An Audience With The King RPG

[Susan Delgado]

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

Hardo was in a foul mood. He'd been awakened out of a perfectly sound sleep this morning to an inadequate and undercooked "meal" which Orlo had cooked right in their room! Didn't he realize he could have burned the whole place to the ground? Obviously not.

He'd tried to keep track of Brando, but somehow they boy had slipped out of the Inn and gone galivanting all around Bree by himself.
He met the boy at the Inn door when he finally returned and grabbed him by the ear and dragged his reluctant self up the stairs and down the hall to their rooms, lecturing all the way.
He obviously had no notion what a dangerous place Bree could be. He hadn't even gone out with Odo or Orlo, not that they could be trusted either! Brando should have stayed right here, in the Inn, which wasn't too safe itself, but at least here Hardo could keep an eye on him.
He tossed the boy inside and locked the door. He knew full well Brando could unlock the door from the inside, but he thought (unlikely but possible) that he might stay in there of his own volition, to think about what he'd done by wandering around the town so carelessly.

Hardo went back down to the Inn's main room and ordered another ale. He wondered vaguely where the other two boys were, but decided he didn't really care; if those two got into trouble, they were old enough to get out of it by themselves. Not that Odo hadn't already had plenty of adventures already...getting into a drinking contest with a Man! What idiocy!

He sat there and drank with his back to the door leading to the upstairs rooms, so he missed Brando slipping outside again.

[ October 06, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[ October 06, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[VanimaEdhel]

****Rhûn Nation*****

Lovek saw the hostel ahead. This Olwyte...Alwyte...Ulwyte...whatever his proper name was had chosen a despicable horse. The creature had spirit, yes, but he had not been trained properly. Although a horse should keep its spirit and not be broken, it needed to have at least a bit of respect, which this horse did not have.

Lovek sighed in indignation to himself.

"Yes?" Ulwyte said to him.

"Nothing that is of any of your concern," Lovek said, "Just keep this creature moving and listening..."

Lovek saw the hostel ahead. He was familiar with hostels of this sort from when he was travelling to battle. For this reason, the very sight of one generally got his blood pumping. Lovek felt the blood quicken in his veins as his heart sped up. He struggled to control his breath.

And, very slowly, he felt the little nagging worry at the danger that must be out there disappear...

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

[Bêthberry]

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

Stonehelm was surprised that the spiders retreated so easily, but he was also dismayed to see the loss of the elf. He called out to Thranduil's heir, Look, ho, they've taken her. What are your plans? You know the venom of these spiders. Was she dead before they cocooned her? Shall we follow after?

He then turned to his dwarves, who were also stunned by the sudden retreat. We've got the one pony left here, and wagon, held by the thoughtful actions of Hringa. Stonehelm nodded a thankful, rewarding acknowledgement at the faithful dwarf.

Quickly, Pain and Stain, run to round up what other ponies have survived. Even spiders that huge cannot easily or quickly carry away a four-legged beast. Go after them to recoup what we may be able to, but be wary and cautious.

Stonehelm turned to Frain, the other engineers, and Hringa, Gather what we can of our scattered effects. Hringa, you hold fast to our nervous pony here; we don't want him running off now. Where are the Men of Dale? What are their losses?



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

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-Jarl *****

Jarl sat down at the desk in the front room, and listened to Gramil speak with the two guards. This is proving to be an expensive trip for Dale! he thought to himself, as the men detailed to Gramil what had happened. It would be no surprise to me if Bard decides to 'retire' me when I return!

The three had finished speaking. Jarl ran his hands through his hair, then beat a short, slow tattoo on the desk top in in front of him. Best to get back on task and not worry about the future, until I can iron out what has happened today. Elbows resting on the desk top, he steepled his fingers in front of him and said softly, 'What is it you need me to do to smooth this business over with the families in the bazaar?' He regarded Gramil closely, assessing just how far he might trust the man to deal fairly with him, then sat back calmly in his chair, the decision made. 'I will rely upon your judgement, as I am the offending outsider in this matter. Garlin is my assistant, and I assume full responsibility for his actions. You know the Trade community best in this town. What should our next move be?'

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

Gramil and Jarl talked late into the night. It was agreed between them that Gramil would take care of certain arrangements in the bazaar early in the morning, and then the four of them would leave with all haste for Nurn. The two young men were to stay here, until the party was ready to leave, with Gormack to stand guard that nothing unpleasant happen during the night. Gramil had balked at this idea, wanting to send the man home to his family. But Jarl had made it clear that he preferred someone he knew be here and offered to subsidize Gormack handsomely for the extra hours.

Gormack jumped at the chance to make the extra money. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stationed himself at the entry way.

It was just before dawn. Jarl walked Gramil out to the street, tightening up the few loose details of their talk as they stood on the walk. A fair number of Gold Dragons were exchanged between them. Then Gramil bid him fare well until later, and and made his way to the bazaar.

[ October 09, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar - in Nurn ****

The message arrived in the middle of the night, the knock at the farmhouse door waking the entire family. "Go back to bed!" The father spoke gently, but there was tightness and urgency in his voice that kept his three children up, listening to the visitor's voice. But the visitor whispered, and they could hear nothing but their father's final reply.

"Yes. Of course! I support you absolutely. There is not much I can do, I am a poor man, but he can stay in the cellar."

So someone was going to live in the cellar with the roots and the onions? Who would want to do that? The door closed and they dove under the covers, pretending to be asleep. Their father poked his head in the room. "Go to sleep now, there's nothing to worry about." He always knew. Their mother stood in the hallway in her nightgown, holding the candle. She looked worried, but if she said anything it wasn't in front of the children.

Several days passed, and no one came to live in the house or the cellar. Life was as normal as it had been since the coming of the men with the shiney black uniforms, and all the orcs. You had to be respectful of the black uniforms, and even the orcs, even though orcs smelled bad and were nasty. The orcs were gone now, and you weren't supposed to mention the Red Eye anymore. Before it was 'the Red Eye this' and 'the Red Eye that' about everything. But the black uniforms were still in charge. They didn't need the Red Eye anymore, and the children wondered if the black uniforms had made the Red Eye up just so they could boss people around.

The children played their games, one of them pretending to be the slavemaster, capturing the others. The 'captured' two had to work in the fields until they dropped from lack of food and decided to run away. They pretended to run away to their father, or Al-karech who used to be the mayor before the black uniforms came. Then they joined Gramil's trade caravan and went to the land in the sun, far south. He could only take so many, but they pretended they were among the lucky few. That was the usual game. Their mother didn't like it, so they played it out of earshot.

Then the soldiers came. The kids had been taught to hide whenever soldiers came, especially if their blades were drawn, so they opened the window and then dove under the bed. The window had to be open. If things got very dangerous, they were to go out the window and run into the woods, else they might be taken away as slaves. They had done that many times over the last few years.

Fortunately this time they didn't have to sit in wet leaves, shivering, waiting for their parents to come and get them. These soldiers their father let in, quickly closing the door. The soldiers were looking all around, scared, knives and swords drawn, protecting someone in the middle. They were dirty, and some had blood on them. And on their swords.

Their mother made a big pot of soup even though it was late at night. The soldiers ate it like wolves, talking anxiously, though it was was hard to understand what was going on. But they were really nice, thanking their mother a lot for the soup and for letting them come. Soldiers weren't usually like that. Usually they came and took what they wanted, and broke things.

