The White Horse

[Cuthalion]

OOC: I'm assuming all are welcome.

[Mattius]

Are you two refering to my post? If so, there is probably room for ONE more elf, as it is 1019 years after war of the ring. Main charcaters will be men of Rohan/Gondor, including kings/princes if you are interested as well as Ents too.

[Airerûthiel]

Laitalathion sat sipping another ale, feeling lost and a little bored. He had heard that it was to this inn that his brother had come seeking work, and instead had found himself whisked away into an adventure - albeit one where he met death at the hands of his kindred. Whilst the half-Elf knew that quests did not grow on trees, in his heart he still longed for the freedom of the open roads, the journeys into the wilds of Middle-earth, the re-awakening of the legends of valour and bravery he had stayed up for hours listening to as a child in the house of Pennrod.

Pennrod...his uncle, who had laid dead for nigh on five years or more...he had seen the Gondorian's features in the face of the ghostly maiden who haunted his dreams. She was young and slender, no more than a child, yet seemed to be many years older - the cares she carried were those of one who had seen many terrible things in her life. Her eyes were haunted with unspeakable horrors, and she almost seemed to be wordlessly pleading with Laitalathion when she came to him by night.

The words he thought he heard her whispering in his ears now rang in his head, echoing as though they were being shouted down a tunnel beneath Cirith Ungol. "Who are you?" It was a question that puzzled Laitalathion constantly, and he sighed with resignation as he drained the last of the ale in his pewter mug.

Who was he? There was the obivous answer: he was Laitalathion son of Théomer, Ranger of Ithilien. But there were other answers to that question; he was nephew to Pennrod of the Rocconinquë, who was slaughtered along with his family one bitterly cold night long years ago. He was a traitor to Gondor, branded as such by the military for an act of treason his father had been blamed for but had not committed. He was a murderer, one who had killed his own brother for no apparent reason.

He wanted to answer the girl's question more than anything in the world - even his desire to wake up and see his mother once more. It was the girl's lips that moved in his dreams, but it was the voice of Orowethwen of Mirkwood that came to Laitalathion's ears. He was slowly becoming dependent on these night-time visions as a way of escaping from the harsh reality of his past deeds, but he knew that they were slowly destroying him - and it was not against his own will.

There was only one way to answer her request, and he knew what he had to do. To give her a true and honest reply would take a long time of many tales - legends from his past of why his father's name was still called traitorous in Gondor, of the long journey his mother had made to protect her sons while trying to hide her own emotions, of the brothers' travels in Middle-earth as they searched for more knowledge of their people.

Would he tell these tales? He reached for the pitcher and poured himself another drink, sipping it carefully as he thought long and hard about whether to stay in this inn and talk of his past, or whether to set out across the rolling plains of the Riddermark and see where the road chose to take him.

[ March 14, 2003: Message edited by: Airerûthiel ]

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Elwing trudged into the inn, exhausted. She had been riding her pony, Gil-collo, all day for many, many days. Making her way from the Shire to Rohan took a lot out of herself and her pony, but luckily Gil-collo was of a hardy nature, obedient and steady. She smiled wearily as she thought of him, sleepily munching on hay in the stable.

She stepped up to the bar and ordered a pint of ale and a bit of bread and cheese. Carefully carrying her makeshift meal to the nearest vacant table, she sat down with a sigh of relief.

Elwing surveyed the new and unfamiliar inn. Looking around, she saw a man sitting by himself, sipping his drink. He looked quite bored. Elwing suddenly grew self-conscious of herself, being (she assumed) the only hobbit in the White Horse Inn. She looked about warily, and although her experience with Ferri and Crystal in the Green Dragon had helped to prepare her for dealing with strangers, she still startled easily. She felt like a grain of sand next to the Big People and Elves that were all around her.

Elves...they sparked memories of her dark past. No, not again. Not again. She bent her head over her mug of ale, eyes stinging.

[DayVampyre]

"Let go of me!"

"Where's the gold you promised us?"

"Hey! You'll get your precious gold, as soon as I can get some!"

**Outside in the ice and snow, three lone figures stood on a side street close to the White Horse. Two large men of an unintelligent countance stood menacingly over a shorter girl. She had brown hair and darker brown eyes. She wore a loose white shirt with sleeves that reached to her forearm. They had been ripped to that length by the knife that she always carried with her. She was also wearing a black coat that streched to the snowy ground. Had her arms not been covered, a tattoo of a black dagger on the underside of her left forearm would have been visible.**

"Listen here, you miserable little thief!" the larger man said grabbing her roughly about the shoulders "You promised us gold! Now, I think we've been more than patient" he said, now, picking her up and slamming her against the wooden beam behind her. He was strong and it had knocked the wind out of her.

"Get your stinkin' hands offa me!" She kicked him hard in the side and he dropped her to the ground. She quickly rolled off the side and stood up. She brushed the snow off and looked up. The other man was lunging toward her and had brandished a sword. She drew her own knife and sword holding one in each hand. He made a stab for her stomach and narrowly missed. She went to the right and plunged her knife into the lower part of his leg. He grunted and fell into the snow. Having fitfully impaired her fine business associates, she cleaned off her sword and resheathed both of her weapons. She brushed some of the dirtier snow from her black pants and headed for the 'Horse'.

She pushed open the wooden door and was met with a blast of warm air. She pushed her stray hairs from her eyes and took off her coat. Now that her bulky coat was gone the girl's silver necklace glittered by the fire light. On it hung a small silver dragon. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and displayed her ears that were decorated with small silver earings. Three in each ear, each hoop a little smaller than the last. The tavern was full tonight. Perhaps a bit of light pickpocketing, but she had heard that the owner, Bethberry, had keen eyes and did not suffer pick pockets very well. Looking over to one of the bar's walls she saw a poster that particually caught her eye.

