The Green Dragon - Part 2

[Eruwen]

Rave sat quielty at her table in the corner. There had been an invitation to join some at the bar for a story, but she felt rather reluctant to go. She just felt to want to sit back unnoticed and watch everyone as she thought back on the events of the day.

Many other people had entered the inn---Elves, Dwarves, and of course many Hobbits. She noticed Laurie was talking to a traveler over in another part of the inn, and that scene made her think once again of the Rangers. Not many would come to the Shire, yet even if there were any in the Green Dragon she would not be able to find them due to the large accumulated crowd in the inn.

Rave decided to just wait until more people left before she started any further search for help. The long, dark green hood she wore covered her bright, green eyes just so that she could barely glare out from underneath the hood. She grasped the hilt of her sword tightly as she thought of her long journey from Rohan.

[Rochelle]

Rave sat quielty at her table in the corner. There had been an invitation to join some at the bar for a story, but she felt rather reluctant to go. She just felt to want to sit back unnoticed and watch everyone as she thought back on the events of the day.

In turn, she turned from the gathering. As much as she wanted to hear of the place she had grown up, it was much too crowded. She noticed the watcher. A glint of a welcoming smile graced her lips and she wandered over, motioning to the empty seat across from her.

"Mind if I rest myself in your company?"

[Eruwen]

Rave nodded her head as a woman with long, golden hair approached and asked for her company. Rave looked at the woman keenly. She looked to be a maiden of Rohan. Many already had come to this inn by her surprise. Perhaps this was a popular place to come.

"Greetings," Rave said to the stranger. "I am Ravenne of Rohan, but most people call me Rave." She looked over as the maiden brought a queer look to her face.
"Let me guess," Rave continued. "You are wondering how I could be a maiden of Rohan looking the way I do, right?"

Rave removed her hood to reveal the dark brown locks underneath. "Yes, if I may admit, I am not originally a citizen of Rohan. I was brought there unknowingly as a child when someone found me. I have grown to be a traveler of Middle Earth since my childhood. But now I have a question for you...what is a Rohan maiden of yourself doing all the way out here in the Shire?"

[Rochelle]

She sat down "Hannon le mellon Thank you friend" then nodded, "That indeed crossed my mind when you mentioned your home of Rohan." She smiled "I too am a wanderer of Middle Earth, I departed from Mirkwood after my seventeenth season."

She rested her arms on the wooden table. "I myself did not grow up in the lands of the South. My family was massacred by a nomadic tribe of orcs when I was but a lass. Until I started my journey, I resided in Mirkwood, in the house of Moonstone."

She smiled again as was habit "It appears that we both share a common history..."

[ January 29, 2003: Message edited by: Rochelle ]

[ January 29, 2003: Message edited by: Rochelle ]

[Carrûn]

For a moment Nárello stood stunned as he realized that the Innkeeper was giving him what he wanted. He dumbly followed her to the closet from which she retrieved a worn pack. This is more like it, the boy grinned to himself. From the nearby desk the elf obtained a set of drawing tools.

"Draw me a picture of your journey as you go along little master."

Nárello nodded silently. He was good at drawing and had learned a bit of Elvish from Awyrgan and even a few Dwarf runes. His little knowledge seemed to pale greatly in the presence of the elf and he decided it would be best to write in the Common Tounge to be safe.

He listened with half an ear as Pio detailed how he could get food, "defense," and when he could be off but his mind was already wandering out the door of the Green Dragon and down the dusty path. He was debating whether to go North or South when she interrupted his thoughts.

"Anything else you require?"

He shook his head slightly and she left him to pack. He looked himself over. He had had a bath and his clothes were again clean. He fastened his boots securely and placed his small dagger in the inside of his jacket where he knew he could quickly obtain it. He fastened his clock around his shoulders and walked into the kitchen where he found the food and waterskin.

He placed the food into the pack and carried both it and the empty waterskin into the room where he had been sleeping. He made a note to fill the skin with water in the morning and walked back out into the main room. A dwarf in the midst of some act of either great surprise, joy, stupidity, drunkenness or a combination of them all stumbled over his feet in a hurry to cross the room. Others sat in the shadows or at the bar. Nárello took his traditional spot by the window and taking a piece of paper and pen he began to sketch.

