Truth in a Dark Place RPG

[Arvedui III]

Rangar walked in the green fields as dawn broke, priding himself on slipping away unnoticed, if only for a little while. Rohan was a good place to think somehow. Everything seemed simpler in Rohan, and his mind much less staggered than in Gondor or Arnor or Ithilien or Eraidor, beautiful though they were. Rohan, an easy seeming place, he decided. A good place to think about the company, Harad, Barodin, the mob, dreams; Dreams which were most disturbing of late. The swirl of color, the endless blood, and now cries as well, far off yet familiar. Though, maybe those came from other troubled sleepers. Turthol used to have that problems with dreams, and Wren seemed bothered by something as well. Despite the overt hate the two showed each other, they were similar. He did not know why, but it made Rangar grin.

Walking to where the horses were grazing, he found his own steed a little removed from the rest. Very Appropriate. He thought as he moved away from the rest of the horses to stroke the creature. "Hullo" He said as the horse gave him a nuzzle. "Don't believe I got your name." The black mount looked at him for a moment, then turned away and went back to grazing. "Well, maybe later." He mumbled, glancing up at the new risen sun and heading back to camp.

It seemed as though there was an unspoken agreement in place not to discuss the mob, and what might have caused it; And Rangar was grateful for that. Since no supplies had been damaged, they opted not to take a detour to Edoras, but continue strait by the north road . Five days passed without incident, and soon, much to Rangar's surprising dismay, the grassland began to recede and the party entered Gondor.

[Durelin]

Gondor!, Tareth thought in excitement, We are in Gondor! He couldn't help but grin as he surveyed the land. Would they be able to see the White Tower soon? Well, they would see it eventually, and suppisively the inside of it! They were going to Minas Tirith, the White City, fairest city of the golden dawn! Tareth like extravagant names like that, it always made things seem all the better. But, as he glanced at his companions, he lost his smile. There was something he needed to do, and he didn't like it one bit. He had to talk to Bregand. That one look had haunted him all the time, that look he received from Bregand. He had been talking to Carmalita, and he had smiled at her. Simply smiled at her, because he was enjoying the conversation. He had been at a lack for conversation becaue of his shyness, and Carmalita had made it melt away. She was a friendly person, one everyone likes. And Bregand loved her. It was obvious.

That look had been the smuggest he had ever seen Bregand. It had not been directed at Tareth, exactly, but it had been for him. It had been so full of jealousy, and that wasn't like Bregand. Tareth hadn't known the man all that long, but he knew that much. Bregand could be as kind as Carmalita. Tareth had to straighten this out, immediately. Bregand was riding alone, for once, and he wouldn't be for long. With a sigh, Tareth nudged his horse and trotted up beside Bregand. Tareth was always at the back. Tareth turned to Bregand and looked at him for a moment before speaking. Bregand didn't look up at all. "Can I talk to you, Bregand?" Tareth asked, a bit cautiously.

"Of course you may, Tareth." There was no hiding the sourness in his voice, though Bregand looked sorry that he had spoken that way. He didn't apoligize, though.

Might as well get right to the point... "Bregand," he began quietly, "You love Carmalita." He said it so plainly, and Bregand looked up at him in alarm. His mouth worked, but no cound came out. Tareth continued before he could speak. "I know that, and I hope Carmalita does...and...and...I do not have that kind of feeling for her. I hope you know that." He couldn't keep the scorn out of his voice as he continued again, "You bloody well should know it, Bregand! I rarely talk to the woman! I rarely talk to anyone!" Tareth grimaced. He had gone quite far enough. "Sorry," he mumbled, "But..." Tareth sighed, when he was broken off by a shout from Wren. "The White Tower! You can see it now!" Tareth couldn't help but gasp as he looked up at the tall spire. You could only see the very top, the rest was hidden by the small rise of the hill they were climbing. "It's...beautiful," was all he could say. He hoped the conversation, as one-sided as it was, was forgotten. But, he had the feeling he would hear about it, and grimaced.

[Arien]

Carmalita gazed up at the tower, she was lost for words even though she had seen it before it had lost none of it beauty. For a few moments the company stood in awe of the tower and then began to move again. The dismounted and lead the horses a long in pairs through the bustling streets, she remembered the other night beside the fire with Bregand….

She slowly walked over to where Bregand was sitting, still awake even though his watch had finished. He was looking over his maps and charts. He saw her coming but continued to work.

“I am sorry..” she said her face to his, but he did not look up. “I did not mean to be so short tempered with you..”

He lifted his head and sighed, “That is ok, you are right I should not of just discarded my horse like that.”

“And thank you for the ribbon” she smiled and touched the red flowing ribbon which was tied her hair. “You wonder do you not why I don’t have a husband?”

Bregand did not answer, but instead wore a guilty look upon his face. As she stared at him he slowly nodded his head.

“It is not a crime to be curious!” she laughed.

“Yes it is, please forgive me you do not need to tell strangers about your life, it is yours not theirs.” he picked up a book again and started to read it. Carmalita was getting annoyed now. He wanted to know, why did he not just ask her? She would tell him, but only because she trusted him. And for some other reason she wanted him to know she was not fully to blame for Crystals birth.

She pulled the book away from his lap, “You are right, I wont tell strangers,” he looked a little dismayed and upset, “but I will tell friends….” she looked up into his eyes again and smiled. He was such a caring person, and Carmalita could not help that strange feeling she got .

“I was 14 and I went to live with my father for a while. He is a Ranger of Ithilien, a tall and proud man. He set down a lot of rules for me, a lot. For about a year and a half I got along fine, helping them, cooking. I learnt many healing and fighting skills. Then I met him…….HIM!” she said his name with disgust, “He swept me off my feet and even though he was nearly twice my age I did not care. He was loving, kind, handsome,” she looked up at Bregand who had slight tinge of envy in his eyes. “….well I thought he was. When I was 15 I fell pregnant with Crystal, his child. I told him and he left, he left!” she battled with the rebellious tears that started to form in her eyes, she tried to blink them, hold them back. “I told my father, and he sent me home in a rage, vowed to kill the man who had done this. I begged him not to….I do not know what happened. There you have it! I was foolish…” there was a silence and Bregand’s face was now the face of pity, “don’t pity me, “she scowled her face now flushed and sticky from the few tears that had drifted down her cheeks “ You must think I am stupid!”

“No, no I don’t …I..” he stopped and sighed, “well it was you decision ?”

Carmalita looked into the fire, she would tell him. “He made me…he took advantage of me, but I was too naïve to know that then.”

Bregand looked horrified, he did not say anything but simply embraced her in his arms. She withdrew away and looked at him, the blurry figure in front of her. She had told no one that, no one. What had made her tell him? She did not know. They sat by the fire a little longer, in silence, then Bregand returned to his things and left Carmalita alone.

He had said nothing of the former night during the journey and the troubled her, surely he thought her sick and twisted. She winced and stared up at the tower again, Gondor would give her no comfort.

[maikafanawen]

Wren pushed the thoughts of the previous night away and greeted the morning with a smile. She helped with a tasty breakfast and with the help of Rave and Aerin got Rangar & Co. on the road early.

“On to Gondor!” said the noblewoman not bothering to hide the excitement in her voice.

She had been straining to see the White Tower ever since they entered Gondor. When it had finally peaked the horizon, its flags billowing in the afternoon breeze she was ecstatic.

“The White Tower! You can see it now!” She almost fell from her horse trying to see more of the city. Steadying herself, she resisted the urge to gallop ahead and go home! Yes, home—at last!!

The company was in disarray. There were so many complex emotions running back and forth between them all, it made the noblewoman want to just cast a cheering charm on each and every one of them. Wren, Aerin and Rave were the only three not thoroughly depressed.

They led their horses through the streets, gaping at the assortment of shops and homes. Wren waved to everybody, a foolish smile on her face. She couldn’t help it. They were still a good ways from the Chambria Estate when Wren ran into Domnian, one of Wren’s good friends.

“Wren? Wren! I don’t believe it! We thought you’d absconded up to Eriador. Fallen in love with a halfling we all were convinced!” The noblewoman laughed, and flicked a lock of curls behind her back.

“What makes you think I didn’t?” she said innocently. Domnian snorted and looked behind her. His light-hearted expression changed quickly to amusement and curiosity.

“Friends of yours?” he asked, taking a second glance at the dark eyed rangers and the two elves. Wren nodded and pointed to each in turn, introducing them by first name only.

“Turthôl and Rangar are rangers from Eriador. Énien and Calimir are elves of Rivendell. Ravenne and Aerin are both of Rohan. Tareth and Carmalita are of Bree. And Bregand is of Arnor.” Domnian nodded politely to each and winked at Rave who raised her eyebrows.

“Charming,” he muttered.

“We’re on our way to the house. Care to join us?”

“I have never been so captivated in my life and my curiosity is too much to bear. Will you tell me as we walk?” Wren laughed flirtatiously but shook her head.

“I’m sorry Dom, but it is not my place.” With that, Rangar & Co. now joined by Domnian head towards the estate.

The estate looked marvelous in the autumn atmosphere. The oranges and reds of the trees and bushes really gave the finishing touch to the ebony trim of the red-brick mansion. Two gilded statues of dragons stood on each side of the black iron gate and a magnificent velvet purple sash was draped around the spikes. A path of sizeable cobblestones led up to the entrance of the house. Just as the guards welcomed Wren home and opened the gate, Doralyn came running out of the estate towards Wren followed by a herd of servants. Bracing herself against the collision to come, the noblewoman embraced her mother who reached her first. The woman dropped her usually reproving expression and hugged her daughter tightly. Then her mother backed up and regained her composure with a start.

“Where have you been! We’ve sent messengers, and two track groups! They should be coming home any day now but we were so worried! Two months!! TWO MONTHS!! You were supposed to be back in four weeks with your elven guide!” Wren rolled her eyes and cut in her mother’s bantering.

“MUM! We have guests.” Doralyn peered around her daughter to the motley assortment of companions she had with her, still holding onto the reins of their horses. (Domnian now held Culfin’s). Wren introduced each of the company again and Mrs. Chambria curtsied politely in turn.

“Well you must all come inside and meet Mauriace. He’s in his study writing a letter to the dock master of Harlond. Something about the crew aboard The Chambria, your grandfather’s ship. Anyways, the servants will take your horses to the stables and show you to rooms of your choosing. There you can wash up and ready yourselves for dinner. Make yourselves at home.” With that, Rangar & Co. entered the Chambria estate ready for baths, and a hot meal.

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir gazed on the White City with delight. He'd never been this far south and the expectation had been building inside him for weeks. As the Tower of Ecthelion came into view and Wren gave a triumphant cry, Calimir turned to Turthol riding close by and said, "It is beautiful, the Men of Gondor do not exaggerate when they praise it."

Turthol looked over at Calimir, slightly surprised, "Aye, it is beautiful. And still free!" he responded, with a wide grin.

Calimir barely noticed when Wren's friend came up to them. He nodded recognition when he was introduced, but continued staring wide eyed at the architecture of the city. Leading his horse through the stone streets his sharp eyes picked out the old stonework and the new, the neighborhoods of rich and poor, and the trees lining the wide street. In the spring, Calimir thought, this street would be sweet scented and shaded with blossoms, as the trees were a variety that produced masses of white flowers in the spring.

Enien looked as eagerly as Calimir at the city, though he thought she'd seen it before. "The work of Numenor is legend." she said to him quietly. "The sound of the silver fountains does not grow old."

As they approached the Chambria house, Calimir's eyes settled on Carmalita's red hair ribbon on the back of her head. Bregand walked beside her, holding the reins of his old horse. The elf smiled at the sight, as he remembered the first time he fell in love.

On reaching the house, Calimir's weariness caught up with him. The ride from Rohan had been made quickly, and Calimir had not slept much. The constant attacks had made the elf nervous, and he sat awake most nights, watching out for movements in the darkness. Now he realized he was exhausted. He gratefully relinquished the reins of his horse to one of the servants, and followed Wren and Mrs. Chambria inside.

The room he was directed to was beautifully furnished and clean. Calimir smoothed one hand over the blue comforter on the bed, it was stuffed with down, he realized. He longed to just collapse onto it and sleep undisturbed, but instead the elf quickly changed his mudspattered tunic for a clean and scrubbed his face and arms with the warm water in the washbasin. There would be time for a bath after dinner. His brief cleanup finished, Calimir headed back downstairs, finding the dining room might be a problem in this big house.

[The X Phial]

It was evening in the Chambria household. Bregand couldn't recall ever seeing such lush surroundings. Evendim City, his home, was beautiful in his mind, and silently he had been pleased that along the journey he had yet to see something better. Minas Tirith, however, made his city look like a backwater dive. The Chambria mansion in particular seemed decadent beyond his imaginings. When the party had arrived he had found a servant and asked how to make an appointment with the Captain of the King's guard. He still had a message to deliver. To his surprise, the servant simply asked his name and what time he wanted an appointment and had run off the make the arrangements for him. Two hours later, as he was washing for dinner, the servant told him the Captain would meet with him in the morning.

Bregand pulled his messenger's uniform from his pack and decided that after dinner he would try to take some wrinkles out. The servant who had come to fetch him, however, said it would just be easier for the staff to take care of it.

"Guests make more trouble when they try not to bother the servants," he was assured.

Bregand entered a formal dining room to find most of the male members of the company there already. Like himself, they had all been provided with "suitable dinner wear" by their hosts. Calimir and Turthol wore their finery well, but Rangar seemed very uncomfortable and Tareth looked as though he wanted to disappear into the wall.

Bregand walked over the the blacksmith. Tareth fidgeted uncomfortably, aware that they had unfinished business between them.

"Tareth," the boy began. "I want to apologise for how I have been acting. I think everyone now knows how I feel about Carmalita. Indeed, some seemed to know even before I did." He paused to take a long breath.

