Search for the Lost Messenger RPG

[piosenniel]

They had been tracking the Elves as they moved from the shelter of that accursed wood at the meeting of the Silverlode and the Anudin. Grey wraiths, they had slipped south from Dol Guldur at the urging of their Master, seeking any who came from Caras Galadhon. Any who headed East and South toward the approaching army of Shadow.

Carchmoroth, The Black Maw, led them as they followed the seven two-leggeds, keeping beneath the shadows of the trees and well away from them. Following them by their Elven stink. Man scent was mixed in with them. More earthy and smelling of Men’s sweat. The great Warg’s son and daughter ranged out silently to flank the two-leggeds. Dûrêl to the east with ten wolves and Dúgoroth to the west with seven. Behind came The Black Maw with ten wolves at his bidding.

The Elves, he knew, need not rest at night. But the Man would slow them, needing sleep to refresh his weak body. Tonight the small group should reach the area between the two rivers, the Limlight and the Anduin. They would sweep over them there as they had been commanded.

And the taste of their blood would be sweet in their mouths . . .

[Helkahothion]

Bordarigorn halted. His legs could not carry him any further. The group pitched a camp and Bordarigorn laid himself resting. The elves did not need rest, but Bordarigorn shurely did. Cursing his weak body he fell asleep.

Maeralagos did not trust the situation tough. The last few days he had the feeling that they where followed. He decided to take the guard duty. It was going to be a night to remember.
________
Portable vaporizers

[Envinyatar]

Nozhdrul sat, scrunched up behind the crates, his nose resting on his bony knees. It was drawing near night, and the Easterlings had settled in to drinking and gaming away from where the prisoner was tied. The Orcs had retreated to the front of the cave, grumbling at the Men and gnashing their sharp little teeth when they thought of all the tasty Man-flesh on those bones.

Anuion sat crosslegged on the floor, his head bowed in weariness. His head came up warily as he heard the scrape of knees and hands draw near him.

Keeping tho the shadows at the back of the cave, Nozhdrul drew near the prisoner. 'Psst! You. Man. You want some?'

The Orc pushed a strip of dried rabbit toward Anuion and offered him a sip of brackish, though reasonably clean, water from his water skin.

Nozhdrul sniffed the air. One of the Easterling guards was drawing near. He scuttled back behind the crates, holding his breath, and waited until he had passed.

[Grimbold]

The army moved out, into the woods on the borderlands of Lorien. The trees were ancient and spoke of deep memory, and strange voices echoed in their branches. On the second day, the air grew stiff, and Handorth moved to the eastern flank of the army, casting out for rumour of something he could not see. It was not Elves: it was devilry of one sort or another, and Handorth feared it, although he knew it was not hunting him--it was bound for the Elves. Handorth pitied the Elves: they would not meet a happy end in this world.

On the night of the second day, Handorth became sure that they were well within the territory of the Elves. The leaves of the mallorn-trees shivered at their passing. The army pushed ahead. The devilry of the previous day had passed: Handorth assumed those unknown demons were heading for their prey already. The captains then gave the word to speed up: they would go straight for the city without further pause. Handorth became increasingly paranoid: no sight of an Elf, and he felt as though every leaf was peering at him, like every twig was a pointed arrow, and every tree concealed an enemy. They fell into the darkness of night and continued under the cruel cold gleam of the elven-stars.

[Dark Shadow]

The party pitched camp so Bordarigorn could rest, and regain energy for the crucial attack that was fast approaching. Bordarigorn lay down to sleep. Mearalagos took guard duty, and the others made use of the pause in journeying, doing what they wished. Erdaminéon left the group and walked a little way away, still in sight of the camp. There he sat, watching the rippling water of the river flowing past. The air was still and tense, nothing seemed to move. The stars looked down on him, from as vast, lonely field of darkness. A strange awareness came to him that he was not the only one watching those stars that night. And he feld they were trying to tell him something, if only they could. Suddenly, out of nothingness, a song sprung to his head, one of the like he had used to sing to the trees in Lothlorién. A smile spread across his face, and his clear, quiet voice rose on the still air in song.

“Nothing eyes have shown to me,
Nor sights within the mind,
Are fair as the golden mallorn trees,
Grown by the elven kind.

Long have I lain beneath those boughs,
And there my songs are heard,
For there the beauty does allow
My mind give spring to words.

And still I wish for time to spend,
At peace in the golden woods,
I’ll journey far just to defend
The lands I know are good.”

As the song ended, silence overtook the air again, and Erdaminéon sighed. He was far from the woods now, and it was no good wishing for them. He was not sure he would ever return at all, and there was much at hand that needed his full attention. Something was disturbing the peace of his mind, and he could not clearly see the misty figures on the horizon of his thoughts. He settled down to enjoy the peace while it lasted, knowing this might be his last rest before the big battle. But he also knew that there would be danger at hand before the battle, but of what kind he could not tell. But now was a time for rest. Mearalagos could watch as well as any. They were all safe.

[ February 17, 2003: Message edited by: Dark Shadow ]

[Durelin]

Durelin walked along in the darkness, so separated from the outside world that he hardly heard Erdaminéon as he told him he was sorry for his harsh words. But the ominous elf heard enough to know that Erdaminéon and the others were still furious with him. He let Erdaminéon walk ahead of him again, he had no desire to speak with anyone only to increase their anger with his words. He knew he would never know if something he was about to say would effect anyone in a bad way. And he had never cared. He had certainly not changed.

Let them be angry, enraged even. How should I have known that anyone who barely knew them and expected less of them would receive such. I am sorry I injured their precious pride! Ha! I acknowledged my mistake, but that is not enough for them. So much revolves around others pride. Many a time the lives of others. How I despise pride, though I indulge in it myself. How I wish I could be rid of it along with so many others. One should be proud of their humanity, but not to the extents to which we, over time, have brought it!

Durelin clenched his fists in his rage. He felt like beating at the nearest thing that was solid until no skin was left covering his knuckles. He was glad the nearest thing was an elf, or he would have done so. He had calmed himself into reason when he shuddered as he felt a cold, clammy feeling run down his spine. Something was wrong, but what? The elf stopped and looked all around him. Were they being followed? If they were, well, he couldn't see anything. And for some reason, he knew that he would have a heavier feeling of danger upon him if they were in any immediate danger. There was no way of knowing if something was far behind them. The elf simply began walking again, as he had said before, he didn't care.