Their youngest sister dropped a spoon on the floor and they all jumped up, one had his sword out in a flash, so fast. The man who was in the middle told them to sit down, but their little sister started crying anyways she was so scared. Their mother picked her up, and the man in the middle got up, talked softly to little sis, and made his glove into a dancing puppet. She buried her face into her mother's shoulder away from him, but she did stop crying.

As the sky started to lighten to a pre-dawn grey the soldiers left, thanking their mother and father as though soup in the middle of the night had saved their lives.

But the man in the middle stayed. Their mother put a bed in the cellar. She even used their best linen. His name, they learned, was Al-Gareth.

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

[Guildo]

<<<<Eryn Lasgalen>>>>>

Orodan & Nefros

The battle was furious, going to fast to possibly think.
Nefros saw his sister being attacked by the spiders and was furious, he became a totally different person enraged and unable to be calmed.

Orodan also saw the attack on Isilya and though he was concerned with her demise, he was a bit more concerned at the time, with Nefros staying out of the way of the dwarves stones.

“NEFROS!”
“NEFROS!”
”NEFROS!”

Orodan repedidly shouted, trying to get closer to Nefros while slashing the horrid spiders with his long sword. He knew the spiders where after him but was surprised at the fact they where hardly concerned with him, for the Dwarves and Men where fighting a battle one could write books about.
Orodan continued and continued to attempt to get Nefros’s attention by shouted his name, but Nefros was too engulfed by his fury to realize what was going on.

“NEFROS!” Shouted Orodan. Even as the Spiders retreated Nefros followed as though he was a totally different being altogether with tunnel vision focused on only one sight.

“NEFROS!” Shouted Orodan. As Girion and Rubin held him back from chasing after his beloved companion. To Orodan time itself seemed to slow down as Nefros vanished in the wood, and the Elvish Prince thought back of a time hundreds of years ago when he watched his brother Finwe fade into the blur of battle never to see him again.

Once again he shouted.

“NEFROS......!”

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

[Child of the 7th Age]

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

Urken shook his head and scowled. The two kings would never believe it, but the little mouse on the gangplank had been no trick of his! He cursed himself for bellowing out with a laugh. When he'd seen the melee, he knew it would make a perfect cover for seizing the other ships, and his response had sprung from nowhere. His reserve troops had moved forward to seize the booty. They had done their job well.

But this was not his primary goal. He had wanted to gain some cooperation or even good will from the other kings, and it looked as if that chance had been lost, at least for now.

The ships had slipped out of the harbor and rounded the hook where they would change direction towards the north. He flashed the sign to the ship ahead, requesting that they stop in the shallows just before the vessels headed north. He would need to make a gesture of conciliation. His men undid the winch and slipped the small boat into the waters. They rowed him over, and he requested entry, coming aboard in the basket which was thrown over the rail and then cranked upward.

He nodded in respect to the kings. "We need to talk sailing tactics and strategy against the Corsair ship which goes ahead of us. I fear the villages along the banks of the Anduin may be reluctant to give us passage with this ship stopping to raid along the way."

The men eyed each other warily. Herumir and Fuinur were not comfortable with the situation, but had no choice except to deal with the priest. They talked at some length about the distance and time involved: some 327 leagues to Minas Anor. The ship could manage about 2.4 leagues per hour. In a single day that meant about 57 leagues. So a distance of 327 leagues could be covered in a little over five and a half days.

That is, the distance could be covered if they did not run into any diversions or roadblocks. But they would surely have to deal with that Corsair ship. Urken suggested that the two kings consult and devise a plan to that purpose. He would support them in anything reasonable that could be suggested. "Let me know of your plans by tomorrow. See if there is some way we may deal with this without having to meet them in open battle." he urged them.

Moreoever, Urken also let them know that, before leaving port, he had instructed his soldiers to turn over one-quarter of the captured ships to each of the kings. This would mean each king would be given two of the vessels. Messengers had been dispatched to their households with the papers properly drawn up, and instructions for them to send their own men to occupy the ships. Another two had been ceded to the Harad council, and the final two to his own household.

Urken sat back to see what response this gesture would bring.

[ October 06, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Tharkûn]

* * * * DALE--THARKÜN * * * *

Sighing, Garlin slouched down in his sturdy hardwood chair. Across the room, on Jarl's bed, Ethar slept. He's earned it, Garlin thought to himself. He was the one who had been wounded and left behind. They had had an extensive discussion about the incident when he had arrived, and Garlin had explained how he had had bad relations with guards in Dale, and it was therefore his first instinct to run away. Ethar seemed to have accepted this and lay down to rest. Slowly, Garlin's eyes closed, and he, too, was soon asleep.

Garlin was woken up by Jarl, who was shaking him. Come now, Jarl said, We are leaving for Nurn, and Gramil's family has already done the shopping for us. As Garlin woke sluggishly, Jarl was already pushing him out the door. Hurry up, the Oliphaunts are waiting.

Tharkûn

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

[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar - Gramil ****

Jarl attempted to pay for the damages on the tents but Gramil's trade instinct told him this was the perfect opportunity to create good relations with Dale. In his mind's eye he saw a bad trend: first the king ignoring Dale's official representative, for a month no less, then the awful dinner party, now this. He extrapolated that trend and didn't like the conclusion. He gauged Jarl carefully. This was not a man who would respect extravagant gestures, so he would have to phrase this within a hair. He recalled what Tarve, the owner of the Lion's Den had said about Jarl being a 'King's man.' As for the tents, his mind flashed on the description of Garlin, 'a good lad, though no trader,' and Gramil's fierce young cousin who tried everyone's patience. He thought it unlikely Garlin started that fight. Gramil paused, then spoke in a relaxed voice, leaning back in his chair.

"Jarl of Dale, I actually have instructions from King Fuinur to invite you on a tour to Nurn as our guest. We intended to do so after we had shown you more of our city," Gramil smiled ironically, "we are unexpectedly rearranging that schedule. But I will not go against his word on that. As for the tents... if Garlin is in fact responsible, certainly. But I know my assistant. His mind is quick, but his tongue quicker."

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

[Thenamir]

========== Blue Mountains =========


Theron Axehand peered out from the cart as it passed through the large wood-and-iron gates of the village of Bree. His green eyes squinted in his wrinkled visage as he tried to see far enough down the road into town to make out their destination. It had been four days since they had passed on from the Grey havens and without incident into the Westfarthing of the Shire.

Dwarves were not altogether uncommon passing through the Shire on business to and from the Blue Mountains, but Theron made a point to stop in and pay respects to the Mayor. Once Mayor Samwise, a friend and former servant to Frodo Baggins, heir to the famous hobbit friend of Thorin Thrain's-son Oakenshield, discovered that they were connected in this, albeit remote, fashion, he took the opportunity to bring out the best of the Shire in small celebration of their visit. Upon learning that they were also to be present at the King's Gathering of the nations, he made sure that they were provisioned with all he thought they might need, out of his own personal expense. Theron bowed repeatedly, stating that he, like his friends and forebearers, was "at your service and your family's indeed!".

