Tears of Mirrormere RPG

[Thinlómien]

"Óin, Frar, you go with Vigdis get the colony up we move immediately!"

Trór's words echoed in Vigdis' head when the three hurried to the great hall.

"How are we supposed to get the place evacuated if that's all he gave us for orders?" she said, more to herself than to the others.
"There is a plan," Óin said. "It was devised years ago in Balin's council."
"There is the big bell in the hall. You go and ring it three times so that people know to gather to the hall," Frár growled.
"Yes, sir," Vigdis said, a slight edge of sarcasm creeping to her voice. She obeyed nevertheless.

The deep and clear voice of the bell rang in the high halls. Dwarves began to appear and within quarter an hour there were already hundreds of Dwarves assembled in the great hall. Vigdis couldn't help admiring the efficiency of her own people. She went stand beside a frightened-looking family, and gave the mother a tight-lipped smile. They listened to what Frár and Óin had to say.

"People of Dwarrowdelf!" Frár bellowed. "We bring tidings from our Lord Trór. We are moving. It won't be permanent, but we need to leave this place."

A wave of whispered comments and a few protesting shouts ran in the air. Then Óin continued:

"We are moving to the Hall of Hundred Pillars and the surrounding guardrooms. Our troops will stay here, guard the gates and follow the situation until we get more information about the movement of the Orcs and are sure there are no raiding parties around.

You have three hours to pack, then we have to be moving. You may only take what you can carry for yourself, and everybody is too carry three weeks' food provisions for himself. Take first what is necessary, and only if you can carry more, you may take some of your treasures."

More protesting and murmuring.

"Silence!" Frár shouted. "You will get the provisions from the kitchen from Mistress Thordis. All the cooks are requested to sign up to her there, they will be needed for assistance.

Professional soldiers are to sign up to me at the training grounds, and seasoned warriors with no professional training to commander Brambor at the armoury. Both will be needed.

Three hours from now, the bell will be ringing again. You are supposed to come here with your belongings and food provisions then and Lord Trór will speak to you. Then we will go. If you have some questions, there will be always some member of the Lord's council in this room, for now, Master Óin here.

Go now. You have three hours."

Vigdis shook her head. They had said no word about Durin's bane, maybe to avoid panic. But she was afraid it was a mistake not to warn the people...

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

After the announcement has been made, things started to move, sometimes in a bit chaotic way. Lóni expected to be called to the rest of the nobles, to be given the command due to him - and he was not far from expecting also to get a share of responsibility which would otherwise have gone to his brother. Nevertheless, before anything was to be done, he wanted to first take one more look at Náli. He also wanted to clean his armor - but he felt that either he is going to get the chance to do it in the following three hours, or not for a long time to come. Or maybe never.

As he approached the lying wounded in the First Hall, however, he noticed somebody else walking towards his brother's body simultaneously along the second line of columns at the eastern end of the Hall. Fixing his eye upon the person, Lóni recognised Onli. He turned to quickly cross his path.

"You," he shouted at him. The red-bearded Dwarf turned around, startled. "You were supposed to be under my brother's command, right?"

"Y-yes," stammered Onli. His eyes darted from Lóni to motionless Náli and back. He was afraid. He expected to be scorned for neglecting his duties, for up to now he had been avoiding getting close to Náli or his brother and he was unable to get enough information on what exactly had happened. He feared to be questioned and exposed as an unreliable aide, or straightaway punished. However, Lóni had no intention of either of that.

"Since my brother is in no state to give you orders now, I am placing you to take care of him," he said. Inside, Onli sighed in relief, however, he was aware that this might mean far more responsibility than he will be able to bear.

"I won't have time to watch over him myself," continued Lóni, "but I shall deem you responsible for his transport to safety... and you are bound to watch over him and by all means protect him... until he recovers." Lóni's voice broke slightly at these last words, but he made the effort to make himself sound firm again. He looked into Onli's eyes with his one deep eye.

"I assume you would take this as your task even without my direct order, as you are supposed to be my brother's right- my brother's aide," he finished quickly. "But I now relay it to you directly. I want you to swear that you will watch over him with your life."

Onli's face turned pale. That was something he was afraid of.

"I will surely take care of your brother as well as I can, dear master Lóni," he said, trying to sound resolute. "In fact, I was just on the way to take a look at his condition, if he has gotten any better... I have been thinking, however, that perhaps he should be given to the special care of some skilled healer. What I mean is that after all, it will be better to have him in good care, and I am not well-versed in this art, and perhaps I would better serve with my skills elsewhere, like for example in administering -"

"You have heard me," Lóni interrupted him. "However much I love my brother, there are too few healers in our ranks for them to be preoccupied with only one person, however important leader he is. I am sure they will take good care of him as it is, but what I want from you is to oversee that he is transported safely and that he is never left without guard. That guard will be you, Onli, because all soldiers are needed elsewhere. I want you to swear with your life that you will stand by his side."

