop her but ran into a darkly clad elf and was knocked backward into a chair which tipped her onto the floor.

[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Morai]

Jaellyn once again, entered the Inn. She had a disapointed look on her face. No one would take care of her mother, so the girl was stuck. Making things worse, Jaellyn's family hadn't been able to pay their taxes. On her way, she had seen men knocking at her door, with an eviction notice. The girl wondered if she should go to someone for help.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Galadel gazed at the elf who had just entered the room. From his clothing you would not have percieved that he was an elf, but he was. The elf seemed terribly familiar. Wondering who he was, Galadel crossed over to the bar, all the while with her gaze fixed on the elf.

Galadel ordered some ale, and then sat down on a bar stool. Ske saw the elf glance over at her as he talked with the other guests. The female elf could not place this other elf, though she was very sure that she had seen him before.

'I wonder why he is wearing such dark and strange taveling clothes,' thought Galadel. Picking up her ale, Galadel began to slowly sip her drink, with her gazed fixed all the while on the elf across the room.

[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: Galadel Vinorel ]

[Kiara]

The group made up of the two elven figures and the she-dwarf made their acquaintances and moved towards a table in order to further their knowledge of one another.

"In all truth, I have come here looking for support in a quest of avengement. I realize the implications of this: it will take weeks merely to prepare for our journey, perhaps until "Afteryule", as the halflings (who I have so recently quitted) have aptly named the following month...the dwarven fellow who proposes to lead our journey is Dwarin Thunderhammer, perhaps you have heard of him? Please, I seek aid of the dwarven kind, though some men would be most welcome. I am, unfortunately, unsure of what roles elven folk could have with us, but that is only due to my ignorance of you and your kin, and of their view of me and mine. Enlighten me that it might add to my joy at your acquaintance."

[ December 06, 2002: Message edited by: Kiara ]

[Estel the Descender]

She looks so much like Celebrian, thought Dadrantor, and yet younger. Nay, her looks are different. . .

Thinking twice about joining the two other elves with the dwarf, Anyway, the dwarf might think all the elves in this inn are beginning to gang up on him, Dadrantor decided to approach the other elf-female who seemed strangely familiar.

Most definitely a Finarfin Elf. Yet she hath blue eyes unlike any of her kindred. If she did not look so familiar I would have mistaken her as one of the Vanyar come back to Middle-earth.

"What are you thinking?! Do you realise we can't be wasting our money on drinks?! Do you realise that is all the money we have?! You're going to lead us to a life of begging!"

Dadrantor looked for a while at the shouter, then turned to walk towards the Finarfin Elf, or so he deemed. No point in staring. . . thought he, hoping not to humiliate the shouter nor her already embarrased companion.

But just as he reached the elf-female, one of the women (he was not sure whether it was the shouter or her now furious companion) ran into him and was knocked backward into a chair which tipped her onto the floor.

The greeting Dadrantor prepared for Galadel died on his lips as he stooped to raise the fallen woman, saying, 'Hullo! Are ye alright?'

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

IMPORTANT NOTE! Parin Stonemouth, as you all already know, is a she-dwarf. Dadrantor committed a common error among other races because it has been said that she-dwarves

. . . are in voice and appearance, and in garb if they must go on a journey, so like dwarf-men that the eyes and ears of other peoples cannot tell them apart

The other elves were able to detect the difference but Dadrantor, being suddenly distracted by both the sight of a familiar face and later an accident was not able to perceive the truth. He might later learn his error to his great embarrasment.

[ December 16, 2002: Message edited by: Estel the Descender ]

[Ivy of the Woods]

Mariah watched the door close behind Helda with a sigh. She looked up at the Dark elf and rubbed the back of her head.
"I'm alright, thank you Sir." she said "I'm sorry for running into you, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
She blushed slightly, noticing some of the people had been watch her scene.
"Just watching my life run out the door" she mumbled to herself, then blushed again hoping no one had heard. "Terribly sorry again. If there's anything I can do..." she found herself oddly stumbling over words "Mariah Ivana... my name that is."
Mariah imagined she must be as red as the apples in spring and vainly tried to smooth over her embarassment.

