Castle Maladil - RPG

[piosenniel]

‘Well, you don’t look as if you spent a very restful night, Ranger.’ Holly entered the makeshift shelter, taking in Volondil’s ashy complexion. His features were drawn, his eyes tired and dull, and the stubble of his beard did nothing to enhance her opinion of his condition.

Volondil shook his head ‘no’. ‘It was cold, the ground bumpier than usual, and the night, noisy.’ He rubbed at the old bandages. ‘And this thing was itchy! I spent most of the night awake, resisting the urge to scratch it.’

She knelt down beside his pallet and pushed him back flat on the ground. ‘Here let me take a look at it.’ She pulled his tunic up, exposing the old dressing. Loosing the bindings for it, she gently pulled it from his wound. ‘Ah!’ she said, nodding her head yes, her face serious. ‘It is just as I thought.’

He raised himself up on both elbows, trying to peer at the wound. ‘What?’ he demanded, his voice alarmed. ‘Is it not healing well?’ Holly pushed him back down on his back. ‘You are quite gullible, for a Ranger, aren’t you.’ she laughed. ‘It’s not gone bad, in fact, just the opposite. The skin’s a nice healthy pink, and the edges are smooth, not puckered. It’s healing quite nicely. That’s why it itches.’

He let out a sigh of relief, watching her as she took a clean linen bandage to lay against the healing wound, and bound it securely to him. ‘If it’s healed so well, why is there need for another bandage?’ His fingers strayed to the edges of the new bandage, scratching lightly at the perimeter about it. She pushed his hand firmly away from the area.

‘I want you up today, and doing more walking.’ she said, picking up his boiled leather vest. ‘The bandage will keep the area from being rubbed too hard, while you wear this to splint the area against the pain of movement.’ She bade him sit up, then crouched beside him and offered an arm up as he struggled to a standing position. He gasped at the sudden, jerky movement, trying to conceal the grimace of pain it brought on.

A shadow blocked the light from the outside. His pained expression softened and he smiled at the figure who entered. ‘Bird!’ he said in delight, reaching out a hand to draw her nearer. She winced as he took her hand. His brow furrowed as she snatched it back from him. ‘Burnt it.’ she said, showing him the shiny red, scalded area. ‘I was bringing you a mug of tea. And it spilled on me.’

‘Holly, you’ld better take a look at it.’ A note of concern crept into his voice, as he gently showed the Hobbit where Bird had been burned. Holly dutifully looked the patch over, noting there was no blistering or open area. Applying a thin layer of unguent to it, at Volondil’s insistence, she wrapped it lightly with a linen strip, all the while giving a list of directions to Bird on how to keep it clean and well and to let her see it again tomorrow.
None of which Bird heard. She stood there staring at her hand which still lay on the open palm of the Ranger. Looking at it, as if it were someone else’s hand. Volondil, too, seemed just as captivated by the sight.

‘I hate to break this reverie,’ thought Holly to herself, ‘but it looks as if the rest of the companions are also up, which means we may leave soon.’ She picked up the leather vest, and cleared her throat several times to catch their attention. ‘Here, Bird, help him with this.’ Reluctantly, the shape-changer withdrew her hand from his, and took the vest from the Hobbit’s hands. ‘Put it on over his tunic and lace it tight for support.’ She watched as her friend’s small, nimble fingers pulled the lacings tight and deftly tied them.

‘Now help him out to the fire. Perhaps you two can conjure up some breakfast for us. Send Olo in here. We’ll get his belongings packed and the tent blankets folded.

Olo came, bringing her a hot cup of tea with a generous dollop of honey. They stood for a few moments, sipping at their drinks. Then, setting them down on a flat-topped rock, they quickly squared away the Ranger’s quarters. Holly glanced toward the campfire where Bird sat toasting thick slices of bread on a forked stick, engaged in some engrossing topic of conversation with Volondil, or so the Hobbit thought it must be, since neither of them noticed the charred surface of the toast or the smoke that was beginning to stream from it.

The toast caught fire, and Bird waved it wildly in the air – only to have the flaming missile come flying through the air and land close to Holly’s feet. Bird shrugged at Holly and burst out laughing, as did the Ranger, quite unwisely. Not even a tightly laced vest could spare him the discomfort of a deep belly laugh.

Olo stared at the burning toast on the ground, and chuckled. ‘Breakfast is served, I take it.’ His eyes glinted with humor. He pulled the wizened apple from his breeches pocket and rubbed the lint from it on his sleeve. Taking his small knife from its sheath, he cut the apple in two and offered half to Holly. ‘Better eat this.’ he said. ‘It looks to be a considerable time ‘til the next course arrives.’

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* A fell calm settled on Maladil, far more terrifying than the wildest of his ravings. Glancing at his son Kenelm, the Lord of the Castle gentled his expression to indicate that he held no wrath for the bearer of such grievously ill tidings, but rather respect and a cautious, tentative agreement with Kenelm's sympathy. *

At last, Kenelm, you show honor by taking action towards upholding the family name. You did not sail West when I bid you confront the Valar with their unfairness towards your mother and our family, nor could you even lift a finger against the Orcs when all were called on to do so. ... As for these prisoners, if they were brought here against their will, they are innocent victims.

* Maladil's face hardened again into familiar bitter lines, as he managed a powerful striding drift bent towards the Master Bedroom. *

My sword ...

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth came over near the fire and spoke a morning welcome to Bird, holding out two more apples as a peace offering to supplement her breakfast. Then she glanced over at Volondil and asked him how he hd fared. Despite his weariness, he grinned back at her, "Well, to be truthful, I've had better nights, but since Mistress Bird has put this leather vest on me, my temperment is much improved. He looked over to the shapechanger with a softer face.

"And you, Andreth?" he Ranger looked deep into her eyes. "It doesn't look as if you had much better rest than I did."

Andreth tossed the question off with a casual shrug of her shoulders, and sat down on a nearby log focusing all her attention on another apple that she hastily tugged out from her pocket.

No, she hadn't slept well. Not after her discussion of the night before. How strange that the Elf should confide in her. And how sad that he remembered only the horror of the outlaws and not the steadfastness of the Lord and Lady. But how could she blame him? To see so much hurt in Gilwen's eyes and not to be able to do anything to soothe it. People envied Elves their immortality, but, after talking with Nardol, Andreth wondered whether it was little more than a burden, with one bad remembrance following another.

She sternly warned herself to be more cautious. After all, the Elf was no kin, and had barely spoken civilly to her. Yet, try as she might, the image of his haunted eyes kept creeping back inside her mind

She tugged herself away from these morbid thoughts and looked over towards Holly, raising a question, "Does anyone know when we will reach the Castle, or what will happen to us once we get there?"

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel and Estelarion arose and quickly packed up their equipment, assuming that they would soon depart.

Menelduliniel, ever the prattler, immediately began chattering away.

"Does anyone know when we will reach the Castle, or what will happen to us once we get there?" Andreth asked Holly.

Estelarion turned to Menelduliniel and motioned her to be quiet. Menelduliniel began to speak again, but Estelarion gave her a stern glance. Finally, he turned to Holly.

"And, with such wounded as we have," he said, gesturing towards where Volondil was bedded, but speaking softly enough so that Volondil would not hear him, "Is it wise to start out again? For we are an easy target."

Menelduliniel chimed in, "I suppose we could leave some behind to care for the wounded. Those that are left could try to make for the nearest settlement and find aid."

"Nay," Holly said, "That would not be wise. Without a full party, we would be more likely to fail. And those that remained would be subject to further attack and danger."

"She speaks true," Estelarion said, resignedly, "We are much more likely to survive if we continue on together. But Andreth poses good questions: when will we reach the Castle and what will we do when we get here. I am still not completely sure I understand exactly what we are to do once we get here."

"And what are these?" Menelduliniel said, pointing to the rods she still carried, "For they do not seem to be formidable weapons. And I have heard of no witchcraft that requires these. Although, I am not at all skilled in the ways of witchcraft and the like...I have heard quite a bit though..."

Estelarion, while Menelduliniel spoke, had fetched both of them a small breakfast. She took the food greatfully, hesitantly putting her source of entertainment, the rods, down on the ground where she sat and awaited their questions to be answered...

[ January 08, 2003: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[Susan Delgado]

Anna had waited a moment in the middle of the cell staring at the woman. She looked quite miserable, crouching in the corner with her head on her knees. No matter. Soon she'd no longer be miserable. It occured to Anna to wonder what would happen to the woman's mind when Anna took her body, but the thought didn't bother her long. If it didn't happen, she would die. This was just a way to extend her life.

She approached slowly, vaguely aware that Calimiel had turned away from the bars and was watching her, eyes speculative. Anna had crouched in front of the young woman, about when run her hands across her face, when Calimiel's voice sounded behind her. It was weak, but held the promise of later strength.

"I underestimated your duplicity, Anna. Didn't Celumëomaryu win your contest?"

Anna turned and frowned at her friend, then concentrated and produced a faint whisper, the first words she'd spoken in centuries.

"I didn't know myself I was going to do this until a moment ago. Still, it seems one of us should have known. How long have we been ghosts?"

Calimiel shrugged. "A long time."