[The Flame Of Anor]

Two bright eyes appeared in the window for a fleeting moment. Taking in the scene they proptly vanished.

Several minutes pass before a young man, barly hobbit height, (yet clearly not a hobbit) quitely (and conspicuously unnoticed), entered the door. Quickly selecting a seat in the corner, he sat down, revealing no sword, but three short knives under his brown cloak.

(EDIT: Removed Sig)

[ January 29, 2003: Message edited by: The Flame Of Anor ]

[Rochelle]

Lauromae Moonstone made his presence seemingly unknown as he wandered outside of the inn. He had followed her here, without her knowledge, and he wanted it to remain so until he felt she was ready.

He was clad in the garments of Mirkwood. His long blonde hair fell straight down his back as his elvish gaze pierced through the glass and into the mingling people. A full quiver was to be seen, yet his bow remained hidden. It was rare enough that an elf was made present in the shire, but he had to make sure she was alright.

Turning his back to the wall he glanced at his surroundings. The people seemed friendly enough and hardly set a look in his direction. Perhaps elves were more common here than he thought...

[The Flame Of Anor]

Looking around the room, the brown cloaked boy was suprised at the diversity. Having been told this was a meeting place for men and halflings, he was suprised to notice many bright swords, elves and nobel looking folk. Some even seemed to be skilled warriors.

The boy could feel the presence of at least one wizard, or perhaps a mighty elf. Yes, here he would find a teacher, he thought.Or perhaps, as he lost his focus and pepole began looking at him, a teacher would find him...

[ January 29, 2003: Message edited by: The Flame Of Anor ]

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[theWhiteLady]

With a blush, Laurie realized she had interrupted a conversation between
Durmán and a beautiful lady. Durmán turned to her with all politeness once again and kindly answered her question.

"This is one of the last places in Middle Earth where I still haven’t been to on my travels.”

"Then I wish you a most pleasant stay here, and if you need anything else, please call."

Laurie curtsied once more and made a hasty exit, her face slightly pink. She decided a visit with her best friend, Nell in the stables, might be in order and there were still the chores to do, so she gathered up the fold of her white dress and began to make her way to the door.

[Orual]

Rie rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stifled a yawn. It was strange, she had gotten plenty of sleep--too much, actually. There was a narrow window of time that Rie could sleep--too little or too much, and she was thrown off.

So stumbling a little bit she headed for the kitchen until a newcomer caught her eye. He was small, but not a Hobbit, cloaked in brown and gazing around the Inn, absorbing the scene, much as she had her first night. Don seemed to be occupied, so Rie went over to the boy. She put a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Suilad, young sir. Can I help you find something?"

[Eruwen]

Rave smiled a weak smile. "Yes," she said. "It seems we do."

She sat thinking of what to say next when she noticed a strange looking creature enter the inn. Rave eyed him every so often as she continued conversing with the Rohan maiden.

"Oh, um, I didn't get your name did I?" said Rave quickly.

The stranger at the door was very much keeping her interested. He was not a Hobbit, for Rave had seen many since she had entered the Shire. She watched out of the corner of her eye as someone walked over to him. Out of all the strange creatures in Middle Earth, he was by far one of the strangest. Rave was not sure if she could call him a man or a dwarf, but she turned her attention back towards her company waiting for a reply.

[Rochelle]

She shook her head "No..I don't supposed I offered my name. Im Rochelle of the house of Moonstone in Mirkwood. What might you call yourself?"

Her eyes followed the gaze of her companion and she smiled "Do you know that being? Perhaps we should invite him to join our fellowship?"

[Everdawn]

Umbria stared at Durman, almost searching for something. "you must understand, that not I alone, can tell you everything. Perception and Seeing are different. There are many answers in this world I can not fathom, then do you think I would have found my son in time to save him?"

she sighed. "your brother has suffered great change since you saw him last. I know nothing of a mother. Though I felt emmence trouble. I think he may have met with the rangers of the north. There are two over there, one is Alaemas, the other Dolenmar, they owe me a great favour, perhaps we will speak with them? or you will tell me your whole story?"

She gestured to two dark men sitting away from the crowd by the fire talking among themselves.