There was no way out. Onli touched his beard with trembling hand. "Yes," he said. "I swear... with my life."

"Good," said Lóni. He turned to Náli, still lying with closed eyes and breathing slowly. Who knows how long it will be before they see again? But whatever will happen, Lóni was determined to see Náli again.

"See you later, brother," he whispered and turned away.

Onli was still waiting on the spot, with a mixture of fear and anger boiling inside him, eyes fixed on Náli's lying body. Then his features softened. After all, things could have still been worse. Perhaps, having to watch over Náli, who was unlikely to wake up in any near time, he will be spared any encounters with the Orcs at all. While the warriors will be holding the Gates, he would be safe and sound with the wounded, somewhere far away from the risk of getting into the battle. That at least was a thing to look positively at.

[Dimturiel]

Things had been going from bad to worse since....But Bain could no longer remember a time when things were going right. Everything was hectic and confusing. One minute he was fighting, then he was helping to carry the wounded in the first hall and then the bell sounded for assembly and then the unexpected orders that they were suppose to move out – but were they really unexpected? Bain supposed that if had possessed the inclination to analyse what would happen, perhaps he would have seen it coming. Not that it mattered, since it would not have made the blow less hard to bear anyway.

Since Bain was a fairly experienced fighter, but without having been trained as a warrior, he was to be among those reporting to commander Brambor at the armoury. He supposed he would be one of those protecting the people in their new location. He was glad he was not a trained warrior, for one thing. Guarding the gates with nothing but dreary emptiness behind them, sundered for no one knew how long from the rest of the colony – it would be a hard life. A hard way to spend your last days. The thought came suddenly into his mind and he tried to shrug it off. No use thinking thoughts of ill-omen with the situation being as it was.

Before reporting to commander Brambor, Bain went to the kitchen for his ration, and then to his forge to gather his possessions and to have one last look at all the treasures he had crafted It nearly broke his heart to leave his beloved creations there, the works of both his mind and his hands. Each told a story to him, of some golden or dark day in the past. There was the shield he had set to work on as soon as they had reached Moria, the first thing he made in Khazad-dum. There was a small mail-shirt he had made for the son of a friend of his. He had never got round to giving it, somehow. And there were so many other beautiful things, all of them begging him not to abandon them. But he would not be allowed to carry all of them. The only thing that he took was his last work, the helm he had made for Lord Balin.

“I have made it with him in my mind,” he told himself. “Now I will wear it with him in my mind also, and may his memory make me fight the fiercer, should the need arise”

Then, without another look at what he was leaving behind – perhaps not forever, he was telling himself, perhaps he could return, although at that moment he could not picture himself ever entering that forge again – he turned his back to his forge and strode purposefully towards the armoury.

[Durelin]

Kór and Kórin moved back up to the Twenty-first Hall with others, as they were summoned by the bell to gather there again. They had spent the last half hour in silence, simply enjoying, without real happiness, each other's company. They were both alive. And there was nothing to say. Each of them knew what the other was thinking -- soon they would hear what the next move would be. And whatever the decision, it would be a risky one.

Kórin did not know what to expect. Wisdom was not Trór's strong point, though he had some more level heads around him. Perhaps his near death experience would shock some sense into him...as well as the deaths they had suffered. Perhaps. Kórin twisted her lips in disgust.

Kór glanced at his sister but said nothing.

When Frár made the announcement, Kórin was surprised Trór had actually conceded to this route. And it was not one which she had expected as a possibility. There was still plenty in between them and the orc armies to defend. Why were they moving, as if they had already lost the First and Second Halls. The Bridge of Khazad-dûm alone could be held for quite a long time!

Kórin cursed under her breath. Trór's foolishness had pushed them into a corner.

"What do you think we fall under -- professional or unprofessional?" Kór asked with humor.

Kórin simply grunted. "Unprofessional, surely. I am not drunk enough to be anything else."

Kór grinned, glad that his sister was not completely lost in her anger. Still, she made no move to get up from the bench on which they were seated. Neither was concerned with possessions -- Kór already had his harp on his back again -- and neither was in a great rush to report once again as soldiers.

"They have told us nothing," Kórin growled suddenly. "We know nothing of their plans. We remain completely in the dark." She was barking out complaints at lightning speed.

"And if they explained all the circumstances, the reasons for the decision, the plans depending on luck and...plans for the worst? To a crowd of the entire colony?"

Kórin grunted again, this time in frustration. "But for no one to have any idea what is going on except for their picked council, a group of old fools who will simply continue to bow to Trór's every word..." She knew she was giving a false impression of what she had seen of the council, but she was doing her best to convince herself otherwise.

"Well, you were on the council," Kór said simply, with growing mischief. "If you were still..."

"As if I would have a say!" Kórin burst out angrily.

[piosenniel]

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~*~ Pio