He was now a fair ways behind the group and he walked a little faster to catch up a bit. As he looked at those ahead of him, he wondered if anyone had noticed him stopping. Probably not. His thoughts traveled back to pride. Mainly his pride. In his despair he thought of all the times his pride had shown. Whether it stopped him from doing something, or made him do something, he constantly cursed himself for allowing it to. But as he thought of pride lessening in the world, somehow he knew that it would lessen far too much. Will there ever be a time when anything is balanced? Or will the world forever be filled with extremes? It seems that the latter is more likely. Things will always be either full to the brim or empty.

What had Erdaminéon said? Durelin's mind jumped back to his words as the gloomy elf finally took in his words. He had hinted, yes. Hinted on knowing of sorrows in Durelin's life. Sorrows? Yes. But they have little to do with this. Little. This is grave business, this is what you might call a grudge, but by far a reasonable one to hold. Those fowl creatures will pay. Not one will bring word of the slaughter to their master. They will all die, perhaps me with them. But it will be worth it. Oh yes, every drop of blood taken from me will be worth the gallons of theirs that I will spill. May their bowels litter the cavern floor to rot in malodorous memory of my sweet revenge. Durelin smiled softly in the darkness, a slight twitch of his lips. That moment of triumph would come soon. Oh so soon.

They set up camp to rest sooner than Durelin would have liked. But Bordarigorn had to rest. Everything was so silent and calm that their worries seemed so unnecessary. Nothing showed the plight ahead. The night was always beautiful to Durelin. The stars and moon, and just the way the land looked in the pitch blackness. But the dark was hard for him to enjoy right now, for it brought back his dark thoughts.

Darkness. Beautiful in its way, yet full of intimidation, and the breeding ground of evil. Life seems so helpless in the dark. What of my life? The elf remebered asking his father this. He was a wise man for all that Durelin cursed him in times of despair. His father had answered with a sort of poem. It was stuck in his memory, he would never forget it because he felt such a connection to it. Unconsciously, he began to recite it under his breath.

The end has come and left you in the dust,
But from the dust you shall rise in glory.

Darkness has fallen, you are under its body,
You have struck it down for life-everlasting.

But it is a price you pay to bear its body,
Along with the memory of an everlasting death.

Have you chosen a long path to darkness,
Or a path from darkness to light?

As he finished the poem he sighed in a desperate sort of way. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight, he didn't have to. He would sit in the dark, lost in his thoughts all through long night.

[ February 17, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

[The Ruling Ring]

Maeralagos climbed up one of the trees on the edge of the camp, high enough to stay out of sight, but low enough to be able to jump out, if he needed to.

"I'll take the first watch," he said absently, wondering if they were even going to bother taking turns. He didn't need to change shifts.

He leaned his head lightly against the trunk of the tree, his legs resting lighting in the crotch of the thick branch straight out overhead, allowing his mind to wander with the last verses of Erdaminéon's peaceful song of the Golden Wood. How he wished it were so! He breathed in slowly, taking in the fresh air.

Maeralagos looked down at the rest of the group, Bordarigorn laying on the ground, deep in sleep, Erdaminéon settled down, Durelin looking like he was preparing to, the other Elves coming into the clearing and attempting to get comfortable. He looked back up at the glowing blue of the night sky. It was beautiful...though he really couldn't enjoy very much right then. He was too nervous, to concerned about things to come. What was going to happen next?

[ February 17, 2003: Message edited by: The Ruling Ring ]

[Legolas'_girl]

Melcildir stood silently beside a tree, listening peacefully to the song of Erdamineon.

He had been intending to ask the question, but he feared the answer more than anything he had yet feared. Was it possible that these were his last days to walk Arda? More perplexing, how did he know this? Where did these feelings of dread come from?

If only his sister were here! Melcirial was his twin sister and his best friend. She also, as Erdamineon, posseed the gift of seeing. She had a keen perception and an unusual penetration into the minds of others. She could answer his wonderings and put his weary mind to rest. She always could. But had he gained a bit of this, this future sight? How else would he have known?

Melcildir was about to approach the other Elf(he was finished with his song), when Mearalagos came. His tone was urgent and he sounded troubled. Noiselessly, Melcildir followed. Again, he would be deprived of an answer for yet a little while...

[The Ruling Ring]

Maeralagos shifted nervously on the overhead branch, almost losing his balance. He grabbed the body of the branch to steady himself, to keep himself from falling off, directly onto Erdaminéon, sitting quietly by himself.

As he did this, he heard some motion under the branch. He looked down. Melcildir was there, slowly approaching Erdaminéon, like he wanted to talk to him. He halted when he hear Maeralagos' shuffle, looking up expectantly, thinking that perhaps Maeralagos was coming down from the tree.

"Oh," Maeralagos said softly, "I'm sorry. I almost fell, that's all. Don't mind me."

The darkness hid the embarrassed hue of his face as Maeralagos pulled himself back up to a sitting position in the tree.

[Legolas'_girl]

"I am sorry if I have disturbed you," Melcildir said in a whispered voice. "But I wish to speak with Erdamineon before any fighting takes place. I have had a disturbing vision..."

"Tell me, friend. What have you seen?" Erdamineon asked.

Melcildir hesitated before answering,"Before we left to begin this mission, I had an erie feeling that I was to die soon. Strangely, I was filled with dread. I tell you this, I fear nothing that walks Arda today, save the Dark Lord himself," he finished.

Melcildir paused, watching the other Elf's face and wondering what his vision meant. He spoke now of his sister's gift and how she could see things.

"Much grief came of her gift," he thought to himself.

"Is it possible," Melcildir continued,"that I have gained future sight? How else would I know? What do you make of all this? Am I to die?"

[Rochelle]

Lofinnaes was sitting nearby when he heard Melcildir speak. He turned his dark head to watch the conversation, unable to help in hearing. He spoke from where he sat in answer to the lingering question.

"For your sake, and all of ours, let us hope that you do not have the gift of foresight...lest you stay with us 'til end of days."

A smile spread and he stood. He was tall and slender as elves were, he walked the short distance to the two companions. "I have been silent most of this journey, pondering what is to become of us. Though I too have felt that I shall pass into the earth before this is all over. Let us hope it is just anxiety taking hold of us...and not fate."