"I guess the problem is, I don't know how she feels about me. When I see her talking and laughing with you, I...I just...I don't know."

He hung his head, blushing. Tareth made a sound in his throat.

"Bregand, I'm no matchmaker, and I'm not wise in the ways of women. I've known Carmalita a long time, though, and I've rarely seen her his happy. Now, I could be wrong, but I think it's more than the trip that's been makin' her smile."

With that the blacksmith turned away. Bregand was confused. He wanted to believe that the nurse could return his feelings, but he also wanted that belief to be founded in reality and not some boyhood fantasy. He realised he hadn't had the chance to speak to her about her abandonment by the Ilithien. In truth he did not know what to say, but he sensed his silence was worse than anything he could squeak out. He resolved to speak to her about it as soon as he had delivered his message.

At that moment the doors opened and the ladies entered en masse, sans Wren. Enien shone with an otherwordly beauty, but Bregand had eyes only for Carmalita. She wore a crimson dress, obviously borrowed for the occasion, and wore no other ornament but her red ribbon, which she had fastened about her throat for the evening.

Bregand didn't notice the other company members as they chuckled to themselves over his reaction. All thoughts of delaying his apology left his mind and he was making his way to her side when the large doors at the head of the room opened and the hosts arrived. Dinner was served. Before he knew it he was swept to the table by a servant. Carmalita was seated across from him, not a position in which they could speak privately. Wren's father made a toast, the food was served, and the meal began. He heard Wren and Turthol speaking with Wren's father about some ship or other, and managed to remember to eat a decent bit of food, but the dinner was an interminable torture appeased only by the fact that Carmalita occasionally caught his eye and smiled uncertainly.

[maikafanawen]

Wren ran to her room and threw open the doors collapsing onto the circular bed before the middle of the northern wall. The servants opened the curtains, and the light from the magnificent sunset poured in, alighting the crown molding, and fanciful array of pictures on her walls. Servants began bustling around, filling her wash basin with steaming water and airing out a selection of dinner dresses.

The noblewoman stripped off her traveling clothes and jumped into the bubbling tub, splashing water all over her maid.

“Sorry Minstria!” she laughed. The old maid just wrinkled her nose and laid two fluffy blue towels on a stool beside the tub.

“Don’t get me wrong miss,” she said airily. “I am very glad you’re back safe and sound, but those few weeks with you gone were very peaceful.” Wren threw back her head and laughed as Minstria winked and backed out of the room, closing the doors behind her. The noblewoman could have soaked in the tub all night, but she was very anxious for some of Yuldevia’s and her assistant’s cooking.

It took the better part of an hour to get ready after her bath. She chose a rather simple pale blue gown adorned with pearls and lace over which she wore a sheer shawl that draped over and around her shoulders and fell down her back, floating along behind her. Minstria put her hair up in an assortment of ringlets, interwoven with matching pale blue ribbon. Wren refused cosmetics for she was enjoying the clean, airy sensation on her face after the bath. Slipping on a satin pair of slippers, she met Rave, Aerin, Énien, and Carmalita on the landing before entering the dining hall. Each looked so splendidly attired in borrowed gowns of reds, greens, and in Rave’s case, a sultry violet, Wren wished that they all were sisters and would be present for the Autumn masquerade.

“You would be the highlight of the party!” she insisted as they walked towards the dining room.

“Dinner awaits you,” said Guston, one of the butlers. The doors opened and the women entered the room, skirts swishing, and jewels sparkling from the lights of the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling and candelabras that stood on either side of the door and under each window. As they were escorted to their seats, Wren couldn’t help but snigger good-naturedly at Bregand’s open staring towards Carmalita. Aerin caught her eye and they both turned away, chuckling madly.

“Here you are.” Wren sat down gracefully in a chair at the end of the table beside her mother, next to Rave and—to her bewilderment—across from Turthôl. Rangar was beside him and to Mauriace’s left.

The courses were superb, and conversation was light and merry. At one point, Turthôl took to asking Wren an innocent question every time she tried to take a bite of a particular delicious looking entrée. The nostalgic noblewoman didn’t catch on until Rangar started laughing madly. Realizing the joke, she flicked a sprout across the table that hit Turthôl square on his nose. He moved to counter-attack but thought better of it as Mauriace shot a reproving look towards Wren.

Domnian had joined them as well and was ironically seated across from Rave. The two had struck up an intelligent conversation about horses. Wren was surprised to see how much he knew about the Rohirrm and its history. A bit suspicious she turned back to the conversation she was having with her mother.

“And the scout just left you in Bree?”

“No mum, I let him go as we entered it thinking that I wouldn’t need him, I was pretty sure I could find the inn on my own. Then Mr. Butterbur gave me the letter from Mr. Frethryr saying they’d cancelled the meeting and moved it back to Minas Tirith in December,” said Wren, gesturing emphatically at the extremity of her situation. Doralyn took a dainty sip of wine and nodded sympathetically towards her daughter.

“So! If it weren’t for the goodness of Rangar—” Wren cut her mother off with a sharp shake of her head, before quickly changing the subject.

“OH! Did you see the horse Turthôl brought back for me when we were in Tharbad?? I named him Culfin. It means ‘golden-red hair’ in elvish. Énien told me. Isn’t he beautiful?” The end of the table was then plunged into the story of the stay at Tharbad. Turthôl entertained them about his experience as a waiter and the interesting people that passed through the trading town that time of year. Wren coughed loudly at the mention of Gina, excusing herself modestly.

To Wren’s relief, Mauriace didn’t ask of Rangar’s purpose or where it was that he was headed. Her father was a very clever man, and Wren knew that he probably sensed the uneasiness within his guest, knowing better than to ask.

[Everdawn]

There it was. The white city, Minas Tirith, a huge construction of man’s glory. It was not the first time Énien had gazed upon the mass of stone. Its citadels calling out to the realms, to challenge its magnificence Daring them to brave its towering walls. Yes, It was a magnificent feat of man. It always made her feel cold and immobile. Always cold. The hands of men construct stone, work it to their liking, almost as well as the dwarves. No elf would dare build such a colossal edifice to render their wonder save perhaps, the Elf King’s halls in Mirkwood but not to this magnitude. The lack of natural atmosphere always unnerved her. But there was a touch in Minas Tirith of elven nature.

Still Énien was excited. Fitfy years it had been since she had seen it, and much had changed. They rode along to the Chambria's estate, a beautiful mansion it was. They had met Wren's family, they had been quick to notice Énien and Calimir. Énien had been a little standoffish, only becuase she was overtaken by the sheer size of what was before her. Still she had stayed behind her adoptive brother for most of the time, opting to ride towards the back of the party. Rangar had laughed at her for this. "Come now, Énien, you are not shy now are you, shepard of us mortals? What scars you?!" The elf has shot a sharp look at him for this. "I am not shy Rangar, meerly wary. Something which you all forget to be, even here some things go wrong." She here hinted that she knew about Baroden and his attempt to kill Rangar.

The servents in the Chambria's house were egar to show them to their rooms. Though many gawked at the elves strangly. This made Énien uneasy. "Wren." she called as she was being let away with Ravenne and Aerin. "If i get lost! i iwll have you to blame!" she smiled. There was a huge room for all of them, Énien did not knwo who or where she was near. The elf had barely put her things down when a servent had called her and said that a washroom was ready for her to get ready for the dinner. A very beautiful green dress was laid out before her. "Tonight i will look like a mortal woman" she laughed to herself. Her hair now shining, no longer grubby, and her skin was back to the same stayed-to-long-in-the-sun bronze. She looked in the mirror at her reflection and laughed some more. Énien rummaged through her bag to find one last missing item. Upon her breast she hung a silver chain, and upon the silver chain was a beautiful silver lily, which her mother, Seveniel, had given her before crossing the seas.


She stepped out of the room, to find Aerin, Rave and Carmalita. It seemed to many that there was a light shining inside her. "You look like one of us." Ravenne had said. "And you all look beautiful." Énien had said in return. They had been met by the men at the bottom of the staircase. Calimir had given a smirk. "You look like one of them... And what's this, no weapons? I never thought id see the day Énien the proud would go without her weapons."


"Then your day has not come, my friend. I have a daggar, though it is barely two inches, strapped to my thigh." She laughed. And gazed at Bregand as he took Carmailta's arm. It felt to Énien that her heart truly smiled. They had been seated, so that Énien was seated beside Rave and Carmalita, across from Calimir. The two conversed in elvish for a while, which passing servents stopped to listen. "This is a far cry from the ways of the elves" Énien spoke in elvish, "But wonderful none the less." to this Calimir replied in elvish. "Yes, wonderful, i can agree, but I think Bregand agrees more" Bregand on hearing a small snippet of elvish conversation looked up and the two elves laughed. "Go back to your dinner, you have Carmailta to enteratin!" she said to through gasps of laugheter in elvish.

"What was that about?" asked Rave who had taken time out of her conversation with Wren's friend. "oh nothing" Énien said rather innocently, Calimir still sniggering diagonal to her.

[Arvedui III]

The white pinnacles of the great city jutted outward as the company drew to Minas Tirith. Never ceases to amaze. Rangar thought, closing his awed mouth and allowing a smile. Rangar just simply stared at the vastness of the place, a nervous kind of energy sinking in. As they rode up through the levels, Rangar and Turthol amused themselves by watching those who had not yet seen the city, Tareth, Bregand and Carmalita especially. Worries of where they were going to stay had just begun creeping into Rangar's mind when a friend of Wren's showed up, and nodding curtly after being introduced, Rangar rode onto still higher circles and arrived at the Chambria's.

If there was ever an eye-opening experience since he'd first seen the city of kings, that was it. After dismounting they were escorted through grandiose rooms of incredible color and variety, presented with clean, formal, albeit slightly uncomfortable, cloths and treated to a magnificent dinner. The latter felt a bit awkward at first, as Rangar did not feel completely at ease anywhere without the comfort of his cloak and the security of his sword. But, that did not mean he didn't hesitate for a moment to fill his belly with the fine food while Turthol joked and Wren flung peas and the elves talked about thing he couldn't understand and Bregand desperately tried to get Camalita to notice him. What a group He thought, shaking his head and smiling.

As dinner drew to a close, Rangar hurriedly excused himself and made for the safety of the stables. It wasn't that he did not like the dinner, just, his anti-social instincts bade him seek solitude; and Rangar wasn't about to disobey. Finding his way through the Chambria house proved to be less of a challenge then he thought; After only ten minutes of wandering, he sat down on a bale of hay, taking in the quiet light and peace of the stables.

[Arien]

Carmalita enjoyed the dinner. Well it had been the best food she had had in a while so she wasn’t complaining. The atmosphere was a happy one, and she no longer felt the heavy shadow that hung over her head. Instead for the night she almost forgot her cares and dinned and laughed with what were he new found friends, in the splendid company of Wren‘s family and friends. Bregand sat opposite her, which he did not seem too happy about but it was not the end of the world. They still had conversation, and though a light one she thoroughly enjoyed it.

One by one each guest rose from the grand table and announced their leaving. The first to go was Rangar, who said farewell, and thank you for the dinner and headed out to the stables and the grounds. As the rest left Carmalita knew she should be getting to sleep as she would need to be up early to collect more supplies. No doubt the journey ahead would be a harsh one and they would need her skills. She rose from her seat and thanked and whished the hosts good night. She quickly walked out into the hall and brushed her hair back from her face. As she turned to climb the steps she felt a hand clutch at her wrist. She spun around startled.

“Oh!” she laughed, “its you, don’t scare me!”

Bregand looked a little embarrassed and apologised to her. “I was wondering if we could take a stroll in the garden?”

She sighed, “I need to get up early tomorrow…”she saw the disappointment in his face, “But who cares? I will have a quick walk, after all that wine I think I need some fresh air!” she laughed again and the two headed outside.

[Everdawn]

Énien sat at the table, listening to the conversations. The elf smiled at all who sat at the table. They all are at ease, so relaxed, and i cannot help but feel the same she thought, excusing herself from the table. Énien had resolved to check out exactly how safe the Chambria's mansion was, or at least, see what nobility was all about.

It seemed that there were andless corridores, and after a while, she heard the patter of small footstepps. A little girl peered her head round the corner, and stared at her. She supposed this was a child of one of the servents. "Your an elf" she said to Énien. "Yes, i am" she replied.

"What is your name?" the little girl persisted walking up to her. "My name is Énien, what is your name?" Énien asked good-naturedly. "Mai, ive seen elves before, ive seen Queen Arwen." Mai replied smugly. "Oh ave you now?" Énien said in an offhandish tone, starting to walk down the hall once again.

"Where are you from?" Mai asked her.
"Imladris" The little girl frowned. "Imladris"

"Yes"
"Are there any little girls there" Mai was now hopeful, trailing behind the elf. "No, not anymore." Énien was now becoming tired of the little girls questions.
"Why?" In a slight effort to satisfy Mai, Énien smirked. "Becuase a big dragon ate them all up"

"Really?"
"No, not really"
"My friend Dimi said he saw a dragon once."
"How facinating..." said Énien still peering out at rooms which she passed. "You know Wren dont you?"
"Yes, i do"
"The i guess this maked us best friends then." Mai replied.
"Oh, splendid" Énien now had a follower. "How many are you Énien, im only 5!"
"1981, isnt it a little late for little girls to be wandering? where is your mother" The elf bent down to survey the girl. And as if on cue, a woman come, "Mai! come here, I hope she wasnt bothering you lady" The woman said.

"No, not at all" The woman made Mai say goodnight to the elf and there she stood, in a dark corridore. What a strange little girl, so many questions, not unlike another young girl whi used to follow me around for a short time This was of course a reference to Calimir's daughter. She laughed at this memory and continued walking.

Most of the rooms down this corridore were empty, except for one, which had a harp in the corner. A smile crept into the corners of her mouth as she leaned against the door frame. Dare i play it the thought teased her. The elf, now almost in a trance galided over to it and sat. It looked elven, its carvings were immaculate. her father probably got it from a travelling elfÉnine sighed and put her fingers on the strings.

