The Lonely Star -- Chapter 4

[mark12_30]

The evening of the rescue was supposed to be a normal evening, but with Esta gone, starting a game of Candlestones would be no easy task.
Before dinner Phura gathered his command team, what was left of it; he was joined by Loremaster and the elders, and "We need a game of Candlestones to finish the planned preparations," Phura warned. "Gamba can't do it. I don't think Azraph will play. But we still need a game, or there'll be nothing to distract the guards. The raids on the tool storage areas and the beginning of the main assault won't be made any easier by the lack of a game."

Corby frowned. "I'll miss Esta, terribly, " he said. "We all will."

"Believe me, I know, " Phura replied through sudden tears. "It will be hard for all of us, but we've got to somehow make it look like we've gotten used to people disappearing, and we're determined not to let it stop our lives. And we can't. She would want us to go on, to do everything just as planned. We can't let her down by not doing it."

Corby nodded, and looking up, caught the gaze of Mika and Kima, and sent to talk to them. Word spread slowly through dinner, and as the meal progressed, a grim determination weighed down the main cavern.

Gamba sat down with Phura briefly and said little, staring at his bread crust. He left it uneaten, and looked haggard and exhausted. Then he slipped into the study and spent the hours after dinner quietly watching the children. Tuka did not come to visit.

Phura watched Gamba from where he was sitting, and suddenly he realised he had a large problem; who would be willing to take Esta's job and light the candles?

He made his way to where Azra, Nitir, and Azraph were sitting, and spoke with Azra. She frowned. "Won't people resent me?"

"Perhaps, " Phura replied, honestly. "But this whole thing will be over one way or the other, after tonight. And if somebody resents what you did for all of us, then I'll deal with it later-- if we all live through this."

Put like that, Azra could hardly refuse. "What do I do?"

"When someone extinguishes a candle, you light it again. Stay out of the way of flying rocks. And when a champion is named at the end of the night, they might want a kiss from you."

"That doesn't sound too bad, " Azra replied cheerfully, and Phura had to laugh.

The game commenced, slightly subdued, after dinner. The guards gathered, some with a trace of sadness, but others shouting and betting as enthusiastically as ever. Some guards clamored for Gamba to appear, but several disagreed, saying, "Have pity on the boy." Azraph was also missed, but she stayed in the study with Gamba as he watched the children. He sat as numbly and as still as if he hardly heard the game at all.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Tonight's game of Candlestones was different from the others. Yet, outwardly, things looked the same. A dozen candles lit the main cavern and cast lean shadows against the wall. By the second round, the guards sat engrossed, their responsibility for the prisoners pushed to the back of their minds. Any misgivings they'd had about Esta were quickly forgotten. They joked and laughed quite naturally while placing bets or arguing who the new champion might be. Only one familiar face, Captain Tarcil, was missing. But few noticed his absence or wondered what it meant.

Even the prisoners who viewed the game gave little indication anything was wrong. They cheered on their favorites or groaned in sympathy when a popular hobbit failed to hit the mark. Azra carried out her duties to perfection. She set up new targets and darted out of reach when competitors stepped up to aim their stones.

Weeks of practice had left a mark. The hobbits hurled their rocks with pinpoint accuracy. Wick after wick lay extinguished. It looked to be a long night.

Yet, behind this carefully cultivated facade, something else was going on. A handful of prisoners slipped outside one at a time, silently making their way towards the tool shed. Most of the weapons had been stored there earlier in the week. These hobbits were careful to use side caverns and tunnels to avoid detection by the guards.

Nitir sat alone towards the back of the room. Her outer face registered polite interest in the games. Underneath was a different story. Her thoughts ranged here and there, as she mulled over what might happen next. One time, Azra had bent over to replace a candle. Nitir had caught a glint of a sword barely concealed under heavy skirts. She'd gone down to the girl and whispered a warning.

Her biggest concern was still Bird. She hadn't seen the neekerbreeker since the night of Esta's death. She hoped nothing had happened to her. Without the dragon, there was little hope of saving the last two hobbits whose names were on the selection list.

Nitir intended to slip out from the games before they ended. She wanted to make sure everyone was awake and organized in their groups. Then, the escorts would await a signal from Loremaster to begin running the children through the gauntlet.

When the third round of competition finally ended, the guards rose from their seats with wild applause. Three victorious hobbits stood in the arena waiting for the next phase to begin. Corby was a familiar figure to the crowd. This time, he was joined by Kima and Mika, two identical twins.

The three looked grimly at each other. They would need to match their game, stroke for stroke, in a show of perfection that would drag the proceedings far into the night. Someday, perhaps, if they were lucky, they'd tell their grandchildren how they created a diversion so the ships and rescuers could draw close to the caves.

Stone by stone, they competed. There were few mistakes. Azra replaced the targets again and again. Finally, the guards had the contestents move back several paces to make their task more difficult. Kima and Mika hurled their rocks with fierce resolve, and near perfection. They saw two wicks flcker and die. Corby shook his head and sighed. His last attempt had missed by just a fraction. Now they were down to two.

[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[mark12_30]

There were seven guards. When they came for Gamba, he simply looked up, numb, and stood, and was almost glad. Already broken, and weary, and knowing the pain that lay ahead of him, he whimpered a little; but he told himself that he could scream all he wanted to, that no one would care, and that soon he would be wherever Esta was.
Phura, horrified, started to interfere, but the Study Guard held him away; Phura stopped with his blade at his throat, and watched through tears as they led Gamba away. Loremaster swept forward to hush the children who had woken and were asking what was wrong.