He patted the elf on the shoulder "Excuse me for interrupting."

[Elladan Peredhil]

Perlos walked out into the night air, somewhat unsteadily after having drowned his sorrows once again in the wine. He glanced at the Orcs and sneered -- even in his intoxicated state, he still could barely bring himself to stand them.

Wandering out a little further, he sat down upon the cold rock that covered the surrounding landscape. 'I can still keep watch over the prisoner from here,' he convinced himself, 'and perhaps keep a closer eye on the Orc. I know they're up to something, I can smell it in the air as easily as I can smell their stomach-churning breath.'

He took out his knife from his belt and looked at it glinting in the moonlight before idly using it to clean out under his fingernails. The night was growing cool, and his breath looked like smoke curling up from a dragon's nostrils. He curled up tighter, bringing his knees up to his chest to conserve heat, since he knew he could not stand to enter the caves again just yet.

[piosenniel]

It was well after the cold white eye of the moon stood straight above the camp when the pack drew in closer. The small fire had burned down to a few glowing embers, and there was only one Elven guard on duty. The rest lay on their bed rolls, eyes wide open to the stars winking in the branches of the trees above them. The Man was asleep. They could hear him snoring and the sound of his tired body as he repositioned himself for comfort.

Carchmoroth had positioned five wolves to the north of the guard, hidden in the shadows of the trees. Their yellow eyes gleamed coldly as they paced in the darkness, regarding him. At a signal from Carchmoroth, they whimpered and stepped loudly on the dry leaves beneath one of the dying trees.

The guard heard them, his head snapping round to their position to fix on the gleam of their eyes and catching the scent of them. ‘There are wolves to the North!’ he hissed to his companions, bringing them awake.’

The Elves drew their bows and fired into the shadows of the trees. The five wolves retreated further into the darkness drawing the Elves a little closer as they heard the yelps of wolves hit by arrows.

To the right of the two-leggeds, Dûrêl sent in her ten wolves at a fast clip. On the left, Dûgoroth let fly the swiftly running wedge of his seven wolves.

And from behind, came Carchmoroth, like a black quick wind, urging his five before him. These leapt at the line of defenders and bore down two Elves and the Man beneath them . . .

[Grimbold]

Handorth knew something of elven battle tactics, and he assumed that if a force of elves tried to assault the army, the attack would come from all sides. The elves would try to divide the army and then focus on its broken segments. Handorth waited for the army to pass his position and then continued at the rear. He was under nobody's command since he was only a member of a small patrol that followed him, and thus he could move at will. At the rear of the legions, he spread out his force and kept an ear open for signs of an approach from the rear. He listened to the strange birds and tried to pick up scents which wafted in the forest.

That morning, a commotion of flying arrows and screams interrupted the march. Elven scouts had opened fire, and all had escaped except for one who had been slain and captured by the Orcs of the army. His body now hung from one of the wooden battle carriages, and the Orcs would likely butcher him for meat at their next stop. The scouts would return to their city and raise the alarm if it hadn't yet been raised. Handorth was sure there would be a welcoming party.

[ February 18, 2003: Message edited by: Grimbold ]

[The Ruling Ring]

"Bordarigorn!" Maeralagos cried out, drawing his sword and slicing across the spine, into the wolf that had jumped onto the man's stomach, pinning him to the ground. He hauled the foul carcass off, then extended his hand, pulling the man to his feet.

"Watch out!" Bordarigorn cried, terror lighting in his eyes, and Maeralagos felt a sudden heavy weight slam into his back, launching him forward onto the ground, Bordarigorn again trapped under him. Maeralagos struggled to free himself, as the wolf on his back panted hot breath on his neck, snarling hungrily. His sword arm was pinned beneath him, between himself and Bordarigorn. Much struggling with it would probably result in inadvertantly disemboweling the man. What could he do? He frantically tried to roll off, knocking the wolf off, but the beast seemed riveted to him, snapping and tearing at him, biting into his ear and pricking the side of his neck, with its teeth.

"Help!" Maeralagos cried out, turning his head, looking into the dark fray desperately. "Help!!"

[Lyra Greenleaf]

Telpeheled sat quietly, in his thoughts roaming the woodland of his home. Amost he managed to forget the danger, so close at hand. Then a thick scent pervaded his nostrils, one unlike any other he had experienced before.

Not orcs, he thought, though they are bad enough! A shout came from Maeralagos on guard duty.
‘There are wolves to the North!’
Wolves! At once Telpeheled was reminded of his inexperience, and regretted his rash decision to join the party. What do I know of wolves?

Uncertainty and, yes, fear clutched him. Unconsciously he stumbled backwards, fading into the darkness. Terror made him senseless to the din from the fighting going on in front.

A voice cut through the fog clouding his brain.
"Help!" cried a voice desperately. Telpeheled blinked.
"Help!" it came again. Telpeheled recognised the voice as Maeralagos. His reasons for joining the quest flooded back. In the short time he had known his companions, he had come to respect them and, though they were difficult in many cases, even like them.

Without thinking the warrior that lay hidden inside Telpeheled came out. Running forward he slashed at the neck of the wolf that had pinned down Maeralagos and Bordarigorn, cutting off its head. Without even waiting to check on the man and the Elf he turned again, hacking at the other wolves, instinct and good training taking over. The battle was in full sway, and Telpeheled was in the thick of it.

[Helkahothion]

Bordarigorn was completly surprized by the wolves. He wanted to jump up, but was to late. A wolf pinned him to the ground with another elf on top of him. Bordarigorn was faced down and in the rumor he could not hear a thing. Suddenly, the weight on his body fainted and he could move again. He stood up and grabbed his bow. He could see that the wolves where led not by themselfes. Between the battle he could see a Warg running between the rangs. His firsth arrow was for him. He took it out of his quiver and pulled it back. The arrow flew away, but the Warg was faster. He dodged the arrow almost and it landed it his rear. The Warg cried out and jumped away.

The wolves, furious because Bordarigorn had attacked their leader, now charged Bordarigorn. One he took out with his bow, stricking him in the skull, before he started to man his spear and knife. They where with five of them. The wolves started the usual circle arround Bordarigorn, but two where sadly surprized by his spear. They had fought humans before, but there biting steel was never attatched to sticks. The three others charged Bordarigorn. With his powerfull arm, Bordarigorn trew a spear trough one fo them, making a wolf kebab. The two others met the swift manouvres of his knife. The firsth one got it right in the head, but when Bordarigorn reiched for the other he was to late. The wolf was already hanging on his spear arm. The bite went trough the ringmail and in Bordarigorn's arm. The man had more power than the wolf expected tough. With eas he lifted the foul beast from the ground and with his knife he cutted his underside open from neck to tail. The wolf fell dead on the ground.