Anna nodded and turned back to the girl. She touched her face, then slowly allowed her substance to suffuse the empty places in the prisoner's body and mind. If she'd remembered the sensation, if she'd ever had it, she'd have said it was like sinking into honey. For a moment she felt trapped, then it became more comfortable as she began to remember the sensations of life. She caught a fleeting thought before the girl's mind fled and became Anna. It was "Linea", her name.

She rose from her crouched postion in the corner and looked around. It was very dark, and...cold...in the dungeon. The ghosts needed neither light nor heat, so there were no torches lit.

The smell of the meat and herbs in the middle of the floor was tempting, but the way those smells combined with the decayed odors rising from the dead prisoners was unpleasant and she avoided the food for the moment. The girl had eaten anyway and the body wasn't hungry.

She approached the bars and stood near Calimiel, looking out. She stuck her arm through and realised her body was almost thin enough to fit between them. Not quite though. Ah, well, the Butler would be along to open the door soon enough.

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[piosenniel]

Holly shrugged her shoulders at the questions asked her. She sipped at her mug of tea, looking over the rim at Andreth and the Elf who had asked them. ‘My guess, and let me emphasize guess here, is that we will be leaving sometime today.’ She swept her arm in a semicircle, taking in the camp as she did so. ‘That, at least is what I would do, were I organizing the journey. But then I’m not, am I?’

She nodded in the direction of Gandalf. ‘It’s the wizard you should be asking. Though that again might be tricky – sometimes one does not get the answer to the particular question that is asked, but rather to one the wizard feels is more important at the moment.’

Five pairs of eyes stared at her, brows furrowed. Elves, Woman, Hobbit, Ranger looked at her as if she had just spoken in Khuzdûl, the ancient tongue of the Dwarves. A definite cry of ‘What?!’ shown in their faces.

Bird burst out laughing at the disconcerted group. ‘She’s trying to tell you she has no more of an idea about the answer to your question than you do!’ Bird chuckled and looked at Holly. ‘She gave you a tricksy answer!’

Holly looked at the Elf who had commented on the state of the wounded. ‘I do know that the wounded should not hinder us if we decide to go. The Ellf’s leg seems well enough, and Volondil is healed enough to be up and about, though for the majority of the journey, he will need to ride a horse. Poppy is fit, deemed so by Gandalf, it would seem, when he handed her the sack of gold coin and made her bearer of it into the Castle.’ The Elves, somewhat satisfied by the answers, returned to their breakfast.

Olo, Holly, Bird, Volondil, and Andreth, huddled around the small cooking fire in the chill morning air, each of them intent on making their own toast now. Tea, honey, jam and a few slices each of Shire cheese rounded out their fireside breakfast. They were for the most part silent, listening to the camp noises as the other companions awoke, and to the satisfying hiss and pop of their fire as it browned and crisped the bread held over it on forked sticks.

Gingerly taking the hot toast from his stick, Volondil spread a thick layer of jam on it. He took a big bite and chewed on it, thoughtfully, staring at the fire as he did so. ‘You know,’ he said, breaking the silence with his words, ‘although I’ll be able to walk on my own two feet into the castle, I don’t think I’ll be much use should it come to defending ourselves. Perhaps I should stay back from entering the castle.’ He looked toward Holly, and frowned.

She nibbled on a piece of cheese, and smiled back at him. ‘Don’t worry about that, Volondil. I don’t see you actually entering the castle.’ He sat back and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for her to go on. ‘In fact,’ she continued, ‘I really see no reason why any of us should enter the castle – at least through the front entrance with everyone else.’

Holly picked up a stick and drew a crude diagram in the dirt. ‘All of the attention of the inhabitants of the castle will be here, in the Main Hall where our party is to enter. Now it’s my understanding that there is a large garden around somewhere to the rear of the building. At least that is what I understood when I happened to overhear a conversation between Bethberry and Gandalf.’

She drew a line round to the imagined garden. ‘Where there’s a garden, there is usually a way in to the kitchen near it – that’s the way I propose we go in, while the ghosts’ attention is focused on Gandalf and the others and especially on the sack of gold. Volondil, I thought perhaps you could stand look out near the garden area. Bethberry will be there, and you both could shout an alarm to us should any one chance to come that way.’

Bird shook her head. ‘You have no idea what’s out by the garden do you?’ Holly smiled, saying, ‘Not really, but it’s worth a try, isn’t it? And besides, you’re with us, Bird. Can’t you do a little scouting for us once we reach the castle grounds?’

Holly smiled ingenuously at her friend. Bird rolled her eyes. ‘Another one of her damnable schemes!’ she thought to herself. She sighed, resignedly, already picturing herself flying high above the castle and its surrounds. ‘Perhaps this one would work out . . .’

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Belin]

Delivering the papers to the Butler had slowed her down, but he’d insisted the she give them to him before he rendered up the key, and Celumëomaryu was in no mood to argue with him. She hurried up the stairs and allowed herself, just this once, to slip through the wall. It was a privilege she was soon to relinquish. She stood still for a moment, savoring the anticipation, and moved toward the cell.

She was surprised to find the body standing, apparently holding itself up against the bars and…speaking to Calimiel. Speaking in a voice that reminded her of one she’d heard long ago. Anna’s voice. Celumëomaryu suddenly leapt through the bars, knocking the body to the ground by the same force of will she’d so often used to open doors and count money. The doors, however, had seldom found her standing on them, icy and immobile, staring downward with a stare to match Maladil’s own. “You!” she hissed. “Traitor! Trickster! Thief! You’ll leave me what’s mine. Now!”

Somehow, Anna smiled faintly. “No good, wandering spirit. She’s gone. If I leave this body now, it will die.”

An appalling, bonechilling cry escaped from Celumëomaryu, and she was dimly aware of kicking the body, of pushing it toward the wall as well as she could, of kneeling in an attempt to scratch its face, of finally fleeing it to stand outside the cell and wonder at the strange hysterical laughter that seemed to be her own. Calimiel was watching her.

“And you,” said Celumëomaryu, facing her with a new and deep hatred “you’re twice the traitor she is. For you, I have kept—I have—I—“ Speech failed her. She suddenly understood Maladil’s destructiveness. But there was nothing to throw here.

Very well, then. She’d be revenged, all the same. With a sudden, terrible smile, she pulled out the key.

“For you, I had brought a key. But you’ve given away something of mine. I believe I’ll keep this treasure. After all, I have only one left.” She heard the hysterical laughter again and hoped it was not hers. She had lost enough of her dignity already. “Will you stay in a body? Stay there then!” Her eyes rested on Anna. “As for you,” she said, and her voice leapt suddenly into a strange, wavering music:

You are no one’s daughter
And you’ll grow old again
In the prison of this person
And the shackles of its skin.

“And there you’ll stay, centuries more for all I care. Perhaps I’ll watch. I have no other haunt left, now.”

But Anna had picked herself up, and was smiling an obnoxious and confident smile. “You’re wrong,” she said. “Maladil will never let us starve.”

Celumëomaryu snorted gracelessly. “Maladil? What do you expect from him? This key is mine. I’ve died for him already; I owe him nothing now.”
-----------------
Song stolen from Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn and horribly twisted and corrupted by me.

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Belin ]

[Susan Delgado]

Anna snorted and picked up an apple from the pile in the middle of the floor. She peered at it for a moment, then put it down again. She wasn't ready to eat yet. She went back to the bars and stuck her arms through again, ignoring the Elf still standing there staring at her. Insane or not, Celumëomaryu was a fool.

"Celumëomaryu is a fool."

She turned toward Calimiel, surprised to hear her own thoughts echoed from another. "I was just thinking that. If not Maladil, Kenelm."

"Yes, though my brother has ever been a pacifist and did not defend the Castle from the Orcs, I cannot believe he would let his own sister and-" She glanced over at Anna, unsure exactly what to call her in relation to Kenelm. "-someone he has known so long be starved," She finished finally.

Anna nodded. "Celumëomaryu will eventually be overcome, though it wouldn't suprise me to find that she'd thrown away the key."

Calimiel shook her head. "You think so ill of her. She won't let it happen. Who could watch two people she'd known so long die when she could prevent it?"

"She could." Anna wandered down the line of the bars to the corner where they intersected with the wall. The bars were flush. She didn't see any way she could get through here. She glanced out through the bars and was suprised to find that the wall outside the cell continued past the wall inside for several feet. Now why was that? It was almost as if...hmmm. "Calimiel, come here, see what I've found," She called across the cell.

Calimiel approached, curious and frowned to see what Anna had to show her. "This cell is above the Butler's quarters. If there's a secret room here, even if we could get it open, it wouldn't be a good idea to appear there unexpectedly."

Anna considered this. "But wouldn't he be surprised to see us?" The thought amused her. "Come on, help me find the switch."

"What makes you think there is one on this side? He wouldn't want the prisoners getting loose, would he?"

Anna couldn't help smiling at the thought. That was exactly what she was planning. "But there would have to be, or he'd be trapped in here. He couldn't leave it open or the same thing would happen."

Calimiel nodded. Anna had a point. "All right. I'll help you."

Together, they began searching for the switch that would open the secret door.