Before departing the next day, again with great fanfare, Samwise had called Theron aside and bade him make all speed to Bree, and to the Inn of the Prancing Pony. Samwise had said, "The inkeeper there, Mr. Butterbur by name, keeps a fine table, and even finer ale, if you take my meaning, sir. But more than that, if you can by chance catch up with the hobbits we sent out for the King's Gathering, it'd set my mind a bit more at rest knowing that they had some sturdy dwarves with 'em in case..well, in case o'trouble. There was not many that could match old Mr. Gimli in a fight, as I remember."

Theron assured him that if they could possibly catch them, that they would have their full protection, in partial repayment for his most excellent hospitality. Mikhelm only muttered something about wanting to travel alone, but Serin bowed low to Sam and gave full agreement. Not long after, they had started off again, their horses not even showing any additional strain from the load of additional fine provisions. "Although," Theron said to the other two, "it will be a couple of days yet before I'll want any more mushrooms." Mikhelm and Serin agreed, the first time on that journey they'd agreed on anything.

Now the light was fading as they tripped down the street, coming to rest finally under the hanging shingle of the Prancing Pony.

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-Jarl *****

'Jarl of Dale, I actually have instructions from King Fuinur to invite you on a tour to Nurn as our guest.' Jarl looked up in surprise at this statement. How politic he is! he thought, his brow furrowed slightly. He makes the first move so graciously. Shall I be gracious back, or shall I nudge him just a bit? He smiled a slow smile at Gramil.

'King Fuinur, you say! An honor for Dale to be regarded so well by him.' He paused. 'You have seen him lately, then?' When Gramil did not reply, he pressed him further. 'I had heard he was travelling of late? Toward Gondor, I believe. Is this true?' Gramil's face showed nothing. 'And with Herumir. Or so I was led to believe.' He paused again, and looked full at Gramil. 'What I would really like to know is why he has gone there.'

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

The sun had just risen, when Garlin felt a firm nudge to his shoulder. He opened his eyes groggily to see Jarl standing before him. 'Come, Garlin, I packed our belongings and we will be leaving soon. But there are some few things we require from the bazaar.' He threw the young man his hooded cloak. Leave your friend sleeping, he has need of it. And Gormack will be here should he wake.'

Garlin put his cloak on hastily and hurried after Jarlin. 'What do we need in the bazaar. I thought we would stay away from it?'

'We need clothes for our travels by Oliphaunt. It will be hot, and these clothes we brought will chafe us miserably if we have to ride in them day after day. I want to pick up some short knives, and I thought you might pick out a weapon of your choosing. Beyond that, what we need is to make some amends to the tradesmen whose property was destroyed. You will apologise to them, and we will buy supplies from them to seal the apology. Now, show me where you went last night, if you please.'

Garlin led the way into the city center.

[ October 07, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Susan Delgado]

Hardo looked up from his meal when the Pony's main door opened. Dwarves! He thought. They could only be Dwarves. Though he'd never seen a Dwarf, this was all they could be; they certainly weren't Men...

He had an idea they might be here to join him and the other Hobbits on their journey to see the Men's King, and indeed, the large one with the grey beard looked around the room and then led his companions toward the Hobbits' table. Hardo sighed and got to his feet. They were interrupting supper...edible, for once.

The younger Hobbits looked up when Hardo stood. They seemed quite surprised and slightly intimidated to see the three burly Dwarves approching the table.

The Dwarves squeezed themselves into the available spaceat the table and ordered ales. They all sat staring at each other for a moment before introductions were made. The Dwarves ordered some food in addition to their ales and everyone began to relax a little.

[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar - Gramil ****

Gramil nearly laughed. Jarl thinks I know where the king has gone? Until yesterday Gramil hadn't even known the king had gone, and took quite a ribbing from his friends for it, too. Though certainly he could find out where the king went easily enough. And he would make it his business to know, true.

But this was a strategic, military question, unusual from a trader. Gramil was not a suspicious man, but every Harad child was taught about their oppressors from the cradle. Jarl and Garlin both looked like men of Gondor to the Harad. Gramil began to wonder about their guest, examining him with a quick penetrating glance. He didn't have a military bearing, though certainly there were those trained in secret service who were as unpreposessing. He didn't walk like a fighter, and was sitting now with his back to the door. Gramil had noted most of the king's spies never did so. Jarl did know his trade, that Gramil had learned. But he would bear watching. Dale had no imperialist history like Gondor, surely they had no army that could withstand Harad, but Gramil was suddenly unsure of their intentions. Gramil spoke openly, seeing no point in denying what Jarl already knew.

"The king goes where he will. He is the king. Where? I don't know," Gramil shrugged and spread his hands, "but why is Dale interested?"

[ October 07, 2002: Message edited by: Marileangorifurnimaluim ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

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


Frain grumbled a bit as he searched the peremeter for signs of any food. He was ordered by the king to split his small band of engineers to find anything the spiders had ignored or dropped as they fled. Frain sent Pain and Stain to find horses, and they came back a few minutes ago successful with two ponies. Curin and Burin amazingly found a wagon in their searches, and were now trying to repair any mild damage they could.

Not a drop of food to be found. Thought Frain to himself. He was unhappy about this, for any food they couldn't find they would have to hunt to get back, and most weapons used to hunt required the use of two hands, which was something Frain had been lacking recently.

Although many things had already gone astray, with a fallen wagon, a death, a capture of an Elf, spider attack, and anything else forgotten, Frain had actually somewhat admired Stonehelm's ability to stay calm. He always found some way to make up for it, or to make it better than it had been.

Oh! Now you're going soft, old Frain! he chuckled to himself.

He searched for a while, until he had searched every piece of grass and dirt near the band of travelers. With nothing to be found, he went back to the clearing where everyone sat or worked.

He helped Curin and Burin for a while on the wagon, and helped Pain and Stain calm the beasts. Then he went to Stonehelm to report the damage.

We have three ponies, thanks to Pain and Stain. We have a wagon with mild damage thanks to Curin and Burin. And I, to no avail, searched for food. Not a drop of food lay on the ground. Frain announced very cheerlessly to the King.

[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar - in Nurn ****

Strangely, Al-Gareth did not go outside, though the children urged him to play with them many times. He would just shake his head with a grim smile, or he would change the subject.

He told them "You be my eyes and ears. Tell me what you see - leave out nothing!" And he would growl and tickle them like a big bear. They laughed, giggled and ran, and he didn't try too hard to catch them, sitting down with happy sigh.

He turned to their father, "You are rich man. Don't you doubt it for a minute." Their mother smiled.

Under orders they reported everything they saw. He was mostly interested in the people, what they did and said, though he listened to stories of animals and trees, too. And their games changed to ones of being soldiers of the king, carrying out his orders. Al-Gareth wouldn't let them salute him, their mother didn't like it, so they contented themselves with saluting eachother. Which their mother didn't like either, but she couldn't stop what she didn't see.

One day they were playing 'rescue Al-Gareth' - they had their stick 'swords' out to defend their imaginary leader. They were on the alert for attack between the house and the barn, when the littlest starting shouting "save Al-Gareth!" too loud, and their mother came running. She was really angry, shoved them into the house and wouldn't let them go outside to play for the rest of the day. In a shaking voice she told them they were never, never to say his name out loud. When their father came home she closed the door to their bedroom, but before the door completely shut they heard her say "He has to go."

