An Audience With The King RPG

[Bêthberry]

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

Stonehelm stood with his pony atop the hill and watched his caravan climb down to the river. Frain and Glavin had gone ahead; they had already reached the flatland but wagons were still behind them, Hringa in the middle of the troup.

It was hard holding the wagons so they didn't tumble head-first down the slope. Suddenly, Curin slipped and lost his hold on the wagon he was guiding. It tumbled forward, knocking Hringa's pony over. The faithful servant rolled beard over knee down the slope. The wagon then careened down the hill, crashing into the first wagons at the bottom and ploughing into Frain and Glavin.




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

[Rose Cotton]

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

Ponies, why did it have to be ponies? thought Hringa as he struggled to keep in his saddle. He had never ridden before prefering walking to anything else and now had to use all his wits to stay on his mount.

Hringa's problems with his pony did not keep him from pestering Stonehelm with questions. He followed the King as if he'd lose his way otherwise.

As they arrived at the elf's camp, Hringa was in for another suprise. Until now elves had only lived in his imagination. Now as he looked upon them for the first time he forgot all he was ever told about them. He didn't see how dwarves could mistrust these beings that stood tall and proud as if created from the most precious jewls.
Hringa worked hard to conceal his awe, not knowing what his master would think of him. Instead he cast his eyes upon his pony's mane as if fascinated by it.

Suddenly he was thrown to the ground as a wagon tumbled down the hill and struck his pony down. He tumbled down after the wagon feeling every ache he had gained through their journey and finally coming to rest at the bottom of the slope.

[ October 05, 2002: Message edited by: Rose Cotton ]

[Elenna]

Ciri smiled. "Yes, I think so. But can my husband join us?" Neither son of Elrond missed the pain in her voice - it was plain how she felt about leaving her husband.

But she led them into a small chamber, after ordering for food to be brought and Erestor and Fanelen summoned. They sat around a round table and stared at each other, waiting for someone to say something.

[piosenniel]

***** Dale-Jarl *****

Jarl had found a side door in the garden. It did not lead out to the street as he had hoped, but into the kitchen area for the great hall. He stopped and looked about. There must be a tradesman's entrance some where!.

A kitchen boy, arms laden with trays of fruits and confections hurried by. Jarl stopped him for a moment. 'Where is the door to the street?' he asked. Turning his slightly to the side and pointing his chin and eyes in the direction of the exit, the boy then hurried on followed by a sharp reprimand from one of the cooks.

Jarl strode through the maze of tables and cooking areas, in the direction the boy had indicated. He fended off offers to show this 'lost' guest back to the party, and finally arrived at the door. He had opened it, and was just ready to make good his escape, when a familiar voice called out to him in a tone of urgency that made him hesitate. He turned, a questioning look on his face, as he saw the figure of Gramil bearing down on him.

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

[VanimaEdhel]

*****Rhûn Nation*****

Lovek did not immediately answer the Advisor. He looked around. Where could Ratislav have gone? His horse had been through as many battles with as many creatures as he had been, and he had never run. What was wrong? He looked around, at first in a panic.

Calm down, Lovek thought to himself, Ratislav was but a horse. But still...he was a very intelligent horse. He knew when further danger drew near. Well, Ratislav could care for himself. If he has run off, he would most likely take the safest, quickest path home. Just remain calm. Panic will cloud your thought...

Lovek heard Kasteni again, and snapped out of his thoughts.

"Yes, Advisor," Lovek said, "But, if you do not mind my request, I say that we should move from this dangerous location as quickly as possible. There is danger lurking in the area. Ratislav would not run from battle: he never has. There must be some greater evil about that we do not know of."

Lovek swung up onto Olwyte's mount.

"I hope the horse you have chosen is strong, brave and swift," Lovek whispered to Olwyte, "For there is great danger in this area and we must leave immediately."

Lovek looked around briefly, worried about what could have made Ratislav bolt, and waited for the others to be ready to leave...

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

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

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

Frain grumbled a little as Burin wrapped a string of cloth bandages around his broken arm. Frain chuckled though, for his right arm was broken, but he was left-handed.

He grieved for Glaven's death, a little. He thought back to an hour ago when he and Glaven were standing next to each other. He heard the rumbling of the falling wagon, and jumped far enough to only get a broken arm. Glaven, however, turned around to see instead of getting out of the way. Oh well, Glaven was a good dwarf, but he was dead weight. Frain thought ruefully.

Frain decided to walk around a bit after he was all wrapped up. He wanted to inspect the damage. The wagon would need some repairing, but nothing serious. Frain walked over to where Hringa sat, rubbing his knee.

Are you alright? Let me see that... Frain said as he inspected the knee. Just as I thought. It's a little twisted. Frain got up and talked to Burin, and the dwarf hurriedly trotted over to the servant.

Nothing to serious, save poor Glaven, reported Frain to the King.

The king merely stared as though in a dream, and the two walked a while together, helping where they could.

[ October 04, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

**********Harad/Umbar******************

Oliphaunts and baggage were swiftly being loaded onto the Corsair vessel. The men went about their business as quietly as possible. For a while, all seemed well. They thought to creep on board and make a swift exit from the harbor.

But just as they were loading the last of the oliphaunts, a small mouse came running across the gangplank. Within a single instant, bedlam broke loose. The man riding atop the mountainous beast was hurled into the waters of the bay. The oliphaunt reared up on his hind legs and let out a hideous bellow. He dropped down and turned about charging through the marketplace. It was enough to wake all the inhabitants of the Barrow-downs. And it certainly drew the ire of the men standing guard on several of the Corsair vessels docked just north of the one they'd chosen for attack.

Corsair pirates awoke from sleep, fumbled for their scimitars and bows, and came running out onto the streets. A volley of arrows came raining down on the heads of Fuinur and Herumir and their men. Urken laughed. Then he cursed the folly of the Oliphaunt handler and swore to split him in half, if he ever showed his face again.