[ December 06, 2002: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

Galadel watched as the elf approached her. Suddenly, a woman shot by her and knocked into the elf. Suppressing a laugh, the female elf watched as the male elf and the woman fell down. As Galadel watched, the elf stood up and offered his apologies, and the woman did the same. Galadel smiled as the woman turned red, for she was very embarrassed.

'Poor woman' thought Galadel, 'I wish that I could help her in some way.' Making up her mind, Galadel began to stand up from her seat at the bar.

[ December 06, 2002: Message edited by: Galadel Vinorel ]

[Estel the Descender]

'And I am called "Descender" which is my name in the common tongue. Nay, it is I who should apologise. If it were not for me, ye would have caught up with yer companion. But fear not, I deem that there is still life within ye and hath not ran out as yet. Here, let me help you up.'

Dadrantor could not help but notice Mariah's simple and shy beauty. She must be really embarrased to be THAT red, thought the elf with both amusement and pity.

But as he helped Mariah up, both she and Galadel saw a brief flash of what seemed to be anger in the elf's face followed by a wave of pain and sorrow. The moment passed, however, and he looked tenderly at Mariah.

'I hope that you aren't hurt,' asked the Dark Elf to Mariah. Then he noticed Galadel. Placing his right hand at his breast, he bowed to her and said,

'Meneg suilaid, hiril nîn: le buiathon. Esto nin i-Dhadrantor, Mor-edhel Eryn Lasgalena
(Greetings, mi-lady. I am at your service. Call me the Descender, a Dark Elf from The Wood of Greenleaves [the new name of Mirkwood]).'

A Dark Elf! thought Galadel. She remembered suddenly the Dark Elves who attempted to kill her earlier.

'Mae govannen, Dadrantor. Im Galadel, iell Celeborn a Galadriel o Lothlórien (Well met, Descender. I am Galadel, daughter to Celeborn and Galadriel of Lothlórien).' Then, speaking directly into his mind (for she was the daughter of Galadriel after all), Galadel added, I recognise you, though I do not remember when I saw you last. Your Elven cloak tells me that you passed by Lórien ere we met.

It is true, Lady Galadel, I did dwell in Lothlórien for some time, and this cloak was given me by Galadriel herself. And I recognise you too though I also do not remember when we met.

Speaking to both women, Dadrantor said, 'Please Lady Galadel and Miss Mariah, come and share a meal with me,' Lady Galadel, the maid, Mariah, seems to be hungry--she will not be too shy if you were to accompany her as she eats, 'so I may not eat alone.'

Dadrantor then noticed that Mariah was barefoot. She needs shoes, thought the elf, Once we are done eating, I'll see if we can find a shoe-maker so we can get her some sh---

Dadrantor's thoughts were interrupted as Galadel caught his glance and looked deeply into his eyes, searching his inmost mind.

[ December 16, 2002: Message edited by: Estel the Descender ]

[Ivy of the Woods]

Mariah listened with interest to the elves greetings, though unable to understand a word they were saying.
"Please Lady Galadel and Miss Mariah, come and share a meal with me," said Dadrantor "So I may not eat alone."
She would hate to turn him down, she felt she would certainly need friends at such a time but the last of Mariah's coin had left with her sister and Mariah was never one to accept pity or charity lightly.
Opening her mouth to politely tell him she was not hungry, she noticed Dadrantor was looking at her bare feet and turned twice as red as before. As his glance turned to the elven lady, Mariah tunged on dress to fit it a little lower and bent her knees so her feet were no longer visible.
"I'm afraid I can't accept your apology Master Descender," she said, changing the subject "I might have to thank you instead, the fall I took caused me less damage than another day with a companion like Helda would."
Discomfort flashed across Mariah's face as her stomach made a noise giving away her hunger.
"I, um... can't accept your offer to eat with you either" she didn't think she could turn much redder, now that her cheeks were crimson "I have no money left with me and nothing of any value with me"

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Estel the Descender]

'I'm afraid I can't accept your apology Master Descender,' Mariah said, 'I might have to thank you instead, the fall I took caused me less damage than another day with a companion like Helda would.'