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Together, they found the switch that would open the secret door. *

* But that was not all Anna and Calimiel found. For there came an oily hissing sound as of prey enmeshed within the gloating triumph of a boa constrictor's roughly-hugging coils. As the sound faded, Anna and Calimiel found themselves completely enveloped within a softly-luminous green-glowing cube, half the size of the cell they were in. Neither the lone surviving male prisoner nor the lifeless bodies nearby had gotten caught within the cube. The man, as a matter of fact, had now flung himself as far away from the cube's pulsating menace as he could and stood trembling, back against the wall, rasping heavily for breath, eyes wild. *

* Calimiel beat against the inner wall of her new claustrophobic envelope, until Anna screamed at her to stop because all that was happening was that the billowing walls of the cube were sinking inward, inch by inch. Though they found their new home impenetrable, at least it didn't prohibit the passage of breathable air. They would not smother to death, at any rate. *

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

BOO !

* Gandalf smiled at the satisfying results of his merry mischief as Bird and Holly emitted startled screams and leapt. The wizard hadn't been able to resist coming up behind them and clamping a hand on each of their shoulders as they convivially conspired together over charred toast, spilled tea, and the like. *

That is to say, * Gandalf lowered his voice to a normal tone, * your strategy is eminently workable. My compliments.

* Gandalf then addressed the entire company. * Our arrival at Castle Maladil should be tomorrow evening. If we arrive during the afternoon, we will set up camp off the main road, within sight of the side road leading to the Castle, and await nightfall.

After sundown, we shall approach the Castle ... the bards, including Hinura, Estelarion, and Menelduliniel wielding harp or flute, others carrying candles or lanterns as sources of light. The music of the bards shall be light to the ear, and I am well pleased at all the practicing and song preparation I've heard so far. You work well together! Hinura, I look forward to hearing Bog a'Lochain. And Meneli and Estelarion, already your choice of song resonates with new notes of hope ... * Gandalf checked himself before saying "to those in exile," preferring to leave the sentence incomplete. *

Please no torches, as torches too often bring to mind images of brigands and marauders. Poppy shall carry the trust of Elrond's gold, and have no light source of her own.

The three rods you've been given are for you to hold in readiness, for their light is fleeting. We must first have the attention of the ghosts before we use them, and I'll see to that. Once we're noticed, use two of the rods as you like, one at a time. Keep the third one back.

Music shall go before us, light accompany us. The ghosts will likely not hear our song at first ... but sing and play, and I'll meanwhile bend my thought toward contacting them. We shall stand at the edge of their territory. They shall come to hear us, and after some songs, I'll speak to them. Andreth as well perhaps shall choose to speak, though peril lie therein. And then Poppy our Ambassador shall go in.

Nardol ... a destiny lies on you, methinks, though what it is I cannot say. But I feel it, in a way not so with the others here.

Bethberry ... I trust I know which work is of interest to you at Castle Maladil. May you bring all you can of the Old Forest with you.

As our good ranger Alearindu was mentioning, it would be wise for those entering the Castle, or even treading its grounds, to go in pairs, or in small groups. Those who go alone may do so, but they do so with heavy risk.

Aislan will be counted on to care for horses and ponies called on to overcome their fear and enter a place where no beast of their kind has come since the last Age!

Holly and Olo, the vanguard entering by the back way, to seek the deed that will undo dire words.

Volondil, you've suffered a trap of someone else's devising ... so have many in the Castle.

Birdland, your presence here is a riddle ... but then, you've demonstrable expertise at solving them!

* With that, Gandalf poured himself a cup of sweet-spice tea long steeped, to go with a crust of bread, dried sausage, cheese, and what grapes remained in his travelling pouch from the Trade Inn. *

* Midnight edged closer in his grazing towards Rustal, looking out the corner of his eye at the rival Elvish steed. *

[ January 10, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Upon hearing this news, everyone in the company began talking at once, asking each other what Gandalf had meant by this point or that point. They chattered back and forth to each other, discussing each detail of the plan. Andreth was sure that in a minute they would turn back to the wizard and pose their questions. But for this one instant at least, Gandalf sat quietly by himself on a log, first eating his meal, and then smoking his pipe and smiling gently at the general hubub he had caused.

With uncertain steps, Andreth approached the wizard with her small book in hand, "Sir, if I may, she said softly, extending the volume to him, "My family has something that may possibly help us. I can not read this, but perhaps you might be able to do so." Her hand shook and her voice quavered as she handed the small and tattered volume over to him.

She did not explain why her family had the book, nor give any details about her kindred. For, perhaps the wizard already knew. And, if not, he could certainly ask.

"And one other thing, sir, you have said I may speak but perhaps to my great peril. I have supected such things, but it is possible you may know more of this, or at least understand more, than my father and I do. I would be grateful for any information you could give me. I long to free those poor souls in the Castle, but I must be honest. I fear that if I set foot on those grounds, I may never get out alive"

She sadly shook her head, looking down to the ground, not even daring to meet his eyes. "Every night now, I dream. Horrible dreams I do not understand. But I can not turn away from the pleas of the children. They come to me and beg for release, yet I do not know what I can do to help them."

[ January 10, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Gandalf extended his hand to receive Andreth's proffered tome, grasped it, stared at the cover, gasped, stood, bowed towards Andreth, and sat again. And then did not move. And then at last spoke. *

Ai Andreth, you could, as Holly does, teach the company to recognize the flowing script for Laurëondo, as it graces the cover of this book you bear!

* Gandalf flipped to a page at random, and read aloud: *

Stately Stables of Laurëondo - Pass in Westwards through the Outer Entryway, turn left, then right into the Inner Courtyard. Veer to the left, then right. The entrance to the stables will be on the left, towards the South Wall. Many a fair horse housed here, and were not denied the golden elegance of their masters. For stall and manger were all of fine yellow cedar, polished gleaming, befitting those creatures who in the Second Age carried the day against forces of night retreating over the hills. The Stately Stables were always well stocked with all manner of grains and wholesome refreshing water. And well supplied too with all manner of intricate carven leather saddles, to fine bits and bridles, to bells in tinkling strands of gold.

* Gandalf closed the book, turning the page to other matters. *

For the Children of Men to speak with the dead is always perilous. Moreso, when the dead are Elves. Speaking with ghosts at all requires quite an effort, and is not always successful even with such an effort. O, but success brings with it the danger of drawing attention to yourself.

And you, Andreth, risk the most on this venture. For if you do not get out alive, then we shall have need of freeing you along with those you seek to free. Because of this, your coming is a great power in itself. You can speak words which I cannot, by your voice, and in your silence.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Tears welled up in Andreth's eyes as she stared out to the horizon. "I am so little. I have no great skill in arms, nor have I lived many years and gained great wisdom as you and Noldor have done. But still, these are my kin, and many other people who are suffering. I can not turn my back on them. It would not be right. If I can help by speaking or staying silent, or by going in or staying apart, please tell me. I will try to do whatever it is that you say."

Then, she quietly took her leave.

[ January 10, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

‘Did you hear what the wizard said?’ Bird took Holly by the arm and tried to pull her away a space for a private conversation. Holly shook her off and continued drawing in the dirt with her long stick. ‘Stop that doodling!’ demanded Bird. ‘I want to talk about that bit he just said – the bells in tinkling strands of gold.’

‘Fetch me my small pack. The one with my drawing materials in it.’ Holly looked distractedly at Bird, then, crouching down, added a few details in the dirt with her finger tip. Muttering loudly about the mule-headed Hobbit, Bird brought her back the pack.

Holly rummaged through it until she found her hardest drawing pencil. Taking the much folded map from her vest pocket she smoothed it on the dirt beside the crude map she had drawn on the ground. ‘Look, Bird!’ she said, motioning her friend down beside her. ‘This map I have isn’t too off from what the grounds might look like. It’s just a little sparse in detail.’ She pointed to the map she had scratched in the dirt while listening to Gandalf speak.

‘Here on the west, is what he called the Outer Entryway. And then here must be the area called the Inner Courtyard.’ She penciled in both those place names with approximations of where they would be. Her pencil traced a line , left – right – left, and she drew in where the Stately Stables must have been, noting in fine print, ‘yellow cedar’.

‘Right here, Bird,’ she said, tapping the stable area with her pencil, ‘that’s where those “bells in tinkling strands of gold” would be.’ Holly rubbed the lobe of her ear, thinking. The rest of her map needed filling in – how best to do it. She pulled Bird up with her, scuffing the map in the dirt away with her foot. ‘Let’s go find Bethberry, and get her ideas on where the garden might be.’ She looked about for the woman, now standing across the camp from them, near the Elf.

Walking slowly in her direction, hoping to see the healer leave the vicinity of Nardol, Holly chattered on to Bird excitedly. ‘Perhaps later, if we approach him nicely, Gandalf will read us another page from Andreth’s book.’

Bird looked at her in amusement. ‘Yes, and perhaps that flame-headed Elf will ask me to dance!’

[tangerine]

Ó ì og ì ò
A Mhòrag 's na ho rò gheallaidh
Ó ì og ì ò

Hinura quietly sang a few bars to herself, making sure that she had it ready. She had been playing around with this tune for awhile, but had not really thought to use it until her stay at the Trade Inn. After all, the light and merry tunes might arouse the curiousity of a ghost; and the rumour of a great white ship would mean hope to at least some, surely. She was unsure of how the company would go about their task, and she looked doubtfully at the three rods that she had been given.
She shook her head. Never mind. Her duty was to herald their arrival, and draw the attention of the inhabitants so that the other members of her company might speak.