[The Flame Of Anor]

SAVED FOR REWORKED POST

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Grimbold]

Grimbold reclined in the shadows, intently watching the faces and expressions of the others as they interacted. As a Ranger of the North, Grimbold was always visiting such meeting-places where he could hear rumour of the comings and goings, and passing events in the surrounding lands. He was also--above all else--an excellent determiner of character and motives. He could discern the thoughts of others by their faces, or through their shifting eyes.

Grimbold was always waiting and ready for a chance to serve the purposes of the free kingdoms of men in whatever small ways he could. Such an opportunity--he felt--was approaching as he watched the others in the chamber. Curling smoke furled out from his mouth in a long and twisting arc, and the leaf in his pipe glowed orange. He would see how the conversation developed, and he would follow one, or two, or all of them, or he would make himself known to them, all depending on the outcome of the following words...

[Falathion]

"Hrmf!" Turgon managed to sigh out as the wizard walked over to the young elf. "Me is not sitting at an elven table!" He said harshly and grinned at the the elven maiden.

"Never shall me acompany an elf, not after what they did to me kin!" He crossed his forearms and spillt out a great sigh, sitting there, looking angry. He would like some company on his journey by someone else then just his brother... but never an elf!

Not if a thousand orcs were running for him he would take help from an elf!

[astarielle]

As she waited for the crowd to fall silent Astarielle ordered a round of drink for everyone. A great cheer was heard.

"My story begins in Mirkwood, however I shall not start my tales there. As I look around, I see many faces scarred by war and souls broken by love. I'll tell the dtory of a little known battle in Eregion."

Astarielle paused.

"An evil wind blew from the east bringing a cloud of darkness. This shhroud decended upon a small party of elves, of which I was one, who were travelling to Rivendell. In the darkness a shrill wail could be heard, moaning. It talked not in tongues of men nor elves but in a language even I could not decipher, though it did bear a resemblance to elvish. I know now it was the language of Mordor."

A hush had decsended upon the crowd of listeners.

"Beneath the darkness a battle cry was heard and a mass of pointed spears emerged in the distance. I could not judge there distance nor there speed because of the darkness. We seemed surrounded, but how no one knew. The horizon was empty on all sides just a minute before. We had stayed close to the cliff for protection but how could a cliff fail?"

"The enemy were close, but not close enough....................."

Astarielle decided to take a break to the dismay of all. She sat back down next to Hiri.

[theWhiteLady]

As always, the smell of horses and hay brought back memories of home in Rohan, and Laurie felt a wave of homesickness wash over her and settle into her stomach with an uneasy feeling. She worked much slower than usual, her back still sore, but she enjoyed being around the many horses. It was interesting to see the many different shapes, sizes, and personalities; Laurie could never understand the people who insisted all horses looked alike. Why, the quaint grey hobbit pony standing next to Rave's strong horse from Rohan looked like a completely different creature!

Laurie skipped Nell's stall until she had finished with the others. Nell had been unusually quiet; she hoped nothing was wrong. Laurie peered over the stall door and laughed quietly to see her brown mare curled up and sleeping upon the shavings. Careful not to make the door squeak as she entered, Laurie slipped in and sat down beside Nell. She stroked the brown mane thoughtfully, and as she sat, Laurie felt a longing, stronger and more poignant than ever before to stand upon the edge of the sea and look out across the water to Elvenhome beyond. Laurie sat there for a long time, lost in her thoughts.

[Himaran]

Bali hurried through the inn, looking this way and that to catch a glint of the golden hair of his elf-friend. But there were many elves in the central room now, and all had; well, long golden hair!

Finding his way to the back of the inn, where several passageways lead away from the commotion, Bali noticed a young elf talking to Piosenniel, the Innkeeper. Thats him! But I will not intrude, I can wait until he gets his key...

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Rochelle]

As her company found keen interest in the brown cloaked boy at the door, she herself let her eyes roam the inn. They soon landed on a ranger nearby. His stature and shadow gave him a mysterious aire.

The fairness of her features gave an apperance of a smile. She had been warned that rangers were gwaith andelu, but she felt never to lay judgement on any save orcs. Her smile beckoned, and should he deem it necessary to join their table, he would be welcomed.