******

After more than a month, Al-Gareth became more like a bear all the time. He helped their mother as much as she would let him, but after he would start pacing. He didn't like the news they brought, because it had too many blackcoats, and there was no news from his soldiers. The children decided they shouldn't tell him about the blackcoats and their men anymore, and left out the part about the new blackcoat with his new fancy badge.

Al-Gareth, as he grew frustrated, saw their faces and gathered them round. He asked them about something else - the trees, other more interesting things. They were very relieved. He began to ask them about the road south. Eager to change the subject, they told about their own secret paths that ran alongside it. They and the other kids had secret hideaways in the pricker bushes, and paths that ran between.

"That's how we can see the blackcoats, but they can't see us!" the eldest spoke up.

They suddenly fell silent, afraid the word 'blackcoat' would make him mad again.

But Al-Gareth was very impressed. And pleased. So they answered all of his questions about these paths, how far they went, how many could travel on them. They were so relieved to see him happy again.

That night, when their father came home from the fields, Al-Gareth and father went into the kitchen and closed the door. They talked a long time. The lantern light flickered under the door long after the children were in bed, so they dozed half awake, listening to Al-Gareth's excited voice, and their father's doubtful concern.

A bustle of activity woke the children before light. Their mother was up and busy, and in a big hurry from the sound of it. They staggered into the mainroom rubbing sleep from their eyes, and saw a soldier they didn't recognize sitting in the kitchen. He had a dirty haggard face. There was preserves and food pulled out from every cupboard, and their mother was hurriedly filling a pack. The soldier was talking to Al-Gareth without looking at anything, as people do when they're very tired, or very sad.

"Al-Ethkeban has taken all but these border towns, somehow brought the other blackcoats under him. We don't know how. But he has a new sigil, and claims he has 'united' the country." Suddenly the children thought of the badges they saw, and felt guilty. "I don't know how close he is, but I believe he has some news of you, else why sweep through these smaller villages?"

The eldest's face fell, and Al-Gareth's eyes lighted on him.

"Do you know of this? Tell me what you know!"

The boy didn't speak, his heart caught in his throat at how he'd let down Al-Gareth, his king. But Al-Gareth told him, "speak quickly! I will need you to guide me along those paths we spoke of yesterday. Soon, if not an hour ago." His eyes glimmered, understanding well what such a task meant to the boy. The words came in a rush.

It wasn't long before three figures rustled into the brush, one quiet and small leading the way.

[ October 08, 2002: Message edited by: Marileangorifurnimaluim ]

[Tharkûn]

*****Dale-Garlin*****

As they walked through the Bazaar, Jarl asked Garlin, "What exactly happened last night?" "Me and Ethar were having a great time," Garlin explained, "at the different shops, etc., when suddenly some drunken freak lunged at us, yelling 'I am Iron Turtle! How dare you spill my drink!' I was about to explain to him that we hadn't, when Ethar cut in, 'Iron Frog? Do you sink then?'. That made the stranger lunge at us. I was able to dive into the crowd, but Ethar got a slice across the cheek. Some bystander pushed me into the fight, so I pulled out my two daggers, and got him on the ground, pinned. When the guards showed up, they thought I had started the whole thing, and lunged at me. I threw the attacker at them and beat a hasty retreat to the rooftops, where they found me some time later." "Ah, so it was neither of your faults; it was the attacker's. I wonder what he wanted." Jarl thought out loud. "Oh, just a second," Ethar cut in, "here's the weapons dealer I told you about."

As the two men looked over the fine blades, one in particular one caught Garlin's eye. It was a mithril blade, fashioned with a little figure of a leaping tiger at the end. It even had it's own specialized sheath, with golden figures on it. However the price was what caught Garlin's eye. Anywhere else, and this blade would have cost over 1,000 gold pieces. This dealer, however, apparently had no idea of it's worth, and had priced it at half that, 500 gold pieces, which was still pretty steep. Tugging on Jarl's shoulder, Garlin pointed it out. Jarl laughed. "Somehow, it fits you," Jarl informed Garlin, "Since you're name in Harad means 'Young Tiger'." Garlin, amazed by this new discovery, yearned for it even more. He asked Jarl if he could lend the money for it to Garlin. He soon had a brand new blade. Smiling, Jarl noted how he swung it around like he was meant to have it. Looking down, Jarl noticed something that tickled his own fancy. It was an elven long bow, lined in silver. Although it was purely ornamental, Jarl purchased it anyway. Laughing, and using speed that lied about his age, Jarl dashed over to where Garlin was sitting, admiring his new weapon. "Come now, we must by good travel clothes," he said to Garlin.

It took longer than Jarl expected to by the clothes (partially since the young female clerk and Garlin kept getting distracted with each other), and they got out later than expected. Since they did not have time to go to the shops to apologize for the damage caused by the actions last night, they simply ran back to the hotel to change before leaving for Nurn. Afterwards, they dashed to the Oliphant stables, where Gramil and Ethar were waiting.

[ October 07, 2002: Message edited by: Tharkûn ]

[Alkanoonion]

***********Harad/Umbar**********
The two kings watched as the basket lowered Urken down to the small boat waiting below. Urken's gesture, while a generous one, still left Fuinur felling troubled. He and Herumir had thanked Urken for the gift of the two ships, and as a gesture of their own, invited the Priest to share the morning meal. Urken declined with the excuse that he was feeling exhausted from all the excitement.


The small boat slowly pulled away from the ship. Urken’s men rowed him back over to his own ship. Once the small boat had reached the other ship his men winched the small ship back onboard with Urken still inside.

“I do not trust the Priest,” stated Herumir. This tactic of giving up the ships was only to pacify us”

Fuinur replied thoughtfully. “I wonder what he really is up to?”

Both kings returned to their cabin to discuss the plans for what to do next.
With Urken back on board his own ship, the two vessels continued on towards the north.

Inside the captain’s cabin, which the two kings had taken over for their own use, the men discussed at great length what they should do once they caught up with the Corsair ship. Herumir suggested that they sink the ship and slay the ship's crew, but Fuinur talked him out of that. Finally it was decided that the kings would, with the help of Urken, have one ship sail around the Corsair ship and cut off its escape. Meanwhile, the other ship would run a flag of truce up and try to bribe the Corsair ship into supporting their course.

With a plan devised, Fuinur set to getting his men prepared for the five-day journey.
As a means of keeping the men occupied and physically prepared for battle, the two kings had decided that all the men should help with the sailing of the vessels, even the footsoldiers who had no experience on the seas. As an added bonus, if things wentpoorly on the journey and some of the crew was lost, the men had a better chance of getting themselves and the ship home again.

Once the ship was to Fuinur's satisfaction, he signalled to the other ship that he and Herumir would meet with Urken first thing in the morning for a war council.

Once the signal had been confirmed Fuinur retired to his cabin for some much needed rest, leaving Herumir in charge of the running of the ship

[Belin]

*****Rivendell*****

Elladan stared from between his fingers at Meneciriel and Fanelen. And here he’d thought this journey would be a technicality, a vacation, a trip to see Arwen. The vision of a trip spent dodging hostile stares and snide comments stretched out before him, gaining a slight shimmer from the faint possibility of violence. He edged toward Meneciriel.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. “Why do we have to make this difficult? Why do they want to come with us?”