She had not played since she had left Imaldris in search of her brother. It seemed that when her brother died, her ability to play left also, leaving her heart empty, and her thirst for music unquenched.

Without thinking her fingers began to pluck the strings, and the music that filled the room and the surrounding hallways was heavenly. Suddenly she stopped. Tears ran down her face. Pushing herself away from the harp she started to the hallway and kept walking. Stopping only to sit on the steps that lead to the wing of the mansion where her room was.

-----------

Rave was very pleased with the new friend she had found in Domininan. They had talked horses among other things at dinner, and now he took Rave to the holding yards where some of the horses were kept out of the stables.

Of the few horses in this paddock, one was making a terribble racket, a big, black monsterous looking horse, who Rave knew to be Melliant.

"Try as they did, this one would not behave!" said Dominan "just too bloody stuborn!" he laughed leaning on the fence.
"Oh no!, he's a lovely horse, once you get to know him!" Rave said quickly. "He is the elf, Énien's horse, Melliant." she laughed. "Which may explain why he is so stubborn!" they both laughed. The moon shon down on them, like a silver sheet, and a menacing star in the sky still loomed over head.

[maikafanawen]

Wren thoroughly enjoyed the night’s dinner and was sorry to see it end. Members of the company began to excuse themselves and disappeared to their rooms, the garden, or to wander the estate. (Rave and Dom disappeared to the stables).

“It really is getting late,” declared Doralyn, setting her napkin beside her empty plate. “I’m going to retire. Mauriace?”

“Yes, yes. See you in the morning eh Wren? Talk business perhaps.” She nodded and bid her parents goodnight, giving each a peck on the cheek. Doralyn politely stifled a yawn as she left the dining hall in a swish of pink ruffs.

Wren allowed the servants to take her plate, but kept her chalice of dorwinion wine. Turthôl was still at the table, finishing up a conversation with Tareth. The smith excused himself and made for his room. Wren caught the ranger’s eye as he took a sip of his own wine.

“Want to finish that outside?” she asked, gesturing towards his goblet.

“No.” Wren narrowed her eyes and pulled her lips into an innocent pout. Rolling his eyes, the ranger stood with his goblet and followed Wren out towards the left side of the house, where a small rotunda stood covering a pair of benches. The noblewoman took one and Turthôl sat across from her, watching as the servants struggled with Melliant in the stables.

“Why does she even bother with that horse if it’s going to put up so much of a fight?” asked Wren lightly.

“Why do you think?” Turthôl rejoindered. “Maybe because she enjoys his company. She doesn’t seem to go through that much trouble with him. Some creatures and humans just don’t do well in different surroundings. He’s used to Rivendell. Minas Tirith is probably a bit of a shock for him.” Wren shrugged and turned her gaze towards the small stream that ran past the veranda, lodging little silver fish that darted to and fro. She imagined herself as one of them, skimming through the water with ease, hunting for small guppies as a mid-night snack.

“I was thinking about taking a ship to Harad instead of traveling along the road,” Wren blurted out. Turthôl shot a bemused look at her, stopping mid-drink.

“Come again?”

“Well why not? It’s the last thing Barodin will expect.” The ranger pursed his lips and sucked in a quick breath at the mention of the hunter’s name. “And there’s no way he could catch up to us.” Turthôl narrowed his eyes and traced the lines of wood in the bench.

“Where would we get a ship?”

“My dad owns a few merchant ships in Harlond. He wouldn’t send them out just before the fall season. All his workers are staying in Gondor for the Autumn and Winter faires to sell or trade their goods, to buy new merchandise. Then after the winter season they head out again.” Turhtôl thought about it for a while, not wanting to decide anything right away. He didn’t know what Rangar would say to it. He hadn’t really ever been on a ship before...

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow with Rangar. See what he thinks.” The noblewoman decided that was good enough, and decided to take advantage of Turthôl’s dormant mood to apologize.

“I’m sorry I got cross about the villager’s horses. I suppose you did the right thing. We didn’t really have any choice. After all, they were just horses.” The ranger’s eyes seemed to flare for a minute at such a mediocrity reference to horses after just defending Melliant, but then realized Wren’s stunt. A smile played at the corner of his mouth and he stretched his legs out on the rest of the bench, the soles of his boots hanging slightly off the end, piling the fringed velvet portico pillows behind him.

“I was just a bit annoyed I guess...”

“Annoyed? At what? That I spent more of my time talking with the young Rohanian men than you?”

“No! Just as you were angry every time I winked at Gina?!”

“Now see here!” Wren stood, slamming her chalice down on the little end table, splashing wine onto the surface, clearly infuriated. Turthôl swung his legs off the seat and stood too, cutting her off.

“No, you! I don’t know what people have been saying or thinking but there is nothing between us! Just air!!”

“Oh yeah? Then why do you always end up next to me on the trail or across from me at dinner, or find cute little things to say to me every chance you get!”

"I didn't make the table cards, and I don't talk to you! It's always you doing those things!"

“How dare you suggest such a thing—I never! Sorry if I’m just a friendly type of person but that doesn’t mean you’re any more special than the others!”

“If that’s true than why did you invite me outside!”

“I needed some fresh air!”

“Well it didn’t help ye did it?” They stopped their shouting just long enough for another voice to join the arguement.

“Oh, why don’t ye stop bickering and kiss her already?” The two arguers turned towards the voice to see the Chambria’s gardener, Jyrian, watching them from over a hedge he was trimming.

"Ye want to see some kissing mister? I'll show you some kissing that'll put hair back on your head!" shouted Turthol. Wren’s cheeks burned and she stomped her foot angrily before fleeing the rotunda. A crack of lightening flickered across the sky, lighting her path.

“Crazy young’uns,” barked the gardener. “Wouldn’t ye know ye’r the first she’s ever gotten into such a huff about?” Chuckling to himself, Jyrian left an amused Turthôl in the gardens just as the rain started to pour.

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir pushed back from the table, contentedly. It had been long since he'd eaten so well and the wine had been excellent. He looked around as the company split up and headed in various directions. Enien had headed off in the direction of her room. Calimir looked amused as she was intercepted by a small girl.

Enien was really rather good with children, though she'd never admit it. Wilwarin, his daughter had followed her around as a child, admiration glowing in her eyes. Glorenwen had always hated the idea of it, worried that Wilwarin would want to leave home, like Enien did, but Enien had always been gentle with her.

Calimir smiled fondly at Enien and the little girl, but walked toward the garden. He was tired, but he wanted to see a bit of the Chambria Estate before they left Minas Tirith. He walked through the dimly lit gardens, stopping to pass his hand through the spray from a white marble fountain. A grey bench in the shadows of a large tree seemed to beckon to him, and he walked over to it and sat.

A few minutes passed, and Calimir sat in silence, listening to the wind in the branches above his head. He barely noticed when Aerin approached and sat down beside him. Calimir greeted her warmly and she sat down on the bench looking tired.

"Looking for company." she explained, pushing a loose strand of hair out of her face, and looking rather uncomfortable in the dressy garb that Wren had found for her. "I've never been here before." she said, looking around the garden. "Minas Tirith, I mean."

"Me either." Calimir replied. "The men of Gondor are a great people." Aerin shot him a look in the darkness.

"The men of Rohan are great too." she said. Calimir nodded, suddenly feeling awkward with this human girl-child beside him. He tugged at the lace at the collar of his dress tunic.

"These are uncomfortable." he said, tugging a little more at the cuffs. Aerin nodded and stood up, shaking her skirt out. "Let's go back to the house and change, shall we?" he asked her.

"Yes, let's." the shieldmaiden replied, wobbling just a bit on the heeled shoes she'd been given. Calimir offered his arm and they walked back together toward the house.

Reaching the house, Calimir left Aerin at the doorstep and climbed the stairs back to his own room. A hot bath would be the perfect ending for a very good day.

[Everdawn]

The elf watched the thunder come across the sky. It was getting darker as the clouds passed in front of the moon. Énien wiped the tears away from her face and breathed deeply. I am making a fool out fo myself. Stop it Énien, crying will get you nowhere, only the weak cry. And you are not weak. Distant memories should be kept at that, distant. Play again in Rivendell, not here. She scolded herself.

Besides, what if someone were to see you like this...She stood up. From here she could see through the window the holding yards of the horses. In the claps of lightning she could see Melliant struggling against the servants. Melliant! you are a terrible creature!she frowned.

The elf picked herself up and walked outside, for what seemed like an eternity to where her beloved horse was. Énien stood at the fence. "Melliant!" she called and immediatly the horse stood still, and looked in her direction. She jumped over the fence (with great difficulty, these dresses arent meant for this sort of thing).

Melliant began to quietly walk over to her. The servants were in shock. Énien patted him and walked into the stables, the horse following her quietly out of the small paddock towards the stables. "Lady, the horse will bolt!" one of the men yelled after her. As usual, she ignored them. Énien found a small stall where she gestured to Melliant to lie.

There were many horses in there, as the company's horses were bedded down for the night. A figure in the corner caught her eye and only half turning she sopke. "Hello Rangar. Escaping the humans?"

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl looked up into the sky as rain drops began falling. Thunder lit up the sky, and for a moment, the dark silhouettes of the White City were visible. He stood out there, the laughter of the gardener still in his mind. Kiss her? What was that old man thinking? He did notice she had blushed when the old man said that. Maybe there was something there...

He shrugged his shoulders at the thought. Oh well. He didn't mind staying here in her mansion. He got a free room, and free food. It wasn't too bad. He had put up with her this far. He could go the rest of the way, maybe.

A finger tapped him on the shoulder and he turned. It was a servantman.

"Sir, if you don't mind, I'll show you to your room now," he said.

"ok. Lead the way," Turthôl replied. He followed the servant up to one of the upper floors. Finally, after twisting and turning through so many halls, they arrived at a room.

"Here you are sir. I hope you find it most comfortable."

"Ok." Turthôl opened the door and walked inside. Just as he was about to close the door, he turned and asked, "By the way, where is Wren's room?"

The man pointed down the hall. "Miss Chambria is a few doors down,sir. Would you like me to fetch her?"

"Oh, no! I'd like to get some sleep tonight, if you don't mind." Turthôl said. Oh great! he thought.

He said goodnight to the man and shut the door.

“Oh yeah? Then why do you always end up next to me on the trail or across from me at dinner, or find cute little things to say to me every chance you get!” she had said. What a bunch of cave troll dung! If there was anyone to blame, it was Rangar. Rangar was the one who had told him to go to Bree with her, to go out on the scouting party with her, and to go out and rescue her! Geez, if this was the way she showed gratitude to the man that saved her, than he'd hate to get on her bad side. Find cute little things to say at every chance he gets? She think's insults and sarcasm is cute? And those Rohirrim men she talked with. Turthôl's sympathy went out to those guys. He'd rather fight orcs than have to listen to Wren blab on and on and on and on...

He just didn't understand that woman. But then again, why did he have to? As soon as this was over, he'd probably never have to see her again.

But her suggestion about the ship was pretty good. It would be fast and easy. But then again...if something bad happened on the ship, it would be hard to get away.

Turthôl decided not to decide anything. He set his gear down next to the bed and prepared to go to sleep. This was the first time in a long time that he had slept in a bed.

[The X Phial]

Bregand and Carmalita walked through a perfumed garden under the stars. For a long while they said nothing, content to walk side by side. Hesitantly, Bregand reached for her hand and she did not pull away, so they walked on hand in hand. Distant thunder rumbled and the stars were being veiled by clouds when Bregand finally plucked up the courage to speak.

"I..I know we haven't talked much lately, what with the hard riding and then coming to Minas Tirith. I wanted you to know, I wasn't ignoring you or shunning you. I guess I just didn't know what to say. Your past is so much different from mine, and so different from anyone's I have known. I wanted what I said to be right, to keep from hurting you more. I guess now that my silence was worse than anything.

I can't change what happened to you in the past, I can't make it better, and that's all I really want to do. I guess the only thing I can say is, thank you. For trusting me with your story, for showing me your strength, and for being my friend. I have no right to ask for more."

Carmalita opened her mouth as if to speak, but a sudden peal of thunder cut her off and the walkers were suddenly standing in a downpour. They rushed headlong out of the rain where they were immediately met by servants and bundled up to their respective rooms. There would be no chance to talk again that night.

The next morning Bregand woke to find his uniform pressed and clean. He dressed carefully and then found a servant to ask for directions to the Captain's headquarters. He delivered his report quickly and efficiently. Troop movements, the progress of the ongoing fight to reestablish order, and supply levels were the main part, information too sensitive to risk a paper message. Bregand memorized the reply and secured promises of supplies to be shipped.

As he walked back to the mansion he mused that his official work was done. His message had been received. His only duty now lay in going home. He had considered, when the company began their trip, simply leaving them after his message was completed. He assumed they could find another guide in Minas Tirith. Now, however, he knew he could not leave them until the story was all known to him. Of course, he had other reasons not to want to leave the group, but he truly also wanted to help his companions and see the mission through. Besides, he wanted to see the ancient lands of Harad, reportedly so difficult to traverse. He still might have an important role to play.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[Arvedui III]

"Hello Rangar. Escaping the humans?"

Rangar turned and saw Enien in the opposite corner of the stables, getting Meliant settled. He chuckled. "If I could do that, my elven friend, then I'd be far away from here." She laughed, "That's mean." "The truth hurts." He responded grinning. "The Chambria's are very" "I know, but this isn't." Rangar interrupted, gesturing at the neat collar brushing irritably against his neck. Enien shook her head. " You'd rather be in those filthy rags of yours?" "Yep." She laughed again. "Well, on that note I'm going to get some sleep in a nice warm bed."