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: Rochelle ]

[Schmendrick]

” The whole story?” Durmán repeated, and all of a sudden it looked like all colour had escaped his face. He opened his hand, where the silvery necklace still lay, as if asking counsel from it. He almost wanted to share the story with someone, finally, and he was starting to trust the lady. But he feared there might be other ears listening.
“This story is too long to be told here, and of little interest to anyone else but myself I fear, but I will tell you something.”


He leaned closer to the woman and started: ” My mother is of high family in Dol Amroth, distantly related to the Prince himself. Elewanda is her name. In her youth he fell in love with my father, Bergil, a wild and solitary ranger. However, her father did not approve of their love and one night they escaped to lead a life in the wild. There I was born.


Some years passed, and my mother started getting restless. She had been hasty making her decision, and the life in the wild was starting to bore her. She asked for my father’s permission to go to visit her family in Dol Amroth and promised to be back in two week’s time. But she never returned. This drove my father crazy. He took me with him – I was only 11 at the time - and rode to Dol Amroth, to claim her back, but we were not let to enter. In his wild fury he killed one of the guards.” Durmán paused. His eyes had grown dark. “Do you still want me to continue?”

[Lumiel]

Lumiel pressed her eyebrows together as she listened to Farrehn's sad story. She said nothing, listening almost ravenously to the tale. When Farrehn brought out her blade, or at least a part of it, she looked at it and felt almost like a dark shadow was on her head, but it seemed to be controlled and restrained, by Farrehn's will she guessed. When Farrehn finished her tale, Lumiel spoke.

"You have lived a hard life, harder than mine, and longer too, I think from what I have heard. I could not pity you, Farrehn, looking at you now drives out any thought of it. You are a strong person, stronger than most I have met, though those are few and far between. But I cannot help but feel some sorrow for your story, though that part is over.

For myself, well, I was born to high elven parents, though I know nothing of them except blurred memories and the name Rovalhir. But I do know that I was raised as a child by them.

They were leaving for the Grey Havens, when I was but a child, and I was to go with them. They had lived alone, but kept in contact with their elven kin, and had arranged to meet them at the port where the ship was docked until they left. My mother, father, and myself left our small sylvan home and headed out for the ship.

It was a long journey, and a sad one it proved. We were about 3/4 of the way to our destination, when we were ambushed by orcs. My father fought bravely, but was overpowered and mercilessly killed. My mother tried to escape with me. Unfortunately, she did not get far before we were both surrounded, and she died like my father, protecting me. I was terrified, I thought I was going to die. I cried, I begged them for mercy. I was only a child, but I am ashamed of what I did.

They spared me my life, and took me captive. I know that my elven kin did come to search for me and my parents when we did not arrive, but they found only my parents' body, and no trace of me. They gave up hope, the orcs' trail had long gone cold by then and they left me for dead.

I was the orcs' prisoner for several months. At first I feared that they would eat me, or perhaps sell me as a slave. I was afraid of so many things happening. Instead, I was their entertainment. They would toy with me, make me grovel for a piece of maggoty bread or a mouthful of their horrid brew. I had no choice but to do as they said, whatever it was that they wanted. During those months of torture, I forgot almost all of my past, and seemed to know only my life with the orcs.

Finally, I was rescued. The large orc band had split up, and I was with a small group of about 15 orcs. One dark, moonless night, we were attacked by a lone man, though in the dark he loomed high above me like some dark shadow demon. He grabbed me, and I screamed, waking up the orcs, and he had to fight them. He slew every one of them, leaving them to die in their own filthy blood.

He took me away to his home, but at the time I didn't know that he meant to help me. I kicked and screamed, but I was in no condition to fight. Finally, when the sun crested with the dawn, I saw that he was a man, though his visage was scarred and twisted. His name was Farrin and he was a Black Numenorian. He took care of me, he healed me, and he helped me recover from my ordeal.

After a few months, I felt as good as new, but I did not want to leave, for I felt I had nothing ot go back to, and I was afraid of what might happen if I did. So he took me in and raised me. He taught me the ways of the land, and how to fight. I have never known a better swordsman than Farrin. He told me of my elven heritage and language which I had forgotten. But, as I am immortal, and he is mortal, though a Numenorian, he grew old. I had grown up in my time with him, and he had become my father and mother.