~WANTED: Avery {Last name Unknown}. For the multiple crimes robbery and more robbery. Brown hair and eyes, belived to be in town~

This attempt made her laugh a little. The wall must have been some sort of notice board and her poster had others overlapping it anyway.
She walked over to the bar and luckily found a free stool. Avery sat down and waited for the next available barkeep.

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

She blinked, hard. Elwing told herself, I will not cry, I will not cry....will not cry! Amazingly her eyes stopped stinging and she felt much better. Brushing a lock of her golden hair behind her ear, she looked up as the inn door opened. A girl walked in, a girl with brown eyes and brown hair. Elwing shifted her gaze as the girl walked across the room, smirked at a wall poster, and sat down at a nearby bar stool. She had a white shirt on. Elwing glanced down at her own dark green shirt, deep blue cloak, and brown knee-length trousers. She had kept her garments surprisingly well during her journey.

As she tossed her hair out of her face, she felt her bow and quiver shift and almost slide off her back. She caught them just in time and replaced them to their proper locations. As she took a sip from her mug, she wondered if she should go and speak with the girl. Although she was wary, for here in Rohan it was much different than in the Shire, she made her decision. Finishing her meal, she got up and made her way over to the bar stool.

She clinked a few gold coins down on the bar counter to pay for her food and turned to the girl. As she prepared to speak, she fixated the girl with her eyes. Her eyes; when she was...younger, they had talked about them. Nobody, including herself, had ever seen such eyes before. They were stormy-sea blue near the edges, gradually shading to yellow around the pupil.

"Excuse me...is this seat empty?" Elwing inquired, gesturing to the stool beside the girl. As she waited for an answer, she fidgeted with a fold of her deep blue cloak.

[ March 13, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

[DayVampyre]

Avery looked down at the halfling.

"sure, Can I get you a drink?"

Despite the fact that Elwing had already eaten, she heartly accepted the offer.

"So, what brings you to the White horse tonight" the Hobbit inquired.

"Oh, the cold, one of the few warm places around." Avery replied. She had never talked with a halfling before. Two pints of a strong brew were brought over and Avery tossed four sliver pieces into the barkeep's hand.

"So where do you hail from, my halfling friend?"

[Ithaeliel]

Main charcaters will be men of Rohan/Gondor, including kings/princes if you are interested as well as Ents too.

And if you feel a sudden surge of creativity and think you can hold it for a few months, you may also play an Entwife! I don't think there's much room for elves, so sorry to disappoint some of you. Instead, try expanding your horizons! Be unique; play an Ent for a change or a man. It's more of a challenge.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

The door to the White Horse opened, bringing a breath of spring into the room. With a smile on her lips, a woman entered, her cloak thrown loosely about her shoulders. Though it was late afternoon, the sun still shone vigorously, and most of the inhabitants and visitors of the city were outside. Annawyn walked over to the Innkeeper and greeted her warmly.

“Good day, Bethberry! How nice to see you!”

“Annawyn! You have made your presence rare here of late!” Bethberry exclaimed.

“Indeed,” the guest sighed, “these past weeks have been very busy. With the coming of spring, all the ladies of the king’s household seem to want new dresses, and the maidens and I have been working hard to finish them. The complicated work is done now, and they can sew hems and seams by themselves. I need to see something else for a change. Do you have one of your wonderful little cakes for me, and a cup of tea to go with it?”

“Of course,” the Innkeeper answered. “Better yet, I have some time to sit down with you before the evening’s guests come in.”

“Wonderful!” Annawyn smiled. “Tell me, what has been going on in the city – I long for a little news, even gossip, if you have some for me.”

[Airerûthiel]

Laitalathion had seen those who came and went passing in and out of the inn. His mind was no longer focussed on the card game, but rather on those people that he had seen walking into the White Horse. The young hobbit was clearly a lone traveller like himself; he had sympathised with her greatly, but she had appeared perfectly capable of looking after herself, if a little naive. And then there was the 'business transaction' as he thought of it - the two men still lay outside, their moans long silenced by their attacker. He wondered if she would try and take advantage of some unsuspecting patron during her stay. The other woman he had never seen before in his life, yet she seemed strangely familiar.

"Are you all right?" asked Adanedhel. His new friend had seemed strangely quiet, as though he was not focussed on the game. It did not seem right that he was back on a winning streak again; the Gondorian appeared far too strong that he would allow himself to be beaten so easily.

Laitalathion nodded. "It is nothing. I am just thinking on something that came to me in my dreams whilst watching new patrons come into the inn. Forgive me if I have not been concentrating on this fine game." He glanced down at his hand of cards, and then at Adanedhel's, which were spread out on the floor before him. "Although this time I believe I have beaten you," he said, smiling a little as he threw down his set.

Adanedhel collected up the cards and begam to deal them out again. "So tell me," he said eventually, "what made you come to Rohan? We rarely see travellers choosing not to go further west in these times of trouble. Why did you decide to remain in this borderland?"

Laitalathion shrugged. "Let me put it to you in this manner. If I were a country, I would be Rohan; were it a person, it would come in my form. We are alike in personality - neither wanted nor rejected, neither necessary nor dispensable. I am seeking to join the army of the Horse-lords and then settle down to a life in Edoras, for although my heart belongs to Ithilien my soul settles in the Riddermark.

"But I would like to hear some more about yourself, good sir. Those wood carvings I saw you working on in the inn were of exceptionally fine quality. They say silver talks mightily in this day and age, and I am willing to part with the little I have in exchange for one of your works. Tell me, how did you come about discovering your gifts in this matter?"

[Nurumaiel]

The door to the White Horse opened once more, and a tall man of Rohan stepped in, giving a cheery smile to everyone who turned to see who the newcomer was. Culoth jumped up from the bench she was sitting upon and hurried forward towards him. "Firramer," she said, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just thought I'd stop by and get an ale. It's been a weary day of riding for me," he said. "Would you mind if I sat with you?"

"Of course not," she smiled.