Release me! -Dadrantor

Not until I know who you really are. -Galadel *

Discomfort flashed across Mariah's face as her stomach made a noise giving away her hunger.

'I, um... can't accept your offer to eat with you either,' she didn't think she could turn much redder, now that her cheeks were crimson, 'I have no money left with me and nothing of any value with me.'

'But you are mistaken,' answered Dadrantor, showing no sign of the struggle he experienced, 'Your company is of immeasurable value to me who has spent many mealtimes alone.'

'I would be truly honoured if you would accompany me with my meal,' he continued, 'Worry not! It's on me!'

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

*Note to Galadel: please refer to your PM. Thank you! [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

Further note: I will be gone for a while but will be back by 14 December, Saturday.

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: Estel the Descender ]

[Ivy of the Woods]

Mariah nodded with a look of shame, but nodded all the same.
"Since you insist Master Descender, I'll oblige" she replied and added to herself; And find some way to repay you
Her eyes swept to the Inn's window and caught sight of her sister outside talking to a man, a merchant, Mariah judged by his carriage and attire. Helda was quite visibly giggling as she flipped back her gold wrung hair. The merchant made a bow and gestered to his carriage causing Helda to beam with delight. With a hand from the merchant she joined him in his wagon and with a hand signal the carriage drove out.
Mariah sighed and returned her focus to where she was.

[VanimaEdhel]

Estelarion looked to Menelduliniel, who was generally the one to speak for them.

"We," she said, gesturing to Estelarion and herself, "Are merely travellers. I consider myself not one of the Elf kindred as of now, since my exile. I fear that I would be of no help in enlightening you to the ways of Elves today. I have not been back to any Elvish city in many years. Animosity was not so strong between Elves and Dwarves back then.

"Back then, the Elves seemed to me, at least, young though I was, to be waning. I see that they are still. Although we were still high then, we have not as much sway in the workings of the world as we once had. Dark forces and even men had more influence, sadly.

"Many have begun to leave. Many Elves, that is. They are leaving the shores now, I hear, and are heading towards the Grey Havens. We, however," Menelduliniel said, gesturing to Estelarion and herself, "Have no desire to leave, as of yet. I do not know whether I would be welcomed there, after my exile. I may be forced to wait her. I know not.

"Someday we may travel over the sea, but, for now, I believe we should look for every opportunity to explore this land before we depart these shores. I know not whether we would be fit to go on this journey that you speak of. You may be right that there is no place for us. But, I may know of many that may join. We have met many Dwarves and men on our journeys that may suit the quest.

"You wish to avenge you say? Well, be careful that you choose this revenge wisely. A similar situation put me in the circumstances you find me in. If it were not for Estelarion, I would probably be dead.

"Now," Menelduliniel said, finishing, "Is there anything else you desire to know?"

Estelarion raised one eyebrow at Menelduliniel's maturity. She usually did not display such a personality. Menelduliniel obviously respected this Dwarf and wanted her to like them. He waited for Parin's reply, hoping that Parin would show the same respect, as Menelduliniel had gone against her typical personality for this Dwarf, and he hoped that it would encourage her to act with less of a quixotic nature in the future...

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[Morai]

Jaellyn thought of getting some work. She knew there was some good jobs in a nearby village. Though it would be tough taking care of her mom also. The girl decided to leave and seek the job.

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Morai ]

[Bêthberry]

Slowly, one of the large wooden doors, cross-hatched with iron bands, swung open with the concerted effort of a woman. She was wrapped in a deep violet cloak and carrying a large, heavy, leather bag. The woman looked weary, pensive, perhaps even dispirited.

It was Bethberry, back from her own lonely quest for Goldberry's song in Middle Earth--a song not heard since Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin wound their way out of the Old Forest. The ancient lays of the River-daughter were being forgotten. Yet now the cold clung in the air like a dank fog, imitating the barrow downs and Goldberry was gone, gone on her own most momentous journey into the dark underground where none could follow, for our sight extends no farther than the horizon. It was time for the Innkeeper to return to her duties here at The Horse, close enough to Fangorn Forest that she could feel the Arda of old, Arda unmarred, as it was also in her home in the Old Forest.