Before he died, he told me the truth about himself, about his black past. He had betrayed his people, and had been exiled under threat of death by Aragorn himself. He had been following the band of orcs through his home of exile, and noticed an elven girl, me, among them. He thought that if he rescued me, he could use me to gain access to the world once more. At first his intent had only been to use me, but he grew to love me like his own daughter, and I pretty much was.

He died shortly after, but told me to do two things for him. One, to clear his name to his people, and two, to find my kin. He gave me his sword, and I set out shortly after, and have since arrived here. I seem to know very little of the world, having been raised in isolation both by my parents and Farrin. I'm still a little shaky around people, mostly elves, but I'm getting over it. Sorry my story was a bit long winded...."

Lumiel gave a small, quirky smile, somewhat embarassed by how much she had spoken. She didn't think that she had done that before in her life! Her throat felt dry, and she wondered if Farrehn felt the same.

"Farrehn, can I buy you a drink perhaps?"

[Jesse]

*Jesse notices the boy in the brown cloak. He motions for the boy to come over to his table. The wizard smiles and scratches his long white beard a little bit. Then he turns to Turgon. Jesse stands up and says:

"Turgon, is that your name? I have not received your answer about us going on a journey together. Perhaps the boy over there in the brown cloak can join us. You could teach him how to be a warrior and I can teach him some magic. Plus, we can trade my blue robe along the way for something good. What do you say?" the Wizard says as he looks at the boy in the cloak. The boy is startled that the wizard noticed him. He is a bit shaky as they look each other in the eys. Then Jesse turns to Turgon. He stands there waiting for the dwarf and the boy's responses.*

[The Flame Of Anor]

The boy excused himself from the table for a minute, and moved over towards the apparent wizard. He introduced himself as Stryker, a boy from the North.

"A journey you say? I would be honored to join you. While I am not a warrior, i do learn extremly fast, and could learn much from a wizard." He said.

However, he had buisness to attend to for several days, but would, when he returned, seek out the wizard and perhaps join him on his journey. With that, the boy stood up, and (with quite a bit of effort) seemed to disappear into the crowd. Those with very sharp eyes would have seen him exit the Green Dragon, and head North. He would return on Monday.

[Jesse]

*Jesse the Wizard looks as the boy walks out of the Green Dragon Inn. The wizard lets out a sigh and then turns to Turgon. His white beard is moving but there is no wind. The wizard's green robes are glistening in the sunlight once again.

"Turgon, let me know about your decision. I plan to retire for the day. It has been a long journey and I will need my rest." Jesse says as he walks to the counter. Seeing no one is around, he raises his voice and says:

"I would like a room here. Could someone direct me to one?" the wizard said as he leaned on his staff. His tired eyes scan the room for a sign of a response. Jesse then gets out some money to pay for his room. He smiles at Turgon and then looks around for someone to direct him to a room.*

[Hirilaelin]

Hiri siped her ale and listened appreciatively to Astarielle. She was an excellent story teller, and her listeners were instantly hanging on to her every word.

Astarielle paused and sat down. Hiri leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "That was immpressive." She looked at the eagerly waiting crowd and whispered again, "You might want to continue, before they get violent."

Astarielle laughed softly. "All in good time! The rest will come, and they will wait however long it takes." From the look of the crowd, waiting for Astar's next words, she seemed to be correct.

[Frodess]

The elf laughed when they received their food. Champignonne glanced at him: he was almost as hungry as a hobbit. As the others crowded around the bar, he took what was left of the food and headed to a table in an obscure corner. Champignonne slowly followed him.

"Did you not want to hear the story?" she asked.

"No, I am tired of sadness, and all that comes with it." He smilled, and for a second, his eyes seemed to glow. "I am sure it is a good story though. If you want, you owe me nothing. Go on, I am not holding you back."

"Thank you, but I would much rather stay here." Champignonne was shocked that this answer had come from her lips. She did not want to admit that this particular elf intrigued her. He was so unlike what her mother had told her of elves, and he was from Rivendell, her destination. He interrupted her thoughts.

"So, Miss Champignonne," he said, a smile playing on his face. "You never did tell me why a young hobbit 'lass' like you was out in the dark of the night. Might I ask now?"