Within an instant pirates were mobbing the ship, with scimitars held high in their hands. Herumir was fighting desperately, but losing ground as, inch-by-inch, the pirate soughts to grab back what was theirs. Fuinur found himself retreating into a corner, with a half a dozen men jabbing at his ribs. The Corsair were using long spears. Men were being run through and skewered, then tossed over the rail as if they were pieces of meat. The decks of the ship ran red with blood.

Urken lept up to the helm and put his horn to his mouth, sending the high notes echoing into the night. Within a moment, a returning cry of a horn split the air. A small regiment of soldiers, wearing the colors and carrying the banner of Urken, came marching into the harbor, bearing fresh axes and spears. They charged onto the ship, bringing aid and relief, hacking and scrambling their way through the dead and wounded. Slowly, the attackers fell back. At the end of an hour all lay quiet. Fuinur stood gasping for breath, and Herumir nursed a small wound in his arm.

Fuinur walked up to Urken and glared, "Could you not have brought your reinforcements down earlier? My men were sorely pressured. I have lost several; others were wounded." He gazed about the harbor and scowled, for Urken's reinforcements were conveniently occupying the other vessels one-by-one. The banner of the Bear now flew proudly on masthead after masthead. Fuinur cursed under his breath. One of the additional ships was being prepared for their own voyage. The rest seemed destined to join Urken's small navy.

Urken stared at him with cold eyes, "I did as I saw fit. If your man had not blundered in his handling of the beast, there would have been no need for any reinforcements."

But Fuinur wondered just where that mouse had come from, and why it had picked such a convenient time to stroll across the gangplank. And he especially remembered hearing the laughter of the priest.

[ October 04, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Elenna]

*****Rivendell*****

Ciri, Elladan, Elrohir, Fanelen, and Erestor were nearly finished with their meal when a young hobbit came rushing into the chamber, accompanied by the doorwarden of Rivendell.

"My lords," the elf said, bowing to Erestor and the sons of Elrond. "Ladies," bowing again. Ciri and Erestor exchanged looks - this doorwarden was a pompous fellow, fond of ceremony and pointless folderol. "This hobbit has brought a message for you from the land of the Halflings."

The hobbit, a young lad with curly brown hair stepped forward and bowed clumsily. "The king has summoned some of our folk to his side in Gondor," he began nervously. "And as ye are all going the same place, I have been sent to ask ye elves to wait for the hobbits and the dwarves of the Blue Mountains."

"Dwarves?" Fanelen said, sounding surprised and annoyed. "We will wait for your folk, but no dwarves."

The hobbit's face fell. Ciri, seeing his obvious disappointment, stood. "Friends, for the sake of the Shirefolk, we shall endure the company of the Dwarves. Are we not all grown Elves? I'm sure that a few dwarves will not be too much of a problem."

Glares erupted from around the table, but Ciri stood firm. They would travel with the hobbits and the dwarves.

[Ransom]

==Rivendel==

When the hobbit had been lead away to his room to be fed, Elrohir leaned back into his chair and surveyed the argument that was beginning to unfold. Erestor seemed to be unusually quite while Ciri and Fanelen were debating the various merits and flaws of traveling with dwarves. Elladan held his head in his hands, a clear sign that he was developing a headache.

Elrohir was not very sure of Ciri’s choice. Granted, hobbits rivaled his brother at cooking. But dwarves were another matter. Elrohir had delt with the dwarves of the Blue Mountains before, mainly when they were traveling with Aragorn. Dwarves could certainly hold their own in a fight, but it was common knowledge that they mistrusted and disliked elves. Not that elves were entirely inclined toward dwarves….

By now, Erestor and Elladan had entered the fray. Elrohir poured himself another cup of wine. He could live with the hangover.

[ October 04, 2002: Message edited by: Ransom ]

[Rose Cotton]

^^^^^^^^^Lonely Mt.^^^^^^^^^

Once Hringa's head stopped spinning from his tumble down the hillside he lifted himself to see dwarves running about in panic trying to help others and retrieve the wagons. Only a few feet away Hringa reconized Glaven lying on the ground.

As he tried to get up he felt a horrible pain in his left knee. So instead Hringa dragged himself over to the other dwarf. As he got a closer look Hringa relised the truth. He drew back in shock, then bowing his head over Glaven he recited a small dwarven prayer.

Later on Hringa learned from Frain that his knee was twisted. He hardly cared.

[Faye Took]

~*~*~*~*~*~SHIRE~*~*~*~*~*~

It was soon the afternoon. All was silent upon the hobbits. 'There it is.' Hardo pointed. 'It's the Old Forest.' Odo's eyes widened. There was an old sign a couple of feet away from the forest. The hobbits trotted their way over to see what it said. They all dismounted off their ponies and walked behind one another. First was Hardo, than came Odo, Orlo, and Brando. Odo walked over to the sign and looked at it. Nothing could be seen with all the dust and webs of spiders upon it. Odo looked at Hardo. He nodded to Odo and Odo blew a puff of air out and the dust and webs flew off. He wipped the remaining with his sleeve.

'The sign reads: Beware Travelers of the Old Forest. Many have entered and have not returned. Beware.' Odo looked at the company. There was a long slince. 'Should we go in?' Orlo asked a little frighted. Hardo gave him a sharp look, 'Of course we are! They're probbly just trying...trying to scare us, thats it.' Odo looked up at the tall overpowering trees. It almost seemed as if they where whipering to one another. Odo shivered with fear and looked back to the company. 'Shall we...enter?' He asked looking very nervous. Hardo nodded his head and got back onto his pony. The rest followed.

[Ringwraith Number Two]

******The Shire******
Orlo stayed adamantly where he was. "I think that sign was there for a reason," he objected. "'Beware Travelers of the Old Forest. Many have entered and have not returned. Beware.' Isn't it more sensible to take the safer route, which will get us to Bree, preferably without getting killed?" He looked around at the others.