They went to the table she had been sitting at and sat down side by side on the bench. Culoth fingers traced the patterns on the wood table, trying to keep the question she longed to ask inside. Firramer would be tired and wouldn't want to be pestered by questions, especially ones she already knew the answer to. But she could not resist, so she burst out eagerly, "Tell me… were you riding with Father today?"

"Yes, I was," said Firramer. "And I had a few other riders with me, one of them Permacar. Rochir -and his brother- begged to come with us, but your father wouldn't allow it. He told them, 'Sometimes I do let you come, but today could be dangerous.'" Firramer touched the sword at his side. "Today was not so dangerous, and these were of no use."

"Firramer, do you have any tales to tell?" Culoth asked. She nodded her head to the small crowd in the inn. "These people here at the Horse do love a good tale, and your tales are wonderful."

"Well, I suppose if I were asked I could make a good enough tale," he said thoughtfully. "The Elf who was traveling to Lothlórien and passed through the Gap of Rohan. And it's true, as well. Your father was also there, I believe. In fact, when Permacar insulted her horse she grew angry and challenged us to race. Thoan was the one with the swiftest horse, so he did."

"Really?" Culoth looked amused. "I suppose that was many years ago?"

"Many years ago." A wide smile came to his face. "In fact, Lady Culoth, your father was so young that he didn't know how to act. He'll tell you himself he was rather rude to the Elf maiden, saying she had no business in Rohan and the like."

"I would love to hear that tale told," said Culoth, looking innocently the other way.

Firramer was silent for a moment, and then he smiled and stood up. As he walked towards the counter he said, "When you go home, ask your father, and he'll tell you."

"But, Firramer!" Culoth jumped off the bench and hurried after him. "All these people would love to hear the tale as well." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please, Firramer?"

He stopped for a moment, but did not turn around. "Well, Lady Culoth, if they ask, I'll consider telling the tale, but now all I want is a good mug of ale."

Culoth rolled her eyes and went back to the table. Firramer was always so easy to convince when he visited them! He loved to tell tales, but he was acting so stubborn now. Of course he would be tired, but he had once told her, "No ale, no meal… no, nothing can cheer me up after a long day like a good tale, whether listening or telling, though telling, my girl, is the better."

Let him have his ale. He'd tell the tale eventually, whether the inn wanted him to or not. He wouldn't be able to keep back from it, especially if it were a tale about the Elf he would always speak of.

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Without hesitating, Elwing answered, "The Shire." Amazed at herself, for lying was her bad habit and she had told the truth, she smiled, and continued on. "I was tired of my old life, so I packed up my pony and went on a journey. What is your name, may I ask? I am Elwing."

"I am Avery. 'Elwing'...it sounds strange. Is it not Elvish?" inquired Avery. Elwing swallowed hard and forced herself to control her emotions. Already an ache was growing in her heart. Why did this always have to happen? Someone just had to mention Elves or Elvish or Elven, and she nearly burst into tears every time. Opening her eyes wide, she answered, "Yes, it is Elvish. It means 'Star-spray'. My pony's name is Gil-collo, which is 'Star-cloak'."

"Ah..." said Avery. They both took a moment to drink some of their brew, and then they turned to chatting again. Elwing took her chance and asked, "Now it is my turn. Where do you hail from, Avery?"

[Adanedhel]

The cards were flitting back and forth between Adanedhel's hands, he unconciously shuffling them as he listened to Laitalathion. When Laitalathion questioned where his talent for wood carvings came from Adanedhel shrugged and said:

'I myself do not know. I first started carving things out of wood when I was young, living with the wood Elves of Mirkwood. I used to carve people, Elven Warriors, Elven Maids, things like that but soon I found I could carve animals so much better'

The cards spun from his hand one to Laitalathion one to himself and so it went until both had thirteen cards a piece.

'I used to spend hours upon hours in the forest finding pieces of wood and then sitting and carving an animal. Deer, birds, bears and rabbits, any animal that came with the forest I would carve'

Adanedhel placed down the left over cards and picked up his own, quickly and efficiently ordering them in his hand, Laitalathion doing the same

'Though now I only carve out of boredom or if I see something that would be interesting or hard to carve

He pulled out a small carving of a man, the wood was worn and was so smooth it had the feeling of some sort of glass. The little man was wearing a large long cloak at the bottom of which poked the toes of a pair of riding boots, on his back was strapped a sword a two handed sword. The cowl of his hood was thrown back and his longish hair hung low in thick strands, his face carved to look weather worn.
He placed the man on the table in between the two card players and looked at it for a moment and smiled

'This was my first ever carving, when I carved it I said to my Elven teacher that this was what I was going to look like when I was older and that with the sword I would kill many Orcs'

Adanedhel chuckled to himself at the memory

'He laughed at me and said "If that's what you think little child" I remember being so angry about that and was determined to become like my carving'

He smiled warmly and picked up a card

'Seems determination pays off'

[ March 14, 2003: Message edited by: Adanedhel ]

[DayVampyre]

It had been long indeeed since Avery had had such a cheery and light hearted conversation. But more often than not, Avery did not deal with the most cheery of folk.

"Where do you hail from?" Elwing had posed her question with an eloquence that only a hobbit could posess.

" A small town, just outside of Rohan, I think."

"You don't know of sure where you're from?"

"well, I was pretty young at the time to remember. I never have stayed in one plce long enough to call home. I prefer to keep moving. Keeps me from gettin' bored with life." Avery reached over for her pint, the tattooed dagger on her arm caught the hobbit's attention.

"Nice mark, what did you get that for?" she said a bit puzzled as to why one would paint themselves so.

"Like it? I have had it since about three or four summers ago. " She bent down low to whisper into the hobbit's ear "All those who belong to the Rouges of the Mark, a gang of thieves, wear them." she resumed her sitting position. "Another good reason as to why I move around" she chuckled and ordered another pint. Avery turned to Elwing to ask if she would partake in another round when the tavern's wooden door banged open. Two guards stomped in, right behind them where the two "gentlemen" that Avery had thought she had dealt with.