Mis' amuigh air luing a' seòladh
'S mi gun dòigh air tighinn gu
baile...

Hinura broke off as she grew increasingly preoccupied about the following evening.

[ January 10, 2003: Message edited by: tangerine ]

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: tangerine ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Of course Aislan would have the job of helping with the horses. She felt comfortable and at ease with such a responsibility. The horses would need company, and not just from their fellow steeds. The hostler knew her job, and would do it to the best of her ability. Her job was not as important as Poppy's was, or even as the good bards'. Even as such, the horses needed somewhere to go...right?

Then Gandalf read from Andreth's book, and randomly selected the page that described the Stables and how to get there. The words of the passage repeated in Aislan's mind, of the cedar stalls and the saddles and the fine bridles and bits. Aislan couldn't imagine what lay inside the castle if the stables were so well built and supplied.

Aislan wondered if anyone would stay in the stables with her. She was distracted though, by the slight tension between Midnight and Rustal, who were grazing nearby. Aislan walked over the both the horses, but was careful with Rustal. She put one hand on each horse's forehead, and whispered gently to Midnight. The horse snorted, and turned his back to Rustal. Aislan smiled and shook her head. The horses acted the same way as some of the people in the company did.

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Maladil bounded the stairs to the dungeon, gliding up two at a time, sword clenched forwards. Seeing the Master of the Castle sweep like a cresting sea-wave of retribution through the corridor past the library to the staircase leading up, the Butler crammed the sheaf of papers he'd earned from Celumëomaryu into a temporary hiding-place and scrambled along behind. In his haste to blurt out a cover story before the conspiracy was all revealed, The Butler scuttled like a cockroach past Kenelm. Overtaking the noble lad, he stuck a flailing elbow through where Kenelm's ribs had once been. *

Father! Save me! Let me out! * Calimiel instinctively raised her right arm to make a fist and beat upon the shimmering, effervescent green cube again. But at the last moment, Anna's firm grip closed around Calimiel's new forearm with the tightness of nails digging deep, drawing blood. Wincing, Calimiel amended her cries. * Save us! Let us out!

* Terrible, bitter laughter welled up from Maladil. * Only the innocent shall be set free, Calimiel. Kenelm tells me that there are two prisoners deserving of their freedom within the cell. That man cowering against the wall would be one. The other has been ensnared with you?

NNOOOO !!! * Celumëomaryu screamed, hoarse and mind curdling. * Anna has joined Calimiel in treachery! Only the Man remains untouched, … and alive, as himself. You must never let them out, for this crime!

* Meanwhile, the Butler tugged at Maladil's sleeves to no avail, muttering: * Pardon me, my Lord … if I may, Master Maladil … a word with you, good Sir …

* Kenelm looked quietly on in the background, gazing from one to another. *

Take your key, Celumëomaryu, and free the Man. He has no place here, and must leave. He is to have safe passage out of the Castle, and off my land. Meanwhile, Calimiel and Anna shall remain in this prison of their own making. * Maladil's voice rose hysterically. * WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, DAUGHTER? WHAT SORT OF FATE DO YOU DESERVE? * Maladil strode through the bars in a flash, slipping his blade Orc Bane lithely between the gaps of rusty iron columns. An inch away from the ethereal flickering cube, he sheathed the sword. * YOU'VE PUT YOURSELVES THERE, THERE YOU'LL STAY. * Wheeling around, Maladil appeared to just suddenly notice the presence of the Butler. * EXPLAIN.

* The Butler fought back a whimper and managed a bow. * Of course, Sir. Apparently, these prisoners, as you call them, have suffered a mishap. Unfortunately now made far more grievous by … * The Butler glanced towards Anna and Calimiel within the gyrating green cube, then discreetly glanced away. * This group of travelling Men had an accident when their wagon left the road, I think. They must have stumbled, injured and weary, onto the grounds of Laurëondo. Celumëomaryu and I, and Anna and Calimiel, sought to nurse them back to health. We had no wish to disturb you, meanwhile, knowing how you feel about unwanted visitors and the importance of your privacy. Alas, several have died, to our great grief. * The Butler hung his head and stood forlorn, with downcast eyes. *

* A rattling of keys announced that Celumëomaryu had unlocked the dungeon door. The sole survivor, agog, eyes bulging, leapt with all his remaining strength towards the door, rushed through it, rushed clean through Celumëomaryu as if she weren't there, and ran for it. Maladil hovered behind at the Man's heels, seeing the mortal safely out the Castle door. *

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu listened to Gandalf's answers, and then smiled, finally knowing what the three rods were for. She had figured something with the ghosts, but wasn't for sure.

She then got up from her position and went over to Mornen. Alearindu also thought about what Gandalf had said about her own comment about pairing up. 'Even I should accompany someone into that place..' she thought to herself.

Leaning against Mornen, she looked around the camp, and her eyes went to Aislan who was standing by Rustal and Midnight. She was to take the horses to the stables, which Gandalf had just read aloud the directions to them from Andreth's book, and Alearindu hadn't seen anyone volunteer to go with her yet. Alearindu figured she would like to go to the castle's stables and get a feel of what she might be in for, than to walk right into the main hall itself.

Smiling, she walked to where Aislan stood, but strayed a bit away from Rustal, having remembered what he had done earlier with Nardol's command. Instead, she stood by Midnight's shoulder, and nodded at Aislan, then bowed her head, and still smiling, brought up her question;

'I am the Ranger Alearindu, and I heard that you were to take the horses to the stables. I haven't seen anyone volunteer to go with you, and since we are supposed to travel in at least pairs..well, I was wondering if it'd be okay with you, if I accompanied you on your part.'

Alearindu awaited Aislan's answer and began to gently scratch Midnight's neck and withers, and beneathe his mane. She also thought of a back-up plan in case Aislan declined her offer.

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: TheLadyAerowen ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aislan smiled at Alearindu's offer.

'Of course. It would be a handful, to say the least, to take all these horses into the stables alone. Besides, I don't believe Rustal is going anywhere without a fight. I would be grateful for your company,' Aislan kept her eye on Rustal as she spoke.

The great stallion turned his head a little, just enough to keep one large brown eye on Alearindu and Aislan. Rustal snorted and put his head down, as if to take up more grass. Aislan was wary though, and gently moved Alearindu to the right a bit, just in case Rustal was getting any ideas.

'So, we will be going into the stables together?' Alearindu made certain one last time, and went to back to stand by Mornen once Aislan had nodded a yes. Aislan took a few steps to stand near Rustal.

'You better not try anything. You could hurt someone with those strong legs and hoofs of yours. Besides, people wouldn't stay so far away from you if you were a little nicer. Then again I bet that is what you want,' Aislan whispered to Rustal, before backing away near Midnight.

So Aislan would be accopmanied by Alearindu. Aislan was happy, she didn't exactly fancy the idea of going anywhere near the castle, much less on her own with only the horses. Not to say that the horses were bad company. Even the horses needed someone to go along with them to the castle.

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Gandalf still held Andreth's book in his hands as the conversation ended. He would keep it safe in a hard leather belt pouch, and yield it up to her as she wished. *

* Gandalf hummed along with Hinura's carefree tune, quietly to himself until she stopped. He sensed her preoccupation ... and shared a certain foreboding, though outwardly maintaining a serene face. *

* Gandalf rose from his log, shaking off loose bits of bark, and strode over to where the hostler Aislan and the young ranger Alearindu were striking up sparks of conversation. He would only need a moment of their time. The wizard beamed a smile of kindly approval at Aislan's way with Midnight. * He's not fully tame, you know. Somehow Midnight's spirit remains unbroken, though he once carried one of the cruellest masters in all Mordor. Now, Midnight walks with us as a free creature. Please, do not tie him, nor even force him into the Stately Stables, should he prefer to take his chances apart from their security.

* Gandalf turned to Alearindu. * Will you consent to serve the company again by continuing on ahead of us, to scout the road against further traps, as before? ... And remember, a ranger's skill does not end when she enters the castle door.

* Gandalf walked on and drew up beside Holly for a moment. * May the company have the favor of drawing on your artistic skill yet again? Should we make good time and arrive at Laurëondo before sunset tomorrow, it would be well if when the shadows grow long around the boundaries of the Castle, you could sketch them.

[*Varda*]

Poppy had felt darkness hanging over her like a vast cloud for many hours now, as she felt Castle Maladil getting nearer and nearer, and although she dared not admit it to anyone, the fear of it grew steadily in her heart. Poppy had no love for anything that wasn’t…properly alive. How was she meant to injure a ghost, should she have to? Looking down at the short dagger by her side, she laughed wryly. She realised she wasn’t even sure what she was going to have to do once she got near the castle, and having to enter alone. With this in mind, she walked over to Gandalf, only a slight limp and pain remaining in her leg.

The wizard was engaged in a conversation with Holly, and so Poppy stood nearby and waited. When the opportunity arose, Poppy reached up and tapped the wizard on the arm. The wizard looked down at the hobbit beside him.