But when two guards had led Gamba away, the other five turned on the Study guard. His face went white, and he began to weep with fear, but he mastered himself and stopped the tears. Gamba turned, as they hustled him along, and saw him surrender his sword and dagger, and he was brought along behind Gamba.

The horse, Gamba realized. They knew that he helped us, because I rode his horse right back to the gate. It's my fault.

They had almost reached the doorway, when Gamba heard Phura cry out in anguish; he turned, and to his horror, saw Loremaster restraining Phura, and Azraph being escorted out by two more guards.

"Oh, Phura, " he whispered, and the guards hustled him along. "Why her?" he pleaded, as they marched them out.

"Champion at Candlestones," muttered one guard. "Quiet, " said the other, and no more was said.

So it wasn't just Esta's death that was his fault, but now it was to be Azraph and even the guard. They were all there because of him and his stupid Candlestones competition. Gamba's heart sank and sank.

Loremaster released Phura as Gamba disappeared from sight. Phura, stricken, turned to go to his assigned post, and Kesha followed him. Loremaster turned, weeping, to find the other elders, and make adjustments to the plans now that Gamba was gone. In his distress he did not notice that the childrens' beds were now empty. Four small shadows slipped unnoticed after the last contingent of guards.

The guards led Gamba and Azraph and the study guard out past the graveyards, and Gamba looked down at two open hobbit graves that yawned open, ready, and he shuddered. Despair and guilt circled Gamba like hawks, and then he thought of Piosenniel's promise during the meeting that the Lonely Star would rescue the last sacrifices. But would they get there in time? Or would they get there after the first, lethal blow had been given?

Oh, Azraph, he thought, I am so sorry. I did this to you with my stupid game, and if the Lonely Star doesn't get here in time, then you'll die, and Phura will be all alone.

He remembered the torture that Esta had endured last night, and he began to shake.

They were brought to the horse pens, and each of the guards mounted a horse. Each hobbit was carried by a guard, and the Study Guard rode between the five men. They galloped towards the temple, and were joined partway by another group of guards and two more prisoners.

The group halted. "Two?" said the leader of the guards, and looked at the Study Guard. "Then---?"

"Not needed, " replied the other leader in charge of the newly delivered prisoners.

Gamba turned and looked at the Study Guard, relieved for his sake, and hoping that he would be set free. The Study Guard looked relieved too, but he loked at Gamba with a mixture of sadness and cool pity, and then he turned to look at his commander, and lifted his chin.

Their eyes met, and the commander nodded. "Better this way, " the commander agreed, and drew his sword.

The Study Guard dropped his reins and looked up at the stars, and his commander's sword flashed through his throat. The Study Guard toppled to the ground.

Gamba gasped in shock and horror, but then realized that the Guard was grateful to be spared what Esta had endured.

The escort turned their horses, and with a few backwards glances at their old comrade, galloped toward the temple. Azraph tried to be brave, and not knowing what she was headed for, she mostly succeeded. Gamba, exhausted, demoralised and knowing full well what lay ahead, gave in to his fears and regrets, and sobbed.

[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ November 09, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

whoever needs it

sharon

[ October 30, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

whoever needs it

[ October 31, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Birdland]

Loremaster seemed to have aged twenty years as he tottered into the caves with the Elders to announce the selection of Gamba and Azraph. Cami gave a small gasp of despair and held out her arms to the old Halfling, almost as if he were one of the toddlers who were under her care.

The candlestone players froze in place, and the guards lounging around the walls looked uneasily at each other as the silence deepened. Never before had a public announcement been made when prisoners had "disappeared". The guards knew that the Halflings knew, but it almost seemed that the little people had just absorbed the loss and went on, closing around the hole left by the vanished prisoner without comment, like a herd when one of its members is taken by an eagle.

It was this more than anything that had led to the guards laxness. Through the years they had come to regard themselves as little more than shepherds tending sheep. Occasionally they would have to round up a stray or nip the heels of a few stubborn lambs, but otherwise the herd had been remarkably passive, even when they were led to slaughter.

But this was different. A few of the candlestone players dropped their stones in shock and grief. Far more of them, though, closed tight fists around the stones, gripping them with white knuckles and shaking hands. The silence deepened, and the guards fidgeted nervously.

Then the silence was broken by the rattle of feathered wings. Bats were a common sight in the caverns, but this winged creature was no bat. From out of nowhere a small black and white crow was soaring above their heads, flashing back and forth between the walls, like a panicked swift that had strayed down the chimney into the parlor. Its wing beats echoed off the the rocks and it kept up an unearthly keening, quite unlike the "caw" of a frightened crow.

The people in the cavern craned to follow the bird's path, or ducked as it flashed above their heads. The guards cursed in fear. No bird had ever found its way into the caverns.

Then the crow landed on the shoulder of Loremaster and spoke in his ear. In later years the tale would fill the mouth of the crow with prophesies, battle cries, or blessing, but no one really heard what the bird said to Loremaster that night: "You were right not to want to know. I knew; and it will be my shame and my prison for the rest of my life. But the time has come, and now I am free!"

The bird rose, circled and flew out of the cavern, down the tunnel to the river. Cami the halfling ran after it, shouting "Bird! Wait! Come back!"

[piosenniel]

Mithadan's post:

The dense fog shrouded the entry of the flotilla into the Siril and had the further salutory effect of driving such few boats as might normally ply the river at that hour to the shore. It was somewhat after noon when the last ship in line entered the river. The fog closed behind it like a door.