"That's her! Over there at the bar! Next to the runt!" The oaf shouted. The two guards began to push their way toward the bar.

"Well, Elwing, t'was a pleasure making your aquaintence, must do it again sometime" Avery hastily threw down a few more sliver coins and got to her feet "Have yourself another pint, and have mine as well, take care." Avery threw her coat over her shoulders and bolted for the back of the tavern. The guards were closing around her and fast. Backed to a wall, Avery tried the window but the cursed thing was locked. She turned her gaze to a long hall and took off down it. There were many doors leading off to rooms. Avery could hear the guards and soon they would be rounding the corner. She tried a knob, locked. Another, locked, The next, locked and bolted. One more, the knob turned and Avery dashed in. She quickly locked the door. Home free, she thought. But a loud AHEM from behind, seemed to tell her different...

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Avery whirled around, her eyes wide. Elwing couldn't help but chuckle at her expression; it was that of a frightened child rather than that of a hardened criminal.

"Surprised to see me, are you?" teased Elwing, strolling over to Avery. She relaxed and sat down on a nearby chair. Elwing gave her a quizzical look, and asked, "Do the people here not know a halfling when they see one? 'Runt' indeed!"

Avery laughed and grinned at her. She could tell that this hobbit, when around people for a bit of time, liked to tease and make jokes. Elwing said, "Well, I'd better go check on Gil-collo. Back in half a minute."

She squeezed out of the window and jogged lightly toward the stable. As she stepped inside, the warm scent of horse and pony invaded her nostrils. She went to Gil-collo's stall, but was surprised and alarmed to see that it was vacant. "Gil-collo? You there, boy?"

A nicker out of the corner gave her relief, and she stepped in to rub his nose. "Quiet and shifty as the shadows, are you? That will be your name henceforth: Dae, 'Shadow'." She made sure he had enough food and water, and returned to Avery.

Climbing back in through the window, she asked a question she had been itching to since she had seen the dagger on Avery's arm: "Avery...if it might please you, may I join your gang of thieves?"

[ March 16, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

[Airerûthiel]

Laitalathion could not help overhearing the young hobbit's conversation with her horse, not even noticing that he had won the round in the card game. He had a strange feeling that she was about to walk into a trap of some kind; although she looked innocent and naive, he had a feeling she could take care of herself. The two ruffians had recovered from their injuries, and the overheard conflict in the inn had been loud enough to reach the stables. He could not help thinking that the hobbit's renaming her horse might mean that she was thinking of going over to the side of evil.

Adanedhel's story had intrigued the Gondorian. He was always curious to hear about the lives of others, perhaps because he had been protecting his own identity for so long. But there was something about his companion that Laitalathion still could not work out - it was almost like trying to solve a very difficult riddle when the answer was staring you in the face.

The half-Elf dealt out the cards once more, considering whether or not to leave this inn. The company and ale were both good, but he had a sense that he had now outworn his welcome. He had to find the girl from his dream, she who bore his mother's eyes and resembled Pennrod of Gondor. And yet...if adventure had found Maikadurion in this inn, perhaps it would be wise to stay a little longer.

Whatever choice Laitalathion made, he knew he would be forced to make it soon. Rohan was the place where he was to settle, he knew that deep inside. But before he could look to the future, he must first unearth his past.

[DayVampyre]

Avery had made herself quite at home while Elwing had been away. When the hobbit returned, Avery had taken a place by the ifire in a rather comfortable chair. She had swept the hair out of her eyes taken her coat back off. When Elwing posed her question, Avery stopped and thought for a moment.

"Join? Well, Elwing, the gang is not mine, but if it was, I would heartily accept offer. Not many want to go into my noble profession."

"How did you get in?"

"Accident really. I came to Rohan when I was about 11, I believe. I scraped out a living of petty pickpocketing. Not the best two years, let me tell you." Avery leaned foward in her chair and lit a long ebony colored pipe "Then one day, I was in the main square and saw this man. He looked rich. Fine clothes, perfectly combed hair, the whole nine yards. So, what was a thief to do? I went over and tried to pick his pocket."

"Tried?"

"well, I got caught. Absolutly terrified. Thought I was goin' to lose a hand. The man took me aside and let me in on The Rouges of the Mark. LIfe got loads better, he's kinda like a father I suppose. He's taught me everything I know about thievery and crime. Tomorow I'll take you down to our hide-out, if you like. It's outside the city, though..."

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry's face beamed with delight at Annawyn's unexpected appearance at The Horse.

"Perfect timing," she said, as she drew the seamstress towards a small alcove at the back of the Inn, past the mead hall. "An afternoon tea and small honey cake would be ideal right about now." Bethberry nodded at Fròma, who replied with his own nod of the head and returned to the kitchen, to prepare the tea service.

So saying, the two women sat down in the cushioned chairs beside a small wrought iron table which was placed in front of glass windows. They gave out onto a courtyard patio, which was still covered in snow, but snow that was melting in the afternoon sunlight. The day was all the brighter for the sun's reflection on the snow.

Hyacinths, tulips and paperwhites, in forced bloom in clay pots, were spread around the room in hopes of instilling some sense of spring in a long, late, cold winter.

"I don't normally like hyacinths; their scent is too strong," said Bethberry, "but this year we seemed to need every sign of spring we could muster."

"Indeed, it has been a strange and hard season," intoned Annawyn, and the slight frown on her face suggested that the two women would first put their heads together in discussion of some more serious or dark purpose to their relationship.

Yet once Fròma brought the tea service and cakes, their demeanour changed and from the laughter and even giggles ensuing it would appear that they delighted in the tales told each other. That the window provided the women with an opportunity to watch one of the rear alley ways of Edoras seemed mere happenstance.

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Elwing nodded and said, "Tis alright. Well, I am going to retire for the afternoon, for all my energy is quite taken out of me. Come and rouse me if you like; my room is the fifth on the left. Namarie, nin mellon." Surprised and delighted at how the Elvish unfazed her, Elwing bowed and left the room-through the window, of course, in case the guards were still about.