"Yes, I know this is an adventure, but I like adventures where I am able to breathe easily and am not trapped in a willow tree. Odo, Brando, Master Pippin must've told you about the Old Forest. Master Merry certainly told me." He shuddered.

" Come on, lets take the Road instead." He glanced at the other hobbits for approval. "Please?" he added.

[ October 05, 2002: Message edited by: Ringwraith Number Two ]

[Susan Delgado]

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

Hardo nodded decisively and said, "I never intended to go through the Forest. We'll take the road."

The next two days of travelling passed as something of a blur to the old coot, who hadn't yet become accustomed to sleeping on the ground and going without as many elaborate meals as he was accustomed to. The only thing that gave him any comfort was the fact that the youngsters didn't seem to like the travelling either, so at least he wasn't the only one miserable.

Around midday of their fourth day of travel, they crested a hill and saw below them the wooden palisade of Bree. For most of them, it was the first time they'd seen Men.

Hardo thought about the inconvenience of being in a town where most of the inhabitants were twice his height, but the others were characteristically excited.
In fact, Brando whooped and kicked his pony into a gallop toward the gate. The boy ignored Hardo's shout of, "Brando!" and pounded gleefully on the gate. Orlo and Odo barely glanced at Hardo before following. Hardo shook his head in irritation, but he had no choice but to follow.

They followed the main street to the Prancing Pony. Hardo had rarely seen such a mean, dirty looking establishment; he was sure it would be full of rats and roaches, but it was three to one in favor of staying at the inn and it was that or stay in the stable with the ponies. He sighed and followed the others inside.

[ October 05, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Ringwraith Number Two]

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

It had been a hard four days of travel, but the Prancing Pony's beer more than made up for it. Their arrival at Bree had caused news: Shire hobbits travelling to Bree always did, since the notorious disappearance of 'Mister Underhill' all those years ago. Sighing in a satisfied way, Orlo leaned back and watched the inhabitants of the busy inn interestedly.

Dirty-looking men were muttering over something in the midst of another group of Men laughing raucously; Odo sat beside him, sipping his beer excitedly. Hardo had chosen to retire to his room, and to keep an eye on Brando. They had all decided he shouldn't be drinking at his age.

"So this is where Master Merry and Pippin sat all those years ago. And this is where they met the great King, as well. Funny that we should be here, and we that wewill be meeting the King too," thought Orlo.

He yawned widely and turned to his companion. "Odo, I think I'll have a nap now: its ages since I've slept properly. Good night!" He nodded, and trotted up the stairs. Hardo had chosen upstairs rooms: the hobbit rooms downstairs had been avoided as the chilling tale of the Black Riders had entered their minds as soon as the rooms were mentioned by the innkeeper. Opening the door, he fell into bed and was soon sound asleep.

[Bêthberry]

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

*Under construction for restaging of events prior to Pio's fight at Old Ford*

Pio,

Could you delete and repost your set up after this post? We had been planning some things in PM that should come first. Thanks. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

Bethberry

[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar ****

Gormack filled the doorway to the guardhouse, ducking carefully. He had clipped his forehead on that doorjamb many times. The night was filled with sounds: the crickets and zicadas hummed, while the mournful call of far off night birds startled them into occasional silence. At night, ones ears were a warrior's friends as the world faded in shades of grey. He preferred not to light the torches if it wasn't required. He could see better in the dark without them.

Gormack liked nightwatch, though his wife didn't appreciate it! But she was going to have to be patient this week. While their daughter was ill he'd had to trade all of his shifts, and now it was time to pay up. He could handle a few double shifts. Gormack had left his guard duty outside the counting house, ate the second lunch his wife had packed for him, and then had come straight to work. He'd hoped to catch Gramil before he left, to give news of his daughter, but the kind tradesmaster had been enscounced in his conversation with the owner of the Lion's Den. Gormack shrugged. Later then.

Gormack saluted the current yawning guard on duty, who had few words at this hour and nothing to report.

"Dead corner tonight," the young man (not anyone Gormack knew) winked, "Sleep well."

He slid down the ladder instead of climbing, in this dark. Show off, Gormack thought.

Gormack's favorite post was here on the outskirts of the city, where you perched on the edge of civilization. Wild creatures of the night crept both on the outside of the wall, and in the wine tents of the bazaar behind him. Generally the roaming guard handled anything that stirred up in the tents below. Gormack didn't think they would run into anything they couldn't manage, so he was free to enjoy the night.

Gormack watched the departing guard, noting the man jogged not towards the city, but towards the wine tents. A guard worth his salt noticed such details. No wife then, he supposed.

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-GIRION/RUBIN *****
***** REPOST OF BATTLE ******

'Dwarves and Elves!' thought Girion. 'Why did my Father ever agree that I should go with them!' Rubin arched his brows at the Prince, as if he had just read his mind. It had been hard going to get the Elves on the road. A not uncommon problem for a People whose futures stretched endlessly before them. But once agreed, they had packed quickly, and been eager to be on their way.

The Dwarves on the other hand had presented other problems. They balked at the suggestion they leave their wagons and ponies behind for the faster transport of horses. They had just cleared that hurdle by assuring them they would have their pick of the gentlest Elven steeds, when they balked at the suggestion that most of the trip south be done on the water. Girion sighed and pulled a map from his case to show them the distances they would need to cover to reach Minas Anor. 'Even if you were to run the entire distance, you would not be there in time for the audience with King Elessar.' he said. They had agreed reluctantly, repacked what provisions and wares they could on the horses, and set out on the first leg of their travels.

Rubin and Girion had estimated that it would take about 15 days to cover the distance from their meeting place on the northeastern border of The Forest to the Old Ford at the Anduin River. That was with generous allowances for taking care of the horses and sleep and meal times for the companions. Once at the river, Dale would secure a small one masted ship for travel southward. More supplies could be brought aboard then, and a few of the horses could be taken to portage goods around Rauros Falls when they reached it.