"No one attack's me in my beautysleep. Not even nature. Sorry Anuion, but they started." Bordarigron said before rushing into battle. The Warg was still arround and Bordarigorn spotted him behind a tree. He grabbed his spear and knife and ran to the beast. The Warg, seeing him from great distance, suddenly made a quick move, evading the steel of Bordarigorn's spear. With a curve he sliced at the Warg and struck his side. The Warg, now heavely bleeding, choosed the other way and ran of with a terrible howl.

Two wolves where left for Bordarigorn to butcher. He had enough of the Wolves and decided to end it quickly. The left wolf was surprized and the spear of Bordarigorn struck him in the back of the head. The other one was finished of quickly with a powerfull stab in the back. Bordarigorn never was a backstabber, but it was him or them. His firsth battle in the war against Sauron had not been heavy for him. He wondered if it was Sauron who sended the wolves anyway. He ran back to the campsight, finding some of the elves already there.

"Everybody okay? Where are the others? Did we got them all? How about the Warg's are they gone?" Bordarigorn asked randomly.

He did not care who would answer, as long as he heared voices that where not from injured bodies.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Bordarigorn turned arround and held his knife towards the one holding him.

"Relax, everything is okay." A calm elven voice said.

Bordarigorn sighted relieved. At least one of them came out okay.
________
Nevada Dispensaries

[Durelin]

As he lay unmoving long into the night, Durelin felt another cold warning run down his back. But this time, it threw him into shivering, though the fire still warmed the air. He bolted upright just as Maeralagos shouted from his guard post. Wolves! Of course we didn't notice their presence. They have always amazed me at how well the stay hidden! Now the day has come when my amazement will prove deadly.

Jumping up the elf went for his bow, he hoped to get a few shots before the pack closed in. He picked off one wolf as it was racing toward them. Lucky shot, he thought. Then he noticed that not only did the wolves come from behind, but also from both the right and left. The group was going to be pinned in the middle if they weren't careful.

As the large snarling gray forms lunged in, Durelin quickly drew his two blades. He remembered when his eyes would glaze over with a burning red of battle fury. But now, he had complete control over himself. As he swung the elvish blades in an almost graceful way, he had a bland look on his face and his mouth was slightly slack. He seemed almost bored as he sliced a wolf to his left clean in half.

Durelin was lost in his dance with death for what seemed like hours. The head of a wolf flew through the air. The sweet smell of blood was swept through the air as he slit the throat of another. A flash of gray to behind him, he turned and sliced at the same time, catching the wolf in mid spring, slicing open its stomach. The lump of lifeless flesh and fur hit Durelin hard, knocking the wind out of him and spreading its innards all over him. He staggered and dropping his blades, but he regained his balance within seconds and had his sword out standing at the ready. But as he looked around, he saw the ground was littered with the carcasses of the wolves, the flies already buzzing around, feasting on the stinking flesh. There was no sign of anything alive.

Durelin sighed and began scraping the wolf entrails off his tunic with his sword. He would need to clean it soon or the smell would sink in to his clothes. That was the last thing he needed. He wiped his sword on the grass and sheathed it, then picked up his dropped blades, adn cleaned the off. Then he could check for wounds and on his companions. This was his routine every time a fight ended. Weapons first, people second.

Durelin maneuvered his way through the foul remains over to where Bordarigorn was standing looking slightly bewildered. He had after all, been asleep when the wolves had attacked. "Everybody okay? Where are the others? Did we get them all? How about the Warg's, are they gone?" asked a fatigued sounding Bordarigorn. As Durelin came over, he laid a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder, only to have him turn on him with his knife, ready to kill.

"Relax, everything is okay," Durelin said calmly, but clearly. Bordarigorn needed to hear it, he was still filled with the confusion of battle. Durelin knew it well, he needed to hear someone else, to see someone else, alive and well. The elf was calmed as he felt the man's shoulders relax, and his breathing slow. Durelin had been just as tense as Bordarigorn, and he worried as much too. Had the others come out of this scrap as well - off as they had? Well, I still have life to live in which I may receive my revenge. I only hope that I will not have more to avenge.

[ February 18, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

[Legolas'_girl]

Melcildir was still pondering the words of Lofinnaes; they relieved him a bit. He smiled as he came to a shocking realization: these Elves had become his friends. His thoughts were adverted from happy memories by Maeralagos' cry: "There are wolves to the North!"

Melcildir immediately grabbed his bow and fitted an arrow to the string. A rustle in the brush ahead caught his attention; he fired into the darkness.

Hearing the whimper of an injured wolf, he drew his daggers and ran ahead with the usual swiftness and silence of the Elves.

He found the wolf he had shot in an outrage. The arrow was stuck in his side and blood gushed from the wound. Melcildir rushed forward and was greeted by the snarling jaws of the wolf. He quickly thrust his dagger into it's side and slashed at it's throat. It fell in a crumpled heap on the ground and moved no more.

He was stunned by the ferosity of the wolf. But as the vauge shape of a Warg passed through the shadows ahead of him, Melcildir knew that they did not act alone.

The fight turned out better than he had thought. He had only a few minor wounds on his arm where the animal had bit him. He stared for a long time at the body, but the cries of his companions aroused his senses once more.

Adrenalin pumping, he ran back to the place were Bordarigorn was sleeping and saw the man fighting about five of the evil wolves by himself. He watched Bordarigorn slay the wolves one by one with fascination and new respect for him.

Melcildir was caught entirely unaware of a wolf behind him and he was knocked breathless on the ground, the wolf biting his forearm as he shielded his face from the ripping fangs. With a quick slash of his dagger, he cut the wolf's stomach open and it's blood soon covered his hands and clothes.

Infuriated, it leapt at the Elf and knocked his arm, sending his dagger flying through the air. Now without a weapon and no time to draw his sword, Melcildir aimed a kick into the wolf's ribs. The blow made the wolf back off a bit, giving Melcildir enough time to stand and grab his bow from the ground. His arrows were scattered around on the ground and he reached around frantically to find one. The wolf was gathering himself for another spring.