She stepped into the inn through the main door and was surprised at how full it still was. Looking at the clock, she saw that it was well past three o'clock. But, she knew that these people were of a different nature than the hobbits in the Shire. Of course they ate at unnatural hours; but only unnatural to her.

Elwing bade the innkeeper Bethberry (who was on the patio) a good afternoon and made her way upstairs. Stepping into her room, she cast herself upon the soft, downy bed and fell immediately asleep.

She screamed. Where was everyone? Looking about her, Elwing saw that she was alone. What had happened to her room in the inn? All she knew was that it was dark, and misty, and that she was alone. Utterly alone. She heard a rustling in the forest behind her and whirled around.

Elwing jerked awake, a cry tearing apart her lips. She sat up abruptly in bed, heart pounding and eyes wide. Realizing that she was back at the inn, safe at the inn, she slowly began to calm down her terrified nerves. Her throat loosened and she began to breathe more easily. What had that been about? All she knew was that she had been alone in her dream. She had been terrified. But why? She had never, ever had that nightmare before. It was all new to her. As she sluggishly tried to piece it together, her weariness and will to sleep took over her body and she dropped off again.

[ March 17, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

[DayVampyre]

Avery stayed in the room for a few minutes. She put out her pipe and went over to the door. She listened for a minute or so. Nothing but the dull roar of usual customers. She unlocked the door and stepped back into the inn. Having had to rush out so suddenly, Avery had not eaten for some time. She went of to the bar ordered some food and took it over to an open table close to a window. She sat down and began to eat. The inn served quite wonderful food. Avery thought to herself, remembering visits to other establishments and how terrible some of the food was there. Avery ate about half of her food, quite satisfied. Seeing as it was mid afternoon, Avery took to her pipe again. From her seat she surveyed the other customers...

[Nurumaiel]

Culoth found her mind drifting away from the noises of the inn and going back to her little home with her parents and younger brothers. She could see the boys playing in front of the house, her mother sitting on the doorstep, watching them as she patched up the clothes from their latest adventure, and her father saddling up his horse to go riding. Firramer and Permacar were standing there, holding the reins of their horses, waiting for her father.

She came back to the inn and saw that Firramer had rejoined her, mug of ale in his hand. He seemed to be somewhere else, as well.

"Can you tell the story now, Firramer?" she asked, and he turned to her with a start.

"Not now, lass," he said. "I told you I couldn't until someone asked me. Someone other than yourself. But I can tell you a different tale, if you like."

"Oh yes, please," Culoth begged.

"After I finish my ale." And he set to work on doing that. Culoth could see the eager light in his eyes that meant one thing... he was ready to tell a tale.

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Elwing awoke slowly. She stretched and yawned. Contemplating whether to fall back asleep or get up, she chose the latter and sat up. Rubbing her eyes, she turned on a lamp and slid her feet onto the carpeted floor. Realizing that Avery hadn't come and gotten her, she decided that she would stay up in her room for a bit before joining the crowd downstairs in the bar.

Elwing remembered her nightmare and passed it off as being uneasy about sleeping in an unknown place. Getting dressed slowly, she uncovered a book that had fallen off the dresser in her room. The title was 'Far-off Tales: Compiled by Freger Burrows.'

Intrigued, Elwing sat back down upon her bed and began to read. Soon she had forgotten all about Avery, all about the White Horse, all about Rohan. She was lost in the world of the book.

[Auriel Haevasawen]

There was so much happening in the ale house that no one took much notice of the drunken wizard and his companions. They were glad to be together again and discussed a thousand ideas they had about places they might go now they had been reunited.

"We must have a brainstorm between us and come up with something," said Mattius.

"I think Radagast will come up with something in a minute," Endereth pointed at the green-shaded old man.

Calentoliel laughed. "Let us take rooms here and rest awhile. Something will happen. It always does."

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

At a loose end? Come and brainstorm on the brainstorming thread. Several gamers with no game are there, pondering ideas. We've submitted a topic but will need role players. Come and discuss any characters you have a mind to play. It will be in Fanghorn initially. Other stories under discussion though!

[DayVampyre]

Avery smiled as she watched from her table. The group was close by and seemed to be making quite a bit of merriment. Being a bit bored, Avery went over to their table.

"Something will happen, it always does" one had just finshed.

"How does the happening of a round of drinks sound?" Avery said. A hand pulled her down into an open seat and Avery bought the table a round of fine ale.

OoC: I hope thats ok with you all. [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Elwing's stomach growled. Awoken from her reverie of far-off lands, she decided that she must go down to the main room for a bit of food. Setting the book lovingly on her bed, she shrugged into her cloak and went out of her room. She locked the door and went down the stairs.

As she entered the main room, the pungent odour of ale and pipeweed hit her nose. She inhaled deeply and happily, for it brought back memories of the Shire, her home. Suddenly she remembered something. Had she brought her pipe and pipeweed along? Elwing dashed back up the stairs and searched in her pack. A flood of relief coursed through her body as she lifted out her pride and joy: her pipe. It was black, engraved with the words Smoke and Smoke Well! in Elvish. She had made it when she was younger, a silly project, but for some reason she had become attached to it and now she used it as her normal pipe.

As she walked back down the stairs, she filled her pipe and put it in her mouth. Lighting it, she inhaled and exhaled deliciously. Stepping up to the bar, she ordered some meat, cheese, and honeycake along with a tankard of ale.

[Ithaeliel]

Endereth smiled as the girl, Avery, joined them at their table and handed them all out a round. "Greetings, my friend, and thank you for the ale! You can see Radagast here may need another before he's able to, er... find peace of mind."

Mattius laughed as the tipsy wizard gave a frown. "Why, I'm ad perfect meace of pind! But, jes, I will have another..." he mumbled as he downed his last pint and gave a contented sigh before falling onto the table, fast asleep.