They were now into their trek through the Forest, and the group had pulled together admirably. The weather had been pleasant, and tempers in the group seemed to reflect that atmosphere.

It was drawing toward evening of the ninth day, and the shadows of the trees stretched out long, one upon the other. Clouds scudded across the sky, and gathered threateningly in dark clumps. The air grew chill as the sun descended. There was a feeling of unease stirred up by a sudden northern breeze, and the companions drew their cloaks tightly about them as if to fend it off.

'What part of the Forest is this?' asked Girion of Orodan. 'The trees seem not to want us here beneath them.'

Stonehelm rode up beside the two Princes, his weapon now in hand. His brow was furrowed as his keen ears strained in every direction to find the source of a sound he had noted faintly.

'The North Wind!' he cried, turning his face toward it, and raising his weapon. 'There is a fell sound which rides in on it, and it draws nearer, on swift feet.'

'To me!' shouted the Dwarven king, as the sound grew louder.

[Nevtalathiel]

*****DALE-GIRION*****

Girion unsheathed his sword and listened intently, his eyes flitting across the trees in the hope of discovering the danger. The whole group was by now silent, watching and waiting with baited breath.

Slowly, a sound reached Girion's ears, a clicking, scratching, scraping sound of many stiff limbs moving carefully and with purpose. In the dim twilight ahead of him beneath the trees, he could see something moving. Long, dark legs moved stiffly but with apparent ease and speed towards the assembled elves, dwarves and men.

A shiver ran down Girion's spine and his legs felt suddenly numb. Through the trees an enormous spider crept, slinking with fluid motions and undoubted purpose. Its hairy legs feeling ahead of it, always pointing towards the group, it crawled closer.