The trek up the Siril took many hours. Those who could do so slept the afternoon away. Many, however, could not seek the forgetfulness of sleep. Mithadan prowled the decks like a panther, watching both the vessel's course as well as the shoreline for any onlookers. Thus far they had gone undetected.

The Hobbrim would often leap into the waters to monitor the keels of the ships and the depth of the river. They also swam ahead to keep watch for any vessels. But the preternatural fog and the chill which accompanied it left the Siril deserted.

As night began to fall, Kali clambered aboard the lead ship and padded over to Mithadan. "Yes, Kali?" he said. "Mithadan, I am joining your crew now," Kali replied. Mithadan nearly laughed but managed to keep a straight face. "If you wish," the Man responded. "But why?"

Kali tapped his foot impatiently. "You agreed that I would come with you. That if Pio were imprisoned that you would rescue her. Daisy is imprisoned and I will rescue her. Pio has also agreed. She invited me along this morning. I will go along with you."

Mithadan's face grew grave. "I did say that, Kali," he answered. "And I will honor my word. But keep in mind that it will be dangerous and that, no matter what you see or hear, you must do as Pio and I say." Kali agreed gratefully.

The night fell and the shoreline disappeared altogether. The ships remained hidden from any passerby between the dark and the fog. Mithadan settled in to await their arrival at the foot of Meneltarma. One way or another, he would not see the next day dawn...

[ October 29, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[ October 30, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[piosenniel]

BIRD'S POST


Bird flew through the tunnels, passing Halflings and guards in a blur and a rush. By the time most turned their heads to follow her path, she was gone. But her cries echoed down the passages, an eerie call that sent shudders through those that heard it.

She burst out of the tunnel mouth and flashed skyward, flying like no other crow before or since. It seemed that she had grown the wings of the swallow. The Siril became lost in a mist below her and she aimed for the cold stars above. Then she circled and flew north to the peak of Meneltarma.

The Citadel on the peak seemed a broken, ugly place, as if it's dedication to Morgoth had meant a dedication to ruin. If any beauty had existed here, it had abandoned the site with the Eagles.

The ceremony was beginning, the acolytes of Darkness gathered around the sacrifices, who were bound at the hands, but standing on their feet. They were expected to walk and lay themselves down on the altar. Two tall, towering men, and two small figures, male and female. A thought went through Bird's mind at that moment - "Where were the women of the Faithful?" - but then was gone. The sacrifices were walking forward. Then the small female stumbled, whether through fright or the stony ground, She was lifted to her feet by her hair, and the first cry of the tortured was heard.

It was then that the roar of a Great Wyrm echoed off the mountaintop and flew down the slopes. Whether it was heard in the tunnels below the mountain is not known, but it was carried by the winds to a small flotilla in the mists of the River Siril as they neared the caverns, and a Golden Wyrm on the first ship took up the cry, her great voice muffled by the layered fog. Mithadan and Pio clasped hands for the last time before the battle. "It is beginning, at last." said Mithadan.

And on Meneltarma, a great black and silver Dragon, whose name was never known, descended on the Temple of Morgoth.

[ October 30, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

When they were two hours from their destination, Pio sent Levanto ahead of the ship to give warning of their approach. An obscuring haze shrouded the advent of the small fleet. Night was dark about them, and only the weak rays of the brightest stars and the moon penetrated the mists which swirled round the ships. In fog shrouded silence the small fleet passed like mist woven wraiths up the river.

They were minutes from the place where they would dock when a great roar of anger pierced the enveloping stillness, and Angara raised her head in swift response, momentarily echoing the cry. Pio grabbed the rail before her, assaulted by the strength of the cry and the image which flashed before her mind. The nightly sacrifices were soon to begin, and Bird had risen, a great and terrible dragon presence, to call the servants of Sauron to their final accounting.

Aewdor! she cried, and would have fallen had not Mithadan put his arm about her waist to steady her. ‘We must keep silence on all fronts.’ he reminded her gently. ‘Our only hope is that afforded by what stealth with which we can approach the caverns and enter them.’ She nodded her head in agreement, and shut her mind against the strong emotions and scenes of horror which came from Bird. The awesome sense of that now great dragon’s wrath clung to her, and she wished her old friend the swift and satisfying completion of her task.

Angara paced restlessly, longing to take flight and join the other dragon. Pio put her forehead against the Wyrm’s and bade her stay. ‘At the end,’ she said, ‘then will there be the two great dragons who hold back the last of the Men as we complete the rescue. For my sake and for the sake of the Hobbits we have come to rescue, hold fast ‘til then.’ The dragon relented, then, but her great golden eyes whirled with a deep anger. Woe to all who stand against those whom I have vowed to protect! she said. I will smite them down. As does the fire when it rushes through a field of sere grass!

Now the first ship had reached the place where her small force would begin the assault. Silently the crew dropped anchor and furled the sail. Fallinelë bade them go with the blessing of Ilúvatar, and in silence they entered the water – the Hobbrim first, taking their weapons and the airbladders toward the waters where the escaping Hobbits would enter the river. Then Mithadan and Pio entered the water, followed by Kali, Khelek, and Angara. They made their way swiftly to the interior of the cavern, and awaited the arrival of the Noldor warriors with their spears and the Telerin bowmen.