“Er, Gandalf..sir” Poppy started, unsure of what to say, not having had much opportunity to speak to the wizard so far. He was still a daunting figure to her. “I know I’m to take the gold into Castle Maladil, and I’m happy to do that, sir, but...it’s just that...I don’t know what to do when I’m in there. I don’t have any idea what I’m going to see, or what to expect. I’ve never seen a ghost before…” She bit her lip with some uncertainty, and the wizard saw the worry in her face.

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu nodded at Aislan, happy that she accepted. She then noticed Gandalf was walking their way. He looked at Alearindu.

"Will you consent to serve the company again by continuing on ahead of us, to scout the road against further traps, as before? ... And remember, a ranger's skill does not end when she enters the castle door."

She grinned, and nodded. 'Of course I will. I just hope I won't run into..too much trouble.' Alearindu then checked one last time with Aislan, then walked over to Mornen.

She checked his legs and wounds from the first pit-fall. All of the wounds were healing nicely, and were almost completely healed. Alearindu then grabbed her pack, put it on her back, and vaulted onto Mornen. She nodded at Gandalf, then trotted Mornen down the path to the castle.

The company was expected to reach the castle the following evening. Alearindu figured she would go about half-way, then the next morning, scout to the castle.

Mornen cantered and galloped on for a while, and as Alearindu reached a bit before she wanted to turn, the rising sun casted one of its rays off of something black in a pile of straw. Alearindu furrowed her brow, and slowed Mornen. She dismounted and slowly walked to the straw. There seemed to be some kind of contraption of metal beneathe it.

Grabbing a decently long stick, Alearindu poked at the metal, and nothing happened. She frowned and looked at Mornen. 'What can I do?'

As if in answer, he pawed the ground, and unearthed a medium-sized rock. She laughed, and then picked it up and stood a few feet away from the piece of metal, and tossed the rock. It made a clinking noise on the metal, but once again, nothing happened. Alearindu became slightly confused, and decided on one last thing. She found a larger rock and moved a little bit closer, then tossed it. She jumped back and Mornen squealed and went to bolt as the metal clanged shut loudly.

Alearindu walked to Mornen, and quieted him before walking slowly back over to the metal. It turns out that it was a nasty leg-trap made of metal that had rusted. Alearindu picked up the stick that lay near-by again and poked around the straw cautiously, but there were no more leg-traps or anything of the sort. She went back and mounted Mornen, and then continued on.

After a while of galloping and cantering, Alearindu and Mornen found no more traps for about a day of the Company's travel. Alearindu turned Mornen, and headed back for the camp. She double-checked what she had went through before, and once again, found nothing. She slowed Mornen to a trot as the came back to the campsite, and pulled Mornen to a stop where Gandalf was.

Alearindu then reported; 'I found only one set-up. It was an interesting trap. Made for a horses leg, I believe, but, a human or an elf could as easily walked into it, most likely resulting in more injury. It was large, and rusted metal. It wouldn't go off with a stick, nor a medium stone. I had to use a large rock to finally set it off. And even then it snapped loudly and quite cleanly.' Alearindu winced at thinking what would have happened if her or Mornen, or anyone of the Company stepped into it. 'It was a good thing the Sun was shining where it was. Mornen and I just might have missed it.'

[ January 12, 2003: Message edited by: TheLadyAerowen ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Mis' amuigh air luing a' seòladh
'S mi gun dòigh air tighinn gu
baile...

Estelarion's mind had been working over those words for a time, as Hinura's song seemed to have gotten the words lodged in his memory. It was almost as if there were a spell on those words. He thought of his part on the flute for the song they were to play upon approach to the castle.

"Hinura," he said, turning to the silent Bard, "As we are to sing together, do you know the Celaid Myrn? If you do not wish to play with us, we would understand, but I think that your talent would bring us great improvement."

"I believe I have heard of it," Hinura responded, "What are the words again? Menelduliniel, do you think that you could sing a few of the lines?"

"Well, thank you for at least asking the right person," Menelduliniel said, giving a pointed gaze to Estelarion, "For they always ask him for the lyrics, but he cannot sing the words, for they are not only meant for a woman's voice, but he does not know them correctly." Her voice gave a hint of cynicism when she said correctly, as Estelarion had once argued with her over the lyrics, but she had proven him wrong, and had always considered herself the victor of that argument. It was a small victory, but she considered it a victory nonetheless.

I'Ithil hant sílad
Am i'falas
Nîf tín síla na hann lost.
Percarach-en-gell...

Menelduliniel sang the first four bars and turned to Hinura. "It is mostly repetitive after that, with slight variations. Have you heard it? And if you have not, do you think you could play it?"

"I believe I heard it once, some time ago," Hinura said, "It is a beautiful song. And Gandalf was right that it was full of hope, which is a blessing on a journey such as this. I will accompany you in the song."

Menelduliniel smiled, "Firstly, what is Mithrandir not correct about? And secondly, we would be delighted to have to play with us." She turned back to her own thoughts, although obviously more cheery.
Cuil na maer
Cuil na beleg
Cuil na alag...

Menelduliniel hummed to herself as she thought to herself of what was to come...

[Susan Delgado]

Anna watched the Man flee with Maladil close on his heels and nearly howled. She ran toward the green cube’s wall, following as best she could, calling out to Maladil that it wasn’t her fault! It was the Butler and Calumëomaryu! If it weren’t for them, nothing would have happened! Nothing!

He ignored every word she said. As he vanished from sight, she skidded to a halt, but, unused to the inertia of a physical body, she stopped too late and ran headlong into the wall. It vibrated for a moment and closed in a few more inches, as she bounced off and landed in a heap in the middle of the floor. She slowly rose to her feet, rubbing the elbow she’d landed on. What now? She glanced over at Calimiel, standing across the cube, facing the direction Maladil had gone but with her head turned around to watch Anna.

“It’s no good, you know.”

Anna said nothing, only continued to rub her arm.

“If we could get out on our own, we’d have found a way by now.”

Anna shook her head. “There must be a way.”

Calimiel turned completely around to face Anna. “No. Do you think Calumëomaryu would be acting like that if there were?” She pointing over her shoulder to where the Elf was giggling insanely and floating two feet off the floor, apparently without knowing it.

Anna shuddered. They’d never been friends, but at least they’d had respect once. What had happened to her? She shook her head and sighed. Maybe a body would have grounded her. And maybe it wouldn’t have. They’d never know now. She stood in the middle of the cube, thinking. What else could she do?

The Butler glided up to the wall and gestured apologetically. I’m sure he won’t leave you in here forever. You’re mortal now; he wouldn’t let you die here. With a last look over his shoulder, he disappeared out of sight, following Maladil.

[ January 13, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

The sweet strains of a song were floating over the camp as Andreth sadly made her way back to where Bird and Holly were seated. Her own thoughts spun back and forth from the conversation she'd had with Nardol to the ominous words that Gandalf had spoken to her. Neither seemed to bode particularly well. She found the two women still waiting on the return of Bethberry who had not yet finished her healing rounds.

Holly arched her eyebrows at Andreth's approach, and glanced quizically over at the red-haired girl. "Why did you have to give the book to Gandalf? Perhaps, we could have found out more from another in our band. He's keeping his hand well hidden."

Andreth nodded in assent. "That's true. I wish he'd share more of the meaning with us. But I didn't know where else to turn. The wizard at least cares what will happen inside those gates.

She went on to try and justify her choice, "Bethberry has more proficiency in the dwarvish tongue, and would find the translation of this book to be a real challenge."

"And the Elf--do not even mention him to me. He is mired in sadness. I have tried without ceasing to break through to him, and I will keep trying, but I think his grief is too great to pay attention to such a trifle as this book, or so he would see it." Andreth wondered whether the Elf could possibly care about anything beyond his own dark tale.

Then she shook her head and went on in a gentler tone, "But I think we should not be so quick to jump on him. The things he has witnessed are beyond my understanding, and perhaps that of anyone in this company. And what is most puzzling to me is why he stays in Middle-earth, since it brings him so much torment. I don't think that even he knows the answer to that."

She smiled sadly at them, "In any case, you two needn't worry that that his particular anger will fall on your heads. Rightly or wrongly, it is the Chidren of Men, my people, whom he blames for his plight."

There was a silence, for suddenly the dark and unknown forest and what lay beyond, so near at hand, made itself felt as a great brooding presence, full of secret purpose. After a while Holly spoke again.

"Did Gandalf tell you anything else of the book, or what will happen inside the Castle or its grounds?"

"Very little." She shook her head. "Only that I bear a greater risk that any by going inside, and it's possible that I may be unable to find my way out. I may indeed be trapped there. But that, if I act bravely and wisely, I can do some good that others would not be able to do."

Andreth looked beseechingly over at Holly. "I'm so sorry. I would like to stay near you and Bird as we approach the Castle, but perhaps you'll feel more comfortable if you don't get too close to me. I tried to ask the Elf for help, but..." Andreth curtly shook her head and tried to compose herself. "He did not respond to my plea."

She drew her head up and said with all the dignity she could muster, "I will understand if you ask me to go my own way."