She said, putting a noticeable emphasis on 'nice warm bed', then yawned; And headed back towards the house. Rangar smiled, and got up as well. Walking towards his own horse, he stretched and yawned, thinking it could wait till morning. But, he reached the stall and began stroking the creature lightly before he could change his mind. "There's still the matter of your name." He mumbled, and the horse seemed to nod quietly in his sleep.

"Am I disturbing something?" Called a voice from behind, and Rangar turned around sharply, a jolt of panic hitting him. The figure to whom the voice belonged moved into the light, and Rangar saw it was Wren's father. "No Sir." Rangar near stumbled over the words, glad that it wasn't who he thought it was. "You can always tell a man by what he does after dinner." Maurice mused, seemingly to himself as he walked closer to Rangar. "And you, Rangar, are a man of Rohan who likes peace and quiet. Which makes me wonder why you took my daughter along with you." He finished, a grin now lighting his face. Rangar stared blankly for a second.

Was he confronting him? Get off the subject. "Forgive me sir, but I thought that you retired." Rangar asked. "I did, but as I say, you can tell a man by what he does after dinner. And, I go outside and smoke for a time." Maurice answered, holding up a pipe. "Then you are a man of Gondor who likes nothing better then simple pleasures." Rangar guessed, thinking if he made the exchange the man would just smile and leave. But, he didn't. "Very good. You catch on quick." "Yes sir." Rangar said, unable to think up a better answer. He wants me to tell him something.

"Anyway, I'd like to thank you for getting Wren back here in one piece. What is it you do?" Ah, right. Thought that was coming. Er, what do I? Think. "Well, erm, I don't run an escort service, that's for sure. Wren's quite capable of handling herself, with all due respect sir." "Of course, but will you be needing her for whatever you're doing?" No more pretense now, um, what do I? Turthol would be happier. Do we really need? Well, this was her original goal anyway, I guess. But, maybe, nah. Well, what do I?

"Because I could compensate you if, "Oh no sir. I wouldn't hear of that. It's up to her if she wants to continue on. We could spare her, but she would certainly be missed." He replied quickly, wondering afterward what decision he had just made. "You'd make a good diplomat, with those contradictory answers." Maurice replied shrewdly. "Yes sir." Rangar said, once again unable to find a better answer. "But you sound like a soldier from all those ‘yes sirs, no sirs'"

Rangar stared blankly at his host for a moment. "Well, um, with your permission sir," He stammered, motioning at the door to the stables, wanting for whatever reason to get to sleep. "Of course." Rangar moved past the man and walked very quickly back to the house.
---------------------
In the morning Rangar found his cloths folded neatly on a table, and after a quick breakfast he found the rest of the company. He resolved not to talk to anyone about what Wren's father had said, so with nothing else do to do he said, "Well, um, I guess we should be going." Looking around at the faces told him that no one was really ready to go. "Rangar," Said a voice from behind him. It was Wren. "I have a way we could get to Harad."

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[maikafanawen]

Wren ran the length of the garden to the back kitchen door, soaked to the bone, her blue dress dragging along behind her. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been so angry. Fool! was all she could think. Fool, fool, “Fool!” she said that last word out loud.

“I beg your pardon miss!” said Minstria coming up behind her. Wren whirled, her loose hair sticking to her face.

“You were eavesdropping too? I’ll bet you and Jyrian were in cahoots!” her blue eyes were dark and she was getting extremely edgy. Lightening lit up the stairwell before her, along with Minstria’s face which was twisted into a bemused smirk.

“Indeed!” insisted the maid. “It’s not my business what goes on inside—or outside—these walls but when two people are shouting in the gardens at this time of night I can only stop and listen to see what all the hubbub is about!” Stamping her foot again, Wren ran up the back stairs to her room.

“Evening miss,” acknowledged a servant, exiting a room a few doors down. The noblewoman ignored him and burst into her room where her mother was waiting expectantly.

“I’ve a good mind to throw him out!! He doesn’t deserve the hospitality of the Chambrias!!” screeched Wren. Tearing off her jewelry and pulling down her hair so ferociously that Minstria, who had followed her up, had to wrestle her down.

“Are you quite finished?” reproached Doralyn. Wren scowled, but stopped her bantering. “Even when you are angry, Wren, you must keep your wits about you. By yelling you only made that young man angrier.” Incredulous to what she was hearing she turned towards her mum.

“Dear Eru is there anyone who did mind their own business tonight?”

“I’d be amazed if there was a person in this house who didn’t hear you my dear,” Doralyn answered, playing idly with the hem of her robe’s sleeve. Her daughter glowered.

“Besides the fact that you so enjoy chastising me, is there any other reason you were waiting in my room?”

“Yes, but my dear you’re aura is so disturbed I have forgotten it. I’ll speak with you in the morning, or whenever you have calmed down.” With that she left the noblewoman’s room, slamming the double doors behind her.

“Oooh that woman!” Wren said through clenched teeth. “This is how she welcomes me home!”

“No, she’s planning a ball in your honor. For your safe return that is,” said Minstria, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“Really!? Can anyone do anything around here without have a ball dedicated to it!”

“But my dear you love balls!” the maid adopted a mocking tone.

“Hush old woman. I know what I like and don’t like!”

“After tonight, so does the rest of the household, good evening.” Wren was a short way from exploding as she watched Minstria leave her room, not bothering to turn down the covers or do any of her usual duties. Jumping up from her vanity stool, the noblewoman ran to her bed and buried her head in one of the satin pillows screaming loud and long.

The night had ended so poorly that Wren would have been content to fall asleep in her soaked and dirty dinner clothes. But there were a few things she wanted to see to right away. She dressed in a comfortable skirt of red and cream velour with embroidered floral patterns on it, and a loose, gauzy cotton, cream coloured tunic that she belted around the mid section with a red sash. Wren brushed her hair quickly and braided it down her back. Then, slipping into a pair of black house slippers she crept from the room, and down the halls to her father’s study.

He was still awake when she got there, and had to hide behind a wall tapestry until he left. When he did, she let herself in, careful not to make any noise alerting the servants. The walls were lined with books, a few swords, and many portraits and busts of relatives or historical figures. A large mahogany desk sat in the middle of the back of the room, underneath a huge window that took up most of the wall. Behind it was a plush chair studded with gold nail-heads and covered in dark blue velour.

Wren moved silently to the desk, opening one of the bottom drawers and taking out a single candle and holder. After a bit of trouble lighting it, she began searching for the records book that held the information she sought. It was a large, 8 x 12 size book, bound in a rough, weather proof leather material with gold embossing on the front that said: Chambria Merchants and their Ships. The data therein detailed every voyage taken on every ship in her father’s service. It listed the crews, and captains and any kind of weather they did—or did not—withstand.

She searched for the better part of an hour before coming across it finally in the top shelf of one of the largest bookshelves. Wren stood atop the ladder, balancing the candle on the rung parallel to her chin with one hand and removing the log with the other. Wobbling slightly she descended the ladder and laid the book on a waist-high table. The noblewoman flipped to the back and ran her finger down the date list. The last ship to dock was The Silver Wyrm. It had had a successful voyage and was now harboured in Harlond. The only damage it had collected was a tear in the mainsail, an impairment easily repaired. She clicked her tongue trying to put her idea into a working condition.

She made her way to the desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, laying it on the desk, and produced a quill. Dipping it into the ink jar she sketched out her idea on the paper.

“We’ll need a crew,” she whispered to herself, “along with a captain. Oh, provisions as well. Food, weapons, necessities for repairs... They will need new clothes I’ll bet. We can buy them in town. But where am I going to get the rest?” She slumped back in the chair, searching her mind for someone she knew that could help... Suddenly, Wren thought of just the right person. Excited, she stuffed the parchment into her pocket and put the log back in its place. Dousing the candle, she replaced it in the drawer along with the others and went back to her room.

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

Morning came very soon, and Wren Chambria was at breakfast before the others, dressed in grey riding breeches tucked into a pair of black boots with slight heels, and a stylish blue jerkin, very out of the ordinary from the dresses she would usually wear. Her father joined her soon and Wren told him of her idea. He turned the idea over carefully in his mind before agreeing.

“I take it that you’re deciding to stay on with the company?” he mentioned, before taking a slow drink of his tea.

“What made you think I was going to do otherwise?” Wren huffed, dropped her fork with a clamour. Her father smiled.

“It’s about time.” At the sight of her daughter in leggings and a tunic, stylish, yet a tunic none the less, Doralyn dropped the book she was holding as she entered the dinning area, ready for her morning meal.

“Are y-you going somewhere dear?” she stammered, gaping openly at her daughter’s ensemble. Wren barely looked her mother’s way before cramming the rest of the toast into her mouth, and downing the last of her milk.

“Yep. Got lots to do if we’re to leave tomorrow!” She kissed her mum on the cheek before grabbing her cloak of the chair and leaving the room to find Rangar.

“We?” Doralyn asked, turning towards Mauriace who smiled his 'I-knew-she'd-come-around' fatherly smile at her. He beckoned for her to take a seat.

"I'll explain."

"You had better," sais Mrs. Chambria, seating herself so quickly, the air left the cushioned seat in a loud pop.

Rangar was with the rest of the company who had more or less gathered in a comfortable sitting room, some reading, some talking quietly with one another.

“Rangar,” said Wren from behind. He turned a bit startled at her sudden appearance. “Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded, following her out of the room and more towards the servant quarter’s part of the house. “Okay, I have a way we can get to Harad. My father owns a few merchant ships that dock in Harlond’s harbours for the autumn and winter seasons. I did a bit of research last night and spoke with my father this morning, he thinks it’s okay.” She stopped, waiting for Rangar to reply. He looked at her expectantly, eyebrow’s raised.

“What’s okay?”

“Oh, right. That we go to Harad by way of ship!” To say that Rangar stumbled at the mention of this would be an understatement. He down right collapsed, his knees gave plumb out. Wren stifled a laugh before helping him up. It took the better part of an hour to convince him it was a good idea, but finally he consented and decided it was rather clever.

“Great,” said Wren after Rangar nodded his head in final agreement. “You tell the rest and I’ll start making the final plans and arangements.”

“Fine, but, take someone with ye.” Wren shot him a ‘you-be-careful’ look, and retreated down the hallway to get her things ready for her ride.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[maikafanawen]

Wren left her room, her pack over her shoulder, and walked down the carpeted hallway towards the exit to the stables. She stopped at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath.

“Ah why not!” She turned on her heel and headed to the room a few doors down from hers going the other way. It wasn’t locked, so she opened it completely, allowing its occupant to see who stood in the doorway, and allocating the melodious music from his fife to drift into the hallway.

“What?” asked Turthôl. Wren shrugged.

“Oh, just wanted to see what you’d do if I walked into your room.” The ranger rolled his eyes slightly.

“Ye going somewhere?” he asked, looking at her riding garb and the pack she held over one shoulder.

“Harlond. We’re going by ship to Harad. Talked to Rangar this mornin’.”

“Oh,” Turthôl nodded his head and resumed playing his fife..

“Want to come?” Turthôl’s hand slipped, causing a short shrieking note to burst into the air.

“Why would I want to come?” he asked, shocked at her change of behavior.

“Fine, ye don’t have to.” She turned around and walked down the hall back towards the stairs.

“Wait!” he called, following her. “Give me a few minutes. There’s nothing I really have to do here.” Wren smiled, her face turned away from his. But she wiped it away as she spun slowly to face him.

“Ye sure?” He nodded. “Meet me at the stables in a few minutes,” she said. “I’ll get the horses ready.” Turthôl began to pack away his few things, and Wren went down to the stables.

In a little less than half an hour the two companions were mounted and on their way to the port city of Minas Tirith and Rangar & Co. were to follow them a little while later and meet them at the Crown Dagger Tavern. Wren knew the innkeeper there, Rauos, from many previous visits with her parents. He was a stocky young man with a bulbous red nose and a circular face. He had thick muscular arms, and legs, though he isn’t very athletic on account of his very large midsection.

“Wren! S’marvelous ta’ see ye again!” called Temeav, the innkeeper’s wife as she ran to greet the noblewoman and her companion. “What brings ye around ‘ere? Ye’r parents aren’t with ye are they?” Wren shook her head.

“No. I’m delivering a letter from my Father to Aragoss, the dock master. More mercantile problems wouldn’t ye know it?” Temeav nodded and began to lead them to a table for a drink and an early afternoon meal, but Wren objected.

“No, sorry my good lady, but we’ve got to attend to things right away. We’ll be back before dark though and able to enjoy your cooking then. Thank you.” Making sure their horses were tended to, they began to walk down the road to the docks.

A few blocks down, Wren signaled that they should make a turn into a street of fanciful townhouses owned by the wealthiest merchants and their families.

“Where are we going?” asked Turthôl glancing back towards the docks and the harbour master’s little shack of a house.

“To see someone who can help us get to Harad.” Wren skimmed the numbers on the house and then looked down at a small piece of paper in her hand. “Here we are, number 47.” She walked up to the large cedar door and knocked using the leaf shaped knocker engraved with elvish letters.

“Elvish?” asked Turthôl just before a young servant opened the door.

“Ah! Wren!” she cried hugging the noblewoman’s waist. “So good to see you!! Come in, come in!” the excited child led them into the house which was tastefully decorated in antique tapestries, and earthenware.

“Any time you’d like to fill me in would be very nice and thoughtful,” Turthôl said out of the corner of his mouth, taking in his unexpected surroundings. The child servant left them in the parlor and ran up the flight of stairs shouting for her mistress. In only a few seconds, a beautiful elven maiden appeared at the top of the stairs dressed in a light green, Mirkwood-elvish styled dress with gold embroidery of leaves on it. Her feet were bare and her hair hung down her back, woven here and there with feathers, braids, and leather straps. A stylish belt was tied about her slender waist and her feet were bare. The elf’s appearance suggested that her manner was equally as elegant and similar to the idiosyncratic grace of the elves, but acquaintances and most of all, friends, knew her to be quite otherwise. However, when she picked up her skirt and ran down the length of the steps two at a time, tripping slightly on the last one, to embrace Wren in a tight hug, Turthôl’s mouth hung a bit open in shock. (Though he quickly closed it before the elf saw). After the friend’s quick exchange of ‘How are you’s and ‘What are you doing here’s, Wren introduced the she-elf to Turthôl.