Once inside the caverns, Mithadan and Pio broke the Elves into their assigned teams. Five Noldor, two with axes and three with spears, accompanied by four Telerin bowmen, would head east to secure the Guard quarters. To them, Pio gave three of the larger dragon-fires and five of the smaller, checking to see that they had remembered to bring the means to light them. Angara had agreed to go with this team, to hold the bulk of the guards within their quarters. In addition, four bowmen would accompany them and begin to secure the further eastern entrances - two to the New Tombs entrance and two to the New Mines entrance. They would meet there with Hobbits from the troops which held the smithy, and clear out any stragglers in that far easter section. They would then move south toward the Guards' and assist the Elves already there. Six Teleri would proceed up to the river to guarantee the safe exodus of the fleeing Hobbits through the tunnel.

The remainder of the landing party would be with Mithadan and Pio, traveling along the western perimeter road. Along this route would be stationed the Hobbits who would assist them in securing the western and northern entrances to the caverns. Among these defenders, Pio divided up her remaining store of Dragon-fire, keeping three large ones for herself, and seven smaller ones.

The Elf looked back one last time toward the ships. The fog still held them in its safe embrace. She did not feel as safe here, on land. In the dim light their meager forces were exposed, while shadow held the threat of hidden foes. Khelek nudged her from her dark thoughts, pushing her into motion. She turned and followed Mithadan down the dim corridor, blade in hand.

[ October 30, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Daisy paced nervously within the confines of her cell. The girl counted how many times she'd circled back and forth, trying to keep her body moving so her mind would not despair. She found herself dreading that something had gone wrong. Perhaps some complication had delayed the rescue, or, even worse, a disaster had befallen her friends on the Star. Images of Piosenniel and Kali sprang to mind as she struggled to hold back tears.

The keys to the Locks were tucked securely under her sash. She'd taken two of the smuggled daggers and strapped them beneath her skirts. By now, Gamba should have come. Days ago, they'd decided on their plan with scribbled notes and whispered words spoken under cover of darkness. Gamba was to drop by early in the evening so that she could push the keys through the grate. That way, he could unlock the cells the minute the attack began. But long hours had passed, and the boy had not appeared.

Daisy knew what had happened to Esta. Even in her solitary cell, she could hear guards and prisoners discussing the girl's death. There'd been a lot of talk about how hard the boy was taking things. Perhaps, Gamba had been so weighed down by grief that he'd neglected to do his job. Yet she found that puzzling. In the morning, he'd whispered assurances to her that the rescue would go forward. He expected to return to the Locks that evening.

Outside, in the guardroom, everything looked normal. The Men were taking turns at a game of chance, hurling the dice onto a table and bickering back and forth. Things looked so normal that, for one instant, Daisy wondered if she'd been forgotten. Perhaps she'd still be trapped inside her cell when the great wave came crashing in. But, no. Her friends had promised. They would not let that happen to her, not while they had a single breath left in their bodies. At the least, Piosenniel would have gotten a message through to explain the delay.

Daisy squatted on the floor and began scraping at the soil where she'd hidden the other daggers. No message of delay had come. Whatever Gamba's absence might mean, she would have to trust her friends. With calm assurance, she waited and watched for the first sign that the attack had begun.

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


The soft grey veil that masked the passing of the Elven ships slowly crept towards land. As fog inched over the edge of the graveyard, four figures huddled close. They seemed uncertain where to go.

The tallest one, just six-years old, impatiently stamped his foot. “Prisca said so. She’s big. She should know.”

“Roka, she could be wrong,” Asta spoke with hesitancy. He usually deferred to his brother, but now he wasn’t sure.

“No, I’m right. Those men had Esta. Then they came for Gamba. But I’m going to get him back.”

The boy glared into the darkness. His determination was apparent. He fixed his hand on a heavy shovel that workers had left behind earlier in the day. Unable to lift it, he dragged the implement behind him, intending to use it as a weapon when the need arose.

“Anyways, this is where Miss Cami took us to see Esta. So Gamba has to be here somewhere.” Roka glanced nervously about as he spied dozens upon dozens of freshly dug graves.

“But I don’t see him,” Ban disagreed. He was younger than the other two, but wanted to help in some way.

The smallest, a child of less than three years, said nothing during this conversation. He stooped on one of the soft earth mounds, probing fat little fingers into the soil. As he dug, he childishly intoned, “Gamba here! Gamba here!”

Ban finally told him to stop. “Be quiet!” he warned. “Or someone will hear.”

Roka, their leader, surveyed the field and admitted, “Everything looks different. I’m not sure which way to go.”

At that instant, a trumpet bellowed through the skies. A sound close to thunder rang in the childrens’ ears. Tremors shook the ground beneath their feet. At first, their hearts were filled with terror. Then they stepped back to stare overhead and caught a distant glimpse of a wondrous black and silver creature with great gliding wings.

Maura was the last to gaze upward. His face was bathed in a light of incomparable beauty. The toddler could somehow pierce through the shadow to sense the goodness of the beast. “Pretty birdie. Good birdie. Maura find.” He ran down the hill as fast as his legs would carry him, heading in the general direction where he’d seen the creature. The other three children came running along behind.
---------------------------------------------

Throughout the evening, Nitir watched as hobbits slipped quietly from the games, one or two at a time, to make their way to the tool shed. Some would join the tackling teams assembling in the passageways. Others returned to the main cavern, their weapons hidden beneath their clothes, waiting for the moment when lights would be extinguished and the final assault begun.