Ender looked at Calentoliel with an eyebrow raised. "We will definitely be needing rooms. I believe I'll check in. Mattius, when I return, would you take Radagast up to the room, please?"

Ender approached the counter, reserved a room, and came back to the table witht he key. "We'll wait for you here," she said as Mattius gently slapped the wizard half-awake and pulled him up. Avery shook her head and half-smiled. "I don't look forward to seeing the hangover he'll be waking up with. Poor wizard!"

Calentoliel turned to Avery. "So, where do you hail from and what brings you to Rohan?"

[DayVampyre]

Avery smiled as she took a drink from her tankard.

"I am from around these parts, I tend to move around a lot, so there really is no place that I can claim to hail from. As to why I am here, nothing like a good drink and warm food to revive a weary traveller. And what of you and your party? You all seem to be a lively bunch."

Avery settled back into the chair and relit her pipe...

[Mattius]

"Come on," Mattius said as he heeved Radagast up and across the room, "old friends and great times wait for you in your dreams!"

The Wizard stopped in the middle of the room and his strong physical power, not apparent from his outward appearnce, forced Mattius to stop in his tracks too.

"I have a thought good Firnlord!" Said the Istari. Mattius smiled at the mention of his true name.

"Ah Radagast when you call me Firnlord it is like a lost childhood returns to my heart!" Radagast laughed as Mattius spoke and reached inside his cloak grinning and pulled out a long wooden flute.

"This my boy," he whispered into the elf's ear so that the room seemed silent except for his voice, "was given to me by the Entwives many many many years ago." At the mention of the Entwives his face saddened.

"Fear not Radagast I am sure you will soon see them again," Mattius said consoling him. It seemed to work.

"Yes my boy," he smilled, "but untill then their greatness shall live through music!" With this he put the wooden flute to his aged lips and began to play, quietly at first so that it seemed nothing more than a background noise. Soon though it began to become louder and conversations around the room began to die down as the Music of the Entwives began. The flute was the only sound except for the sound of Radagast taking breaths every so often. Warriors, farmers, Rangers and staff stood silent as the music took them to far away places where peace with nature was perfect, where the Entwives lived with the Ents and there was no evil, suddenly though the room seemed to darken and the music turned sombre and a few drinkers began to weep softly as the Entwives were gone and peace became war. The music created great images in the minds of the listeners and now those images were of loneliness and hostility.

However just before the song was over Radagast added an opptimistic note at the end, that the Entwives may be found, and perhaps soon.

He lowered the flute from his lips and the strange dark, but comfortable atmosphere, was lifted from the room. Suddenly from all quaters clapping and cheering was to be heard and Radagast turned to Mattius looking worn out.

"Now I am ready for bed good friend."

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Elwing swallowed the last bit of her food and sighed in contentment. Every bite had been delicious. The Horse had excellent cooks, it seemed. She pushed her stool back from the bar and got up to check on Dae. Stepping out of the inn, she inhaled the crisp air. Elwing walked over to the stable and stepped in. As she went over to Dae's stall, she hesitated, then grabbed the bridle. A short ride would be fine. She needed to be out of the inn for a while and Dae needed exercising anyway.

She led Dae out of the stable and mounted. Trotting out of Edoras, quite forgetting everything for a while as she rode into the country, Elwing was lost in a dream world (as she always was when she rode; it was her passion). She ignored everything until she heard a shrill cry on the wind. She pulled up Dae sharply and stopped moving. Thinking it was just her imagination, she began to urge Dae on again when she heard it yet one more time. It sounded like a distressed animal. Knowing the risks, knowing that it might be a trap, Elwing turned Dae and rode like mad toward the sound. She had a soft spot for animals. While with the Elves (strangely enough, she had become immune to getting misty-eyed and achy-hearted when hearing or thinking of Elves) she had had many pets and the Elves had even come to her at times to ask for advice on their horses.

The sound got louder and louder as she continued riding. Then, so fast she almost galloped over it, she came upon a hawk floundering upon the ground. Elwing immediately felt a pang of pity for the poor thing, for it had a thorny branch stuck halfway through its wing, near the tip. She dismounted Dae and approached the frightened bird, talking to it soothingly in Elvish. The bird continued to cry shrilly and flap its wings pitifully. Seeing that she would need something else, Elwing rummaged in her saddlebag and came up with a sleeping-potion that she had put together. Seizing the bird's head, she squeezed a drop into its beak. Almost immediately the hawk slumped onto the ground. Putting her hand on its breast, Elwing was relieved to feel that it was still breathing regularly. Now was the part she hated.

She could heal animals, she knew she could, but she hated to think she was causing them pain even if she was healing them. Now she worked the branch out carefully, finally getting it out. The poor hawk had a nasty hole in its wing now. Elwing bathed it with herbs and bandaged it. Soon it would be able to fly again, hopefully. She knew she couldn't just leave it here, so she picked it up carefully and set it in front of her on the saddle. The sleeping potion would keep working until they got to Edoras, she was sure. To cause it no pain when it awoke, she rode as carefully as she could.

[Nurumaiel]

Firramer was taking his time with his ale, sipping it slowly (and deliberately doing that, as well) and taking long pauses to look about him. Culoth found herself becoming more and more annoyed with him. Did he have to go so slow? Oh yes, of course he did. Because he was trying to tease her. Well, she wouldn't get upset. But it was hard to keep from jumping up and screaming at him.

"I'll be back later," the young woman muttered, getting up. She would explore the inn a little and see who was still there, who wasn't, and who was there who wasn't before. Maybe she could find someone to talk with while Firramer slowly sipped his ale. A little smile appeared on her face. Maybe she could find him an audience.

[Mithadan]

An errand rider entered the White Horse bearing several scrolls. He stared imperiously at the patrons of the Inn as he proceeded to the end of the bar where he tacked one of the scrolls to the wall.