[Faye Took]

~~~SHIRE~~

Odo was left alone down-stairs drinking his ale. Many things had been on his mind such as the journy. He sat in slince staring at the table. 'I wonder when the dwarves will arive.' He muttered to himself.

Then a crowd of men came around him. They all cackled horribly and they smelled of horses. 'Well, well well boys look who we have here.' said a tall man. Odo looked up at the man. The man was smiling and most of his teeth where gone. Odo smiled softly and went back to his drinking. The tall man bent down next to Odo, 'Arn't you a little too young to be drinking?' he said cackleing once more.

'I'll have you know I'm well over 25 sir. And I hold the record at the Green Dragon Inn from chugging the most beers.' Odo smiled largly and the men looked at him rather confused.

'Well I'll have you know little man, that I hold the record at this Inn.'
'How many?' Odo asked not worried about what the man would answer back.
'17 Ales and a half.' His possie began to roar and clap. 'And let me guess what yours is, 5?' They all began to laugh holding their large bellies.
'21.' All fell silent over Odo's words.
'21 aye? Well then, lets see if you can prove it.' The man took a seat across from Odo. 'Barliman! Bring out 40 ales.'

Barliman looked at the man rather curiously, '40, Harry?'

'Yes Butterbur, 30. We are having a contest to see who can chug the most ales until the pass out.' Odo looked the man in the eye and so did he. 'So your Harry I presume?' He nodded. 'Who might you be? I haven't seen you in these here parts.' Odo stood up and put his hands to his sides. 'I, sir, am Odo Took of the Shire. I am happy to announce that The Great Peregrin Took is my kinsman.' All the men looked at eachother confused.'Well Mister Odo are you ready.' Odo smiled, 'The question is, are you ready.' The men around them began to whisper to themselves as though they thought that their good friend Harry would loose to just a mere Hobbit.

Barliman came out along with other men helping him carry the ales over. Everyone in the Inn gathered around to watch the two. 'I forgot to mention one thing.' Harry said smiling rather evily. 'Whoever looses, pays for the ales.' Odo giggled. 'You better get your money sack out.' He said to Harry. 'Alright, lets begin. I'll count to three and We'll start. 1...2...3!' The drinking contest had began. Odo and Harry chugged their ales like no other could. The empty mugs began to pile up on the table. They had each gone through 8 ales. Odo looked rather perky still but Harry was a little woozy. The ales kept pileing up. 11...12...13...14... Odo was still in the lead! Harry could barely keep himself up.'Come on Harry you can do it! Don't let just a mezly hobbit beat you!' One of the men said. At ale 16 Harry fell face first onto the table, but Odo kept going. He was now very woozy. 18...19...20...21! 'I can't anymore, I just can't!' Odo cried out laughing. 'We have a winner!' Barliman cried out and the men roared with cheers. Stood up almost falling over. 'I did it! I did it!' he cried out holding up a empty mug. All of a sudden Odo passed out. The men still cheered. Barliman picked up the Hobbit and went up to the rooms. He silently opened the door so he wouldn't wake up Orlo, Hardo, and Brando. Barliman went back downstairs and cleaned up.

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

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

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

"To Me!" Frain heard Stonhelm's unmistakable voice.

Something was wrong? Frain stood at the back of the company of Elves, Dwarves, and Men.

Suddenly, any voices that had been in conversation stopped dead. Total silence swept over the group, save the sound of leaves rustling and twigs crackling in a forest nearby.

Click, click, click the sound of soft but heavy foosteps overcame the utter silence of the group. Frain walked quietly to the edge of the group, and was stunned to see a huge spider emerge from the forest.

"Gather thy weapons! We shall not let this horrid creature escape with his life!" screamed Frain. The call seemed to wake the people out of a trance, and the silence was but a memory as the company drew its weapons.

The clang of the metal swords and the wind against the drawn bows seemed to excite the beast, as though it had been loooking for trouble. Frain grasped his axe, which had been in his keep for a while, to keep the weight off a wobbling wheel on one of the wagons.

Frain felt no fear, in fact, he felt pity for the poor creatures life.

[ October 05, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-The Spider *****

'Foolish creatures! And yet so tasty!' thought the great Spider to herself. She smiled, if spiders can be said to smile, and advanced upon her meal.

'Let them be drawn to me!' she crooned to herself. 'Let them raise their weapons and make their useless threats against me.' She stopped and fixed them in the nacreous globes of her eyes.

Behind and to the sides now of the brave companions came the relentless, chittering sound of many feet. Her Children had now ringed them in, and begun their slow advance.

[ October 05, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Guildo]

<<<<<Eryn Lasgalen>>>>>

Orodan & Nefros


Both Orodan and Nefros knew they where being followed and both knew it was the queen spider.
Orodan thought to himself that she would not attack once she saw the size of the party.

Nefros on the other hand got a bit cocky for the first time on the trip and thought to himself the moment the Spider or Spiders spot Orodan they will run for their lives, for Orodans face had become most familiar to the Mirkwood Spiders; he had slain more of them than perhaps anyone, and to the Spiders Orodans face was associated only with death.

Stonehelm had called every one around him and, the only two that where not certain there would be a battle was Orodan and Nefros.

Orodan Cautiously with his hand on the handle of his sword walked to the party of men and dwarves all at arms.

Nefros had a small smirk on his face, thinking to himself “they’ll gain a new respect for my master when they see the spiders run at the sight of him.”

Finally after what seemed like minutes but was in fact seconds, the Queen Spider came within sight of the entire party and was dead still. She was looking straight into the eyes of Orodan and smiling (or what seemed to be a smile.)

Orodan stared directly back, but with his ears heard the sound of many others; twenty maybe thirty other spiders, heading straight in his direction.

This was the moment Orodan and Nefros both realized the real plot of the Spiders. The two elves turned and looked each other dead in the eyes both with expression of anticipation and fear.

Orodan drew his long sword; Nefros drew his two short swords.

The entire party turned and looked at them draw their weapons, which for the dwarves only heightened their readiness to fight.

Orodan shouted, “Prepare your selves my friends, to fight ALL the spiders of this wood.”

Nefros shouted, “And they seek ONLY master Orodan.”

[Tharkûn]

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

Out of the corner of his eye, Garlin saw the two guards lunge at him. Rolling, he grabbed the attacker who he had pinned to the ground, and, using the strength he had gained after thirteen years of working on a farm, threw him at the guards who were flying towards him. As the tangle of bodies hit the ground, Garlin was already up and running. He dashed through the crowd, and into the alley ways. When he arrived there, he leapt up on to the roof of a building (thanks to the convenient placement of a few boxes). After jumping over a few roofs, to make sure he wasn't being followed, he lay down and slept, for he had used all his energy in fleeing the guards and the fight before. Two hours later, he awoke with a blade to his throat, and a guard's angry face staring darkly at him. "You're coming with me," the guard said, dragging Garlin away.