Now, her own time to leave was at hand. She nodded to Azra to let her know she was going. The girl would catch up later, after her duties in the main cavern had ended. As she'd been instructed, Nitir tried to walk in a slow and casual way which would not arouse suspicion.

She had only a short distance to go. The children and others requiring assistance were already gathered inside the study. They had carefully considered all the possibilities before deciding on this location. The study was the largest alcove in the tombs which stood closest to the river tunnel. It was also the chamber where Loremaster stayed so his presence there would not alert the guards to anything unusual.

By the time Cami entered the room, the children had awoken and were sitting in their groups waiting to exit. Ruby, one of the twelve-year olds, was scouting out the passageway. She returned with a big smile, "All's quiet. I only saw the study guard, and he was half asleep. No general alarm has been sounded yet."

There was a brief discussion on the best way to proceed. The guards were still in the main cavern watching the games. No one had predicted these would drag on so long. The lengthy competition was a blessing to those who were securing the outer passages and taking out the perimeter guards. But to Nitir and the other escorts, this situation posed a challenge. While it was unlikely the guards would pay close attention to the river tunnel, its mouth was visible to them if they stood up and craned their necks.

Everyone agreed it was better to be cautious than sorry. They would need to modify their original plans. A group with fifteen children and five escorts was just too large. It would be easily noticed by the guards.

"Let's send them through in smaller groups," Loremaster suggested, "at least initially."

"Nitir, take four or five children with you. Go all the way to the river, and make sure the hobbrim are waiting for us. Let those five be the first to board the ships. Then, come back about half way up the passage, and wait."

"What then?" she asked.

"Just stay there. We'll send the rest through in small groups. The elderly and infirm will be mixed in with the children and adults just like a large family would be. They'll come to the midpoint of the tunnel, and you'll escort them to the river.

"What about weapons?" Nitir asked.

"Pearl and Ruby have covered us on that. They were able to smuggle them into the tunnel earlier today. Every morning the jugs are sent down to the river in wheelbarrows and then brought back with water to the kitchens. The girls hid the weapons in the straw, and then left them in a concealed cleft of the tunnel wall which we've known about for a number of years. Pearl will show you where they are."

Nitir had already strapped a dagger to her waist under her belt. She planned to use the lance Kali had picked out for her. She also intended to carry her bow. Nitir doubted she'd find a use for it since the passages in the tombs were very narrow. But, somehow, she couldn't leave it behind.

"Nitir, Pearl will be going with you to help identify the children. Keep track of the numbers and names as best you can so we're sure everyone gets through."

Cami smiled. She was to escort the first group down to the ships. That was no small thing. Get the weakest and smallest out first, she reminded herself.

She took two of Mika's toddlers, one on her right side and the other on the left. Then she selected two five-year olds, Bungo and Peony, who looked to be among the most frightened of the group. Their small fingers clutched tightly onto her skirts.

Finally, Loremaster handed her a tiny little thing to tuck into her sling. It was a babe, but a few days old. "This one is special. She's the last born in the tombs, or so we hope. Sadly, she's an orphan. Her father was taken in the selection. Her mother so worn with grief and work that she died giving life to her."

"Such a pretty little child," Nitir kissed the top of her head. "What is her name?"

"She does not have one yet. Perhaps her name will come to us tonight."

Loremaster turned and smiled at them. "You, all of you, hold our future in your hands. Take care, and keep track of who gets through."

Nitir nodded and scurried the children out of the alcove and around to the left. Only a short distance to go, and they'd reach safety.

[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Despite Loremaster's announcement and the strange arrival of Bird, the two hobbits, Mika and Kima, doggedly continued to compete at Candlestones. It was too soon to halt the game. Somehow, someway, the guards needed to be kept inside the room a little longer. A few more hobbits slipped out on secret errands, but most remained within the cavern, their attention directed to the contest at hand.

The guards were in a decidedly foul mood. Loremaster's actions and the appearance of Bird seemed like a subtle challenge to their authority. They cursed the contestents and, at one point, ran over and cuffed Azra across the face when she failed to set up the candles as quickly as they demanded.

The twins continued to match each other, candle for candle, stone for stone. Bids and money were exchanged back and forth between the guards as the stakes ran ever higher. Then, when the suspense could last no longer, Mika outdid Kima by a single point, and the game was suddenly over.

The hobbits glanced at each other with apprehension. They had stretched the competition to its furthest limits, but still it was not enough. This was the critical moment, before the general alarm, when all must be done in secrecy and silence. A hoard of guards pouring into the main passageway would be disastrous for the rescue.

The guards were paying off their bets, and standing up, searching on the ground for their swords and other weapons. They were about to go off and leave the main cavern.

Mika and Kima eyed each other nervously, unsure of what to do. Corby leaned over to them and muttered, "We've got to hold them here. Any way we can. Any way. Just play along."

He strutted out on the floor, trying to get the attention of one of the retreating figures. Though accounted tall by hobbit standards, Corby barely came to the middle point of the guards' chests. Tall or not, he intended to challenge them to a game of Candlestones. He knew he'd have to make it interesting. He nabbed the nearest guard.

"If you're a betting man, I have a challenge for you. Mika and I are the two champions. We've been in the winner's circle more than all." That's actually a lie, Corby thought. Gamba was the one who'd accomplished that feat. But if he mentioned that name, it would only stir up anger.

He calmly continued. "So we figure we'd challenge you to a game ourselves."

The Man roared with laughter, "You, pipsqueak, what's in it for me? What have you possibly got that would have any value? To say nothing of the fact that I'm twice as big as you are. No rat is going to beat a Man at anything."