Then he stepped back and proclaimed in a loud voice, "You all may wish to take a look at this, its IMPORTANT!"

The scroll read:

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

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BARROW-DOWNS!

On May 1, 2003, the forums at the Barrow-Downs will reach the ripe old age of THREE! While the site itself is a bit older, the third anniversary of the opening of the forums is a cause to CELEBRATE!!!!! Therefore, we will have a PARTY in celebration of the third birthday (uh, death day?) of the Barrow-Downs forums and all members are invited!!!!!

This year’s party will include the presentation of the first Barrow-Downs Awards, known far and wide as the Downies. The celebration will begin with a red carpet entrance before guests enter the Grand Hall where the ceremonies will take place. Come in costume and in character assuming the proper flourishes and airs of the Barrow-Downs elite and don’t forget to strike a pose before the paparazzi; this may be your 15 minutes of fame. But remember, there may never again be so many Administrators, Moderators and Assistants assembled in one place at the same time again, so while the party will be fun and funny, don’t forget to maintain some slight sense of decorum.

PLACE: The Grand Hall of Minas Anor (the Gondor RPG forum in a thread to be opened there).

TIME: Thursday, May 1, 2003 beginning at 9:00am EDT until????

DRESS: Formal Middle Earth Wear.

There will be an open bar, and meals will served by our polite wait staff.

COME CELEBRATE THE ACHIEVEMENTS OF THE BARROW-WIGHT AND THE BARROW-DOWNS!

RSVP

[DayVampyre]

Avery went over and read the notice that had been hastily tacked to the board.

"Well, I'll raise a pint to that! I wouldn't miss a party like this for the world!"

She said as she bought the tavern another round of drinks.

[Helkahothion]

Anuion and Bordarigorn dragged themselves on. Just a few more miles and than they would have reached it. The sign became clearer in Anuion's eye and as soon as he got a clear look, he ran towards it, followed by the tired down human. They stood in front of the building for a minute, but then Bordarigorn pushed the door open and strampled in. It must have been a funny sight, seeing an elf and a human walking together, leaning on each other, crippled by the long travel, tired from walking and sleeping outside. The found the nearest table and crashed themselves in the chairs. Anuion got up after an hour of rest and smiled towards Bethberry as he was hanging on the bar.

"Hello. My mate and I would like some food and Ale. We don't mind what it is, as long as it contains meat. Is that possible?"

"Sure. Someone will take it to your table."

"Bless you. And thanks a lot. We would like to rent a room later, is that possible?"

"Sure. One room or two rooms?"

"One room please. With separate bed's. Where not that close." Anuion said as he added a wink.

Anuion went back and a quarter after, they had their table loaded up and Bordarigorn started eating. He attacked the food as soon as it was placed on the table. He at very fast and hardly took the time to breath. The goblet with wine soon went after the food and he just sat in the chair, rubbing his stomach, looking supremely satisfied.

Anuion had not followed his example. Many of the guests, must have seen for the first time in their lives that an elf ate almost like a human. But hey, Anuion was travelling with one for a while now, so that was not surprising. He had thought of himself as very normal.

The two sat in their chairs for a couple of minutes but then headed out to the common room. Maybe someone there would have a nice story to brighten up their days. Sure they had stories, but they had experienced the tale and had tolled it a few times. It starts to wear of after that. The found themselves a seat and crashed down, waiting for someone to step out with a nice tale.

[ May 02, 2003: Message edited by: Helkahothion ]

[Elora]

Ronnan remained hunkered down, concealed behind the hedgerow and watching the patrons come and go at the White Horse. There was an interesting array, and the appearance of a green-tinged man was very entertaining to the otherwise dull matter of inspecting the area. Dull, but necessary as experience had proven in times past. He whiled the hours away behind the hedge until such time as his natural inclinations to caution had been satisfied. Caution only got one so far in his usual career and so he uncurled a lithe frame and stood by the empty road.

In a neat swing, he had cleared the hedge and skulked further up the road towards the inn. His ears gathered the sound of voices and laughter, many people who spoke in the raised register of amusement or the lowered one of serious matters. The hour of the day most suitable had arrived. It was the hour that most wanders had sought out ale and a comfortable seat to wind down after their day. It meant the most horses left tethered by the White Horse. It meant reluctance to venture out into the night whilst the fires continued to warm clothings and ale their stomachs. Ronnan also cheerily noted it meant plenty of conversation when he had concluded his business at hand also.

With an easy confidence he wandered through the horses with quick and curious hands that deftly moved across tack and gear. The horses snorted, tails swishing, ears flickering and heads tossing depending on their overall sociability. Here and there Ronnan found valuable tack, but lacking any place to safely stow it reluctantly left it on the horses. After 20 minutes of investigation, he dusted his hands off on his tunic and shook his head. Two days spent outside an inn, behind a hedge, and nothing of immediate worth. Slim pickings indeed, and he had missed the opportunity to sample the congenial hospitality within to learn this.

He swept a fall of dark hair back from his forehead and moved quickly to stop his losses as best he could. That meant stepping inside and enjoying the company of the owners of the gear he had examined. A gem here or there, and small pouches of money held no interest for him. Weapons were difficult to re-sell, particularly the valuable ones as they were invariably distinctively designed and had a reputation that included the rightful owner's name.

Still, he reflected as he walked through the door of the White Horse, he really could not have expected all that much. He had taken to Rohan after appreciating the need to see more countryside than that ably ordered by the law enforcement of Gondor. He was not here to work a job, although a small gain here or there would be nice. He was here on a well earned rest, and it was nice to have a measure of anonymity for a change.

He doffed his cloak, the once blue material now bearing signs of hard travel and hung it by the door. People, Men, Hobbits, Elves sat and stood around the commonroom. He was hardly elegantly garbed as he preferred to be for social occassions, but he would make do. Ronnan made his way to the bar. "Good Innkeep, a tankard of your magnificent ale if you please!" Ronnan flashed a charming smile along with his coin by way of payment and with tankard soon in hand turned to rest his elbows against the bar and survey the room just in case he had missed a Gondor soldier on furlough.