Champignonne blushed a deep crimson. She did not know this Tiquandel! She fervently wished someone would come to their table and interrupt this interrogation.

[Carrûn]

Nárello sat quietly in his corner. His sketch was almost complete and he looked over it. It was from a story Awyrgan had told him. His mind fought to remember the details as his hand worked its way across the paper. A lady with long blond hair stood defiantly in front of a winged beast with a great dark shape riding on it. The boy sighed as he considered the next pen strokes. He had pressed Awyrgan for more details of the creature but the nephew of Halbarad would say naught and so Nárello was left to his imagination for a better representation of the scene. Dark, cloaked, better make his eyes red like Awyrgan when he gets angry. Oh, right - all I have is charcole. He rummaged around in one of his pockets and managed to find a small pallete of red dust Awyrgan had given him as a gift one.

He put some finishing touches in; a man of great but now dimmed magisty lay beneath a struggling horse, many other men lay scattered accross the bottom of the page. The child smiled in satisfaction. I am good at this. Tracking is more fun but this is easier. He paused in his work to watch the general hussle and bustle of the Inn for a time. Some sat in groups telling stories, others held council and some seemed to prefer to take comfort in the presence of four walls and a fire; content to sit by themselves in silence.

Something was bugging him about his drawing though. It just doesn't seem complete. Summing up a bit of courage his rolled the paper up and, placing the quill inside his jacket, strode over to where the Innkeeper was in the midst of dealing with several customers. This time he managed to wait until she was finished before he spoke.

"Excuse me Ma'm..." She turned and looked at him kindly but firmly. "I'm not leaving until tomorrow morning," he said hurridly. He unrolled the parchment. "I was wondering if you could tell me what this is? I drew it." Her eyes widened slightly.

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Eruwen]

Rave saw that Rochelle had been looking around the inn as well as herself. When her eyes came upon the Ranger Rochelle seemed to be looking at, Laurie's words once again came back to mind.

"Excuse me," said Rave to her friend. "I shall return momentarily."

As she got up from the table, Rave made her way over to where the Ranger was sitting. When she approached the table, he looked up at her as if studying her thoughts.

"Pardon me," Rave said suddenly standing near him. "I am Ravenne of Rohan. My friend over there and I noticed you over here in the shadows, and we were wondering if you would mind joining us."

Rave watched his eyes and waited eagerly for a reply as he looked over at Rochelle.

[Rochelle]

She nodded and watched as Rave excused herself and wandered over to the man in the corner. She took the time to glance once more around the inn. There were several people who caught her attention.

One boy she noticed sat scribbling amidst his paper. She lifted slightly to see if she could catch a glance before he stood and moved over to the innkeeper. She sat brooding, wondering if she should check on her horse Quellë. No, she felt he was in capable hands at the stables. The need to be social was too great.

Quietly she waited for her friends return...perhaps the ranger, or anyone else would join them?

[piosenniel]

Pio gasped as she beheld the sketch. Drawing the Nárello aside, she sat down at a secluded table and spread the paper before her. ‘Come here, child, she said, ‘And listen to this story.’

She told him of the great battle at the end of the Third Age against Sauron, the Dark Lord. As she spoke, her hand flew over the empty pages of the drawing pad she had retrieved from behind the bar. It was a simplified version, much compressed, but in it were the stories of the Ring of Power, Sauron - the Dark Lord, Saruman, and the Nine companions who stood against the forces of Shadow and defeated them.

‘This drawing is of the battle at the Pellenor Fields, the greatest battle of the Third Age. The dark forces of Sauron were intent on the destruction of Minas Tirith. They had crossed the river, destroyed Osgiliath, and breached the Rammas, the great perimeter wall and outer defense of the city. They spilled into the Pelennor fields, the farmlands around the outer city walls, and had besieged Minas Tirith.

‘The armies of Minas Morgul beat down the great gate to the city, and the Lord of the Nazgul prepared to enter the city on his great black horse, where no enemy had ever passed before. Then did King Theoden of Rohan fall upon the Dark armies from behind and broke the siege. The Lord of the Nazgul left his position at the gate, but returned as Theoden rode victorious across the Pellenor Fields to return to the city.