"Maybe not," Corby agreed, "but you'll never know for sure till we play. Or maybe you're afraid to try." Corby measured out his last words very, very carefully. The worst they could do was to lead to a general riot. Even that was better than having all the guards walk out into the hall.

"Hey, Makil, are you afraid?" roared his companion.

The guard clenched the hilt of his sword till his knuckles showed through white. "Afraid? You must be joking. I could pin this annoyance against the wall."

His hand went out to grab Corby by the collar as he began raising him up from the ground."

Mika suddenly sprang forward and opened his mouth. "That's not the question, whether or not you could pin him down. The question was if you could beat him."

"And believe me, we'll make it worth your while to play."

"Really?" the guard raised his eyebrows and seemed about to dismiss Corby, but since he couldn't help being curious, waited for the hobbit's response.

"Yes, we'll go against you and any other Man that you pick. If the hobbits win, the two of us get six months with no work duty."

"And if I and my friend win?" the Man queried.

"Then you get to take us in the selection." He said it in an even, still voice.

"I could take you in the selection tomorrow and not take part in this ridiculous contest."

"Maybe so," shrugged Corby. "But then your friends will say that you turned down a challenge."

The Man turned around. His face was red with anger. He had been caught in his own trap. "Alright, little rat, have your wish. But I'll make one change. That will be four months with no work, and, if you lose, your wives will be invited for the selection."

The men turned towards each other and hesitated. Then they looked towards the crowd where Glena and Keli sat together. The two women stood up and nodded yes in their husbands' direction.

"You have it," said Corby.

They went to the line and got ready to compete.

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

When Nitir stepped ouside the study, she was not surprised to see the guard slouched against the wall. As Ruby had reported, he looked bored and half asleep. Maybe this would not be difficult if they kept their heads ad used their wits. She muttered a few words to him about taking her grandchildren out for a breath of air. The guard shrugged his shoulders and motioned her through. After several evasive moves, she and Pearl managed to lead the group round about to the mouth of the tunnel. Once safely out of view, they raced quickly down the passage, half dragging and pushing the children along.

When they reached the banks of the river. everything looked empty and still. For one moment, Nitir feared there'd been some horrible mistake. But then came a welcome sight. A single hand glided up from under the water to grab onto the rocky beach. A hobbrim body soon followed. Within a moment, Nitir was staring into the eyes of Andril.

"All is quiet yet," the wise woman recounted.

"On our end too. Though I suspect things have begun deeper in the tombs."

Andril pushed several air bladders to the front, and began helping the children into the water. Each child was propped up on a device, with a hobbrim swimming beside him. The hobbrim propelled the small craft forward and kept one hand positioned on the youngster's back. Before Nitir could open her mouth, the children were quickly disappearing up the river, one-by-one, with their escorts.

"What about this one? She's too small." Nitir gently handed the babe over to the hobbrim.

Andril smiled, "We thought of that. While Mithadan was making air bladders, our people worked on rush baskets and small rafts that can float in the water. The outside is covered with pitch to keep them water tight. We use them ourselves when we wade into the shallows and wish to keep our babies or toddlers near us."

"What is this child's name?" Andril asked.

"She has none. Nor any living family."

"Then we will fix that." She tucked the child into the tiny floating cradle. "You are Estel, child of hope. And before the night is through, you will have no shortage of mothers who will raise you and honor you as your own blood kin would have wished." Andril kissed the babe and sent her off with an escort in the same direction as the others.

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

Haldad, the single guard who stood outside the study, was a newcomer. Captain Tarcil had hastily assigned him to the post to replace the Man who'd been dragged off earlier that night. The new guard did not know one hobbit from another, and paid scant attention to those who left the study, ostensibly wanting to take a stroll.

Haldad's mind was frankly on other things. This was the last place he wanted to be. He'd already petitioned for a transfer. A spy, a mounted warrior, even a temple accolyte. Anything had to be better than this!

The guard could see hobbit families who seemed to be wandering in aimless circles. Some towards the kitchen caves or the Candlestones arena, others walking in the direction of the small side caverns or the annex where the Elders slept. Like rabbits, he thought! So many children. He shook his head in dismay.

Yet, for all his keen observations, Haldad failed to note one thing. No matter where the groups started or where they ambled off to, they all wound up in the exact same spot, disappearing down a long dark tunnel away from the cavern and the guards.

Nitir and Pearl stood midway in that tunnel, conveying group after group back to the river as quickly as they could, working together with the hobbrim. If truth be told, Nitir felt a bit guilty. Her friends were inside battling, probably facing horrendous odds. Yet she had the happy duty of seeing the young and old swim towards the ships, the last step before freedom. Nitir thought with a laugh that, if she survived this night, those happy faces in the water would be one of her sweetest delights and memories.

[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

The four children kept walking in the direction where they'd seen the great bird. They knew enough to tread softly, scrambling from one tree or bush to the next, taking advantage of every hidden nook. They'd learned that skill in the caves whenever they ran into guards.

The group went slower and slower as Maura's legs began to tire. Finally, they came to a pen where horses and ponies were kept. The children hid behind a large rock. They could see a great ruckus going on in front of them. Guards were racing around, grabbing at the horses' manes, and trying to swing up onto their backs. Several were fighting each other over who would get a horse. There were other Men lying on the ground bleeding. Those guards who managed to grab horses galloped off in a hundred different directions.