"Brrr," shivered Bethberry. "Cold makes for little inspiration for stories and RPGs. No wonder there is so little productive activity here at The White Horse."

It was obvious that the fires would need to be stoked. Bethberry left her cloak and bag in the small room off the kitchen and came back carrying a large leather sac filled with fatwood sticks and pine cones. She restacked the logs of pine and fir in the large main fireplace, interlarding them with the fatwood sticks for faster kindling and placing pine cones on the top of the fire. The fatwood sticks sputtered and caught, wisping fire up around the logs. The cones had been larded with resin and dried leaves and when they caught fire they threw out glorious colours of carmine, gold, lapus lazuli, azure, and magentas. Bethberry then went to the smaller fireplace in the wordhoard and repeated her ritual, where quickly the light and warmth threw dancing webs around the meadhall. Soon, the faces of all the patrons in The White Horse were lined and linked by a brilliant yellow illumination, a spider web of light and inspiration.

Rising, Bethberry came face to face with Aman, who greeted her warmly with a hug which Bethberry returned fondly. "Aman, my dear, it is good to see you here, but even more interesting to see such possibilities for new characters for you." Aman looked quizzically at the older woman. Bethberry turned and spoke to Jet first and then Obsidian. They whimpered and retreated, clearly aware of their error. "Stay back from the patrons, wolves; they are under my protection. Lie under the sideboard where you can gnaw on bones and scraps. Later I shall expect you to tell me what brought you to such a point." Jet yawned, baring his fangs, but dropped his head on his paws. Obsidian growled a meek defense, "We are not always ourselves. Something or someone binds us." Bethberry nodded to him.

"Watch them carefully, Aman, and see what voices and characters you can give them on a quest."

"I will, but Bethberry, you wouldn't believe it. Barrow Wight was here."

"What? A wight? Barrow Wight himself? No wonder 'tis so cold."

"He's searching for word treasures."

"Aren't we all. Well, as long as he leaves his sword at the door, even the Barrow Wight is welcome here, as long as he recognizes this is a Bombadil establishment." A trace of a smile wrinkled around Bethberry's mouth. "A bit of fear is good for stoking action and imagination. And I can always sing a few songs so silly and so utterly preposterous that even the fearful Barrow Wight must succumb to laughter."

Aman grinned at the thought.

"Tell me, Aman, have any stories developed into games?"

"None yet."

"None? Not any? Not the gwaith-formen's? Have you discussed with Galadel her strange invitation to the Golden Hall? Would Estel or any of our many elves want to accompany her? So many elves! What have elves to do with the Riddermark? Have none sought to find this fabled jewel of which Nardol speaks? Not even Anglachel the merchant?"

Aman shook her head.

"Well, then, I must speak to Kiara. She has a story to tell and a quest. I would like to hear more of it. I hope she will comply, for she can handle a quest here." Bethberry smiled a warm, broad smile in the direction of the young dwarf lass, who she hoped would stay, and then she turned to face everyone in the meadhall.

"Come now, we can't turn The Horse into a rooming house. It is a thundering narrows where river water runs, full of turbulence and ideas and wildly spraying mist which refreshes us all, but the water must flow on or we turn Edoras into a flooded, boggy plain of peat and marsh."

Bethberry looked around, catching every eye with a raised eyebrow.

"The Proposal form will shortly be posted, but you must start your own conversations via PM with those you might want to join you on your quests. Or scribble your rough ideas down on paper for Gandalf the Grey and Susan to read as well. I wonder. Perhaps those who have become too fond of aimless socializing might rediscover some purpose if I sent them to muck out the stalls in the stable."

"But you can't think on empty bellies. Let me see what our cook has in store for us."

Bethberry nodded at several of the patrons as she walked back towards the kitchen, where old Fróma was preparing an extravagant feast. He welcomed her with a squint and a nod and then a sudden, silent hug, which she submitted to, silently holding her nose away from his beery breath but appreciating his unusual sentiment.