‘A dark shadow dimmed the sun, then. Another band of Dark warriors opposed him and he rode against them. But Snowmane, his steed, reared up was felled by a poisoned black dart, and the King fell beneath him

‘The Lord of the Nazgul had returned upon his foul winged beast, and his mount fell upon the body of Snowmane, claws digging into the horse’s flesh.’

Pio pointed to the great winged beast of the boy’s drawing and the shadow creature upon his back. ‘Just so.’ she said, nodding at the sketch.

‘Two of Theoden’s knights still stood to defend their fallen King. This one, the lady with the golden hair was Eowyn, the niece of the King. She had dressed as a man to be able to fight in his service and now stood facing this great foe.’

Pio took up her charcoal and swiftly drew in a smaller figure, with a small sword clasped in one hand crawling toward the Nazgul whose attention was bent on the woman of Rohan.

‘This was Meriadoc Brandybuck, a Hobbit of Buckland, and one of the nine companions. He too was sworn to the service of the King. The Nazgul’s winged beast was killed by Eowyn, and the Black rider rose up in wrath against her and smote her down with his great mace. Then did Merry, summoning all his courage, smite a blow at him from behind, and pierced the sinew of his knee, undoing all that held the Black Rider together. His spirit departed with a great cry, never to be heard again in this world.’

She put her arm about the boy’s shoulder. ‘It was a great battle, the last of the War of the Ring. And at its end, Aragorn and his forces returned up the River Anduin and with the forces of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and those remaining of Rohan under Eomer, the last of the battle against the forces of Darkness and Shadow was fought and day won for Light.’

She sketched the face of Aragorn upon a clean piece of paper, dark haired, grey eyed, the image of a King of Old. And on his brow there shone the Star of Elendil . . .

'I never tire of the old stories.' she said, calling for a server to bring them some tea and a plate of jam tarts. She rolled up the sketches, and tied them with a ribbon from her hair. 'Here, these are yours. Share them with others as you will.' She poured a cup of tea for him and pushed the pot of honey toward him.

Sipping at her own mug, she drew a small sketch on a scrap of paper. Another dark haired man, his hair shot through with silver grey. Grey eyed, smiling . . .

[ January 30, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Envinyatar]

Their backs were turned to him as he approached with quiet steps. She was bent over a piece of paper on the table before her, and her sure quick hand kept time to the rhythm of her voice as she sketched and talked quietly to the boy beside her. He could see how the young boy focused on her drawings and how he often turned to watch her face, as the story spilled from her lips to the waiting paper.

Clear light from a window on the western wall fell softly on the curling cascades of her long black hair. It caught the fine ridge of her cheek, and the smooth plane of her brow as she turned briefly to regard the boy. Derufin’s breath caught in his throat at her grace and at the quiet dignity of her countenance.

[piosenniel]

‘You are as heavy footed as any Man.’ she said quietly, her back still to him. She turned slowly in her chair, the burden of the twins making her movements cumbersome. ‘Come, sit with us. I was just filling in a memory for Nárello. He is proving to be quite the artist.’

She unrolled the boy’s drawing, securing the corners with honey pot and mug and plate at three of the corners, as her own hand held down the fourth. ‘A good rendering, is it not, Derufin?’

[Envinyatar]

His fingers traced the fallen men, strewn on the field about the King.

‘Devorin, it was, who captained the troops sent to aid Gondor in this war. Three hundred men from Ringló Vale were under his command. They came east, to Minas Tirith, to stand with their allies against the foes of Men. Farmers and fishermen, hunters and traders. Husbands and fathers and sons.’

‘They stood and fought on the Pellenor, and many of them fell. But Devorin rallied them, and they retreated to the defense of the city. And when Aragorn called for the troops to advance across the river to the Morannon, they added their small strength to the knights from Dol Amroth, following Prince Imrahil. They stood with them as the hosts of Mordor issued from the Black Gate and Orcs streamed down from the hills to the sides of the rampart, surrounding the two great hills round which Aragorn had ringed his troops.’

‘The fighting was fierce and bloody; the din of battle and the screams of the dying and injured overpowering. More of them fell, as did Devorin. Until only five remained, and none of them unscathed by weapons of the enemy.’