“Turthôl, I’d like you to meet Ani Dao, elf of Mirkwood and a dear friend of mine,” the ranger bowed and greeted her in elvish, to which Ani Dao replied in like tongue. “Oooh, I like him,” she whispered back to Wren.

“Now, in order to explain everything so that you can understand it, I say we either go somewhere for lunch or—”

“No, no. I’ll set up for us to have something here,” interrupted Ani Dao. “Sytia!” the child servant came bustling down the stairs, dumping the pile of sheets in her arms into a basket and setting it under the stairs for later washing. “Will you be so kind as to prepare a lunch for our guests and boil some tea?” Curtsying, Sytia disappeared into the kitchen as Ani Dao led them to the sunroom in the back of her townhouse. She gestured them to sit, and opened the windows, allowing the breeze from off the river to air out the sunroom.

“Now,” she said, folding her hands in her lap, an excited twinkle in her eyes. “Tell me everything.”

* * *

The sun was descending the sky, and the air had gotten considerably cooler by the time Wren was finished explaining everything to both Ani Dao and Turthôl. Empty plates and half drunk teacups (on their fifth round) sat on the small sunroom table.

“This is exciting,” said Ani Dao, leaning back so that Sytia could clear their dishes. “Let me sum up then for my understanding. We’re to go see Aragoss, with the note from your father that says you are selling the ship? Selling it too—him,” she pointed at Turthôl who nodded. “He will be dressed in the finery you’ve brought as an equally wealthy nobleman of Gondor: a friend of your fathers. Right, now, we’re to tell him the money has already been exchanged and what not and that Turthôl, who will be Edhar Havvano, has full rights to the ship and will be sailing out late this week?

“That is how we come by the ship, now actually setting out with full crew and provisions will be the more difficult part. As I understand it, we need a crew of twenty able-bodied men that know the ropes, are loyal to the captain and can fight. Sounds like you’re asking for elvish corsairs to me,” she smoothed out a wrinkle in the tablecloth before continuing. “As for provisions, I know where to get them. Your father sent you the money to get them all?” Wren nodded. “Fine. We’ll have to make sure we can load them straight onto the ship after purchasing or else it’ll be too much of a hassle.” The she-elf clicked her tongue in thought, and then stood. “Well, let’s be off! The sooner the better!”

“One more thing,” said Wren standing, a hopeful and enigmatic smile on her face. “We still need a captain.”

* * *

Turthôl looked very handsome in the finery, if he didn’t have an exasperated scowl on his face and continued to itch at every place the fabric touched his body.

“You’ll pay for this one,” he hissed before disappearing inside Aragoss’s shack. He came out fifteen minutes later with the log of the Silver Wyrm and a glare on his face. “That man’s a fake. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about at all. I could have told you more about ships than he could have, and I’ve never even been near one!” Wren laughed and returned back to the Crown Dagger with Turthôl so he could change. The company was there too, and Wren quickly told Rangar of their success.

“Now all we have left to do is get the supplies and the crew.”

“Crew’s done,” said a voice from behind. Ani Dao approached them wearing her green sea-captains coat and matching hat. “Nice to meet you Rangar, I’m Ani Dao of Mirkwood. At least I was in Mirkwood a few years ago, fifteen, twenty, but now I’m here, so guess I’m Ani Dao of Harlond. Any road, I got the crew. Men I’ve sailed with before. All but a few that is. However, they seemed trustworthy enough. A bit daft too, ruling out the possibility of them being in cahoots with your man Barodin, but they know the ropes and their way around with a sword. I’ve got the twenty two men aboard the Silver Wyrm now, checking everything over. If we get the supplies tomorrow, we’d be good to sail in two or three days.” Ani Dao winked at Wren who smiled inwardly. There, thought the noblewoman, I was of some help at last.

“We have a captain too then?” asked Rangar, looking from Ani Dao to Wren. The elf looked at Wren who was suddenly very interested in her muddy boots.

“Yes we do,” Ani Dao straightened and saluted. The noblewoman’s head shot up and she gave the elf a quick hug.

“Ha! I knew ye would!”

“Fine, fine. Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll move a few of my things into the captain’s quarters and see to it that the men will be paid for their services aboard the Silver Wyrm. Goodnight, gentlemen, Wren.” With that, the elf turned and left the inn.

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Everdawn]

Énien had slept very late, so late it was almost noon. Quietly she crept down stairs in her short blue dress which had survived the trip with her from Imaldris. Ultimatly the elf had hoped to slip into the lounge room unnoticed, but without luck. Everyone was sitting on the sofas and Rangar was standing talking.

"Goodmorning sunshine!" he said as she stumbled into the room. "We thought you would never wake up! we thought someone had drugged you in the night!" laughed Rave making room in between herself and Tareth. "I- I must have drunk to much, though i think that is highly impossible. Maybe i was drugged?" Énien yauned.

"As i was saying" Rangar continued. "Wren and Turthôl have left to sercure a ship"
The elf frowned. "A ship? to where?"

"Harad" Bregand said from across the room. "oh, were taking a ship?"
"Yes"
The elf listened for a while when a question played on her mind. "What about the horses?" Énien spoke up. Rave waved her hand "ive been wondering that myself" she replied.

"Well we will cross that bridge when we come to it. Now get ready we leave in half and hour." came Rangar's orders. Énien frowned. "There is no way that i am leaving Melliant in Gondor... no way..."


Soon enough they arrived in Harlond, and the elf had been in a bad mood all the way, and she supposed it showed, especially when the rest of the company were roped into friendly conversation with the locals, Énien had just looked very darkly and stayed quiet, speaking only to Calimir in elvish the whole time.

There was an inn where they were supposed to be waiting, Énien had gone to settle Melliant into the stables, coming back into the Inn she passed another elf who was heading out the door. "Mae govannen" she said to Énien on her way out. Wide eyed Énien went over to the table where Turthôl and Wren had now joined them. "That was an elf, a mirkwood elf" Énien said glancing at Calimir, "in Gondor!"

"That was Ani Dao, a Mirkwwod elf, you are right, Wren's friend." Calimir said laughing at her. Énien slid into the table. She looke around at everyone, something was different. She saw Turthôl. and began to laugh. "Turthôl, you scrub up very well for a ranger!" she put her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing harder. "Never in a million years... how did you get him to do it Wren!" she had to stop becuase a new wave of laughter had overcome her. "im sorry, but you do have to understand that is the strangest thing ive seen in months!"

[Arvedui III]

Ships. Why did it have to be ships? Of all the ways we could get to Harad. A ship.

It seemed to Rangar that of all the surprises he had met along this journey, that fact that they were to be going by ship was the most unwelcome. It took near an hour to convince him, and even as they rode into Harlond, doubts still kept gnawing at him. However, all was forgotten when they reached the inn where Wren and Turthol would meet them. After settling the horses at the stables, they walked into the peasant light of the inn, and as an elf walked past them Enien broke out laughing. "What is it?" "Look, table in the corner." "Never in a million years, how did you get him to do it, Wren?"

Rangar looked around Rave and thought his sides would burst. There was Turthol, in the most ridiculous Gondorian finery, blushing like mad while Wren split open a grin and waved to them. They all sat down and Rangar exchanged equally malicious looks with Tareth and Bregand. "Turthol, that suit is," Calmir started, barely able to keep a strait face. "Frilly?" Rangar threw out. "Puffy?" Bregand added while his mouth began to twitch. "Are those sequins?" Tareth asked. "Ha ha, SHUT UP! Come on Rangar," Turthol barked, getting up. "We're gonna burn this thing." "Not until we have a portrait done of you in it." Camalita giggled. " I would agree with that." Rangar started. "Ow! Hey! That's my ear!" "Come on." And with that Turthol dragged him by ear up to a private room.

"Frilly?!" Turthol sputtered after he had changed back into his gear and the suit was well on its way to becoming ash. "You have to admit it was funny." Rangar teased. "It was not." Turthol growled flatly. "Would you have done any different if I had worn that thing?" "No, but still." "How'd she convince you?" Rangar asked. "I still don't know," He mumbled, "But you will pay." His tone suddenly changing from dumbfounded to vengeful. "Why me?" Said Rangar, perplexed. "If this is a conspiracy to get me and Wren," Turthol began with the pitch that suggested he was accusing Rangar of murder. "What?!" "You heard me." "Look, you're the one agreed to go with her, if it bothered you, you could of at anytime told me and I would have," Rangar began, trying desperately to find the words to defend himself.

"Oh nevermind. Just shut it." Turthol cut him off. "Are you just in a bad mood because of the suit?" Rangar asked, galled at what had just happened. "Let's just drop it." Said Turthol moving to the door. "Ok then," Said Rangar, then in an attempt to cheer him up, "Frilly...Ow! You're gonna tear it off if you keep doing this!"

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[Earendil Halfelven]

"Why don't you go join the others in their laughter?" Turthôl said as he let go of Rangar's ear and shoved him out the door.

"And what are you going to do up here?" Rangar asked.

"Burn these confounded clothes, like I already said," he replied.

"Well, you don't have to be so pushy about it," Rangar said. He closed the door and left.

Turthôl stirred up the fire in the room and prepared to burn the clothes. He couldn't believe he had actually worn these. Somehow, Wren had convinced him to put them on. Now he knew why she wanted him to come with her-for a good laugh. He shook his head-never again. He had never been so embarrased before. Even if it was such a little thing, it was still embarrasing.

Just as he was about to throw them in, he heard somebody downstairs say," He's WHAT?"
Then, he heard loud footsteps come stomping upstairs. The door burst open, and Wren stood there.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GIVE ME THOSE CLOTHES!" she said. She ran over and grabbed them out of his hands. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOUR GOING TO BURN THESE CLOTHES! THEY AREN'T EVEN YOURS!"

"Take them then. I don't want them," Turthôl said.

"For your information, they're my father's old clothes."

"What kind of pipeweed was your dad father smoking when he bought those?" Turthôl asked.

"That is just like you, Turthôl! You are so ungrateful," Wren said.

"Whatever," he said as he started to head downstairs.

"You know, I have a mind to report you to the soldiers," she said jokingly.

"About what?" Turthôl demanded.

"Oh, you know. After they arrest you, they'll take you to Dol Amroth for..."she froze. The look Turthôl gave her made a chill run down her back.

"If you ever mention that to me or anyone else, I'll..."he said in a whisper. He didn't bother to finish. He turned and went downstairs, leaving Wren in silent shock.

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[maikafanawen]

Exasperated, the noblewoman walked back into his room. Sighing to herself, Wren folded the shirt and pants up into a tight ball and dropped it into the fire. She watched the clothes burn, a smile on her face. Yes, they were her father’s old clothes. Old, that means he doesn’t need them anymore. So why shouldn’t they burn? No one in their right mind would wear those now. They were the style ten years ago when her father was much thinner, which is why Turthôl was able to fit into them. Aragoss, wasn’t able to tell the difference though, to him, Turthôl’s style meant wealth, and importance. The even sillier looking jacket she folded nicely and left it on Turthôl’s bed with a note pinned to it:

Don’t mind if ye burn it, but ye should have asked first anyhow.

The noblewoman stoked the fire, enabling it to lap up the entire costume. Turthôl was a spaz. That’s all there is to it. He lost his temper so easily, and couldn’t join in a light-hearted joke for anything. But then again, she had met only one ranger that did believe that levity should be an important part of one’s life. All the others denied it, and dwelt instead on the paths they would be better of forgetting. However, there was still something that made Wren care for Turthôl. Was it pity? Well, hopefully, she’d find out soon, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand the ranger.

Propping the stoker against the fireplace alongside the shovel and clamper, she left the room, closing the door silently behind her.

* * *

Ani Dao left the inn nodding to a few of the company who were with Wren and Rangar passed her into the common room. She took her black gloves out of her pockets and pulled them on as she made her way down to the docks where the Silver Wyrm was harboured. The elf was a dock’s length away when she saw its three proud masts reaching above the rooftops to touch the wispy clouds that had gathered that evening. The sails billowed and fought as the crew wrestled them back into their rolls after seeing to the necessary repairs.

Turning the corner, Ani Dao saw the complete ship in its finery. She was easily one of the grandest ships she had even sailed. Three hundred and fifty feet in length made of wood that planked the sides, hard as iron, it was known to withstand even the surliest weather. Its masts were equally as strong made of the same timber and reaching up to one hundred and sixty-five feet. The sails were made of tough canvas and each grommet was of the finest brass make Mr. Chambria could afford, which was the best. The Silver Wyrm’s hull was a dark shade of green with its name written in silver on both the starboard and port side of the ship on the bow just behind the figure-head. The figure-head was a dragon, its body twisting into three humps before its head, with three tusks on each side of the jaw, opened revealing razor sharp teeth and a forked tongue. Its red eyes watched the oncoming waves, on the lookout for any rocks or other barriers. Ani Dao swelled with pride to think that she would captain a crew of twenty-two fine men aboard such a ship. Its size dominated that of any other in the port as did its splendour.

She leapt up the gangplank and onto the deck, nodding to the sailors working on the jollyboats; there were two on each side of the ship just before the ladders leading up to the forecastle deck. Ani Dao looked around approvingly. The crew had done a fine job of cleaning it up. In a minute she would take a few around to check that everything was in working order: the sails could be let down smoothly, all the stays were strong and unfrayed, and things of the sort.

“Captain!” said a voice from behind. The elf turned to see a young, sun-tanned man with a thing goatee around his mouth, thick blonde hair and dark brown eyes. It was her first mate, Mr. Prey Dorengil.