Drawing his sword, Melcildir stood facing the wolf. The thing did not feel natural to his hands as his daggers did. But, there was no time to think, only act, for the wolf jumped at him ot once. Instantly, he dropped to the ground and slashed upward with his sword. The wolf fell dead beside him.

Melcildir stood again and wiped blood off of his sword onto the grass. He returned it to it's sheath and rested a bit next to the wolf's dead body. His cloak and light green overshirt and tunic were stained red from the wolf's blood mixed with his own. But his first sword fight had been won. He no longer felt awkward about carrying it at his side. He was quite proud of himself; he had overcome in his first run-in with the vicious wild wolves out in the open.

His arm was slashed open and his back was covered in long, bloody scratches. Slowly and with much effort, he returned to the camp area to find Bordarigorn surrounded by wolf bodies. As he approached Bordarigorn and Durelin, he saw another Elf returning from his left.

"Are you allright?" Melcildir shouted to him.

At least they're alive, he thought.

[The Ruling Ring]

Maeralagos bounded forward, lunging with his by-now reflexive skill with a sword, so slicing into and clean through another wolf. He straightened up, the blade dripping with the animals' blood, whipping his head around, looking for more. But there were none.

There were plenty of dead ones, but none still alive and biting. Maeralagos turned to see Telpeheled, his sword out, driven through a wolf that was now flattened against the ground. The Elf's teeth were gritted in hostility, he seemed set on his task.

"Telpeheled?" Maeralagos chanced softly. "Are you alright?"

Telpeheled started violently, turning and looking at him, the queer look of animosity melting in an instant, when he saw his friend.

"Come," Maeralagos took Telpeheled's hand gently in his, ushering his towards the far end of the clearing, where he heard Bordarigorn's voice, as well as the voices of some of the other Elves.

Melcildir turned on his heel the instant the two came through the trees, Maeralagos appearing first.

"Are you all right?" he cried, seeming not yet relaxed. And with good reason; he was covered in blood, though the majority of it seemed not to be his.

"Yes, I'm fine," Maeralagos said, deciding not to make a fuss over the minor teeth marks in his neck and his torn ear. They would heal by morning, hopefully. He turned to Telpeheled. "What about you?"

[Rochelle]

Lofinnaes whipped around, the motion bring an arrow to the string of his bow. Immediately he fired into the heart of a wolf as it came towering down upon Maeralagos. Instantly another arrow was put to his string as he looked around. Quickly he fired into the pack, bring down yet another. By the time he had drawn his third arrow, all the wolves were slain, thanks to the quick thinking of the party. He sighed and relaxed only when everyone began to gather.

He moved closer to Bordarigorn, grey eyes silently moving over the man "You are injured..." he gestured to the cut across the mans forehead "...I have brought athelas from Lorien." He smiled and held out a few leaves from his pouch. "If you feel we're safe enough now, you should light a fire and boil these. Washing the wound will cleanse it of infection."

He looked to the other elves "Anyone else in need of medicine?" He had been fortunate and had not been in the way of the wolves. They had travelled downwind, yet he praised the company for acting so swiftly...this could have been far more disasterous.

[Dark Shadow]

Once again, the question was interrupted, but this time by a far fouler cause. Suddenly, all the foreboding that he lurked in Erdaminéon’s mind became apparent. They were being stared down by a line of ten glittering eyes.

“Wolves” hissed Mearalagos. The elves leapt silently to their feet, drawing their bows, ready for attack. Erdaminéon took the last opportunity to speak with Melcildir before what could be a desperate fight for a lost cause.

“If you are indeed to die, then rest assured, we will die with you. But for the moment at least let us hope your prediction, if that it be, is not too near at hand.” He wished he could say more to comfort, or even explain to the elf, but there was no time.

With this, he turned and let an arrow fly into the shadows. It was greeted by yelps of pain from the wolf, and of fear from those around it. The arrows of the other elves were soon to join his first, but soon they realised that it was not a mere hunting pack they were pitted against. More wolves were drawing in from either side, and suddenly five wolves and a great warg leader leapt at them from behind. Erdaminéon spun around, for the time forgetting the wolves either side, and shot at those who had taken down three of his companions of whom in the darkness he recognised one to be Bordarigorn. His arrow pierced the throat of one wolf, and the arrows of the other three still standing struck others. Erdaminéon turned and shot desperately at the warg who lead the attack, but the arrow hardly seemed to pierce the skin. The warg continued, unharmed, but in the absence of his attention one of the wolves flew at the startled elf, knocking him to the ground. It was slain almost instantly by the arrow of one of those who remained on their feet, but not quickly enough to avoid all injury. Blood soaked his cloak as he struggled to his feet to continue the fight. It seemed that Bordarigorn had recovered his feet also, but there was no time to count heads. The struggle continued, and the outnumbered elves began to feel there was no hope. However, almost as suddenly as it had begun the attack ceased. The last of the attackers Erdaminéon saw were three great wargs, disappearing between the trees. The ground around them was littered with wolf carcases, and it seemed that the earth ran with blood. Those that could, stood, waiting, afraid of another attack, but it never came. After a while, the elves sank back off guard, and began to tend to various wounds.

A voice was calling out, checking if everyone was all right. It sounded like Bordarigorn. Erdaminéon sat apart from the group, holding his cloak tight to his arm to stem the bleeding. The others were all seeing to their own wounds. Durelin was cleaning his weapons a short distance away. Erdaminéon began to look about in search of the others, but looking made his head spin. He sat back against the tree trunk, for a short rest, and let his eyes close.

[The Ruling Ring]

Maeralagos touched his ear, considering, cringing in slight disgust as his fingertips came into contact with the torn cartilage, a horizontal rip from the edge about halfway across the body of the ear. Perhaps this one needed tending...

He opened his mouth to speak to Melcildir, but heard someone else approach from behind. He turned in time to see a figure, a short distance away, sitting, leaning against a tree, his arm clutched in his cloak.

"Erdaminéon!" he cried, running up to him and kneeling at his side. "Are you alright?"