[ October 05, 2002: Message edited by: Tharkûn ]

[piosenniel]

***** DALE - The Spiders*****

The Mother Spider avoided the Dwarf and his wicked axe. 'He has a mean bite! I will not face him yet.' From the corner of her eye, she had seen a fairer prize and now went after it.

The elves had gathered in a tight knot and sought to escape her poisonous bite. Two of them she knew. Orodan! And his loathsome sword! And Nefros, with his two vile blades! They had killed many of her kin, and she meant to see them dead today. 'But that will come later!' she thought to herself, 'when I have time to play more with them.' she advance slowly on the third Elf, who quailed now before her.

The Spider grazed her arm with a light and deadly touch of fangs, and watched as the elf fell in a small heap on the ground. Two of the Spider's daughters had come now to harry the two elves who still stood their ground. The Spider shot a strong and sticky thread of silk upon the fallen elf and dragged the limp body to her. Wrapping it securely in a shroud-like skein of spider silk, she piled it behind a tree and went toward the great one who stood rallying his troops about him.

He was large and robust! She rubbed her two front legs together, then groomed her fangs. They could feast on him for days!

[Bêthberry]

^ ^ ^ ^ Erebor/Lonely Mountain--Spiders^ ^ ^ ^

No miserable, clinking, spittling spider will gnaw the edges of Stonehelm's axe, swore Thorin III, remembering the tales told in his youth of Thorin II's victory over the spiders, not he who held Sauron's foes for seven days.

Frain, Curin, Burin, to the left and cover Frain's weak arm. Nice day for you to forget your bows, elves. Did you boys think you were coming on a picnic? Stonehelm taunted Orodon and Nefros, hoping to draw upon their ire against dwarves to give them courage against the black creatures.

Hringa, Durgan, to the right. The queen's the target but don't lose sight of the others. Stonehelm felt for the heavy stones and the sling under his tunic, readying for a first throw and then held his axe with his free arm.



[ October 06, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[piosenniel]

'Smart, he is! A worthy foe!' She had seen him slip his hand beneath his tunic. 'Rocks, he has!' she hissed to her many daughters. 'And see how he thinks to arrange his men against us.'

'Before and behind!' she called to them. Four great hulking spiders arranged themselves in a massive line before her and inched forward slowly in a frontal attack. Two smaller spiders hurried round the flanks of the Dwarven line and came at them from behind, drawing off some of the Dwarven strength.

She eyed the Men of Dale, only one of whom had drawn his sword and now stood isolated from the rest of his companions. Vile green spittle dripped from her cavernous maw as she sought now to prick him with her fangs and subdue him.

[Alkanoonion]

******Harad/Umbar******
Urken left Fuinur beside the gangplank and boarded the first ship. Once Urken was out of ear shot, Fuinur motioned for Herumir to join him. Herumir walked up to Fuinur while tying a bandage to the wound on his arm. Fuinur glanced at the wound and asked, “ Is that serious?”

No just a scratch, hardly worthy of a bandage.” Fuinur nodded “and what do you make of that little accident?

“Was no accident, it was all planned, so that Urken could get his hands on that ship” replied Herumir.

Fuinur looked around to make certain that no one was listening. “That bear needs watching, I don’t trust him. What are his motives for helping us? And why did he take control of every ship in the port? What need did a Warrior Priest of the Guild of the Black Numenoreans have for ships?

Herumir looked thoughtful and then leaned closer to Fuinur and said
“I suggest that until this enigma is revealed we act as if we trust him. The voyage to Anduin is a long one. Who knows what accidents can happen on such a long voyage?

Fuinur laughed “Thanks, that helps, but I want him on the other ship and with him I will send Seth. That way if anything funny happens we will know about it.

Once both ships had been prepared to Fuinurs satisfaction, the tide was turning. It was time to leave.

The two ships made their way out of the Harbour. The first went with Urken, his men and Seth who had stowed away to spy on Urken's activities. On the second ship went Fuinur, Herumir and the remaining men who had survived the battle.

The sun had risen by the time the two ships had cleared the harbour. Once out into open water, the ships changed course and made their way north towards the Anduin.

[Nevtalathiel]

*****DALE-GIRION*****

The spider was approaching Girion with frightening speed, and he readied himself for an attack, relaxing every muscle to allow him to move as swiftly as possible. He took a deep breath and smelt the stench of the approaching predator, which stang in his throat and made him cough.

The fell creature was now close enough that Girion could see the venom dripping from its fangs and could discern the malicious glint in all eight of its eyes. One of its long hairy legs reached towards him like a strand of darkness itself. At the end of the leg, a hooked claw glinted.

With a sudden yell, Girion leapt into action, his sword whirring against the enourmous beast. The claw was severed almost instantly and fell to the ground, where it oozed a vile dark purple blood. He continued to slash and stab at the malevolent animal, calling out for help from the others, unaware that they were being set upon by the spider's children.

[Rose Cotton]

^^^^^^^^^^^Lonely Mountain^^^^^^^^^^^

Hringa's knee still hurt but not so bad that he could not help. If you called it help. The servant had never wielded a sword in his life and was very clumsy with the blade he was using now.

He tried to stay close to Stonehelm with a mind to protect him. As the spiders advanced Hringa shivered though the air was warm but he held his ground and braced himself.

[Bêthberry]

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

Out of the corner of his eye, Stonehelm saw the other four engineers place themselves behind him.It's not quite regimental squares, but it will have to do,he said to himself in satisfaction.

In a voice low that all the dwarves could hear, but that did not carry far, he gave the command. Hold steady, lads, and stand quietly. Noise will stun them, so on my word be ready. We shall begin a steady tread of feet and battle cry and then send them volleys of stones. Count yourself down from Curin on the left, who shall be 'one'. The odds start throwing at my call of 'odd.' Then, at my call of even, send the second volley. And wave your axes. The centre orbs will focus on you, but your moving axes should confuse the outlying eyes.

The dwarves' resolve stiffened, remembering the pattern of defense which Stonehelm had learned from Dain at the Seige of Erebor.

Look lively, lads, Stonehelm whispered. He stood taller and began the rhythmic stomping of left foot, right foot, left, right, left and raised the cry in which all joined. Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd aimênu!

True to his knowledge, the sound stunned the multitude of spiders. Then came the count. Odd! The first volley flew. Even! The second volly came forth. Odd! Even!

The dwarves kept up their rhythmic stomps, repeating over and over again their battle cry, as the stones flew in tandem. Then, the dwarves went on the attack, storming forward, axes hewing and slashing the stunned spiders and seconding the work begun by the stones.

The elves looked on with amazement, never having imagined dwarves with such disciplined courage.


[ October 06, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Kettle of fish]

***** Dale *****

Rubin's breath caught in his throat, as the spider rushed Girion. Should anything happen...