“Now, Elladan, everyone’s united now, remember? This can be the first act consistent with our attendance. Besides, think how pleased the king will be.”

Elladan snorted. “Of course he will, assuming we are all still inclined to peace when we get there. Do you really think that dwarves are going to submit peacefully to traveling with us? Do you really think nothing will come up? The last time I talked to a dwarf, he didn’t believe a word I said. He raised his eyebrows at ‘hello’ and they never came down again . I have never had something like that happen. They won’t trust us and they are more than likely to start trouble.”

“Aha,” said Meneciriel sweetly, “hence the presence of our very talented mediator.”

Elladan glanced over at his brother in search of aid. Elrohir merely smirked slightly and continued to drink. “Of course,” said Elladan, “Of course, of course I can take care of the entire quality of the interaction between elf and dwarf, of course I can patch hostilities into friendship on the road while we’re all surrounded by wild beasts and don’t even agree on which way we’re going, naturally, we hardly even need the king for this, why don’t you just also put me in charge of—I need a walk.”

He hurried from the room. His pleasant trip to see Arwen had changed into a severe test of his diplomacy, and at the moment he felt so far from being up to such a challenge that he was ready to snap at anybody—or to beg for counsel. He knew so little about dwarves, and he had no idea what they wanted from him, and it hardly seemed fair for such a situation to come upon him like that. Suddenly, a happy thought occurred to him. Hobbits and dwarves, was it? He knew just who to speak to. He turned down the hallway toward a group of rooms that his father had had altered to be at once plainer and more cheerful.

[Carnëiach]

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


Brando had spent the day wandering around Bree and was still fasinated by the town, as many of the inhabitants were fascinated by the hobbit boy who galloped around Bree in such an energetic fashion. Near teatime, Brando decided to wander back to the inn, although he was reluctant to do so, remebering Hardos treatment last time he'd come back after running off. Still, this time it was the old misers fault- if you locked up an adventuruous hobbit lad in a room, especially a room that could be unlocked with only a little difficulty from the inside, did you honestly expect such a bold adventurer not to get out? Brando smiled to himself- silly old miser probably hadnt even realised it could be undone from the inside!
AS he approached the inn, the young hobbit noticed a new cart outside it. Its inhabitants were just departing inside. Funny, they seemed very short to be men, yet far to tall to be hobbits...A smile crept over Brandos face as he realised who these people must be, remembering Uncle Pips stories once again. He raced even faster towards the Prancing Pony, and burst through the door. Some of the customers looked up for a moment, mildly surprised to see a door burst open apparently of its own accord(he was far to low to be seen) but he didnt notice them.
"Dwarves!" He breathed as he saw the gruff figures standing at the bar. Huffing and puffing at the other side of the room was Hardo, although Brando couldnt hear what he was saying, just wondered what he was whinging about this time. He crept up to the bar and watched the dwarves in awe until one turned around.
"Hoe, Theron, look at this; a miniture hobbit!" He cried, speaking to another dwarf, who looked to be their leader. Brando beamed and bowed hastily. The leader approached him, his voice deep and gruff, but gentle.
"Ah, a hobbit will be sure to be able tyo tell us the wherabouts of others; what are the little people doing in the mens town of bree?"
Brando took a deep breath, feeling very important.
"Well sir, we're going to see the King!"

[ October 08, 2002: Message edited by: Carnëiach ]

[Bêthberry]

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

An exhausted Stonehelm wandered around the field, more from the aftereffects and let-down of the battle than with any strong effort to recover his favourite stones, although many of those he did retrive. Elves who promise safe passage obviously cannnot be relied upon, he thought to himself. He felt a deep sense of remorse, even grief, over the loss of the elven girl and thanked Mahal that he had stood firm that no dwarven women accompany his men. Life and the potential for life is too precious to squander on the vagaries of the road. Males were expendable; females, not, for dwarves at least.

The voice of his Chief Engineer called him out of his thoughts.

Frain, the food is the least of our concerns. We have wagons for our goods and ponies for faster travel if we ever get out of these pestilential woods. You have done well to bring such a reliable crew; I see none have been grievously hurt, although there are some injuries. Stonehelm touched his heart, lips and forehead with his right hand. Thank Mahal. I don't trust this retreat. The Queen gave up too easily; let us keep careful eyes about us. He stopped for a moment and Frain began to walk away, but Stonehelm called out to him. I had my doubts about whether to choose you, Frain, for the journey. Your actions belie those doubts. Stonehelm nodded a glance of respect at the older dwarf and then turned to Hringa.
You kept your wits about you, Hringa, and we will all benefit from your swift efforts with the pony. Make sure the engineers reward you with the finest ale when we reach Minas Anor.

Stonehelm wondered if they were going to be forced to spend the night in this place. What would they do? Climb trees? He had never climbed a tree in his life.

[ October 08, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Mithadan]

The black army tramped along in methodical singlemindedness. Their goal was in sight, the battle plans laid. Up the hills they flowed; a flood of soldiers bearing down upon their hapless target. They swarmed over the target, tearing it to shreds and carrying away what booty they could as evidence of their victorious campaign.

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

Odo was the first to discover the carnage. "Hey! Our packs are infested with ants! Our muffins are all ruined!"

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-Girion/Rubin *****

Girion's leg burned where the spider's blood had touched it. He stifled a cry of pain as he limped toward Rubin. 'Are you injured?' he asked, looking at his companion closely. Rubin assured him he was not. Noting that the Prince was favoring his right leg, he bade him sit down that he might inspect the wound.

'I fear if I sit, I will not get up - it pains me so.' He leaned back against a tree trunk. 'Just fetch some water, if you please, and I'll clean it off.' Rubin found a container of water and sluiced the wound. It looked fairly clean, and none too deep, once the mixed blood of Girion and the spider had been washed away from it. He bandaged it as best he could with a strip torn from the hem of his cloak. then, supporting Girion, they made their way slowly to where Stonehelm now stood, speaking with one of his men, Frain.

Standing a little apart, Girion waited until the King had finished giving direction, then addressed him. 'My thanks to you and your brave warriors, Sir.' He inclined his head in a gesture of respect toward the King. Shifting uncomfortably on his painful leg he moved closer to the Dwarf. 'I fear I cannot be of much assistance in the recovery of your goods and our possessions and food, but I will send my man to assist you as you wish.' He looked at Stonehelm, wondering how his next statement might be received. 'I heard you say that you and your party will still push on to Minas Anor. That is also my desire, that Dale be represented before King Elessar. Time grows short for the rest of our journey. And the Elves, it appears, are in disarray. I fear we might not count on them now. Will you and your men allow us to continue the journey with you? Once we make it to the Ford, trading allies of Dale will supply us with what is needed to make our way down the Great River.' He stepped back, and nodded once again to the King, allowing him time to speak with his men as to their opinions.

Rubin had approached Hringa while Girion spoke with the King. 'What do you say we gather a large amount of wood and kindling, Sir Dwarf? If we build a large fire here in the center of this small clearing, and sit ringed about it, with our faces and weapons toward the coming darkness, we might safely pass through the night.'

[Elenna]

Meneciriel sighed. It seemed that her decision had been met with universal hostility. She wished that everyone had been happy to hear that they would have company on their journey.

And then her mind turned back to the route they would take. Turning to Erestor and Fanelen, she asked them, "Do either of you know how to get to Gondor through the Beorning's lands?"