[DayVampyre]

Avery pushed some stray brown hairs out of her eyes and walked over to the bar. A few new strangers had entered into the bar but it was really no never mind to her, the atmosphere was still jovial and she still had some silver in her pocket. Enough for a drink or two more, but not enough for a room. Well, not yet anyway. Passing through the smokey hase and up to the counter, Avery ordered a pint from a harried barkeep. The drink came, the barkeep was off balance and knocked the elbow of a dark haired man. The man turned sharply and looked at the barkeep. His drink hadn't been spilled, but had disturbed the man's revery. The barkeep said sorry and rushed back to work, while the man returned to his former postion. Avery took a drink from her mug.

"Busy night tonight! You seem like a new face to the inn."

Avery said, meaning to distract the man, hopefully long enough to lift a few coins off of him...

[Airerûthiel]

She was astounded to see the inn emptying of patrons in such amounts. Gwigwyn's hooves clicked on the cobbled courtyard as she guided him to the nearby stables. Her dismount was as soft and graceful as a cat, betraying her for the lady she was. She stabled the bay stallion and pulled the hood of her black cloak over her head. "Welcome home," she whispered to herself as she pushed open the door of the inn.

The few that remained in the inn turned in surprise to see a figure clad in the garb of a male warrior crossing the floor. She put some silver down on the bar and threw back her hood. A sheet of wavy dark blonde hair fell to her shoulders, and her turquoise eyes were level with the innkeeper's as she made her order. "A pint of ale, please," she said in a calm, even voice.

"Anything else?" asked Bethberry. She was intrigued by this war-like maiden who bore such an ancient-looking sword about her waist. The girl had a history, it was clear, but what exactly she could not tell. "A meal, perhaps? Or maybe a room?"

The young woman nodded. "Yes, that would be good. I have been travelling in the wilds of Rohan and Gondor for some time, and I am weary of journeying and sleeping outside." She opened a dark brown suede money pouch that she wore on her belt and emptied most of its contents onto the desk. Bethberry swept out the necessary coins and handed the change back to the maid.

The shield-maiden pocketed the change and then sat sipping her drink. With a bit of luck, she would not have to stay in here too long before another adventure walked through the door for her.

[Elora]

Ronnan smiled at Avery, as pleased at having his ale unspilt as he was to be welcomed by a fair maid with a ready smile. "Indeed, I do not often come to such lands as these to my sorrow," came his easy reply. He settled back into his previous lounging stance after performing his customary check of his belonginings. All was where it should be and if word got out that the Prince of Thieves had been pilfered from by a patron in an inn in Rohan, he'd have a lot of trouble on his hands.

"Is it often this busy Lady..." he began and then faltered when he realised he had not her name. "Forgive me, my Lady, I have been remiss. Ronnan I am named and I am pleased to share this inn with you on this eve." With that, Ronnan straightened and executed a snappy and courtly bow for Avery, rakish charm in his every move. He returned to his full height with a smile filled with the expectation of her name, hands resting in his belt where his pouches were.

He was distinctly aware that the young lady whose acquaintance he was hopefully about to make had a definate interest in his pouches. It was at times like these that Ronnan was grateful that he had invested in a tailor to provide him with more secure storage options than a pouch dangling temptingly from a belt. He studied the young woman's face as he waited on her name, committing features to memory just in case she knew the same tailor he knew.

[Nurumaiel]

Culoth frowned and struggled to fight her disappointment, glaring angrily at Firramer, who returned her gaze calmly. "Firramer, I wanted you to tell me a story but now I have to go!" she cried. "You promised me you would."

Firramer sighed and shifted his weight, not letting his eyes stray from Culoth's own. He knew he had disappointed her, but it was his intention. He had been planning on telling her a tale, but she now she had to go back to her home earlier than he had expected. He didn't know what to tell her now. It was no good making excuses. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I promise I'll tell you a tale first thing when I see you again."

"I suppose that will have to do," said Culoth, turning away. "You must think me hopeless, Firramer, being so horribly eager and impatient to hear a story, but I haven't heard one in a long while." She paused, and then with a little smile added, "And you know what type of person I am."

Firramer laughed but didn't reply. He turned his gaze to the door of the inn, looking expectantly and eagerly at it. Culoth happened to glance over her shoulder and saw the expression on his face. He was waiting for something, or someone… someone he couldn't wait to see. "Firramer, who are you waiting for?" she asked.

"Just a friend," he replied, not looking at her. Culoth accepted that explanation and left the inn. Firramer leaned back in his chair, his eyes closing. He could see himself dancing across the floor with a slender girl, her head of red hair resting against his shoulder. The different feelings that shot through him.

She would be here soon. He would wait for her as long as he must. She would come. He had asked her to come. She would come. . .

[Orual]

Rie hopped off of the horse as quickly as her skirts would allow, and shouted for Talômi to up put the gelding in the stable as she ran into the Inn, muttering about how late she was.

Slipping into the White Horse, she stopped by the wall to smoothed her dress down, and check her hair. It made her blush to think of what she was doing, but it didn't stop her from brushing the dust off of her hem.

Looking around the common room, she fingered her necklace, searching for the young Rohirric man who she had danced with at the Downies. Finally, just as Talômi had returned from the stables, she spotted him and walked over to his table.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Firramer," she said. "Talômi and I lost our path on the way here. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

[DayVampyre]

Avery smiled at this dashing introduction as she rested an elbow on the bar. He sat down and seemed to make a rapid check of his belt.

"It isn't often that I am referred to as a Lady," Avery said, taking a drink "More often, good sir, it's, give me a minute, it's thief or I believe street rat has been used."

Ronnan laughed "You hardly bear the features of a rat"

"Thank you very much good sir. I, however, prefer to be called Avery." She said smiling.

This stranger interested her, much more than the money that he no doubt was carrying on his person...