“Ah, Mr. Dorengil,” she nodded her head courteously and shook hands with the man.

“Welcome aboard captain. Guildhall and Thallick have loaded your things into the captain’s quarters. The rest are doing last-minute cleanings and repairings. We are awaiting your next orders, captain.” He stood up straight with his shoulders back when he addressed her; it was the form of respect due any captain.

“We will be boarding the supplies early in the morning,” she answered, taking off her cap and twisting it around in her hands as she surveyed the ship. “Now, would you be so kind as to call the crew aboard for a quick attendance.” Dorengil nodded and bellowed out,

“All Hands!” An echo of all hands rang throughout the ship as men scrambled onto the spar deck to stand before their captain. The first mate produced a scroll of parchment and immediately began to call out their last names. Upon hearing their name, each sailor would step forward, doff their caps (if any) and nod politely to their new captain, identifying their self before her.

“Yazven, Hach, Thallick, Dane, Guildhall, Ryeran, Symk, Corat, Darreck, Javen, Worerett, Thyerdon, Lorep, Deverzel, Horenpil, Soaqille, Othan, Bayor, Talon—” Ani Dao’s heart skipped a beat. Dalon? Did he say Dalon?

“Stop Mr. Dorengil, but did you say Dalon?” The man paled for a second than cleared his expression.

“N-no Captain. I said Talon,” he gestured to the line-up who had also paled and began to murmur nervously. One man however stepped forward and dipped his floppy hat boldly.

“Talon, Captain. Deorby Talon.” Ani Dao looked back towards Dorengil.

“New is he?” The first mate nodded. “That’s fine Mr. Talon. I would be very dishearted if I heard of any a Dalon upon my ship. One thing, because he should be dead. Another thing, is because any relation would be just as unlucky. ‘Tis all. You may continue Mr. Dorengil.” The rest of the names were called out:

“Kyerswan, Ptal, and Ghyer.” The men stood at attention. Ani Dao smiled.

“This will be brief,” she began. “I have sailed with all save for the last three, Kyerswan, Ptal and Ghyer, and Mr. Talon, before, so you all know me well. I do not tolerate fights of any sort between ye. If there is a problem, First Mate Dorengil, or Second Mate Yazven will bring it strait to me. I also do not tolerate mutiny. If ye are accused of mutiny ye will spend the rest of the voyage in irons and will be sent straight to the law upon return. There will be lashes given for over-sleeping, idleness during a watch, drunkenness, gambling, and disrespect of any kind to me, either of the mates, or our passengers.

“Ye will be broken up into watches as is standard. Mr. Dorengil will be in charge of the watch I, and Mr. Yazven will be in charge of watch II. I want Hach, Thallick, Dane, Guildhall, Ryeran, Symk, Corat, Darreck, Kyerswan, and Ptal on watch I with Mr. Dorengil. The rest will be under Mr. Yazven with watch II. This is clear. The watches are procedure.

“Our destination is Harad, as you all have been told upon hiring. Once there, we will anchor the ship in a bay or a ways off of land and the passengers, I, and only a handful of crew members will take jolly boats in to the shore. Most of ye will stay on board with Mr. Dorengil. I want this understood now, should we not return upon a set time, ye will pledge your new allegiance to him as your captain and sail home at once. I have written a multitude of letters each explaining differently the turnout of our trip, should things go amiss.

“That having been said I commend ye all on your work thus far. I do not require ye spend tonight in the forecastle but if ye wish, ye may do so. I do expect to see each and every one of ye up sharp tomorrow morning at six to load the provisions. Fine then, dismissed.” The crew, mixed between light spirits with their well-liked captain and the gravity of the journey, returned to their duties.

“And Dorengil, one more thing. We will be having passengers. A total of nine if I’ve heard correctly. Their quarters are in fine shape I trust?”

“Yes Captain, two to a quarter. Have ye their belongings?”

“No, they will be delivered tomorrow. Ye may go about your business and dismiss them at 9.”

“Goodnight Captain.” Ani Dao walked to the edge of the railing, running her hand along its cool surface. With a trustworthy crew, and a sturdy ship, she hoped that it would turn out to be a safe and pleasant journey. She checked up quickly on the repairs done, and the state of the quarters. Her own quarters were very nicely furnished with mahogany furniture, secured to the floor, curtained windows and even a full-length mirror on one wall. She decided she would rather spend the night at the Crown Dagger instead of on the ship, so she grabbed a few of her things and left the Silver Wyrm in its magnificence, making her way back to the merry tavern.

[ June 12, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Everdawn]

The company had glanced upon the ship which they would be taking to Harad. Énien did not know what to think, instead she was just quiet and said nothing. Calimir looked a little uneasy as did Rangar. There was a crew upon the ship. 'Shifty looking men' thought the elf. "well, if Ani Dao knows these men, they must be safe." said Énien allowed, attempting to calm everyone, but they were obviously not concerned for the same reasons that she was. "Ive never been on a ship!" cried Rave looking at the ship. "Oh, my! look how wonderful it is!" she was over excited. "Wont it be fun to go sailing, and look we get to meet new people!"

Énien looked plainly at her. "yes, most exciting" she remarked in a dreary tone. ** What if they are spies, how well does this elf know them? where have they come from? How does she know none of them are in league with Barodir?so many questions passed her mind. "But, she is an elf, so she knows what she is doing" said Énien aloud, causing Rave to give her a strange look. "Are you sure you are all right, that scar on you eyebrow not gone any deeper and rattled your brain Énien?"

She had almost forgotten about the scar. "NO!" said the elf and held her head high. "my brain has not been rattled, it has served me well for over 76 of your lifetimes mortal!"
"Take it easy!" said Ravenne. "You have had a bad attitude all the way here elf, and frankly i don’t like it, i don’t want to leave my horse any more than you do!" she stopped like a child who had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. "sorry, Énien" she said.
"no my dear, if you had something on your mind you should have told me to change my attitude than and there." then Énien laughed. "Rohan girl, fiery women aren’t you!" Rave laughed then as well. "oh my! well at least im not a stubborn and arrogant elf"
"What can i say?" replied Énien.
maybe i am loosing my mind the thought trailed off.

Once again they found themselves at the Tavern. Rangar once again looked to be thinking as he sat across the other side of the table from the elf. "The ship-" Énien began, Rangar frowned. The elf looked him in the eye. "This wasn’t your idea was it!"

[ June 11, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl arrived downstairs and entered the common room. The anger must have shown on his face because the smiles on the others' faces quickly faded. Rangar opened his mouth to say something but Turthôl walked right past him and to the bar.

"What can I get ya?" the inn keeper said.

"Ale...a pint of the strongest you have," Turthôl grumbled. The innkeeper filled the mug and handed it to him.

"Hard day?" the man asked.

"Nope, just a hard woman," Turthôl answered.

"Ahhh, I see. Is that her right there?" the innkeeper motioned behind Turthôl. Turthôl turned and looked. Wren was walking down the stairs and went to sit with the others. They started talking and she motioned over to Turthôl. She looked mad herself.

The innkeeper stammered. "Why...that's Miss Chambria. You mean her?"

"Yeah."

"Her family is one of the most well known folks around here. Quite a looker, she is." The innkeeper chuckled.

"I agree with you there but wait until you travel hundreds of miles with her," Turthôl said.

"Are you two...uhhh...you know."

Turthôl interrupted. "No, no. She's just my companion, temporarily." He looked down at his mug. It was empty. "Give me a refill, innkeeper." It was promptly refilled.

Rangar's voice was heard from the table. "Don't drink too much ale. You'll be drunk like back in Bree." Rangar and the others started laughing at the memory Rangar had just stirred up.

Turthôl turned and held his mug in the air.
"Here's to frilly clothes and good ale. Cheers, friend." And with that toast, he drained his mug. The burn that it made in his throat was satisfying.

"Here you go, innkeeper," Turthôl said. He paid the man and headed back to the stairs.
As he walked past the others, he was glad to see a look of confusion on the others faces.

He headed back up to his room. Turthôl shut the door and bolted it.

He noticed that the silly jacket was folded neatly and to it, a note was pinned:

Don’t mind if ye burn it, but ye should have asked first anyhow.

He looked into the fire and was surprised to see cloth ashes in it. Wren must have burned the other clothes. He was about to toss it into the fire also, but something stopped him. Instead, he opened his knapsack and placed it inside with the note still pinned.

Since the door was locked, he wouldn't be disturbed, and he wouldn't open it to nobody.
He took a seat by the fire, stoked it, and took out his fife. Its haunting melodies played throughout the night, even when the others were fast asleep.

[Arvedui III]

Rangar felt horrible from the moment Turthol shoved him out the door. Clearly his friend was too humiliated to joke. "What can you laugh at if not at yourself?" He mumbled as he rejoined the others, figuring that Turthol needed time to fume before he apologized; Yet for what Rangar still had to work out. "What's up?" Tareth asked. "We overdid it." Rangar said simply and looked up toward the room. "Why?" Said Enien, still grinning broadly. "He's gonna burn those cloths now, he means it." "HE'S WHAT?!" Wren burst out, causing many in the tavern to cease their conversations and stare. "Going to burn those horrid cloths." Rangar shrugged. It wasn't a great deal, leastways, he thought it wasn't. Wren didn't answer, but began storming up the stairs toward Turthol's room.

The group sat in silence while muffled yells issued from the chamber for several minutes, then Turthol came down the stairs. Rangar got up, but before the words could leave his mouth Turthol flopped down at the bar. Not again. What does he find so great in drinking? Then, before he could stop himself, "Don't drink too much, you'll be drunk like back in Bree." Stupid! He thought, but couldn't help laughing all the same. Wren had now rejoined them, and after Turthol made the oddest reaction possible to his words: a toast; He went back upstairs and bolted the door.

"That was smart." Rangar said aloud, though meaning to only scold himself. "Should we try and-" Bregand started, now wearing a similar guilty look. "No, just leave him be." Rangar cut in. "Let's all find beds and take some rest." They did, Turthol's haunting fife wandering into their rooms throughout the night.
-------------------------
Rangar woke early as always, and it seemed a mercy to do so some nights, this one in particular. It had passed through his mind more than once that Barodin had awoken memories, albeit hazy, undistinguishable memories, that should have just stayed put. But, he wanted to know them, didn't he? Not like this. He thought as the sat down against the wall near Turthol's room, shaking off the familiar bad dream head ache. Quite suddenly, the blot slid out of the lock and the door hit Rangar, knocking him out of his thoughts and onto the floor. "How did I know." Came the sarcastic statement from behind the door. "Turthol, I'm" Rangar began, getting to his feet. "I know, I know. Don't worry about it." Said Turthol through a yawn, stepping outside and into view.

Soon, the rest of the company rose, and most reluctantly, Rangar followed Wren to the wharf where the Silver Wrym lay in harbor. Ships. Why ships? Rangar felt very uncomfortable around the sea, most of all on a wooden boat. However, despite all his misgivings the ship took his breath away, and suddenly he understood a little why the men of Dol Amroth used such crafts for their banner. She was huge, and green of her sides glinted in the sun magnificently. Still, he supposed his disquiet showed for Enien, who had previously been talking to Rave, asked him frankly, "This wasn't your idea, was it."

Before he could answer, the elf Ani Dao appeared beaming, and came down the gangway. As she reached them, the elf asked, "Ready to go?" Rangar gulped. "Yep, show us aboard."

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir's stomach had leapt at the thought of traveling to Harad by ship. He didn't know quite where he stood about the idea. As the company walked down toward the pier, Calimir stayed close to Enien, unable to still the strange fluttering of his heart. He hadn't seen the ocean, nor had he been on any boat larger than a small rowboat on a lake.

As they neared the ship a cool wind began to whip about their faces, and a soft whispering let Calimir know that they were approaching the water. Soon the ship came into sight, tall masted and with a carved dragon on the prow. Calimir stared at it for a moment, hesitant to approach it closer. They stopped on the wharf for a while, while Ani Dao and Rangar talked. Calimir pulled a knife from his belt and turned it in his hands, idly. A small shove from the side caused him to slip, and slice his index finger open.

"Enien!" Calimir, snapped, "Pay more attention." he wrapped the injured finger in the hem of his tunic.

"Relax, Mellon." Enien said to him, "It's only a ship. You aren't leaving forever yet." Calimir exhaled slowly, realizing that Enien had discovered just what his trouble was. He met her eyes cautiously and stepped toward the ship. Most of the rest of the company was already aboard. Calimir walked up the gangplank slowly, feeling the unfamiliar motion under his feet. The breeze was a little stronger as they left the shelter of the buildings on the pier, and it carried a strange smell, a tangy mix of fish and dampness.

Ani Dao, their elven captain, stopped him as he walked past her. "Mae Govannen!" she said, with a faint note of surprise in her voice.

"Mae Govannen," Calimir replied, "You are from Mirkwood?" he asked her, wondering how an elven woman of Mirkwood ended up as a ship's captain in Gondor.

"Aye, I am." her eyes twinkled as she answered Calimir's unspoken question. "It's a long story, how I got here, friend. A story for another time, I think." She grinned widely. "Welcome aboard the Silver Wyrm!"

Calimir took his leave of Ani Dao and took his pack below the deck, the curious rocking was exaggerated down here, and he was unsteady on his feet, leaning a hand to the wall as he tossed his things onto one of the narrow bunks and sat down. He closed his eyes, imagining Glorenwen beside him, imagining the time they would leave at last...

[Everdawn]

Reluctantly, Rave had persuaded Énien to leave behind Melliant with Ani Dao's horses. Though it took many hours. Énien sung elven songs into the horses ear and left the stables, unable to stay any longer.


They had boarded the ship. Énien had only been on one a handful of times. Calimir looked terrible, and it begins... separation of this world will not be easy for him or Glorenwen as it has been for me, i am long since detached. she thought, as her friend stayed close to her side.