[ January 13, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Bêthberry]

Finished with checking on Nardol's and Volondil's hurts, Bethberry approached Bird and Holly in time to overhear Andreth's worries.

"Perhaps he might not understand completely himself, Andreth. But let us not make insistent demands on him. He has agreed to come with us; he understands there is a path for him alongside ours. Elrond must have had good reason for sending him; let us remember that. For my part, I would simply bide my time and let him seek me if he wishes, for he knows that I will not refuse his help or aid. And eventually he will learn that it is possible to accept my help without violating his own past."

"As for you, my dear Andreth, you are finding this trip more than you expected, I'm sure, but you should remind yourself that every journey into the unknown is also a journey into one's self. Who do you wish to find there?"

"I will not be entering the castle. I seek something in the herb garden and will go there, come what may. I think the three of us, Holly, Bird and myself, will approach together, around the back perhaps. Do you want to join us? I welcome your presence if you should wish--but perhaps I should not speak for Holly and Bird."

With a raised, questioning eyebrow, Bethberry took a seat beside Holly and invited Andreth to sit beside them as well.

[ January 13, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[piosenniel]

‘Mired in sadness. Now there’s a phrase that fits him well, doesn’t it.’ Bird said nothing at Holly’s words, only glancing up briefly to take in the reaction of the two women who sat with them. The Hobbit pulled a thin, glowing twig from the rim of the fire and lit her pipe, drawing deep on the soothing smoke.

‘Mired . . . and struggling.’ murmured Holly, her words following the exhaled smoke upwards into the heat of the small fire, disappearing into the brightening light of day. ‘Now that is something I would not expect of one of the Firstborn.’ She rubbed along the edge of her jaw with her pipe stem, lost in thought. ‘Struggling, and pushing himself all the deeper into the sucking mire.’

Bird snorted at this image, adding her own comments. ‘Like some dumb sheep gone astray from the herd.’ Holly nudged her, a gentle reminder that they were in politer company at present, though her thoughts had drifted to a similar image. A rueful laugh escaped her and she shook her head to clear away the jarring image of the Elf in quicksand, his struggles availing him naught. Sword at the ready, he fended off each hand raised out to offer him a small step up. A long slow death of what little spirit was left him was all she could see should he continue in such a way.

‘Now that is a sure waste of life’s gifts.’ she spoke to no one in particular, her face touched with a little sadness.

Holly relit her pipe, and looked up at Andreth. ‘If you are going in by the main entrance, with the other of the companions, then I will say we will be parting company.’ She nodded at Bethberry and continued. ‘Bird and I, with Volondil and Olo, are going round back to where the herb gardens will probably be, as will Bethberry. Her concern is with the plants she may find there. Mine is with finding a rear entrance, probably through the kitchen which should be near the garden.’

She put her hand inside her vest and withdrew the map. ‘I have a map here, though I do not know how accurate it is.’ She spread it on the ground for the others to look at. ‘See here where I drew in those descriptions that Gandalf read from your book.’ Her finger traced the path through the east gate to the inner courtyard and south to the stables. ‘This gives us a crude orientation to where the main entrance of the keep must be.’ Her finger swept the blank area to the west and north of the castle. ‘This is the blank we need to fill in. Somewhere here is the garden and some small entrance where we can enter in, while the residents of the castle are preoccupied with the fanfare of their other guests.’

Holly looked up from the map, regarding intently the red haired woman, now crouched down opposite her. Andreth’s fingers traced the crude outlines of the castle, and drew in toward the center of it, as if seeking its heart. Gently picking the map up from the ground, the Hobbit broke the woman’s wool-gathering. Holly refolded the map and stored it safely in her vest.

‘If you wish, you may come with us, Andreth. We would welcome another set of hands, eyes, and ears.’

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

Child's post

Andreth glanced cautiously about the campsite, and then scooted closer to Holly. The girl leaned over and whispered something into the hobbit's ear, which no one else could hear. Holly looked up and smiled and nodded in agreement.

[ January 14, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

The dagger of metal at your side, Poppy, will not avail you against the likes of Maladil. Yet the courageous mettle of your spirit shall mayhap pierce through to disarm him, or his kith and kin. And I shall be close by to lend all the aid I may, should you find yourself in difficulty.

What you shall see depends upon how much light there will be to see by. Perhaps Maladil or some of his household will try to communicate with you, with what degree of success I cannot say. For you, as a Hobbit and inexperienced in these matters, are not naturally inclined towards speech with the dead. You may see flickering, transparent forms, you may see objects levitate or seem to move themselves. You may hear muddled or distorted bits of words. Beware of their touch. If you feel a threatening coldness, cry out and I shall fight on your behalf. All you need do as our ambassador, Poppy Took, is to make a present of the sack of gold to the Lord of Laurëondo.

* Gandalf bent down enough to loosely clasp both of Poppy's arms for a moment, and smiled encouragement. In a half whisper he confided, * I believe in you.

* Gandalf straightened again at the approach of Mornen's hoofbeats, then nodded appreciation at Alearindu's report. * Thank you for your fine service to the company. The sun shines its favor upon our road this day. All is now in readiness for us to resume our journey.

* Having cleared away the breakfast kettles, dishes, and mugs, put out the fire, and gathered and stowed their gear, the company took to the road again. They made good progress all that day, stopping in late afternoon to camp one more night before coming in sight of the Castle. *

[ January 14, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Mithadan]

Nardol rode slumped upon Rustal as if he had been grievously wounded. The preceding night had taken its toll. Many were the nights that he had dreamed of Gilwen's departure, of the attack upon his friends which had driven his wife and son into the West or of the nameless dread of the pits of Angband. But never had such dreams been so vivid. He had felt Gilwen's hand slipping out of his own and the pit of grief that he had fallen into as he stood on the docks of the Grey Havens watching her ship pass into the shadows as the sun set. And what fit had taken him so that he had revealed these innermost thoughts to the girl? He could not bear the thought of her listening, her face full of pity even unto the moment when he had turned away, even then angry at himself.

Silently, he cursed Elrond for having persuaded him to join his path to that of Mithrandir. Lost in these thoughts, he did not notice Bethberry coming up beside him. She had to repeat her query twice before he responded. "Does your wound pain you?" she asked.

Half lost in his reverie still, he whispered, "Yes, they all do."

[Bêthberry]

Hearing Nardol's almost unconscious plea for help, Bethberry quietly put her hand on Rustal's halter, whispered into his ear, and led him away from the group. Nardol hardly noticed. The others looked up at this strange act, but Bethberry merely nodded at them to continue and then looked up at Gandalf, who understood, nodded in return, and calmly led the others forward.

Rustal followed Bethberry's lead into the forest, where the granddaughter of the RiverDaughter sought out a small stream which flowed into the River Baranduin and thence on to the Great Sea. Then, with a firm touch of her hand, the horse suddenly stopped, and Nardol, shaken out of his reverie and surprised by the surroundings, slipped out of the saddle, not quite falling against Bethberry. For the first time, he actually looked straight into her face and caught her eyes.

"Nardol, if ever you wish to join Gilwen and your son, you must find your faith again. Come, there is something you must do." He nodded assent, slowly and warily, but did not reject the woman's direction.

Taking his hand in hers, Bethberry led Nardol to the stream. She sought out some cedar branches and elm twigs and fashioned them into a small craft, a little corrigle, and then handed it to the elf.

"Nardol, you must put your pain in this small boat, walk into the stream, and release the boat. It will sail down the stream, join the river, and sail out into the sea, where it will not be lost but will join the pains of the world. And you will be cleansed."

Still in a slight stupor from his reverie, Nardol numbly nodded his assent. Bethberry walked beside him to the stream's edge and then held back, allowing him privacy to walk on himself, cradling the little makeshift boat in his hands as if it were a small child. He entered the stream and the water rose, above his ankles, above his knees, up to his hips almost, where it touched his hands. His head bowed, he stooped slightly and, trembling throughout his frame, let the boat go. It sat stilly for a minute or two and then caught an underwater current, sailing out farther into the stream and then on, away, until it could no more be seen. Nardol stood in the stream and then, suddenly, knelt down, until he was almost wholly covered in the water.

Bethberry walked out into the stream herself at that point and raised Nardol up. She lifted the leather thong that was around her neck, with the runes of Ranger names on it which Aragorn Estel had bestowed on her earlier at Sarn Ford. Turning it over in her hand, until the symbol of hope, the star, showed on it, she placed it in Nardol's hands.

"Accept this, Nardol, as a discovery of faith; take it as a symbol of hope from he who is Hope itself, that men might triumph over whatever darkness reigns."

Then the two stood quietly, the water of the stream flowing gently around them.

[

[Mithadan]

Nardol probed his psyche like a Man probing a bad tooth and found that while it still ached, it lacked the sharp, eviscerating pain which he had borne previously. His mind was clearer than it had been in nigh unto an age, and he sampled some recent events and interactions with others and winced at the foul temper he had displayed. A single tear trickled from his eye to drop into the river. He turned to Bethberry and bowed gravely.

"It seems I am in your debt," he said with a clear voice. "I know not what manner of art you have used upon me but I thank you, though I am yet to understand the nature and extent of what you have done. I feel as if I do not truly know myself and must rebuild myself anew. But you have at least hauled me to my feet and set me upon my path."