They both shook their heads, but Elrohir lifted his head from his glass and said, "Neither do I, but I know who does..."

[Carnëiach]

***shire***

The dwarves spotted Hardo, Odo and Orlo sitting at the table they had decided was theirs and made their way over. Hardos face fell and Brando knew he was thinking up new grumbles, although he didnt even know the dwarves.
After the dwarves had, after much deliberation, ordered their supper and drinks, both parties, hobbits and dwarves sat staring at each other for a few moments; it was hard to say who was more surprised to see the others. Just when the silence had reached the point where you probably cut it with a knife, the dwarf in charge cleared his throat and spoke in the same commanding and gruff, yet not unkind voice.
"Let me introduce myself- I am Theron Axehand IV of the Blue Mountains, leader of the dwarves. These are my companions, Serin Stonewright and Mikhelm Bonecrist. You are...?"
Hardo stared at him for a moment longer than seemed polite. Brando opened is mouth but Hardo glared at him with a look that could strip paint and Brando immediatly shut his mouth again. Hardo looked back to the dwarves and puffed himself importantly.
"Im Hardo Proudfoot, Clerk to Mayor Samise Gamgee, and this is Orlo Hornblower and Odo Took. Oh, and Brando Took." He added almost as a grudging afterthought.
"Pleased to meet you." The chorus was accompanied with various other compliments and handshakes from both sides and as the food arrived they settled down to the satisfying meal in a companiable atmosphere...

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-Jarl *****

"The king goes where he will. He is the king. Where? I don't know," Gramil shrugged and spread his hands, "but why is Dale interested?"

Jarl did not answer Gramil's question, at that moment. He saw how the man regarded him closely at his previous statements, and thought it best if this answer were more considered. Instead, he turned the discussion to the tasks at hand - He and Garlin must be ready to leave soon, and Gramil had business of his own to attend to. They would meet in the early morning hours and be on their way to Nurn.

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

Jarl was pleased with the purchases he and Garlin had made, though they paid handsomely for them. Jarl let the sellers name their prices, and he paid out enough gold to make a silent but well received apology for the affair of last night.

Once back at their rooms, they changed hurriedly. Gormack laughed in delight when he saw the pale riders and clapped them on the back, assuring them the oliphaunts would quail before them and assuredly obey every command when they saw them. Jarl joined in the laughter. Garlin smoothed his tunic, and tried to catch a glimpse of himself in the polished brass of a large vase. He smiled at his reflection. If only that shop girl could see me now! He flashed a dangerous smile and drew his new blade, brandishing it in a dashing manner. Gormack and Jarl watched him, amused, then burst out again in laughter when he swung the blade in a grand and heroic arc. 'The Young Tiger preens and struts!, said Jarl. 'Yes,' replied Gormack, 'but he handles the blade well, I think. He may prove more than just a pretty ornament atop an oliphaunt!'

It was time to go. Garlin brought their belongings to the front entryway. Jarl thanked Gormack and paid him twice what he had promised. Then Jarl and Garlin made their way quickly to the stables to meet Gramil and Ethar.

[ October 08, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ransom]

===Rivendell===

Elrohir had lost track of the conversation some time ago, content in the soothing bliss the elvish wine imparted upon him. Luckily for him, he did not hold his wine well and generally threw up or passed out before he became drunk. Sadly, this feeling of bliss ended when Ciri turned the conversation back to their journey and noticed his brother was gone. When Elladan became frustrated, the situation generally merited some severe attention.

"Do either of you know how to get to Gondor through the Beorning's lands?"

"Neither do I, but I know who does. I have met one of the Beorning’s chieftains, and he owes me a small boon. I shall remind him of his promise upon our arrival. We may be able to procure any required items there. Maybe we shall even procure a guide. But please excuse me for a moment. I have a certain matter to attend to.”

================================================== =======

Since they were children, Elladan and Elrohir had found solace and rest in the small wing that Elrond had modified to suit their mother’s tastes. Elrohir found Elladan standing in front of one of the large glass windows, lost in his thoughts. He silently approached his brother, careful to allow Elladan to see his reflection in the glass. “I suppose that you feel frustrated at the moment.”

Elrohir did not wait for his brother’s response, instead moving to stand behind him. The moon was almost full, casting its glow across the valley. “A penny for your thoughts, brother?”

[Celebmornie]

*****Rivendell*****

Thule rode into Rivendell. She had to see Elrohir. She went to find him. When she did, she knocked on the door before entering. "Elrohir! I must speak to you! I wish to help you on the journey. I know these lands better than most anyone. Please lot me help! I would hate to see someone hurt." She waited for an answer hoping with all her might that she be allowed to join them.

[ October 10, 2002: Message edited by: Elenna ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

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


The ship had made excellent progress on its first day. The Bay of Belfalas was thankfully peaceful. The waves rippled gently over its surface, a mild but steady breeze pushing them steadily northward. Urken expected that their progress up the Anduin would not be so easy. There they would have to contend with the current flowing south as well as the ship which was raiding along the coast. There was also the possibility of villages along the way trying to stop their progress, regarding them not as emissaries to Elessar but a hostile force left over from the war.

They clung close to the shoreline. Herumir and Fuinur had agreed that there was no sense risking the open seas when their own target lay close at hand. Along the way they had passed a number of tradiing vessels. Some of them belonged to the men of Gondor. Others seemed to be from the White Mountains or from strange distant ports. What most amused Urken was the response of the other ships. The minute they saw the banner of Harad with its oliphaunt emblazoned, they gave the two ships wide berth. They still feared some trick or raid upon their cargo.

Urken, however, had no time for such foolery. His only goal was to get to Minas Anor as quickly as possibly, hopefully before the other delegates did.

He still had not heard from that fool of a spy whom he'd stationed with the crew discussing trade. Perhaps the pigeon he'd sent had been shot down or pummelled in a storm. He had waited long enough. He decided to send a bird back urging him for more information. Unless he got informtion, that fellow was going to wish he'd never run into Urken. It would have been better to get someone more dependable, but sometimes you had to take whatever you could find.

He'd managed to get news in the bazaar from a caravan of dwarves that there were rumors of a group headed up towards Nurn. Who, in their right mind, would have dealings with Nurn? Certainly, he would not do so voluntarily. From what he had hurt, the place was falling apart, ripe for rebellion and intrigue. The intrigue did no bother him, but mindless revolts with no purpose behind them did. They led to complete chaos, and generally whoever was in control ended right back in the same place.

If one was going to lead an insurrection, there should be a clear and limited purpose in mind. Something very specifc. Or so Urken thought.

This day, Herumir and Fuinur were meeting him on his ship. He looked out and saw them walking over the deck. Each were accompanied by three retainers fully armed. They still did not trust him. But then it wasn't surprising. They had at least established enough common ground to sit down and talk. They quickly went over the plans for the war council. Their plan for accosting the stray ship held some merit, and he agreed to go along with them. He estimated that the ship was at least another full day ahead of them. Forunately for them, the vessel was stopping here and there to raid on the coast. Otherwise it might have been impossible for them to catch up.

[Bêthberry]

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

Stonehelm surveyed the Man of Dale, a young but strong body, a hopeful face. A face which looked familiar but not noticeably so.