An entire side of beef, crusted with peppers and mustard, turned on the spit in one of the fires, which was rimmed with pans of breads baking. In the second fire hung a huge cauldron full of a cream soup made from puréed carrots and parsnips. Bethberry tasted it and, when Fróma wasn't looking, she emptied not one but two bottles of sherry into the cauldron. Casseroles of chicken with currents, rabbit and onion competed for the cauldron with space and the counters were laden with platters of spiced sausages and meat pastries, hard cheeses and olives, pickled mushrooms and beets, wilted cucumbers with radishes, and tureens of salad greens. On the sideboard stood bowls of late fall apples and rare oranges, rhubarb dumplings and berry cobblers, even steamed puddings with sauces sweet or brandied. A heady mixture of aromas hung in the air. Bethberry snuck an orange and Fróma gave her a frown and told her to leave before she ruined his preparations.

"Just make sure there is also enough beer, mead and wine, Fróma, to quench thirst and tea to settle the belly. Oh, yes, and pots of that new bean I've been saving. Coffee it is called."

"Get out," he muttered in retaliation. "It's my kitchen."

Bethberry chortled to herself and then went off to clarify some of the Golden Rules in the Golden Hall of Rohan. In her wake there wafted the scents of cedar and heliotrope.

[ December 10, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Kiara]

Completely undone by the frankness of Menelduliniel, Parin gaped. Quickly recovering her composure, but with less of the frigidity in her tone, she replied to the elf in a confiding manner:

"Truly, I do not even know if my brother is dead. Perhaps, as you say, heed should be given to the consequences of a vengeful action. You see, I am still rather young, and though I am "of age" by the estimation of my peoples, I am inexperienced and brash. Please forgive any slight I may have given you, and know that I am grateful for your display of confidence in me....so much so as to give your own story before I have given more than the barest hint of mine. As for me, my history is brief. I come from the land of Erebor where my kinfolk have been established since the victorious resolution of the Battle of Five Armies. Alas, after the war, the youngest of my siblings but me, Davin, my gentle, nimble-fingered brother, went with a party of three dwarves to investigate the disappearance of a shipment meant for the Lonely Mtn. He and the others never returned. It is from this history that I have derived such profound sorrow, and I fear I act and speak without thinking, my mind distracted as it is by the lack of resolution over these sad events. Your acquaintance and interest in my story does me great honor, and I thank you," with a curtsey, "I must on my way again. I have duties which call me back to the Shire where I have found solace in work under the innkeeper there, my kinsman, Dwarin Thunderhammer, do you know him?"

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Kiara ]

[Anglachel]

Light, warmth, and the smell of good food permeated the main room of the White Horse, adding a considerable sense of conviviality to the establishment. Though, it was the familiar voice of Bethberry and the distinctive scent of coffee that served to awaken Anglachel from his introspective ponderings on such trite issues as trade agreements, guild policies, and inventory management.

"I did not travel all the way from Esgaroth to contemplate the banality of a merchant's life," said Anglachel to himself.

"Bethberry is of course correct. I, along with the rest of the inn's patrons, came here seeking to take part in a story, an adventure. Surely someone here can find a role suitable for a common merchant such as myself?"

As Anglachel finished verbalizing his thoughts, he recalled that he was now in the realm of Rohan, land of the tall and fair Eorl the Young, who's heroic deeds led a now forgotten poet to write:

'Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.'

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Far away from the White Horse, in a room in the White City, a woman turned restlessly in her sleep. She saw Bethberry, wandering and weeping in the Old Forest, and followed her, but no matter how fast she walked, she could not reach her. Finally she stopped, and as she followed no more, Bethberry also stopped and turned to face her.

"Take comfort," she called, "Goldberry's song is not lost. Stand still and listen - it echoes in the Forest."

Suddenly she stood beside her and clasped her hands. "Our friend once said, 'I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.' Weep for what is lost, yet keep the song in memory. Perhaps one day you shall write it so that all may share that memory with you."

With a start, the woman awoke in the dark familiarity of her room, her cheeks wet with tears...

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Estelyn Telcontar ]

[VanimaEdhel]

"I have heard of him," Estelarion broke in finally, after his long silence.