Calimir has been so kind to me, now it is my turn. Calimir had gone into his room on the ship. "Are you all right? I know this may be hard for you, as it is the beginning..."

"worry not for me." he said to her in elvish. "i need to get my barings." she nodded and went above deck. Énien glanced at the crew, who all looked at her. She was very wary of them. Some nodded, though she did not show them the same courtesy. Some of the others were also there.

Rave was at the front of the ship. "this is so fun! i cant believe i havnt been on one before!" screamed Rave over the wind. "The novelty wears off, trust me!" replied Énien.

[The X Phial]

The constant rocking motion of the ship had undone Bregand's stomach. He stood on the deck of the Silver Wyrm and watched the lands on his maps float by, unheeded. He felt a flicker of excitement, but mostly just naseous. On the deck it was easier to keep his food down. The air was crisp and he could see the motion. In his cabin, which he shared with Tareth, the rocking and stuffy air had kept him bedridden. He wondered if the crew would mind him sleeping on the deck.

Between heaves he noticed another non-crew member on the deck. It was late, so this surprised him. Bregand steeled himself and walked over the the lone figure. It was Calimir and he seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"Does the ship not agree with you either, friend?"

The elf took a long moment to reply. "It's not the ship, Bregand, it is the sea. Every moment we grow closer. Already the gulls are crying and my heart is full of unrest."

Bregand knew of the sea longing from history and tales. He was surprised that Calimir had agreed to this leg of the journey, and that the other elves seemed unaffected. On the other hand, he was of a race that had once ruled the seas and he couldn't keep his rations from feeding the fish. He put a comforting hand on Calimir's arm.

"I have seen many things on this journey, and the sea is only one new thing to me. One I could live without, to be honest. But I know it's different for you, and if the concern of one lowly mortal makes any difference to you, I do feel for you."

With that eloquent thought he ran to the other side of the ship and continued his campaign of fish meal provision.

[ June 12, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl sat in his cabin, feeling horrible. He had drank too much of that ale and now he was feeling it. Feeling his stomach churn, he bolted for the deck.

"I told you, too much ale," said Rangar from behind him. Turthôl was too busy to answer. He had never been on a ship, and this was turning out to be a bad first experience.

"Is someone not used to the sea?" said a teasing voice behind him. He didn't even need to turn. It was Wren. He sensed that since he was incapable of responding (his mouth was full at the moment), she would take advantage of the situation.

He knew that he would have to excercise his patience while he barfed as Wren got her two cents in.

[maikafanawen]

Wren had raced passed the others up the gangplank and grasped Ani Dao’s hand.

“Here we go!” she shouted, as the wind ripped around her, sea spray mingled with the morning breeze. Ani Dao smiled and began shouting orders to the crew. The anchor was hoisted and the jolly boats began to move the ship away from the docks and down river out of the harbour. Men began to climb aloft ready to unleash the sails and stays were unwrapped from their figure eight holds and grasped firmly in the calloused hands of sailors. The mizzen course, and inner and outer jibs were opened and began to pump in the wind. When the Silver Wyrm was away from the docks, Ani Dao had them open the front spritsails.

After she was finished she hopped down to the quarterdeck and stood next to Wren who had just finished helping a sailor get a splinter out of his hand. The man was very impatient and insisted that he could do it himself. She had seen him trying to dig it out with a knife and stepped in at once.

“There ye go Mr. Dalleck. Keep it clean,” she stood, wrapping the remainder of unused bandage around her wrist. The sailor shook his head and chuckled.

“Thank ye miss. Though, next time it happens I’ll make sure to take care of it outa yer sight.” With that he winked and ascended the shrouds and ratlines up the mizzenmast, ready to free the sails.

“You’re going to be quite busy if ye plan to help each and every of the crew with a little cut or scrape,” remarked the she-elf. “Ready to sail?” Wren nodded enthusiastically and pulled herself up the forecastle deck railings, dodging hands bringing a trunk back down to quarters. Sidestepping the crewman holding a tight grip on the forestays, she jumped down to the small deck just behind the bow.

When they were clear of the docks and a blue strip of wide river beckoned them on, Ani Dao’s voice rang out above the wind, “Alright men! We’re clear. Let ‘em loose!” The sails, free from their halyards, beat out against the wind, catching the breeze and sending the ship forward down the Anduin. They were off to Harad. It was the final leg of their journey.

***

“Ani Dao! Where are my things? Which cabin I mean?” asked Wren, tying her windblown hair out of her face. The elf looked up from the maps strewn on the table where Ryeran, the sailing master chosen for the expedition.

“Yours is the third on the left going down the stairs. We almost had just enough rooms. Only one needed to be shared. Your ranger friends took it up.” The noblewoman left the Captain to the maps and charts and retreated to her room for a bit of organizing and settling in. The first room on the right was Turthôl’s and Rangar’s. The door was open.

“Is someone not used to the sea?” she said peeking in to see Turthôl looking unhealthy. He vomited and the noblewoman recoiled. Disgusting. She dug into her pockets producing a licorice stick. “Here,” she said, thrusting the candy before him. He looked up, angry. “Oh, no. I’m not poking fun. It helps with stomach problems. Carmalita’s making basil and rosemary tea now. It helps also with sea-sickness.” Nodding, the ranger took the licorice stick, though somewhat reluctantly, and began to chew on it. “I’ve got more if ye need it. The apothecary just got a new shipment before we left. I bought a few pounds of it.” Deciding that Turthôl would probably rather be left alone in with his mild agony, she excused herself and returned to her cabin where she draped a velour spread over her bed: one of her few luxuries she had accepted from Ani Dao whose cabin was decorated with the regular captain’s finery. After her cabin was relatively comfortable, she went to help with Carmalita who was bossing Hach, the cook around, telling him just what to put in the tea.

“This is going to be the cleanest ship I’ve ever been on!” said Ani Dao as she passed by on her way to her cabin to retrieve yet another map. “What with Wren’s hygiene and Carmalita’s dietary methods, we’ll come home plump, hale and hearty!”

Mr. Dorengil’s watch, under the scrutiny of Carmalita working at the other end of the table on organizing her herbs, ate quickly, and with good manners, bringing Hach their mess plates when they were finished. Wren suppressed a chuckle as she watched them between stitches on a pair of woolen socks.

“I think we’re a good influence on these swabs,” she whispered across to Carmalita. The nurse laughed out loud, spilling her bowl of Valerian on the table. Finally the sun sank, and Mr. Yazven’s men took the second dog watch.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Surprised that Wren said nothing except offer him a licorice stick, Turthôl chewed on it after she left. Hmmmm, this is pretty good, he thought. And it was his favorite flavor, strawberry. And without a doubt, his stomach began to settle down.

Turthôl gazed into the bucket that he had been using, and grimaced. He needed to go empty this thing.
_____________________________________________

He gazed over the edge and into the sea. After placing the bucket back into his and Rangar's quarters, he headed back out on deck to get some fresh air. The salty air was pretty relaxing. He breathed deeply.
He noticed the captain, Ani Dao, walk by.

"What brings an elf from Mirkwood into southern Gondor?" he asked her.

"Its a long story, one that began with a journey to Erebor," she answered. "You remind me of one of my companions who died at the battle of Erebor."

"I think I know who you mean. One of my kin, Arlómë. He traveled with a company of men, dwarves and elves to Erebor, and died there."

"Yes, thats him. I guess all Dúnedain from the north resemble eachother. Your eyes are different though. His were grey. Yours are black," Ani Dao observed.

"The elves wondered about that when I was born. They said it was a sign of something dark within me. I guess they were right. I'm known among Imladris and Lorien as a rogue ranger."

Ani Dao nodded, but did not reply.

"Are you going to head across the sea to Valinor?" Turthôl asked.

"I don't know. Maybe some day," she replied. "Well, I have captain's duties to attend to." She turned to walk up to the helm.

"Captain, do you know where Wren is at?" he asked.

Ani Dao smiled. "She's in her quarters doing some finishing touches." Turthôl started to head that way when Ani Dao added, "Turthôl, be nice."

Turthôl laughed and headed to the quarters area.
____________________________________________

Seeing her door open, Turthôl stood in the doorway. Wren, sensing his presence, looked up.

"Yes?" she asked. "Is your stomack ok?"

"Oh, yeah, its better," he replied. He stopped. For some weird reason, his mind went suddenly blank.

Wren looked at him. He could tell that she was expecting him to say something. But what?
His mind was still blank. Then, he remembered what he came to say.

"Well?" she said, prompting him to speak.

"Can I have more licorice?"

[ June 12, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir didn't return to his quarters that night. After Bregand left him he moved closer to the prow, staring out over the sea at the water rippling gently out of sight. The wind had died down a bit, and the sails hung not quite full. The night was grey and the moon shone clear and cold. The elf shivered in its pale light, watching its white reflection play on the surface of the water. Every now and again, the light would flicker below the surface and Calimir would feel the sheer depth and weight of the water below him.

He had quickly adjusted to the movement of the ship beneath his feet, and he moved with it now, shifting his weight to meet the rise and swell of the waves, keeping his feet easily as he leaned agains the railing. One finger reached out and traced the length of the silver dragon figurehead. The elf licked the drop of water off the end of his finger, simply to taste the salt. He'd been tasting the salt spray on his tongue since the ship had pulled away from the pier, and the taste of it lingered in his mouth.

He let his eyes stray again, out over the water, out westward. Glorenwen was right, he knew, she's been right all along, and he had been a fool. The West was the place they belonged, their true home. He tore his eyes away from the white gleam of the stars on the water as someone came up beside him. "You feel it too, the call of the sea." It was Ani Dao, she said it bluntly, like it was a fact of life.

"Yes, I feel it." he said hesitantly, "Why do you not sleep?" Calimir didn't want to discuss this, didn't want to realize that the Great Waters were simply waters like any other.

"I need little sleep." Ani Dao replied, tracing the grain of the wooden railing with a long finger. "I felt it too. The first time I saw a ship, the first time I felt it move under my feet. I felt it in the first storm I saw, with the lightning flickering over the water. Oh yes, I felt it."

"But you don't feel it now?" Calimir asked, bemusedly. He had heard of the sea-longing, heard the tales and songs of the falathrim. He didn't know that it could be cured by time or herblore.

"I feel it still." Ani Dao said with a small smile. "And you will too." She placed a hand on his arm companionably, then moved off toward the helm. Calimir stared after her for a moment, and then his gaze returned to the green water.

The breeze stiffened just before sunrise, and Calimir's wonder was new with the feeling of the salt spray dancing on his face, and the sound of the sails snapping in the wind. The sun rising pink and gold in front of him was the last glory of the night, painting the water in silver and purple, drenching the sky in light. The elf stood silently, watching.

[ June 13, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

[maikafanawen]

In truth, down in her heart, Ani Dao knew she’d never cross the sea. It was rare even for Silvan elves, as was Ani Dao, to do. None-the-less, the sea had called still every time she boarded a ship. However, as the years went by, the calls become less apparent, and soon, the captain hoped, they would grow to be altogether dormant.

The weather was beautiful the first night on the ship and Ani Dao left her cabin to walk around the deck, enjoying the cool breeze. She watched Talon and Ghyer work during their watch, since they were new. They seemed very competent of what they were doing. The reason Ani Dao had allowed them to sign on in the first place was because the elf’s friend, Ravenwyn, had said they were trust-worthy enough men that she had sailed with once or twice, or her father had.

Satisfied with the work aboard the Silver Wyrm, Ani Dao sat atop a pile of canvas extras to read through the Silver Wyrm’s log Wren had given her. Producing a quill she wrote down the names and positions of the crew along with a list of the passengers plus the date they set out.

She was almost finished when Wren brought her some tea and piece of licorice.

“I’ve been passing it out to all the passengers,” she said. “They’ve greatly appreciated it. I’m glad I thought to stop by the apothecary.” Ani Dao nodded.

“Hope ye haven’t tempted any of my hands,” she said mockingly. Wren shrugged her shoulders.

“Horenpil, Othan and Bayor took some licorice. But I think they just wanted something sweet.” Ani Dao laughed softly and went back to work on the log.

Wren left the captain and made her way back down to her cabin. She opened her trunk and began shuffling through it looking for something to read. Then she came across her sketchbook and opened the pocket in the lid of the trunk for her box of charcoals. She pulled them out and stood, placing them on the desk that folded down from the wall.

The noblewoman sat and began to draw. The first picture was of Culfin, her horse she had left with Ani Dao. It was nicely shaded, and one could pick out the different splotches of sorrel and white color on the overo. Her second drawing was of Ani Dao. She made her ears less pointy than other elves because to Wren, the captain was more man than elf. She put her in the captain’s clothes she wore now and tall black boots.

Suddenly, Turthôl appeared at the door. Wren looked up. Yes?" she asked. "Is your stomack ok?"

"Oh, yeah, its better," he replied. Then he fell silent, and looked as though he had forgotten how to speak.

“Well?” she asked.

“Can I have more licorice?” he blurted out. Wren smiled.

“Of course. I gave it to Carmalita to keep in her room. I thought she should be more or less, in charge of it. I’ll come with you.” She shut her sketchbook and placed her charcoals back in their box before leading Turthôl towards Carmalita’s room. They passed Hach on his way back to the galley.

“Mr. Hach!” called Wren. The sailor stopped and turned, two pewter pots in his hands. “Is Carmalita in the galley?” The man nodded.

“Yes she is, Miss. Labeling those herbs and spices she’s got. Ye need her?” Wren smiled and pointed to Turthôl who batted her hand away.

“Licorice,” she said. Mr. Hach nodded and beckoned them forward. Carmalita was just packing away her many pouches and wrapping her mortar and pestle away when they entered. She looked up and nodded knowingly, pointing to her second bag. Wren opened it and pulled out two sticks of licorice, handing them to Turthôl. He pocketed one and put the other in his mouth.

“Mm,” he said. “Thanks.” Wren took two also and followed the ranger out of the galley up to the quarter deck.