Since it appears that you are not six or eight-legged and indeed somewhat less than two-legged, I will accept your company, Man of Dale. Come, find some ease for your pain by resting against or sitting in this wagon. Do you need aid? Perhaps Hringa has found our salves and ointments which could help heal your wound.

We could have mutual interests to discuss on the road to Minas Arnor. At one time, Dale and Erebor stood fast. Perhaps future events could support that continuance. But more especially our mutual interests this night might be served by hanging together.

Tell me, how came Bard to send you? I know your King. He and my late father often held council together, which I attended.

[Rose Cotton]

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

The pony Hringa managed to save happened to be his own. As he held onto it's reins he began to talk under his breath to it. You're very lucky I was being greedy. I should have saved the King's pony. It's just those spiders were unlike anything I've ever seen and I got distracted. The small, dapple gray pony nudged Hringa's bag and the dwarf pulled out an apple to feed it with.

When asked to gather wood Hringa responded with enthusiasm. He was glad to be working again. He lead the pony with him as he searched and placed his findings on its stong back, all the while talking to it.
"Feels good to be doing somthing doesn't it, my friend? Though I don't fancy straying to far. Those spiders are probably still about." The pony gave a winny as if replying.

Even after the work had been done Hringa kept the faithfull pony at his side.

[ October 11, 2002: Message edited by: Rose Cotton ]

[Thenamir]

======== Blue Mountains =========

The Shire had been bright and clean and almost too polite, but the common room at The Prancing Pony was more to Theron Axehand's liking -- a boisterous room full of "characters", noisy conversations, ale and food both in good measure and good quality. One of the locals had told him that the kegs of the Prancing Pony had been laid under a spell by the wizard Gandalf for exceptional quality, and after tasting the brew, be believed it. Too bad Gandalf had been such a flighty creature before he left Middle Earth from the Havens, Theron thought to himself. He would have liked to get to know a wizard that appreciated the finer qualities of good ale in the mug and good leaf in the pipe.

He observed with some interest that even Mikhelm was not grumbling as much as before, but set to his meal with amiable conversation among the hobbits at the table. He knew Mikhelm well enough to know that he had his "mannerly face" on at present. Whether he'd be able to keep that face on while enduring a long trip with chatty hobbits (not to mention elf folk) was not even a question. Mikhelm would be back to his grumbling self in a couple of days at the latest. Still, ther was a small crack in Mikhelm's grumbling wall, and he intended to take advantage of it.

Serin, it appeared, was wasting no time in getting acquainted with the world outside Belegost, and with the hobbits and locals in particular. He was very inquisitive about local goods, how and where they were produced and in what quantities, whether trade between them might be possible, and who he would have to see about this or that commodity. Theron smiled invisibly beneath his thick beard. Serin was a born trader. Such a waste to have had him so long cooped up in the mines.

Theron stuffed his pipe with some Old Toby (a gift from Mayor Samwise), and lit it with a wisp of straw ignited in the candle flame. He drew deeply on the pipe and blew several concentric smoke rings across the table and over the heads of the hobbits, who watched bemused.

"Did you know, my excellent hobbits," Theron began with a theatrical flair during a momentary lull in the conversation, "that I was friends with the great Thorin Oakenshield before he went off to the Lonely Mountain with your Bilbo Baggins of song and story?" The hobbits were momentarily wide-eyed at this revelation, but they soon began peppering him with questions.

[Guildo]

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


Orodan

After the fight Orodan could do nothing but simply set and think, not only has his best friend ran off to what could be certain death, but another he has looked upon many times as a sister is possibly dead.
Though his mind was quite busy, the remainder of the party under estimated the ears of the old elf. Orodan heard them blame him, talk down upon his people and his home, and even who he thought to be a dear friend; Girion had seemed to give up on him, acting as if he never knew him.

“Not even out of my own home, and I have lost two dear friends, lost the trust of the Men of Dale, and decimated any chance to gain an alliance with the dwarves, and all because the Spiders wanted to kill me………………….I CAN’T go on feeling sorry for myself” Orodan said to himself in a low voice.

Orodan stood and slowly approached the Men and Dwarves, after over hearing them discuss making a fire.

“If you wish to stay safe from the Spiders tonight, it will not be by the light of one fire, you’l need five of them, small ones of course, in an even circle around you. The spiders will not be able to see inside the circle, and will not go where they can not see.”

Girion and Stonehelm only answered in their own distinct expression.

“I have not given up hope; please understand though I have lost two of my dearest friends, loss is no stranger to me.”

“You may blaim my people for misleading you in this Journey” Orodan said as he looked at Stonehelm.

“You may think I am not to be trusted any more” He said as he looked at Girion.

“And I know the friendship I intended to happen may only be a distant dream at this point. So whether you accept the only apology I can give for something I had no control over, or not, I assure you I did not intent for this to happen.”

“I have the utmost respect for both the Men and Dwarves of this party, for I owe you my life. If you chose not to travel with me so be it.”

“If Nefros has not returned by morning I shall have to leave without him.”

“I will reach Minas Anor… if I must, I will reach it alone.”

[ October 08, 2002: Message edited by: Guildo ]

[Guildo]

<<<<Eryn Lasgalen>>>>>

Nefros

He ran for hours, but it seemed like days. Every minute or so he would catch up to a young spider ling and show no mercy, slicing them as though they where a mere weed growing in the way of an Elvin trail. But Nefros’s enraged eyes where focused only on the Queen Spider carrying his sister.

Nefros thought a couple times about how angry Orodan will be at him for running off so foolishly or for blurting out the spiders plot, but most of his thoughts where how his life would be meaningless if his sister was killed, and how finally he understood Orodan’s Melancholy.

Finally the Spiders stopped; four were left, the Queen and three spider lings, and they could not see Nefros, he realized they where about to get rid of the cocoon they carried, so he had to do something fast to save his sisters life, or even her body.

“I wish I could just play a song and make things better, like always” Nefros thought.

“My Flute!” He said in a low excited whisper.

Nefros had been practicing quite some time to move the sound of his flute through out the wood, to make it sound as though the sound was coming from multiple places. But he never though it would be much use.

He began to move the sound of a single note in a circle around the spiders, leaving an open spot opposite of him. Besides the fact that the spiders hated the sound of Nefros’s flute, the spiders began to jitter franticly as if they where surrounded slowly backing towards the spot Nefros left open.

“CHARGE!!!!”
Nefros shouted making as much noise possible; almost as if he was confident he had an entire army of Elves behind him.

The Spiders ran fast enough, that if he wasn’t in so much grief, Nefros would had given a laugh all of Eryn Lasgalen would hear.

Nefros cut his sister loose, lifted her into his arms and ran as fast as he could, looking closely to find a sign of life.

[Kettle of fish]

***** Dale *****

Rubin carried the armful of firewood, and dropped it into a rapidly growing pile, just in time to hear Orodan's words.

Loss of loved ones was truly a painful thing. But Rubin thought that Orodan had perhaps less faith in the friendship of Dalesmen than was merited.

He glanced over to where Girion was standing, brow furrowed. He felt a flare of relief as he saw that Girion stood with his weight on both legs - at least that cursed spider had not had an extra victim to claim.