The children had no idea what was going on. They could see the guards were in a big hurry to get somewhere. Roka didn't like this place at all. Even the graveyard was better than this. There was too much confusion and noise. He'd never seen guards fighting like that. Sometimes they cursed or argued in the tombs, but these Men were taking swords and axes to one another. There was too much blood on the ground. It even smelled bad.

"What should we do?" whispered Asta in a frightened voice. "Where's Gamba? Where's the bird?"

Roka wasn't sure, but he didn't think the beautiful bird would be in such an awful place. And he couldn't see Gamba anywhere. He tossed his shovel onto the ground. It was getting too heavy to carry. He thought and thought. Then he remembered something. He tried to explain it to the others.

"Gamba told me we had to go to the river tonight. Maybe he got away, and he's already there. Anyways, I don't like it here."

Roka thought again and added, "Maybe Gamba's guards ran away too. We should try the river."

"Where's the river?" Ban asked with wide eyes. "Isn't it back inside the cave?"

Roka wasn't sure.

Then Asta piped up. "I think I know. I was here once before. I still had a dad then. My dad and I got to hitch ponies to some carts. The guards had us drive them down by the river. We loaded the carts with fish."

Asta looked sad. "I remember that pretty well. It was the first time I got to go outside, and I really liked those ponies."

"Can you find the way?" Roka interrupted.

"I think so." He turned around and carefully began leading the children back towards the tombs.

All along the trail Maura kept talking to himself, "Pretty birdie. Where's birdie? Where's Gamba?"

The others kept shushing him up.

After they'd walked a long time, they came to the outside perimeter wall of the tombs. "This is it," whispered Asta.

"Are you sure? That looks like the way back into prison" Roka sounded doubtful.

"Yes, I'm sure. We turn here. The river is down below."

The children kept going. The toddler was getting more and more tired. Finally, he sat down and stubbornly refused to budge. Asta and Roka pulled him up and dragged him along as best they could. They promised Maura the pretty bird would be near the water.

After what seemed like forever, they rounded a bend. Before them lay the river. Each child stopped and stared. Their eyes were wide with wonder. Except for Asta and his lucky dad, neither they or their parents had ever seen such a thing before.

"Look," said Roka, pointing to a fishing vessel that had been docked for the night. Within a single instant, caution had been forgotten. All four boys raced towards the river and the boat, expecting to find Gamba waiting for them.

[ November 01, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Mithadan]

Piosenniel and Mithadan led the three teams cautiously through the tunnels on the western perimeter of the caverns. To their east, in the Main Cavern, there was considerable noise and cheering as the Hobbits distracted the guards with a game of candlestones, whatever that was. A single Hobbit guided the rescuers through the paths leading toward the two exit tunnels and the Locks. They avoided the light which flickered in from openings to their right. The tunnels they walked through were otherwise dark.

Their guide halted abruptly, holding up a silent hand in warning. Then he waved them forward. Just ahead, a group of Hobbits stood over a body. One held a knife and others held what appeared to be a visor with one side sharpened to a wicked edge. They struggled to move the body into a nearby alcove. As the rescue teams passed, they looked up with smiles and hopeful eyes. Mithadan waved to them and continued.

Soon after, their guide gestured that they should avoid a puddle on the tunnel floor. It was a small pool of dark fluid from which a trail led off to the east as if something had been dragged through it. They passed two more such puddles before they reached the entrance to the Graveyard Tunnel which led off to the West. Several Elves broke off from their group and melted into the black mouth of that tunnel.

A few minutes later they passed the second entrance into the caverns; the Front Prison Tunnel. There they found another group of Hobbits labouring to move a guard's body. The Elves assigned to guard that opening split off and aided the Hobbits in moving the dead weight. Unable to resist, one Hobbit maiden came forward and briefly embraced Piosenniel, who smiled then sent the Halfling back to her team.

The perimeter tunnel widened as they moved forward. Just ahead, they saw light entering from openings to their left. Groups of Hobbits were exiting from these caves and making their way either into other tunnels or toward the Main Cavern. Their guide stopped one group and asked that some of the lights in the annexes be extinguished. Soon the perimeter path was again dim. Two groups of Hobbits exited as they passed and headed back down the path which the rescuers had taken, moving towards the River Tunnel.

Soon the remaining team followed their guide to a place where the tunnel forked. The right hand fork appeared to lead off to the southeast. The guide quietly explained that this path led back along the east side of the Main Cavern towards the Guards' Quarters and ultimately the River Tunnel again. The fork to the left led to the Locks.

Piosenniel and Mithadan, joined by Kali, stepped into this tunnel. They left behind them six Elves to hold the tunnel entrance against any unexpected intruders. For a moment they stood still. All that could be heard was a steady murmur from they Main Cave punctuated occaisionally by a cheer or loud groan. But all else was calm. No alarm had been raised yet. Mithadan looked briefly at Piosenniel, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, moving as one, they slid quietly up the tunnel towards the Locks.

[piosenniel]

SHARON'S POST

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

The guards competing with Mika and Corby were no fools. Although they would never admit it, they recognized the hobbits were agile and intelligent. Practicing day after day, their prisoners had become experts at hitting the mark. But the men also knew they had a clear advantage in terms of height and strength.

Makil eyed his companion and whispered something in his ear. The other grinned back and laughed.

"Alright, since the choice of the game is yours, we'll pick out the stones. Also, the place where the contestents will stand."

Corby and Mika suspiciously eyed the men and shook their heads. Some nonsense was afoot, but they would have to go along, and deal with it the best they could.