"I do not recall if we have had the pleasure of his company," Menelduliniel said.

"We do not wish to keep you from your duties," Estelarion said, smiling brightly, "So will will allow you to move on, as you have expressed a desire to do so."

Menelduliniel made no move to leave the Dwarf, so Estelarion took her by the arm and gently pulled her away.

"Namarie," Estelarion said in Elvish as he left.

Once they were away, Menelduliniel turned to Estelarion.

"Why did we leave? I wanted to speak with her!"

"She has business, Menelduliniel. Do not interfere in her quest."

"How do you know we would not have helped?"

"How would it look if two Elves were introduced to the Dwarves? Just because you are all right with travelling with Dwarves, I promise you that the Dwarves will not be the same. They have been in civilization for the past years and have been present at the rise of the prejudice that has grown."

"I suppose you are right," Menelduliniel sighed.

"I know I am," Estelarion smiled at her.

Menelduliniel sighed again and went to the bar, ordering an ale.

"Why," she asked, "Do people have to hate each other so?"

Estelarion looked at her. If he did not say something comforting, she was obviously going to cry right then.

"I do not know, Menelduliniel. Maybe to allow us to appreciate love more."

He sat down next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She smiled and put that hand over his, still looking down into the ale.

[The Barrow-Wight]

The Barrow-Wight brushed the frost from his hair and went back into the White Horse. The time spent in the cold had cleared his mind and allowed him to collect his thoughts. It was time he left Edoras. Bethberry was back and in firm control of the inn again, and it was clear that the clientele were disturbed by his ghastly presence. Perhaps it was also time to find a new body.

He stood in the doorway of the main room until he located Bethberry at her desk. As unobtrusively as possible, he moved to her side and waited until he had her attention. After writing one more line on the paper before her, she turned to him and asked if she could be of assistance.

“Miss Bethberry,” he said, “I know that you are not a secretary, but I wonder if you might dictate a notice for me and post it on your advertisement board.”

“Of course, dear Wight,” she answered. “I would be glad to. Are you starting a new adventure?”

“Indeed I am. Here is my advertisement. It is very short.”

Adventurers Needed

Rohan has a new story to tell, and we need you to tell it. Please go to My Crow Management for details.

The Barrow-Wight

“Thank you, dear lady. I’ll be on my way now.”

With that, the Barrow-Wight unceremoniously walked out the front door of the White Horse.

[ December 12, 2002: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]

[Estel the Descender]

Mariah nodded with a look of shame, but nodded all the same.
'Since you insist Master Descender, I'll oblige.' she replied.

Dadrantor smiled at Mariah and gave a slight bow. Just then, a bright yellow light filled the room and cheered everyone. Dadrantor then saw Bethberry the Innkeeper and she was talking to Aman. Later, Betberry called out to all in the White Horse,

'Come now, we can't turn The Horse into a rooming house. It is a thundering narrows where river water runs, full of turbulence and ideas and wildly spraying mist which refreshes us all, but the water must flow on or we turn Edoras into a flooded, boggy plain of peat and marsh.'

Oh well, I need to find myself a sword as soon as possible, thought Dadrantor, then I need to find a quest. I wonder if Galadel has one in mind? Would Mariah accompany us: I am reluctant to leave her.

Dadrantor then noticed that the two elves suddenly left the dwarf who happened to be sitting nearby. Calling out, he said,

'Ho, sir Dwarf! Why don't you join our table; we have room for fo--'

'I am a maid, elf!' replied Parin angriliy.

'What, I mean, duh-OH!' stammered the elf, 'I mean. . .'

Dadrantor stood up and bowed at Parin and said, 'Profound apologies, I did not mean to offend you. I still extend mine invitation, if you do not mind.'

'Hrumph,' snorts Parin, 'Alright, I suppose I will forgive the slight...'

Bethberry continued despite the interruption, 'I wonder. Perhaps those who have become too fond of aimless socializing might rediscover some purpose if I sent them to muck out the stalls in the stable.'

'But you can't think on empty bellies. Let me see what our cook has in store for us.'