[Arien]

Wren and Turthol left the room thanking her for the Licorice, she continued to pack her things away and place them into the cupboard she had newly christened her cupboard. She opened the door and inside were piled the contents of her bag. Numerous herbs, copious amounts of herbal teas for different sicknesses and bags of powder and various bandages and bags. She placed her mortar and pestle into the cupboard and shut it firmly. She tied the pouch containing the Licorice on her belt, no doubt it would be needed than more than Turthol and Wren throughout their journey.

She now made her way to her room, sucking a bit of Licorice. It wasn’t so much that the sea made her sick, just she needed something sweet and she quite enjoyed the taste. She entered her small room. It was simple, a single bed, a desk, mirror and a window with a large sill. She liked this part of her room the best. She could easily open the window and sit on the sill and look out onto the sea. So this is what she did. She opened the window and delicately hoped on to the sill making herself comfortable against one of her pillows. She undone her hair and wrapped Bregand’s ribbon around her wrist. It blew in the soft breeze and the salty air brushed her face gently. The rising suns light gently touched her face and she smiled.

This is why she wanted to come, to feel the adventure to get away from her life. And then she remembered Crystal, her innocent daughter. She never meant to disrupt Carmalita’s life, it was not her fault and for the first time she had left Bree she really missed her! How she would have loved to been here, to meet the elves, the men, sail on a ship. Meet her knew friends, Rangar, Wren, Turthol, Rave, Calimir, Einen, Bregand……Bregand. She enjoyed his company the most, trusted him the most, loved him the most. Loved him the most? Her mind back tracked on to what she had just thought,

“love him, how could I love him?” she laughed out onto the sea. But then she was still, maybe she did.

[Arvedui III]

The gentle sway of the ship kept Rangar ill-at-ease as she pulled out of Harlond. He and Turthol both agreed to share a cabin, a simple one which he liked, as there weren't enough for everyone to have thier own room. Rangar took to wandering aimlessly around the decks, finding nothing else to occupy him. As he past the cabins he chuckled at Turthol, who was looking very green. "I told you, too much ale." But then, as Turthol let his drink come back up, Rangar grimaced and kept walking. He wasn't seasick, yet; He had the looming sense he would be soon.

But the days passed, and Rangar became almost easy at sea. And yet. The back of his mind screamed that something was terrible wrong. Perhaps it was his discomfort and guilt about Calmir and his sea longing, or maybe it was the fact that the crew addressed him as 'Sir' or ‘Master Rangar'. Terms which made him feel vastly unworthy for some reason. It was stupid, he knew. But still, Rangar couldn't help feeling as if any respect paid to him was unjustified. A sensibility which Turthol took every opportunity to joke about. 'Spose I've earned it Rangar thought as for the eighth time in five days Turthol started laughing and mock-bowing when Rangar described an incident on deck.

Only one person on the whole ship seemed to agree with his views, and strangely enough, it was a crew member, Talon. Honestly, the queer man gave Rangar the chills, but he was jovial enough to make him shrug off his fears. "Aye sir, can feel like everyone's paying you what you don't deserve." He said. "Just got to enjoy your fortune, while it lasts." He added with a smirk.

On the ninth day out from Harlond, the sky turned gray. A sense of foreboding hung over the ship and Rangar could smell rain in the salty air, but despite the signs, he felt content. And after all, a little rain never hurt anyone, did it?

[Everdawn]

Énien had been quieter than usual on this trip. She hated herself that she was not much comfort to her old friend Calimir, who was feeling the call of the Haevens. He was so nervous on this ship, and it was apparent to everyone.

It would be more difficult for him, he had his family to worry about, unlike Énien who had always been a free spirit, roaming the lands between foriegn elven realms, without anyone to worry for her. In some ways, she was very much alone. For hours she had sat in the common rooms of the ship and thought of the right things to say. But it was useless.

Rave however, was always up on the deck of the ship. She loved the sea, and the way the ship moved over the water. She had had many conversations with the men aboard and Ani Dao. She went below deck to find Énien sitting on one of the tables, one leg crossed over the other and eyes closed. "Youre not alseep are you?" she asked the elf.

"I have not been asleep properly for two hundred years my friend." she said eyes still closed. Rave sighed. "Come look at this, you should see the colour of the clouds! its fantastic, looks like a storm is coming!" she said excited.

The elf opened her eyes, as if she had been stung. A storm Énien jumped from the table and rushed to one of the port holes and took a look out the window. The clouds were almost black, over the sea. And the waves were getting bigger. She knew something would go wrong, ever since the beginning, and this may be the time for it to happen. Énien was now very nervous.

Rave dragged her above deck where it was raining. "Isnt it wonderful elf!" Rave called hanging onto the side of the ship as it began to toss. "Something doesnt feel right" Énien yelled over the roar of the ocean, and she too held onto the side of the ship, both of them now drenched.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Baroden emerged from his hiding place from within the bowels of the ship. He had been hiding in the cargo bay, eating his rations and avoiding those that came down. Now, with the approaching storm, he knew it was his time to strike.

Then, without warning, the cargo bay opened.
In walked a man and by his clothing, Baroden knew he was of high rank. The man looked up, startled.

"Who are you?" he demanded. Baroden did not answer.

"I said, who are you? Answer quickly or I shall sound the alarm!" the man demanded.

"And who are you?" Baroden asked.

The man seemed shocked at the question. His chest puffed out as he answered, "I am Mr. Johann Yazven. Now answer me!"

"I am your death!" Baroden said. And, before Yazven could say anything else, Baroden drew a dagger with his right hand. With his left, he covered the man's mouth. He cut the man's throat, slitting the jugular vein. Baroden was careful not to get any blood on him as he held Mr. Johann Yazven until he stopped struggling. After a few minutes, the man was dead.

He hid the body among the crates and wiped his dagger clean on the man's clothes. It was time to make his appearance.
_____________________________________________

Turthôl sat up on the quarter deck and chewed his licorice. Wren sat beside him but the two didn't talk. It was the first time that they didn't crack jokes and trade insults at eachother. It was peaceful, and Turthôl enjoyed it. That is until he saw the storm clouds.

As the waves became bigger and the ship began to rock, Turthôl's stomach began to heave, again.

"I'm going below decks again. My stomach's acting up," he said. Turthôl and his last licorice stick went down to his quarters.

Ani Dao came up and said, "I suggest all of you get down to your quarters. This is going to be a bad one." Then she turned and yelled," ALL HANDS ON DECK!" The passangers began going below as the crew came up.

As he entered the hallway, he passed a man coming up from the cargo bay. The man stopped him and asked, "Do you know where Master Rangar is at, sir?"

"Yes. He's up on deck," Turthôl answered.

"Thank you, sir," the man said and continued walking. Turthôl thought a moment. He didn't recognize the man. Oh well, he hadn't taken the time to get to know the crew anyways. Turthôl shrugged and headed to his cabin.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Baroden came out on deck. His breath had caught when a few of the passangers passed him, but he kept his cool and nobody said anything.

It was raining hard now, and the ship rocked. He saw a young lady along with an elf gazing out into the storm. Another she-elf was giving orders. She must be the captain, thought Baroden. He looked around. Most of the crew was dealing with the sails. They were struggling to get them rolled up before the high winds ripped the sails to shreds.

A young lady with red hair was just leaving the quarter deck, and...Rangar was standing the mast and gazing upwards, watching the crew. Now was his time to strike.

He strode forward at an amazing pace. He only had a limited amount of time. He began formulating his plan. He would run Rangar through with his sword, slit his throat with the knife for good measure. Then, he would slash the ropes holding the nearest lifeboat and escape into the water.

He passed the elf captain, who was still shouting orders. Amazingly, nobody noticed him. The storm and rain was on his side.

"HEY! YOU, HALT!" It was the captain, but Baroden ignored her. He was close to Rangar. He drew his sword and dagger. He raised his sword to strike.

"STOP HIM! RANGAR! LOOK OUT!" she shouted. The captains shouting got everyone's attention. Rangar turned at the last moment to see Baroden bring his sword down in a slash to decapitate him. Rangar ducked just in time. Having no weapons on him, Rangar ran for the cabin for a weapon.

"WE HAVE A STOWAWAY!" rang out the cry.

"STOP HIM! ITS THE HUNTER!" Rangar cried.

Baroden would have pursued but it was too late. The companions of Rangar were coming to his aide. A young woman ran at him with sword drawn.

"AERIN! NO! STAY BACK!" Rangar cried, but the woman didn't listen.

"I"ll stop you," she yelled. Baroden dodged her blow, easily. He stepped. The deck was slippery, so he stuck his foot out, tripping the woman. He slashed downwards and caught the young woman in the back. She cried out in pain. Then he plunged his sword downwards into the back of her neck, silencing her cries. Then, just to make sure, he picked up the body and threw it overboard.

Rangar and his companions were stunned. One of their companions had just been slain. Baroden, taking advantage of their shock, slashed the ropes holding the nearest lifeboat and tossed it overboard also.

"HELP!" Rangar cried.

Then, without another glance, he jumped over the side and into the sea.
_____________________________________________

Turthôl sat in his cabin, savoring his last licorice stick. Despite the storm, his stomach was fine.

"HELP!" came the cry from the deck. Even with the storm raging, Turthôl heard it clearly. It was Rangar.

Turthôl bolted out of his cabin, and bumped into Wren.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I don't know but something's wrong. Let's go!" he said.

They ran out on deck, and almost slipped. They were immediately drenched with rain. He reached Rangar.

"What happened?" Turthôl said.

"It was..." but then before Rangar could finish, a cry rang out, "WATCH OUT!"

Turthôl, Wren, Rangar, and Ani Dao looked up to see a rope wildly swinging around from the mast. Somehow, it came loose, and was wildly swinging around with the wind. It had a loop in it, resembling a noose.

The four prepared to dodge it as it swung around. It would be a disaster if it tightened around somebody's neck. Just as Turthôl prepared to dodge it, the ship leaned hard to the right. Turthôl slipped into it's path. He had no time.

Fate must have been against the ranger because his head went right intot he noose and it tightened around his neck. Turthôl was yanked up into the air. He heard the startled cry of Rangar, Ani Dao, and Wren.

"Turthôl!" Rangar cried.

"Somebody save him!" Wren shouted.

Turthôl struggled to loose himself but his own body weight held the noose tight. He could feel his air cut off in his throat. He was being strangled to death. He had no weapons on him. All his gear was in the cabin, even his dagger. He was stuck.

He caught glimpses of people on deck struggling to reach him as he swung by, but the wind and sea worked against them. Turthôl knew he was in trouble. To Rangar and the others, he looked like a rag doll being swung around on a string.

Then, without warning, Turthôl slammed straight into the mast, knocking him unconscious.
_____________________________________________

"Turthôl!" Rangar cried. He watching in vain as his friend swung helplessly through the air. Despite his tries, he was unable to reach his friend. He could see his friend struggle in vain to free himself.

Then to his and everyone's horror, the rope swung Turthôl straight into the mast. He knew Turthôl was unconcious because his arms dropped from his neck and he no longer struggled.

"NOOOOO!!!!!!" he cried. Wren beside him was sobbing, and Ani Dao called for an archer. The crew and everyone else could do nothing.

Calimir emerged on deck. Luckily, his arrows and bow were still slung on his back. The sight of Turthôl swinging in the storm caught his sight and he stared. Enien emerged from behind him. They were speechless.

"CALIMIR, QUICK! SHOOT THE ROPE!" Rangar yelled.

Without pause, Calimir strung an arrow and took aim. By this time, the whole company was on deck, watching.

Calimir fired but missed. Turthôl was still unconcious. Even in the dim light of the storm, Rangar could see that Turthôl's face was turning blue.

Calimir fired again. Miss. He strung a third arrow. He took aim. He fired.

The rope snapped, and Turthôl swung in the air towards the ground. But lady luck must have been working against them. The rope was in mid-swing when Calimir shot it. Turthôl swung straight over the rail and into the ocean.

The company and crew were shocked. Rangar stared helpless. He couldn't believe his eyes. His mind was blank with unbelief.

"MAN OVERBOARD!" he yelled.

[Everdawn]

A new man had scrambled onto the deck. Énien stood still in the rain, something was odd about this man, he seemed familliar. But Énien did not make anything of it then. She turned and walked to the doorway attempting to shake some of the water off herslef.

Then came cries from Ani-Dao. The man was attacking Rangar. It was him, yet again Énien had senced something and ignored herself, something which she swore she would never do again.

Énien was frozen with shock. The first thing she saw was Baroden leaping at Rangar. It was only Rangar and Énien who had seen this man previously on the downs.
"Its him!" scramed the elf at Calimir. "who?" he asked from below deck, "the man who almost killed Rangar last time, Rangar would be dead if i hadn't come to him!"

Aerin had gone at the hunter with her sword. Baroden soon had slain her. Énien could hardly watch from the doorway. Why cant i do anything. the elf thought amidst feelings of shock, horror and sorrow. A new feeling of rage began to overtake her.

She called to Rangar "it was him again! diddnt i tell you this was a bad idea! you knew it yourself! and yet we still came!" Rangar did not look at her instead to behind her. Turthôl had been caught in ropes. Énien could not speak. He was cholking. She did not have her bow on her "Calimir! come bring Arrows!" she yelled below deck, and in no time Calimir had shot him down- into the ocean.

"Someone help him!" Énien felt powerless to act, elves are meant for land, not sea! While the others were seeing to Turthôl, Énien went to the back of the ship pulling Calimir with her. "look!, there he goes! can you reach him?"... Calimir tried but he could not. And Énien still did not have her bow, it was down below deck, under a pile of her clothes, too far away to get to.

Calimir couldnt reach him. "I WILL GET YOU FOR THIS BARODEN! I SEWAR ON AERIN'S GRAVE I WILL KILL YOU!" Énien yelled after him, an array of tears came to her eyes.