[Dark Shadow]

He heard a voice very close by, “Erdaminéon, are you alright?” Without opening his eyes, he knew it was Mearalagos. He could sense the elf, kneeling close by. The voice of a friend was comforting, and helped to drive away the pain. With an effort, he raised his head. Mearalagos was not without his own injuries; in fact his ear had been horribly torn. From the angle of his sight, he couldn’t see the others, but he could just hear faint voices, discussing their own matters.

“I shan’t die,” He said faintly, “I just need rest. It’s nothing rest won’t heal. In fact, I should be fine in a minute.” He let his head rest against the tree trunk again, adding, “I suppose I’m lucky to still have my arm,” he smiled weakly, “I wouldn’t be much use to you all without it.” He opened his eyes, surveying Mearalagos’s wounds. “You should clean that ear.” He smiled at the irony of the situation, and closed his eyes again. To see in his mind, beauty that could shut out the distorted landscape and the carnage that lay upon it. He felt guilty that he should be the only one to lay and make fuss over his injury, but he couldn't stand. Although his legs were fine, movement made his head spin. He guessed it was loss of blood more than anything, but he could not be sure.

[ February 19, 2003: Message edited by: Dark Shadow ]

[Durelin]

Durelin watched as the elves started to appear out of the darkness. He was amazed to find them able to walk. Mearalagos, Melcildir, Telpeheled, Lofinneas. All but Erdaminéon. Is he alright? Durelin was just going to search for him when he heard Mearalagos cry out. They had found him, but was he alive, or for much longer? Durelin shook the thought away and ran after Mearalagos. He came up behind him and saw Erdaminéon leaning against a tree, clutching his arm.

"Are you alright?" Mearalagos asked Erdaminéon. Durelin watched as the wounded elf answered, “I shan’t die,” He said faintly, “I just need rest. It’s nothing rest won’t heal. In fact, I should be fine in a minute. I suppose I’m lucky to still have my arm, I wouldn’t be much use to you all without it.” The weary elf opened his eyes, surveying Mearalagos’s wounds. “You should clean that ear.”

"Lofinneas!" Durelin called to the elf who had automatically become the group's healer, "Erdaminéon is wounded!" Durelin then turned again to Erdaminéon, "Do not argue, he has athelas, it will help." As Lofinneas came rushing over to help Erdaminéon, Durelin went to check on Bordarigorn. The man's wound had been dressed and now that he had lost his battle fury, he looked very weary and troubled. Durelin knew without asking that Bordarigorn was thinking about how much this interrupted their plans.

"Well, my friend," Durelin began wistfully, "this disrupts our search. We will have to rest for a while here. We cannot push our luck and attack the cave with wounded, no matter how good of warriors those here are."

"Yes, but can Anuion wait?" Bordarigorn asked wretchedly. It was a question best left unanswered, and both the elf and the man knew it. Bordarigorn looked up at Durelin sorrowfully, then, as his eyes moved to Durelin's chest, his eyes opened wide in surprise. "You're wounded, friend!"

"Wha--" Durelin stopped as he saw his chest. There were long scratches. Suddenly, the elf began to laugh, a long high-pitched sounding laugh. He couldn't stop himself. When he finally could control himself he said, gasping for breath, "I didn't notice, for it was covered with the wolf's bowels. Ha! I am lucky, they are not deep."

Bordarigorn was now looking at Durelin strangely. The elf couldn't read his expression. Was it disgust? He had acted bizarrely. He only hoped it wasn't fear. Durelin couldn't stand in the man's gaze any longer, he turned sharply and walked away quickly from any of his companions. He needed some time to think. He needed to take a walk.

Durelin slowed his pace as he reached the edge of the forest surrounding their camp - site. He stepped into the trees an immediately felt refreshed. His berserker fit was gone, he could think straight. But what kind of berserker fit is that? I am silent at one moment, then I am laughing like a crazed person! Why must I always act so strangely almost against my will? He sighed, then grunted in pain. Along with clear thought, the realization that he was wounded had come with a fierce sting. With the pain came his painful thoughts. My time of revenge has slipped farther from my grasp! Will they now receive my wrath, or I theirs? Durelin shook his head trying to throw those thoughts from his mind. Why do I wait hungrily for revenge? Will revenge really be as sweet and filling as I believed?

[ February 19, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

[Helkahothion]

Bordarigorn was glad to hear that there was Athelas from Lothlori?n. He had some of the Shire with him, but the ones from the golden wood just gave an extra boost. He took out his bandeges and Athelas and tended his arm. No Elf will heal me as long as I have strength left. Bordarigorn tought proudly. He had hardly ever accepted help. Only by one Elf was he assisted in combat. And that elf was now stuck in a cave with 50 Orcs and 50 Easterlings to accompany him. He stood up when he was done and looked to the others while holding up the bandeges and Athelas.

"Anyone else for some Human healingmaterial?" He asked with a smile.
________
NO2 VAPORIZER

[Lyra Greenleaf]

In front! The sword slashed as quickly as the thought came into his mind, piercing the belly of the wolf. Now, to the left. Once again,Telpeheled's arm beat his trancelike thoughts. He did not know how long the fight lasted. It could be it was mere minutes, but it seemed like an age.

The arm stopped, sword still piercing the side of a wolf breathing its last on the ground. Somehow, an instinct had told him there was no longer a threat, but once again the brain had not caught up.
"Telpeheled?" Automatically the arm came up again. Telpeheled span.
"Are you alright?"
This was no wolf, instead Telpeheled found himself threatening Maeralagos. He might have apologised, or he might have laughed, but exhaustion stopped him. However the trance of battle left him, and he sheathed his sword.

The two Elves stood quietly for a second, Maeralagos still awaiting a response. At last he realised Telpeheled would not be providing one.
"Come" Maeralagos led him to the far end of the clearing, where Telpeheled hazily heard the voices of the others. One asked Maeralagos if he was alright, though Telpeheled could not place the voice.

"What about you?" Maeralagos asked. His voice seemed strange, somewhat menacing. Telpeheled shook his head to clear it.
What was the correct response to that question? Telpeheled could not quite remember. He thought hard. Inspiration hit him.
'Fine, thank you' he heard a voice answer. It sounded like him, though very far away. He fought back the urge to laugh.

Maeralagos, reassured turned away. Telpeheled needed to rest. He walked to the edge of the clearing and leaned against a tree. His head felt very strange.
It's all sticky he thought, touching the nape of his neck.

Never mind, I'll worry about that when I wake up he thought. Sound and colour faded...