He looked back to the road upon which the others were travelling. For a moment, he considered abandoning the quest. He had been cruel to his companions, if he could call them such, and even to Mithrandir, whom he felt did not deserve such disrespect. Nardol turned towards Bethberry who shook her head. "It would be faint-hearted to abandon those you have travelled with, even if they might deem themselves better off without you," she said with a smile. "Rest here tonight and rejoin them on the morrow. Then gain their respect with deeds and fair words, not apologies."

He bowed gravely to her...

[ January 20, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[*Varda*]

Poppy flushed with pride as Gandalf bent down and uttered the words ‘I believe in you’ into her ear. She could not recall her parents ever saying such a thing to her, but then, she had never given them a real reason to, spending half her time as far away from home as she could get, ever desiring to see what lay beyond the green borders of the peaceful Shire.

What Gandalf had told her about Maladil comforted her rather less, looking down at what she now considered a useless scrap of metal hanging by her side. Still, who knew what else might lie in wait nearby the castle, as she put her hand on it for reassurance. What Gandalf had described about the castle and it’s inhabitants, however, struck her with a cold eeriness and a shiver went up her spine. A few weeks ago she would have scoffed if anyone had mentioned ghosts, and now she was going to have to see one face to face…if ghosts could really have faces.

At that point in her thoughts, they had had to set off, journeying for the best part of the day before the Castle came in sight, looming before them, old and grey.

[piosenniel]

Holly felt the flutter of wings near her right ear followed by the tiny weight of the jackdaw as it settled in on her shoulder. ‘This has got to be the longest bit of road and the slowest group we’ve ever journeyed with.’ came the small voice near her ear. Bird spread her tail feathers, fluffed out her body with a vigorous shake, and proceeded to pluck at her wing feathers.

‘I don’t suppose you could do that somewhere else, could you?’ asked the Hobbit, turning her head to look at her rider. ‘Your feathers are tickling my ear and I rather mind the birdy lice that you are so bent on grooming off yourself.’ She ran her index finger under Bird’s feet, and set the indignant bird on one of the packs on Peri’s back.

Bird squawked at her and puffed up again, fixing her with a beady black eye. ‘I’ll have you know I have no lice, you ignorant Hobbit! She ran her beak delicately along one of her tail feathers. ‘I am merely getting everything in tip top shape for all the flying around you expect me to do tomorrow.’

Volondil, amused by this entire exchange, offered his finger for a perch and placed the jackdaw on the fold of his cape that lay on his left shoulder. ‘You can ride with me, Bird. I don’t mind.’ Holly rolled her eyes as Bird turned her head toward her. She could swear she saw the black and white bird stick her tongue out.

Bird she noted soon settled in, and spent much of the time making comments on the members of the traveling group into the Ranger’s ear. He tried not to laugh, but a grin spread on his face, and he finally allowed himself an appreciative chuckle. ‘You’ve got a discerning eye, Bird, and a wicked wit.’ she heard him murmur. ‘And a tongue sharper than any blade I’ve ever faced.’ Bird puffed up, taking it for the compliment it was, and chattered on.

Andreth was walking by Holly’s side, her horse Whinney following along behind Peri. The girl seemed distracted and unfocused, growing sadder by the footstep as they walked toward the Castle. Holly called for a halt of her little group and they sat for a few moments on the side of the road, watching the others pass by. She passed out some dried fruit, and taking a long pull on her water bottle, passed it around, too.

A short while later they were on the way again. Volondil this time had gratefully accepted a ride on Whinney. Bird had flown ahead to check on the happenings in the main group, and Olo walked in front of Andreth’s horse with Peri, staff in hand, keeping an eye out on the trees to either side of the road.

Holly hooked her arm through Andreth’s and talked about the area they were passing through, describing it in artist’s terms – the color, texture, shadings of the landscape as they passed it by. Andreth listened to the soothing chatter of the Hobbit. And soon fell to talking with Holly on all sorts of trivial artistic considerations. Her face brightened a little as cares were pushed to the side for a brief while. A small smile creased the Hobbit’s face, as Andreth framed with her hands a small copse of green, shiny leaved shrubs covered with crimson berries, set on a low hillock against the fading light of the day.

Gandalf called a halt for the evening, and Holly and her companions made a small cooking fire for themselves and laid out their bedrolls. Before the light faded completely, Holly change the dressing on Volondil’s side, noting that the wound had healed nicely, and there was no chance of it breaking open with his movements.

Andreth and Olo had started dinner and Bird still flitted in the twilight, among the branches of the trees. Settling down, Holly noted, on a branch with an excellent view of the Ranger and his movements.

Just before bed, as Holly was wiping dry the last of the pots and bowls, Andreth drew near, and sat on a log near her. The silence between them was palpable, and the Hobbit dried the dishes methodically giving the woman time to collect her thoughts.

Andreth’s small voice stretched out like a thin lifeline. ‘It will be alright, won’t it, Holly.’ she whispered.

Holly’s grave face could not be seen in the darkness as she bent to her task. But her voice sent forth what comfort it could. ‘I think it will, Andreth. Stick by us, and we’ll see you through.’ She piled the last utensil into the waiting compartment of the pack.

‘Best we go to bed now, get some sleep. Tomorrow will prove a long day, I’m sure.’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth sighed and thanked Holly as she trundled off to bed. Holly seemed to know a great deal more than she did about life on the road, and the dangers that could beset them. Yes, she would stay close beside her and Bird as they approached the Castle.

Andreth was gradually getting used to Bird's witty ways, even though the shapechanger continued to fix a suspicious eye on her. Still, at least three times that afternoon, she had found herself giggling over something Bird had said or done. Bird had a peculiar way of looking at things, but Andreth was convinced that, deep down, her heart was true as gold.

Now, if only the same could be said about the residents of the Castle.... Some of her dreams had brought disturbing hints of evil, something of which she had little direct knowledge. At least not the kind of darkness that put shivers down your spine. But then, what could she do but try? If everyone pulled back because they were afraid, nothing would ever change. It was probably better to plunge onward, uncertain and frightened as she was, than to refuse to try and do something to help.

With these hopeful thoughts in mind, she finally fell asleep.

[ January 17, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Volondil, having taken the first watch, gazed out past the small red fire relaxing under a softening dew, into a misty glade of fireflies twinkling shared golden embers of silent night-song. A sudden chorus of crunching twigs, ragged breathing, guttural muttering, and stumbling steps broke the harmony. Volondil stood bolt upright against a clutching twinge of pain in his side, drew his weapon and bent into an agile, ready stance. *

* A lone Man-form staggered heedless at a half run into camp, steeped in shadow but for where the fire's flames cast their alert glare into his contorted face. Bird, who'd been keeping a watch of her own on her favorite Ranger, jabbered an alarm and swooped down at the intruder's head. The loping man twisted away to avoid the jackdaw, and in the darkness tripped over Hinura, waking up the bard but leaving her unhurt. Meanwhile, the stranger pitched face-forward over her into the dirt beyond, grunted, writhed for a moment, and with a final twitch lay still. *

[piosenniel]

‘Bird!’ came the urgent voice of Volondil. ‘Fly swiftly to Gandalf. Bring him here. The Ranger bent over the fallen form, the point of his blade pricking at the side of the intruder’s cheek. There was no response as the tip drew a small line of welling blood.

‘Stay still for a moment, Hinura.’ The Ranger grabbed the figure by one arm and rolled him off the bard, and to his back. It was a man, he now saw. And he lay deathly still, as Volondil crouched down near him and placed his hand on the his chest. ‘He still draws breath.’

The man twitched at the pressure of Volondil’s hand, and moaned low. Turning to his side he drew up into a ball and thrust his arm out as if to ward off some present terror. His lips moved, and his eyes, now opened wide, stared unseeing toward some horror. Volondil bent low over him, seeking to understand the words he repeated in an endless litany.

‘Please . . . no . . .’ he rasped out, his throat raw from the endless chanting of the plea as he ran. He gasped, shuddering. ‘Please . . . no . . .’ He threw his arm up before his face as if to fend off the sight of something. ‘She comes . . . she comes . . .’

[ January 17, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Belin]

She stood there, and, trying to be calm, she stood as still as she could, although she felt that there was something odd about her feet. Anna was watching her. Calimiel was staring at the walls of the trap in what looked like growing panic.

“My fault?” She moved toward the cube, walking (it seemed to her) more smoothly than she had ever before, and watching the maid’s strange-familiar face carefully. She was once again mistress of her voice, and of her dignity. “My fault, more than yours? I did no more than hope for what you have accomplished. My fault.” She smiled scornfully. “Maladil has the right of it; it’s you, hypocrite. It’s both of you.”

Celumëomaryu grasped the bars of the cell, as well as she could. It was very nearly time for her to be pacing again, and the urge had not been as strong as this for quite some time. If only she could go pace she would know everything…but they might escape. Or they might speak of her. But it was time...No. She had something to say.

“The Butler is wrong, of course. Maladil could not free you if he would. You are not his prisoners, you are mine. But he knows better. He is angry, he is angry, he is with me.” She was smiling. For anybody, let alone Maladil himself, to take her part was a very remarkable thing, and in all her ghostly existence she had not felt so vindicated.