[Cuthalion]

Durgan, being a dwarf known for his long silences, surveyed the Man his King spoke to with a jaundiced eye. Never having been one to trust anyone on sight, he stood behind Stonehelm with his arms crossed, slowly drumming his fingers. He had greatly admired Stonehelm's actions during the journey thus far therefore the closer they got to their destination, the edgier Durgan became. Never had he been more aware of his duty to protect his King at whatever cost to himself.

[ October 09, 2002: Message edited by: Cuthalion ]

[ October 15, 2002: Message edited by: Cuthalion ]

[Tharkûn]

*****Dale-Garlin*****

Riding the Oliphants was harder than it looked, as Garlin was currently discovering. On his first three tries to mount the great beast, he had been glad for the 'landing sacks' that were placed on either side of the creature. Although the landing sacks broke most of the fall, he was still nursing quite a few bruises on either side of his body. Now that he had found his balance, the huge thing had to move. Holding on for dear life, Garlin tensed himself for what he thought would be a very painful landing. The beast, however, seemed to sense his timidness and took short, careful steps, so as not to sway as much, and therefore give less fear to the rider of falling off. After the first few cautious steps, the creature reached it's normal walking pace, which, after the first few beginner steps, were easier for Garlin to handle. Jarl, unlike Garlin, had no problem hopping onto his Oliphant. The show off! Garlin thought to himself. Next, Ethar got in the saddle. He had less trouble than Garlin hopping on, since it only took him one try, and seemed to be slightly skilled at riding. Finally was Gramil. He took a few cautious steps over to the beast, and slowly lowered himself onto the saddle. After his beast was out, he smiled and yelled out, "Nurn ho!" And with that, his great beast took a giant step, and began it's journey towards Nurn. The other three followed soon after.

[piosenniel]

***** DALE-Jarl *****

Jarl sat easy on his oliphaunt. The great beast moved at a comfortable pace, a rhythmic plodding that slowly ate up the miles. He found it soothing, and enjoyable. Poor Gramil! He looks as if he wishes himself anywhere but on the back of his mount! If only he could relax into the beast's natural rhythm it would be easier.

Garlin and Ethar had restored their sense of easy camaraderie. Jarl smiled, thinking a good friendship might grow there, given enough time. The two younger men rode well, he thought. Garlin had gotten into the rhythm of the pace and sat easily now on his oliphaunt.

Jarl turned towards Gramil, who rode beside him. 'I wasn't quite clear what direction we were taking? It seems, though, that we are heading west. Do we not need to head east if we are to go to Nurn - east and north?!' He thought for a moment, remembering the map he had studied of the southern areas. 'Or perhaps you mean to go west and then north through Harondor - South Gondor, to the River Poros. It is possible we could pass through the Shadow Mountains there, and directly into Nurn.' He raised his eyebrows questioningly at Gramil. 'Or perhaps you have a whole other plan altogether, eh?!'

Garlin laughed, overhearing Jarl's question. He nudged Ethar. 'I think Gramil's only plan at the moment is to stay atop his oliphaunt!' The young men laughed uproariously. Gramil scowled, but could do nothing about it, at the moment.

The great beasts plodded on.

[ October 10, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

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


So, tis the troublesome elves that we are waiting for... thought Frain to himself. He knew the elves would hold them all up. Now they awaited a rescue of a female elf.

This is the reason we Dwarves hide our women. Keep them safe. Frain spoke now to Hringa, who tended now to his inseperable pony. Hringa said naught in reply.

Why must everything remain secret? Remain in the dark in this company? Frain wondered to himself. He waited impatiently for a time, should it ever come, that the Dwarves would be on their way.

[The Barrow-Wight]

* * * * * Rhûn Nation * * * * *

Kasteni saw that his chosen warriors had recovered from the battle and were again sharp. The horse soldiers also had regained their composure and were ready for action. He looked out into the darkness, listening for a sign of the were-bears returning, but there was no noise of the the beasts except for a baleful howling far in the distance. The time to move was now.

He accepted a hand from the nearest guard and was pulled up behind him. With one last look around he gave the word, and the entire group took off at a gallop toward the distant lights of the hostel. No one spoke, and the horses grunted heavily as the riders spurred them to even greater speed. Everyone looked fearfully into the inky blackness around them, but there were no more attacks. Finally, they crested the hill and came within shouting distance of the small fort.

“Open the gates in the name of Mislavini!” shouted Kasteni, but there came no reply.

Torches above the tall wooden walls flickered in the wind that had arisen, but no voices could be heard from within the hostel.

Kasteni dismounted and walked to the doors, banging on one with the hilt of his sword.
“Open these gates at once!” he bellowed. But again there was no answer.

The lead guard pressed his horse a step forward and said, “My lord Advisor, I will take three men and do a fast scout of the walls. Perhaps I can find a guard that will answer.

Kasteni answered, “Very well.”

Everyone waited with weapons ready, expecting to hear a guard from within the hostel shout out or sounds of battle from around the wall where the riders had gone. But the four soon appeared from the other direction and reported that they had mad no contact with anyone inside the fort.

“There are signs of a battle on the northwest corner of the hostel,” said the chief guard, “and the body of one of the bear creatures hangs impaled upon one of the wall stakes. There is much blood, and it seems as if the place is desertered.

“Or everyone is dead,” snorted Ulwyte. Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Yes,” said Kasteni quietly. “If anyone was still alive inside they would have gladly let us in to swell their numbers agains this attack. But young Ulwyte is probably correct that there are none left to rescue, or to rescue us. Our refuge has been denied.”

A series of howls, still far away but too close, caused the group to start, and one of the guards pleaded, “What can we do?”
Kasteni thought for a moment and then responded.

“The were-bears fear fire. Let us burn this small fortress and see if it will repel the creatures until the sunrise. After then, it is certain they will retreat, and we will have time to make our escape.”

He turned to Lovek, “Gather every bottle and flask of distilled liquors that this group has.”

A few of the guard groaned but quickly went quiet as they realized the sense of what the Advisor was saying.

Kasteni continued, “Use what you find to ignite the walls of the hostel. The season has been dry, and the wood of this fort is long-overdue for repairs. Hopefully it will burn easily enough.”

He looked at his bandaged right hand and burned clothing.

“I will not be able to aid in setting this place afire.”

[Guildo]

<<<Eryin Lasgalen>>>>

Orodan


He almost drew a tear when Giron reached out to shake his hand. Orodan reached at Girion and grabbed his upper fore arm to pull him close; Orodan hugged him like brothers would hug each other after a long time apart.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Orodan said to Girion with a slight smile.
“If you look in my pack you’ll find some small three cloved white flowers, rub them on your leg it will feel better in no time.”

Orodan turned and looked at King Stonehelm who now was standing straight up strong as only a King would. Their eyes caught and Orodan with one knee on the ground bowed low enough for Stonehelm to see the back of his head…………………

Awaiting Stonehelmes reaction

Later that night Orodan helped gather wood, and showed the men and dwarves where and how to make the circle of fires so the smoke would not harm the trees around them, and not to burn anything that was living. Though Orodans sadness was apparent to every one, the dwarves especially Stonehelm was being very nice to him’ trying their best to cheer him up, and he noticed that Girion and Rubin where keeping a sharp eye on him.


As night fell and the dwarves and men began to sing around the center fire, Orodan stood at the edge of the circle listening, facing towards the North.

[ October 09, 2002: Message edited by: Guildo ]