[ February 22, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[The Ruling Ring]

"Oh," Maeralagos said softly, brushing his fingertips against his ear again. "It's alright, and what about you? Lofinneas has--,"

Before he could finish the statement, Durelin filled him in.

"Do not argue, he has athelas, it will help," he said, then stood up and left as Lofinneas came over, the balmish herb in his hand.

Maeralagos rose then as well and stood beside Erdaminéon as Lofinneas did his duty. He meant to wait, to ask for some athelas for his ear, which was beginning to sting. He looked back over the horizon, to where the sun was just beginning to advance upwards. How long had the battle lasted? Was it really almost morning?

Just then, Maeralagos heard a slight gasping exclamation from the ground. He looked down to see Erdaminéon, his mouth shut tight, breathing hard through his nose, willing himself to stay quiet as the helpful athelas bit into the wound. Maeralagos could tell that he was in much pain. Perhaps he didn't want him to witness this...

Maeralagos turned his back then, torn. Should he walk away? Just then, he spotted Telpeheled, sitting at the base of a tree, his eyes shut, looking rather odd.

Recalling the forced nature of his response to the question he'd been asked just then, Maeralagos came quickly to him, kneeling at his side.

"Telpeheled," he said softly, then louder, as no response came. "Telpeheled!"

The Elf's head had lolled to one side in his sleeping posture. Maeralagos reached up worriedly, gently taking the back of his head, feeling something warm against his fingertips.

"I think we need some more athelas!"

[Rochelle]

He smirked at the human, ensured that his injuries would be tended to on his own. His head turned as he was called over to the elf lying on the ground. He shook his head "You have had quite the ordeal Erdaminéon, I'll grant you that..." His eyes quickly searched over the wounds...both deep and cosmetic. "You shall live mellon..."

He brought around more athelas and placed a few of the crushed leaves into the wound that proved to be most stubborn to heal. "Here...hold this here..." He moved the elfs hand to rest over the wound. "Provide as much pressure as you can withstand." The other wounds, mostly superficial would have to wait until he was sure that the others did not need attention.

He stood after the bleeding had ceased and looked around. In the same instant he noticed Telpeheled go unconscoius and he rushed over. Kneeling beside him he looked up to Maeralagos. "What happened?" He could see no apparent injuries to the elf beside small scratches but then Maeralagos brought his hand around, blood upon it.

He frowned...if this was a deep head wound then it'd be past the power of athelas. He looked around and noticed a fallen sash upon the ground. He knelt and picked it up before turning back and commanding Maeralagos "Hold him up, I need to see the wound more clearly"

The elf did so and Lofinnaes poured water from the skin on to the wound. It did nothing but flush the dirt...the blood still flowed. He brought around more athelas and administered it to the wound before pressing the sash against it in hopes to cease the bleeding. "He is the worst of us all...Telpeheled? Lasto beth nîn...Telin le thaed, tolo dan ngalad."

The elf stirred as if coming back "Speak to him...he is arousing."

[Legolas'_girl]

Melcildir looked anxiously for the others, and was relieved to hear the voice of Erdamineon. The other Elf was covered in blood and was pretty beat up.

He was more relived when he heard the words," I shan't die." He had seen enough death and was glad he did not witness anymore; for tonight at least.

He looked at himself and his tattered tunic and overshirt. He was soaked in blood, but he looked much worse than he felt. Still, he was glad when Lofinnaes offered some of the athelas from Lorien. His arm was burning with pain. His head reeled and he was dizzy and exhausted, but he was better off than some of the others.

That could have been much worse. We were saved only by luck and our skills tonight. I only hope that we are as lucky in the next battle...

He searched his body for other wounds and saw the scrathes on his chest; felt the ones on his back. A trickle of blood ran down his face from the ridge of his eyebrows. Taking a container of water hanging off his belt, he wetted a cloth and wiped his face and hands.

[The Ruling Ring]

Maeralagos felt strangely numb as he looked at the wound on Telpeheled's neck, lifting him off the ground. He felt almost as if tears were stinging his eyes as Lofinneas poured water over the wound, then pressed the sash against it, and almost didn't hear the healing Elf's command to speak.

"T-telpeheled," the words fell unevenly out of Maeralagos' mouth. Too often had he seen young warriors thrust into situations too dangerous yet for them, never to return. "Telpeheled, look at me. I'm right here. So is Lofinneas. Are you alright?"

[ February 19, 2003: Message edited by: The Ruling Ring ]

[Lyra Greenleaf]

The pain was searing through Telpeheled now he had been wrenched out of his dreams. He felt the other Elves pulling him with word ond deed, and wished he had the strength to tell them to go away and leave him be. His head felt light, but at the same time the pain made him feel leaden.

It was hard to breathe. Suddenly Telpeheled had a vision of one of the maidens of the city. She asked him to dance, proffering her hand. He tried to struggle to his feet but couldn't manage it.
A voice cut through the picture, but it wasn't female.
"Telpeheled, look at me. I'm right here. So is Lofinneas. Are you alright?"

Lofinneas? I know that name, thought Telpeheled vaguely. But it hurt his head too much to think where from.

"Hold on", the voice came again.
Telpeheled wanted to scream. The voice had taken away the ball, the maiden. And it was obviously doing something to him because he couldn't move. He tried to hit the voice, then lauughed. You can't hit a voice! he thought.

Telpeheled felt himself slip back into oblivion, but once again he was pulled back. There were more voices now, too many. They were going around in his head, and he couldn't understand what they were saying. Finally he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Quiet" he called at the voices. They all stopped. Telpeheled realised he had spoken out loud. It seemed easier than he had thought.
He tried again.
"Go away"
The voices started again. Now Telpeheled knew he could speak, he wanted to try again.
"Where did you take her? I wanted to dance. What have you done to my head?"

[ February 22, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

At the mouth of the cave where Jerika stood, a slight breeze blew carrying a barely audible howl. The stars shone bright against the dark blue of the sky. Jerika could see the prisoner, Anuion. Who would name their child Anuion? Such a strange thing to be called.

Jerika knew that someone would try and come for Anuion. There was another one, the human that had gotten away. Someone would be showing up soon to get Anuion, yet the Easterlings would not give their prize up so easily.

Jerika strode from her spot and went to stand next to Findorak. He said something to Kane, and Kane just moved away.