‘They made their way home, once the fighting was done, and Aragorn was assured his Kingship. To the outskirts of Ethring, they returned. Only to find their own homes burned, their families slain. A roving band of Orcs had swept through this area, destroying land, life, and dwelling as they passed under cover of darkness.’

Derufin’s voice faltered and grew quiet. ‘Three of them stayed, to rebuild their lives there. The two others left, one to the arms of the wide sea, and the other to a life of rootless wandering.’

He rolled the boy’s drawing up, and placed it in his outstretched hand, catching his gaze with darkened grey eyes. ‘And that is their small story, young Master. Though I have no skill to draw the picture of it for you.’

[Falathion]

"Me shall speak with yer in the mornin of this quest" Turgon said to Jesse as he went for the bar. "Sleep well, and may yer dreams be filled with gold and glimmer."

Turgon sat for a moment all by himself, twinning his thumb, tapping his foot at the floor, looking around in the room. Noticing all the people who actually had made it into this room. He grinned. Elves, and more elves. Then his smile lightened as he caught the glimps of a dwarf. Hobbits were all over, and men was here as well.

Truly a nice place for listening to tales, and telling tales of old. He knew some stories that would get his attention. Turgon chuckled silently. The killing of the dragon and the invissible hobbit. Sure that was a tale commonly told in the Blue Mountains. He giggled and rested his position, waiting for any interaction.

Everyone seemed to be caught in their own matters.

[ February 04, 2003: Message edited by: Falathion ]

[Grimbold]

Grimbold rose to his feet, standing well over six feet tall.

"I thank you, Lady of Rohan--would you and your friend perhaps prefer to join me here in the corner? I believe there is a considerable draft in the room. I would merely ensure your comfort and that of your friend, lady."

Grimbold raised his arm, gesturing courteously for Rochelle to join them.

[ January 31, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Carrûn]

Nárello sat in fascination as the Innkeeper filled in the missing links in the story for him. He watched as she drew a small figure, hobbit-like, onto his paper. Of course, the Halfling, he chided himself for not remembering.

She drew the man called Aragorn on a seperate sheet of paper. The boy looked at the noble image with grave respect. Like Awyrgan, only maginfied many times over. And bathed, he thought. Coming back to the present he accepted the refreshments gladly. He noticed the elf working on her own sketch out of the corner of his eye but decided it was best not to stare. One thing was clear - the hand of the Innkeeper made his own work feel like a rough carving.

A man made his way to them out of the shadows and Nárello grinned. Awyrgan could have taught him how to be a bit more quiet. Of course, he mine as well have stamped if he was trying to creep up on an Elf. He listened as the man looked at the boy's drawing and told his own tale, as if the images brought the memories back to life. When the man was finished he reached out and the man returned his drawing.

He turned back to face the Innkeeper but he spoke to both of them. "Thank you for filling in the gaps, Awyrgan would never speak much of such events and my drawings have seldom been complete."

[Rochelle]

Her wandering eyes had once more turned to where Rave stood near the Ranger. He soon motioned for her to join them and she obliged. Standing from her seat, she slowly made her way through the people before standing beside both Rave and the man.

"A Ranger...I must admit I'm rather surprised at your invitation. I was told you prefer solitude over company." She smiled, her voice had a teasing tone to it, yet her comment was firm.

"My name is Rochelle, daughter of Lauromae from the house of Moonstone in Mirkwood. Though, my birthplace was in Rohan." Eyes glanced him over before she spoke again "and what shall we call you?"

[Himaran]

Bali had waited patiently, but now his patience was near its end. The innkeeper was dealing with other customers and, (in Bali's point of view), had wasted a good amount of important time talking to a little boy about a picture.

But finally the elf got his key, and turned toward Bali. A look came upon his face; joy, at seeing a long-lost friend. "Bali!"

[ February 01, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Grimbold]

He helped the two women to their seats and ordered some wine and brandy from the innkeep. He removed the hood which had shaded his face.

"Ladies, tonight I can have some rest," he said. "I am Grimbold, son of Brangold. You clearly know the difference between a farmer and a Ranger. Perhaps your people have had dealings or made contact with my kin in the past. In any case, I serve the free people of this world. What drives you to travel, ladies? Do you have interests abroad which you are seeking?"