Descender turned to his companions, 'I have heard of a new brew called "coffee" and have been informed that there is some here. Care to try some with me as we eat and talk? I would very much like to know about each of you!'

[ December 16, 2002: Message edited by: Estel the Descender ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

Galadel frowned at the elf as hshe sat down at a table. He was struggling to put a wall around his mind, so that she could not tell who he was. But Galadel never gave up on things easily, and she was skilled at looking into people's minds and discovering who they really were.

"Yes, I think that I might like to try this new drink that you speak of. Did you say that it was called coffee?" Galadel said suddenly.

Dadrantor looked over, startled, at Galadel, and smiled, "Yes, it is called coffee. I was told that, though, it is strong, it tastes very good."

Galadel nodded and looked over at Miriah, who seemed to be very uncomfortable. Galadle smiled and said to her, "So, Miriah, are you from around these parts."

Though she did not look at him, Galadel said into Dadrantar's mind, "I wish to know, as well, who you are, elf, and where you have come from. But I will leave that till later, when the girl is not around. And, then, you will drop the barriers that you have put up to stop me from seeing who you really are. For all such things are useless against me. I will find out who you are; nothing can stop me. For now, be hospitable and order a drink and meal for this poor girl, will you?"

Dadrantar stared, looking quite pale and startled, at Galadel for a little while. Then he ordered meals and drinks for his companions, while Galadal and Miriah talked together.

[ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Galadel Vinorel ]

[Gryphon Hall]

The winter was bitingly cold, but Marco was thankful for his fur jacket and fur-lined boots. He wearily dragged his cart down the lane. He had been travelling for most of the wee hours of the morning, though now he wished that he had camped and slept instead out in the wild. He was so tired.

His hand kept straying to a secret pocket sewn into his trousers without his meaning to. It had become his habit to always check his pouch of money, having lost some to pickpockets and robbers so many times. Unconsciously feeling the reassuring lump of coins, his mind turned to trying to find a place to eat and to sleep. He was so tired.

He was suddenly held up by a carriage in front of what looked liked an inn or tavern. Swinging outside was board with a white horse on a green field. Figures, he thought. This is Rohan after all. So wearily he steered his cart around the cart. What's holding it up?

Marco saw a giggling girl talking with a man. At that moment the man led the girl to his carriage, and it drove off. Marco cursed the effort of steering around the carriage when it was going to drive off at that precise moment anyway. He was so tired.

So wearily he steered the cart to just beside the large, friendly doorway. Some of the firelight was bleeding out and it cheered him a little. Parking the cart which contained his forge and his tools, he almost went into The White Horse, then abruptly stopped. He hurried to the cart and pulled off two bundles, his most precious possessions. One was longish, wrapped in a blanket and tied with cords; the other was a small backpack. From the way he hefted the pack, one can tell it was heavy. He may lose all in the cart, but not these two.

The first bundle contained his best work: a very sharp double-edged sword in a scabbard he also made himself. Though the sword was not what others would call "magical" and would certainly not be able to contend with other elven blades, he was very proud of it; it was fine work for a mere Barding. He used this sword to prove to people his worth as a smith, he who always had to lower his prices and do more work so that people would hire him. Everyone wants dwarvish work, he mused bitterly. He didn't hate the dwarves, for he learned all he knew from them. As for the sword, he knew that he would have to sadly sell it someday, but for now it still belonged to him.

The pack contained ingots of metal he had painstakingly gathered from everywhere he has been to. Each metal had a different strength and consistency, and behaved differently when heat is applied to it or when it is ground to sharpness. This was his ace, his secret. Because he knew no magic to enchant the blades he made, all of them were of composite make, just so that they can perform well. The best he had made he now held in his other hand, the sword. The pack he slung on his back after making sure his padlocks were secure, and then entered the inn.

[ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Gryphon Hall ]

[Ivy of the Woods]

"Yes I am from these parts. I've never left Rohan, in fact I've never been this far away from home and I don't believe I'll ever go back. My father disinherited my sister and I" Mariah said with casualty that surprised herself.