But Girion's lessons and practice with the sword held him in good stead - Rubin was able to relax a fraction before brandishing his sword at the swarms of spiders that were scuttling towards him.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

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

Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd aimênu! Frain joined in the war cry, energized while his king called out odds and evens.

Let none of these cursed beasts leave to breed another of their disgraceful kind!, hollered Frain, and Curin and Burin sreamed the battle cry in return.

One of the spiders stood still, as if paralized. They don't like the sound... Frain whispered to himself.

Left and right Elves and Men, totally disorganized in Frain's eyes, scrambled and sliced at the spiders. While they, the great Dwarves of Erebor walked in unison, scaring most of the spiders that came between them and their victory.

Yes, they should fear us Frain knew in his heart all would be well...

[GreatWarg]

* * * * Rhûn Nation * * * *

'It's pronounced Ulwyte,' Ulwyte responsded to Lovek. The loss of his steed seemed to get to the captain more than anything else, though he was trying not to show it. Digging into his equine's sides with the heel of his boots, Ulwyte commanded the steed forward. The horse snorted, unhappy with the current arrangements, and swayed reluctantly for a moment before moving. It had too obviously considered bucking both of them off.

'You know what, horse? If you even think of bucking us off, I'll kick you before you do,' Ulwyte grumbled mostly to himself. The horse snorted louder and lurched forward in a feign attempt to throw both Ulwyte and Lovek forward.

'Damnable horse!' Lovek cursed. 'Choose a steed that is more behaved next time, Ulwyte!'

Ulwyte flicked the steed between the ears. 'You heard him.' The horse pulled its lips back into a sort of snarl before doing what it was ordered.

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-Spider *****

'Aaaahhhhhhhh!!' came the scream of the giant spider as the Man's sword cut through her her leg, severing her foreclaw. A gobbet of the vile purple blood flew through the air, landing on the Prince's right thigh, burning his breeches there and then his flesh. She backed away from the Dalesman's weapon and took stock of the battle before making another charge at him. Her daughters were being set upon by the Dwarves, and even the Elves had rallied now to engage the spiders that were set against them. The other Man had now come into the battle, too, and was wielding his sword most effectively.

She had not lived so long to have it end this day, nor did she wish to see any of her children dead before her. Retreating beneath the cover of the trees, she picked up the cocooned Elf and then called her daughters to make haste and retreat.

As one, they heard her call and skittered quickly back from their intended meal. The horses and ponies, scattered in wild fright before them. Food and wares scattered hither and yon, some not to be found again.

And as to the fate of most of the steeds, it is said in Spider lore that in a pinch, a good meal of horse or pony flesh will do nicely!

[The Fifth]

* * * * Rhûn Nation * * * *

Khuleln said quietly, "Yes." He slid his sword into its sheath, and gripping a hand onto his ribs, glanced at Spidernose. The steed lay dead and mutilated. A werebear was dragging the body away, a trail of blood seen as the ursine creature tugged it into the forests, perhaps to devour it and leave the horse's bones to rot. So Khuleln stood from his kneeling position, walking up towards one of the guards. The guard sat in the front, leaving room for the warrior to mount the equine.

Faintly, he could see the hostel. It was not the best or largest building, but it would do. He watched Kasteni mount a guard's horse next to him. Before the Advisor could glance back, his eyes roved towards the hostel again. "And onward we go," Khuleln said to himself. The steed he was upon snorted, shifting its weight about to get used to bearing the two men.

[ October 06, 2002: Message edited by: The Fifth ]

[Robin Headstrong]

"Dwarves!" Fanelen repeated to Ciri. "We all know that the Dwarves detest Elves!"

"Fanelen is right," affirmed Elladan. "How can we be sure that these dwarves are willing to travel with us?"

"I can tolerate halflings," Fanelen stated, "but not those crass dwarves!"

"If you cannot tolerate them," Ciri replied, "then do not come. You don't have to."

"But-" Fanelen stammered. She had a feeling she wasn't going to win this argument. Like Elladan, Ciri tended to prove her wrong in most debates. Fanelen didn't want to back down, but Ciri had a point. The young elf desperately wanted to go on this journey, and she couldn't let a few dwarves or an argument stand in her path.

"I want to go on this journey," Fanelen said aloud. "And I suppose I can learn to tolerate dwarves. But we all know that elves and dwarves are rivals!"

[Ringwraith Number Two]

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

Orlo awoke, thoroughly refreshed. As he walked to the window, his stomach rumbled persistently. He had a hankering for a real breakfast. He thought at once if Butterbur could bring some up: but the sun told him it was much too early for the innkeeper to be making breakfast, and besides, his stomach wanted breakfast now.

He pondered for a while, and padded over to grab his cloak. Throwing it over his shoulders, he quietly exited the room and trotted out of the inn.

Sleepy though the inn was, Bree market-place definetly wasn't. Tradesmen (and women), Man and Hobbit alike, traversed the market place greeting each other cheerily and setting out their goods. Orlo spotted a burly hobbit selling tomatoes. Ah-ha, he thought.

He approached the hobbit. "'Ello there," he said, smiling brightly. The other grunted a reply in return and scratched his head. There was a long silence as the burly hobbit regarded Orlo, wondering whether he looked familiar or not.

"Ere," said the hobbit, at long last. "Ain't you one of those Shire-folk?"

"That I am."

"Ain't you staying at the Prancing Pony?"

"Well. Yes. But I came to see if I could purchase some breakfast items here."

The other hobbit's face brightened up visibly.

"Well then," he said. "We've got fresh tomatoes, bacon, and eggs- all fresh, mind, that should do nicely for ya. What do you say, sir?"

Orlo considered his offer and held out a handful of coins.

The other looked at the money, considering the amount deeply. Without a word, he packed up several eggs, tomatoes and a large, delicious looking side of bacon in a basket. Beaming, he took the money and bid Orlo goodbye.

Orlo nodded his thanks, and made his way back to the inn, where the first signs of activity were appearing. However, all was quiet in the hobbits' rooms, apart from the occasional snore from Hardo.

He unpacked the cooking gear and began a luscious breakfast. The aroma of freshly cooked bacon and eggs drifted around the room. Orlo looked longingly at the breakfast, but decided to wake the others.

He prodded Odo in the shoulder. Odo looked slightly green, and reeked of ale. "Ah," Orlo said knowledgeably. "Drinking contest, eh?" He moved on, and woke Hardo and Brando, and waited impatiently for them to realise that a wonderful breakfast was waiting.

[ October 06, 2002: Message edited by: Ringwraith Number Two ]

[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar ****

Ethar
Ethar watched stunned as Garlin tumbled and, using his own weight, sent the flailing Rhunian soldier sprawling into a line of guards. They poured over and around the bellowing man, but Garlin had disappeared. Ethar felt a flash of anger and confusion as he searched about. First Garlin saves his neck. Then he leaves, without even a glance back. Ethar scrambled while the irate guards swarmed after Garlin, and escaped his own way. He stood and slid behind a few onlookers. Then he turned and gawked with the rest. It would have worked but for the forgotten sword cut across his face.