“You underestimate Maladil’s sense of kinship,” answered Anna, palely.

“You underestimate simple logistics,” sneered Celumëomaryu. But her mind was on the library, where she should be walking behind the shelf that had once held her belongings, and where she could no longer go. Fool that she was, could she not have offered him the papers alone?

She turned suddenly. Down the stairs and through the hall. Yes. That, at least. She’d return soon enough, but for now... Celumëomaryu paused. She was forgetting something. She looked over her shoulder... ah, yes. The secret door. With a smirk, she walked past the cube and closed it securely before heading down the stairs.

Only part of her usual route of pacing lay ahead of her, she reflected with a sigh, but after all, perhaps she could speak to the Butler, or to Maladil. One or the other of them could surely help her.

[ January 18, 2003: Message edited by: Belin ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Bird winged over to Gandalf, who was sleeping under his hat. Grasping the fabric in her beak, she tugged its grey point with a fluttering of wings. * Awake! Volondil tends a swooned stranger! * Bird tarried no longer, but scuttled off as fast as a free-flung gale-driven leaf intent on catching onto a low branch from which to appraise the lay of the land before finally joining it below. *

* Gandalf groggily pulled himself up amid a startled half-snore. Not quite knowing what the situation called for, he grabbed both sword and staff, and lit this last into a soft yellow glow. Having slept in his clothes, his most important pouches remained slung from his belt. *

* Coming up on Volondil and the stranger at a brisk stride, Gandalf overheard the stranger's speech, and nodded a general greeting. * You did well to call me, Volondil. * Tossing his sword within light of the campfire and standing his still-lit staff upright into the ground, Gandalf removed a small silver decanter from a weather-stained pouch and shook the decanter with a slight muttering frown. * Only a few drops of miruvor left, barely half a mouthful. * The wizard placed the potion against the lips of the prone man on the ground. * Drink this. What is your name?

* The man groaned after draining the decanter of the last of its miruvor, but with strengthened, clearer voice. * Thank you. Mat ... Mat Rushlight, of Bree. Must get far away, before they change their minds. * Mat propped himself up on his elbows as if to rise and flee, but Volondil's gentle hand on the gaunt man's chest eased him back down. *

* Gandalf put away the dry decanter, walked over to pick up his sword, and returned, placing the sword within Mat's easy reach. * You'll need a weapon, should you be bent on leaving. Eat first, take some refreshment, then decide your course. * Placing a handful of grapes into a small kettle, Gandalf mashed them, covered them with water, and set it to boil with a hint of maple sugar. Serving the resulting brew to Mat with a bit of bread, they sat in restorative silence for a time. *

* Mat told what he would of his tale, about the wagon surrounded by Orcs, the dungeon in the Castle, the deaths of his kin Wayne, Wes, and Brooke. The unspeakably worse loss of Linea and Edwina, chilling pale figures clutching towards them. The surprising opening of his cell. Gandalf made a point of asking Mat to describe the location of the dungeon. * Up, * had come the reply. At last Mat's words slurred to a stop and his eyes fell closed in sleep, but not before he'd gripped the hilt of the nearby sword, and kept it tucked safe in his balled hand. *

* Gandalf pulled out Andreth's book and flipped through it cover to cover before heaving a sigh of consternation. * Why there's not a single mention of a dungeon in the whole book! But then, several pages are missing. There is, however, half a page here entitled 'Treasury.' * Gandalf read aloud: *

To best defend from thievery,
an armed door-warden stands
without,
to let you in.
To let you out
with open hands
your honesty,
within.

* The wizard then shut the book so hard it boomed. *

* Unable this once to conceal her curiosity, Bird let out an aggrieved * That's all?

* Gandalf nodded, lost in thought, as he picked himself up to trundle back to his bedroll. * A riddle, Bird.

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Celumëomaryu gazed longingly into the library as she passed it, then hesitated on the threshold of the master bedroom, half-in, half-out. At least the Butler was nowhere in sight. Not knowing quite what she wanted to say yet, Celumëomaryu could still back out ... But no, Maladil had sensed her presence and turned from the dark reverie brought on by staring at the shards of Adela's statue of white marble laying where they fell That Night. *

Ai, Celumëomaryu. New woes beset us, but our household shall continue to meet them honorably, in spite of the Valar's cruelty. Calimiel and Anna must bury those travellers who here met an unjust, negelectful end. I will free them from the cube for the purpose of burying the outsiders, though to leave Calimiel and Anna trapped where they stand would be a fate more fitting. Yet honor demands otherwise. But when these two delinquents of my household have finished their grim task, they shall be locked back behind bars until they more properly learn the limits of confining mortality. You hold the keys, I'm told. Come with me, then.

[TheLadyAerowen]

Waking up to a few noises, Alearindu straightened up quickly, and glanced around for Volondil who had been on first watch. She finally found him kneeling over another figure, which appeared to be the size of a man. She watched, staying quiet as Gandalf also walked over to the stranger and asked him his name, also giving him a drink. Her ears also caught the name 'Mat Rushlight' and she thought back. The name didn't sound familiar. Alearindu shrugged and went back into a light sleep.

Waking again a few hours later, Alearindu quickly and quietly packed up her night gear. As she did, the sun began to rise from over the trees. She turned to watch, and grinned. Another scouting trip. And hopefully, this would be the last one until they reached the Castle.

Mornen trotted over to Alearindu and snorted. She patted his neck and nodded to Gandalf when she caught his eye, then vaulted onto his back, and quietly left the camp.

Alearindu cantered Mornen steadily for about an hour on her scouting trip. She hadn't run into anything yet. Just as she was about to turn back towards the company, Mornen stalled and snorted. Alearindu peered forwards, and saw a thin strand of wire, that appeared to be made of metal, directly across the path. It seemed to be about chest high if a man were to walk into it. Alearindu sat on Mornen in a slight bit of confusion, then signlaed Mornen to back up a few paces, which he did quiet willingly. She dismounted him and patted his neck, then walked forward slowly.

She found the wire again, and very gently placed her hand on the line. As she was walking slowly and concentrating, Mornen suddenly let out a shrill whinny. Alearindu winced, and jumped, causing her hand to pull on the wire. She tensed, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. She then followed it until it brought her to one end, and found out the wire was fastened to a nail that seemed to have already been disturbed. She walked to the left-hand side of the trap, and found the exact same scenario. Both ends of the wire and each tree limb looked the exact same.

At first sight, and now, Alearindu thought it had just been to stop and/or cut into a horse or human or elf. But there just had to be more to it than that. It was too simple. Once again, Alearindu searched the left side of the wire, and found it only to be embedded beneath the nail. It didn't seem to trigger anything, but there was only one way to find out.

She walked under the wire to the other side, and placed her sword on the under side of the wire, and then pulled up quickly. The wire snapped and fell to the ground with a slight twang. Alearindu stood in tension as she waited, once again, for something to happen. She sighed softly as nothing did, and decided that it was only a simple trap, though that still didn't seem right. She bagan to walk over to Mornen again, as she heard two similar sounds.

A dagger emerged from the slit, just under where the nail had held the wire, in the tree right next to her, but she was standing to the side, therefore it passed harmlessly by, landing on the ground a few yards away. Another dagger emerged from the other side of the wire, from the other tree, and sliced cleanly through Alearindu's tunic, and grazing her side. Her hand immediately flew to her side and applied pressure to the wound.

After a few moments, when it seemed nothing else was going to happen, Alearindu walked over to Mornen, and opened one of his saddle-bags, producing a bandage. She removed her hand, and lifted her tunic a bit to check the wound. It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. She sighed a little, and wrapped the bandage snugly around her waist. She took her water carrier and poured a little onto the hand which she had placed over the wound, and washed the blood from it.

Alearindu then walked back to the two trees, and picked up each dagger. She cleansed the one that had sliced her, and decided to give them to Gandalf when she returned, then placed them in one of Mornen's saddle-bags.

Despite her small injury, Alearindu continued on for an hour more, but found nothing. She had figured that she might be running into a heavier trap-type area as she got closer to the castle, but proved that theory wrong. She had come to the conclusion that the trap she had run into earlier had been for the Orcs to prisoners to bring to the Castle. She felt the cold-feeling grow as she and Mornen drew ever closer to the Castle Maladil. She turned Mornen around, back towards the Company, and signaled him into an easy gallop, not looking back.

They made it back to the camp after a few hours, for Alearindu had let Mornen walk the last twenty minutes to cool him down after their long gallop. Alearindu then signaled him over to Gandalf, and once again, reported;

'I encountered one more set-up on my two hour trip, about half way through. All of these traps are interesting. This one, was a very slim metal wire. After a few observations, I cut one end of it, and nothing immediately happened. But then, two daggers shot out from the trees, underneath where a nial had held the wire in place. The first one went by without any harm, but the second nicked my side.' Alearindu winced and shifted in her saddle, but continued. 'It wasn't deep, I'm fine, it should heal quickly.' Alearindu then opened Mornen's saddle bag, pulled out the two daggers, held them by their blades, and extended them to Gandalf. 'These, are the two daggers. I decided to pick them up and bring them to you. I've looked them over, and they don't look like anything I've ever seen before.'