Food was brought before them and Mariah found she had hardly realised the extremity of her hunger. Luckly she restrained herself from gorging down any food, it wouldn't do to make her to be a pig in front of these people and more importantly it would certainly uspet her stomach.

She took a sip of this so called 'coffee' and recoiled some what. Careful she placed the cup down and wondered how she could rid her tongue of the too strong taste

[ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry finished composing the order for the new banner to be placed in the rafters of The White Horse, the banner for the Barrow-Wight's new game, My Crow Management. For someone whose habitually chilly fictional persona often created fear, the Wight certainly had created an enticing, clever game which even in its early stages had already won great renown and interest and set such a good standard for Rohan. His persona was nothing to take lightly, but he was so capable of wit, imagination, and creativity, and had faithfully built and tended such a resplendent Barrow where many could store their treasures, that she could not help but admire his work. Perhaps he would return for a chilled brew, iced cappuchino, or frosted cake.

Returning to her task, Bethberry made note of all the banners for The White Horse:

Blue Sky, Night Thunder: a jewel in form of a white polyhedron on a blue background

My Crow Management : a black crow lined with white, in silhouette against a red background

Reawakened Mordor: a yellow slash lined with red, on a black background

Rohan : a white horse, in silhouette on a green background

The Blue Mountains: a mountain peak in blue, in silhouette against a green background

The Whistling Fairy: a green fairy in silhouette against a yellow background

Very handsome they were, and Bethberry looked forward to many more banners now that the Rohan RPG Proposal Form was available for all to use in the revised rules of The Golden Hall. She hoped all would read the revised rules, and particularly take note of the request to disable personal signatures and refrain from using smilies in games and The White Horse, in the interest of readability.

A noise at the entrance and a new arrival caught Bethberry's ear. She rose and went to the door, greeting a tired looking soul with a heavy pack on his back. From the shape and size of one of his bags, which he carried with some care, he appeared to be a swordsmith.

"Good sir, you look in need of a sheltering, hospitable establishment were word, wit and challenge reward imagination. Come, let me call the cook to bring you a dinner, on the house, and introduce you to other patrons here. I believe that several here might be in need of your wares."

Bethberry gently led the newcomer into the Great Hall, to meet Estelarion, Menelduliniel and Parin, who perhaps were collaborating on a game. They spoke some brief pleasantries, and then met Master Dadrantar, Galadel, Mariah, Amanaduial the Archer (who was carefully tending to her wolves, that they be on best behaviour), who might also be in the midst of creative fervour.

There were other quests, busy about their dinners, who the newcomer also acknowledged with a weary nod of his head. Mainly he was hungry and gratefully turned to the dinner which Fróma placed before him, but his eyes suggested he looked forward to discussion once his belly was full.

* * * * * * *

Ælfritha caught the words of an old rhyme which this newcomer recited, horse and rider immediately. Her curiousity peeked, she rose from her dinner and diffidence to inquire a few things of him.

"Anglachel, I believe I heard is your name, is it not, Merchant?"

He nodded yes, and rose to great the Rohirrim woman who spoke to him, offering her a chair by his table.

She bit her lip in shyness, and hesitated slightly, but then took the seat.

"You sing of the Mark and its history. Would you by any chance be a merchant of horse wares? Saddles, bits, blankets? My family runs a ranch--we are well-known horse breeders in these parts--and perhaps you have something we might be interested in? You, perhaps, might find some use in knowing of those who we deal with?"

She looked at him directly, now. When doing business, Ælfritha lost her timidity.

[ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[ElentariGreenleaf]

A well clad she'elf walked up to the bar and asked for a room for the night. She looked ervously about her. She liked to be alone, but having no where else to go in the cold, her only choice was the White Horse.
"What's your name then Mam?" said a kind voice from behind the bar - it was Bethberry the Innkeeper.
"Sofiya." replied the elf timidly.
"I'm sorry Sofiya, but I can't give you a room without any money."
"Money. Oh. I've spent so long away from other people I forgot about money. I'll just go and get some." Sofiya turned around to walk out of the door to get some money from her horse's saddle bag.

<< sorry. I wanted to change my charaters name! >>

[ December 17, 2002: Message edited by: ElentariGreenleaf ]