**********

Gormack
Gormack turned at the commotion in the tent city below, the sound of steel on steel was unmistakable. A sword fight! He couldn't tell which tent held the guilty parties.

But there was no need - the night guard was already alerted and moments later a tent billowed with scattering people, while torches marked where more onlookers gathered. Several figures ran and Gormack noted the direction of those, but one in particular caught his eye: a flash of light skin in dark-skinned Harad. Gondor! Gormack stopped himself. Why would Gondor send a spy? And one who stood out so. Gondorians were cruel and heartless, but he had never heard they were stupid.

He marked the place where the stranger hid himself, and patiently waited. He would not leave his post unless there was certain need. If the guard were still searching for someone, they would come. And if this was one they sought, he had him.

Not two hours later a cluster of guards gathered at the guardpost. A hand pointed in Garlin's direction, and they fanned out. They found the boy asleep, and hauled him out like a kitten by the collar as his eyes flew open.

**********

"Gondor gutter rat," the guard said in the common tongue. He spit and shoved Garlin ahead of him, and the lad staggered nearly into the big guard in front. "In the war I killed dozens like you."

Two other guards laughed. They wouldn't harm a man who was disarmed, bound and helpless. But having a Gondorian captive tried that principle to its breaking point. The defeat of Pellenor was etched into their memories. They themselves had stood - or knew someone who had stood - on that field of victory, only to find their own ships captured by sorcery and turned against them.

"Spy." another soldier growled. The others nodded and drew dangerously closer.

"I'm from Dale," Garlin said flatly in Haradric.

"Never heard of it." the guard answered, though this time he spoke his own language. The big guard opened the door to a long stone building and Garlin was roughly forced inside. He heard a familiar voice.

"But he has to be at the counting house. His rooms are right above it - "

"Ethar - !" Garlin and one of the guards - the big man - spoke at once, and then stared at eachother in surprise.

"Gormack, thank the gods it's you!" Ethar spoke to the big guard, his chains rattling as he moved. "They can't find Gramil, and they won't let me go!"

**********

Gramil
Gramil explained as he continued to walk, gesturing for Jarl to follow. At the first sentence Jarl turned on a dime.

"We have word of your assistant. And mine. It could be trouble. I'm not sure how bad. The messenger is outside still I believe - This way, it's faster."

Gramil moved as quickly as he spoke, on long strides. His voice was calm and low, and only the speed and his worried frown gave away his concern.

Jarl nodded and together they dodged cooking trays and startled servants, and then outside, attractive but rather obstructive vines. The two of them caught up with the messenger on the front steps. Gramil ignored guests who turned towards them curiously. Jarl paid them even less heed.

Ethar was injured, no one knew what the charges were against the two but they had been lucky: one of the guards was Gramil's own, and he had sent word to the owner of the Lion's Den. Tarve had spoken for them, and had them moved to Jarl's quarters.

At the Lion's Den, Tarve and Gormack met them in the front hall. The lads were asleep upstairs, but Gormack filled Gramil in. Gramil made the exhausted man sit. Hadn't he stood duty at the counting house the day before also?

Relieved as he was the boys were okay, Gramil cringed as he heard the details of the damages and ire among the denizens of the bazaar. He glanced at Jarl, who sighed heavily and stared thoughtfully at the back of his hands. Yes, he grasped the gravity of the situation. He was growing to respect this man.

Strange as it may seem, the true power of the city was there, in the bazaar. They would pay for the damages and the boys would apologize, of course. And Gramil would speak various key if seemingly unimportant persons, seed the bazaar with the true story. Once they knew all that happened. But it was probably best neither of the boys were seen there for a while. Only Tarve was cheerful.

"Boys are boys, eh?" he laughed, "nothing but trouble, I always say. Maybe you two, you send them to the plantation - work with their hands will do them good. Too much energy, not enough sense these boys!"

Gramil commented drily, "The king did mention Nurn as part of our tour." Then it suddenly seemed like a good idea. He turned to Jarl questioningly, eyebrows raised.

Tarve declared, "Ah! And have the boys do the shopping! A month's expedition supplies? A merchant will forgive them anything." Everyone chuckled. Except Gormack, who was fast asleep.

[ October 06, 2002: Message edited by: Marileangorifurnimaluim ]

[Carnëiach]

"Wow!" Brando turned a few heads as he rushed to the fireplace, where a seat sat empty. Hardo studiously tried to pretend he wasnt at all associated to the young hobbit.
"Just think; this was where the King sat. King Aragorn...." Brando sat reverently in another chair, staring at the fireplace seat until someone saw in it. He looked away feeling slightly embarrased until the innkeeper brought over some beer. Brando stared at the huge glass, amazed at how the giant men all around swallowed it with such ease. A slow smile of satisfaction spread across the young hobbits face and he reached for the glass... when Hardo lifted it out of his reach.
"I dont think so boyo. Youre far too young for the likes of that." In front of the dismayed young hobbit, Hardo took a large gulp of the foaming beer himself.
"But I...It was..." He spluttered until the old hobbit stared him out. He sighed and soon the long day travelling caught up with him, despite the amazing strangenes of this town of giants. He yawned and as soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep.

Exploring the town with Orlo the next day after a more reasonably hobbit sized breakfast was every bit as impressive as Brando had expected, even though he wasnt as lucky as his uncle, finding no lost kings, but no murderous nazgul either. People did have a tendency to trip over him but still...
Odo has stayed in bed this morning, giving Hardo more fresh ammo about young people today and was suffering from a major hangover.Orlo had cooked a magnificent breakfast of bacon and eggs, much more suited to Brandos stomach than the everlasting muffins, although that was not to say the muffins hadnt made a most agreeable accompaniment. The excited hobbit lad bounded irrepressibly back towards the Prancing Pony, his mind awhirl with what lay ahead...

[Faye Took]

*****SHIRE******

Odo finally got up around noon. He stood up almost falling over. Everything was swirling and whirling around him.'Owww!' he cried holding his head. He staggered over to where his cloak was hung up and swung it over his shoulder and clipped on his brooch.

Odo slowly walked down the stairs afraid he was going to fall. His eyes where very droopy and red. He walked over to the bar and sat on a empty chair. He wrapped his cloak around him. Barliman saw Odo and greeted him. 'Well if it isn't the drinking champion!' Barliman chuckled. Odo looked at him rather annoyed. 'What can I get for you my lad.' Odo slowly raised his head. 'Nothing please.' Barliman shrugged his shoulders and began to clean the used muggs.

A man took a seat next to Odo. It was Harry. 'Heres your money you little runt.' He threw a big brown bag of coins on the table, and left. Odo opened the bag. There must have been 100 coins in there. Odo smiled and began to giggle, then his giggles turned into laughs. 'Take that.' he said softly to himself.

[ October 06, 2002: Message edited by: Faye Took ]