"You know, we'll probably be having company sometime soon. His Elf friends in Lorien won't give him up without a fight. They're coming," Jerika spun her daggers around in her hands as she spoke to Findorak.

[ February 20, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[the real findorfin]

"Then we should let the orcs take care of them," he replied in a whisper. "Better to let an orc die first than an Easterling."

Findorak was silent again, his role was becoming hazy. Firstly, his priority had been to gain power, but now Handorth was gone, he had the mastery and could still do nothing.

"Yes," he murmured again, "it is best to let the orcs take care of the elves. If they get into trouble we will of course help our..allies..but let them die first."

He spun on his heel and moved back into the cave. As he walked an orc stuck out a leg and Findorak was tripped. He landed heavily on the floor but was up again in seconds. The orc laughed harshly but it turned to a muffled gurgle as Findorak slit his throat.

Orcs around rose menacingly and Findorak called out, "Easterlings, to me".

It looked like the fire had just been lit.

Fin could see Jerika, Kane and Vlad coming and some other various easterlings. But that Skaibad and a tight group were also closing in.

[The Ruling Ring]

Maeralagos fought bac any slight form of jubilation just yet. Though Telpeheled was speaking, his eyes were still closed, and judging by his words, he was delirious.

"Telpeheled," Maeralagos tried again. "It's me, Maeralagos. Look at me. Do you know where you are?"

Maeralagos gritted his teeth tensely, waiting for a response, praying silently that there would be one.

[Envinyatar]

Nozhdrul, from his vantage point behind the crates, heard the rise of voices and the scuffle of running feet coming near to him. He chanced being seen and stood up to peek over the crates. The miasma of anger and high tension assailed his nose and he nearly gagged at the reek of it.

The Easterlings, swords and knives drawn, had set upon the Orcs. And while he held no real affection for his scabrous brothers, he did not relish the thought of being the only Orc left in this pit of stinking Men. He reached for his sling, but dared not move into a more open place from which to swing it. He considered his long knife, but that seemed a foolish idea considering the length of the Easterlings’ swords and the long arms which held them.

‘What to do, what to do.’ His nose brought him a heavier scent, from the cartons he had crouched behind to consider his options. He worked his long thick fingernails beneath the top of the crate and pried it up. Bottle’s of wine! Nice thick, heavy, long necked crockery containers filled with liquid. He picked one up, hefting it in his hand.

Drawing back his arm, he let it fly. A direct hit! Splattering shards of crockery and flying trails of wine rebounded from the skull of an Easterling, and he went down. Ambidextrous, Nozhdrul kept the fermented missiles flying, knocking down those he could.

The floor of the cave was becoming slippery and dangerous, awash with wine and the sharp shatterings of the bottles themselves. He laughed with glee as he watched the Men slip and fall like Wargs on slick ice.

And to be honest he was not that sorry to see some of the Orcs go careening across the wet mess either . . .

[Dark Shadow]

He lay quietly, and the other elves carried on their business about him. After Mearalagos and Durelin came Lofinneas, the group’s healer. As Lofinneas tended the wound with athelas, Erdaminéon winced, and looked away, gritting his teeth to hold back any sound. Mearalagos turned away, and he was thankful for this, it was awkward enough to have been so easily taken down in battle. Then his thoughts were interrupted by instruction from Lofinneas as his hand was moved to the wound.

“Here...hold this here… Provide as much pressure as you can withstand.”

The bleeding ceased, and Lofinneas turned to see to other wounds. Erdaminéon sat by the tree, holding the dressing to the wound, pressing as hard as he could bear, as instructed. Dawn would soon be coming, and he had to be ready to resume. From what he could see, everyone was indeed alive, and most were able to walk. As he watched the others, something he had been thinking before the battle had begun returned to him. He had noticed the friendships that had begun between the companions. It was a strange fate that danger and threats should bring people together, but for most it appeared to have made amazing changes. In fact, he himself felt closer to the others, although he was never one to feel comfortable in danger. His mind strayed from friendship, and Instantly, thoughts of despair overcame his mind. He was a burden to them. The others were all able to stand, yet he was lying on the ground, no good to anyone. He began to mutter silently, so none could hear his despair.

“I am a burden to them, and a burden of little use. For what good have I done them this far, and what good will I do in times to come? I am of no use to any here.”

He sighed, and sank back into deep dark holes of pain and foreboding. They had been reduced to a rabble of injured soldiers by a band of wolves, and yet they were marching to attack a fully defended cave full of Orcs and Easterlings. Surely they all went inevitably to their dooms. He continued to murmur, almost feverishly, waiting for dawn when he would force himself to stand, whatever conditions and do whatever he could to be of little trouble to the others. He would not turn back, but it would all be over soon.

[Lyra Greenleaf]

"Telpeheled, It's me, Maeralagos. Look at me. Do you know where you are?"

Maeralagos? Maeralagos? Telpeheled knew that the name was familiar, knew he should recognise it's bearer. He tried to solve the puzzle with his aching head.

Suddenly darkness again fell in his head. For a number of seconds he felt as if he had left the world. Then, just as suddenly and without warning, the pain almost went, leaving only a dull ache.

Telpeheled blinked up at Maeralagos, who looked worried.
"What's the matter?" he asked weakly, "Surely you weren't worried about me? I can't die, Mandos is too scared!"

[ February 22, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[The Ruling Ring]

Maeralagos fought off the urge to pull Telpeheled into an embrace of relief, partially because of the embarrassment it might cause, around all of these others, and partially because he didn't want to injure Telpeheled further, which was still a possibility, as he didn't seem entirely recovered yet.

Maeralagos furrowed his brow at Telpeheled's words.

"Mandos?" he gasped in slight fear. "What are you talking about?"

[ February 22, 2003: Message edited by: The Ruling Ring ]

[ElentariGreenleaf]

Tension was high in the camp. Gabrielle was sitting with her back towards the fire, but still felt cold. An army of Orcs and Easterlings was approaching Lorien, and she was the captian in charge of the defence.

Gabrielle had only become a captian a year ago, and this was her first true battle. It was strange really. Her parents had told her a woman couldn't be a captian, and so had her friends. But she'd made it, she'd become one.

A trip snapped and made Gabrielle jump. It was only a solider coming to sit near the fire. Any noise made that night made Gabrielle jump. She only hoped they would not be attacked yet.