Makil sauntered over to the rockpile by the side of the cavern and spent a moment sorting through it. Then he selected the four largest stones he could find. These were three times heavier than the ones normally used.

Makil walked back to the line, and surveyed the playing field. "This is far too close," he barked at Azra. "Take the line back twenty paces." The girl complied, hoisting and moving the rock which marked the place where the contestents stood.

"Now, we're ready," The guard stepped confidently forward.

If the stones and playing field had been left untouched, the competition would have been over very quickly. The two guards could not have bested Mika or Corby in a fair game of Candlestones. But this was no fair game.

The hobbits were at an initial disadvantage because of the changes that had been made. Almost immediately, Mika and Corby found themselves trailing behind. But, very slowly, they adjusted their game and crept up in the scoring. By the end of the first round, the hobbits and men were dead even.

The second round began. Guards and prisoners were rivetted to their seats. No bids were made, no money exchanged hands. There seemed to be more at stake than a simple game of chance. Again, Mika and Corby started out behind, but gained ground as the competition went forward. Then, out of nowhere, the two began hitting their stride. They shot down candle after candle, while the guards stared on aghast.

For the first time, the hobbits sitting and watching forgot their fear and remembered pride. They stood up to yell support. Their anger seemed to be spilling out in all directions at once. Several of the younger ones began jeering and taunting the guards.

Makil rushed over to Corby, his face red with fury, and hauled the hobbit up by the collar. "This time, you won't get away," he snarled. The guard snatched a dagger out of his belt, drawing his arm back to strike a death blow. The blow never came.

Instantly, hobbits raced forward to mob the guards. The first to die at their hands was Makil. Other prisoners aimed at the candles lighting the arena, taking them down with stones. Daggers kept hidden were now pulled out, as the hobbits worked together in teams to tackle the guards and slit their throats. Others raced over in the direction of the newly dug garbage ditch, where stakes and sharpened vizers had been concealed earlier in the day. A dozen hands scrambled in the dark to seize weapons that could be turned on the hated guards. The battle for the main cavern had begun.

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

PIO

They had gone a short distance down the tunnel when Pio put a restraining hand on Mithadan’s arm and brought the group to a halt. A wan shaft of lamplight fell like a bar from the left side of the corridor across the path fifteen feet in front of them. It was the alcove where the tunnel guards were.

They could hear the sound of dice rolling on a wooden surface, followed by soft cursing as the cubes came to an unlucky halt. A small laugh rang out, and the sound of coins scraped from one side of the table to the other. ‘Try again, Malantur?’ came a voice well slurred with drink. ‘No more, Ardamir! My purse is as empty as the wine jug! I’m going back to lie down.’ They heard the sounds of someone fumbling with keys in a lock, and the noise of a great door opening and closing.

Ardamir sat down heavily in his chair. He pulled a hidden wine skin from beneath his vest and took a long pull on it. It had been a lucky night for him, he thought. The few coins he’d won would supplement his meager guard’s pay. His key ring dug into his side as he slumped against the arm of the chair. He fumbled for it, and put it, clanking, next to the pile of coins. One more pull at the skin, and his head drooped to his chest , a small, dark red rivulet of cheap wine escaping from the side of his slack mouth to stain his all too dirty shirt. He did not wake until it was too late. A strong arm pulled up his lolling head by his greasy hair, and sharp blade sliced him deeply, ear to ear. Blood spilled down his shirt front, covering the wine stains, and his head lolled once again on his chest.

Pio reached round him and grabbed the keys. She threw them to Mithadan and wiped her knife on her leggings, resheathing it for later use. Khelek was stationed in the shadows of the corridor just outside the alcove, to watch for any guard coming out from the Men’s Locks. He was to dispatch any such as swiftly and quietly as possible.

Mithadan lead them on, past the storage closet just beyond the alcove, and up to the open entry way into the Hobbit Locks area. They hugged the eastern wall as they slipped into the enclosure. Pio had placed Kali now between her and Mithadan, putting an occasional hand on his shoulder to guide him.

So far, they had neither seen nor heard any guards. The trio had come to the cell where Daisy was kept. Mithadan stood guard, while Pio called softly to Daisy to pass out the key. Once done, the Elf unlocked the door, and Kali rushed in to bring her out. He had just given her the sword he had brought for her, when the bright flare of torchlight from behind surprised them.

Pio turned to see two guards, swords drawn, advancing on Mithadan.

[ October 30, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ November 01, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

BIRD'S POST

Bird dropped like a falcon into the midst of the acolytes, claws thrown forward and wings stretched back. The talons closed around the head of the high priest and his shrieks ripped the air as he was lifted from the ground. The dragon shook the body, whipping it back and forth until the torso separated from the shoulders and flew into the trees. Bird dropped the head, spread her wings and fell again.

The prisoners had flung their selves to the ground, covering their heads with their arms as the blood of the priest rained down upon them. But Gamba could not help but look up as he heard the dragon wings rush above him. The other acolytes had thrown down their ceremonial instruments and had turned to flee down the path. If they hoped to make it to the horses; it was too late. The panicked beasts had broken their tethers and were fleeing down the slope, screaming louder than the Men.

As the acolytes ran, a massive, silver and black wing came rushing into the crowd, a wall of leather that swept into the Men like a fly-swatter and threw them through the air. Some smashed into the rocks, one was skewered on a broken tree limb. Most were dead and broken before they hit the ground.

The dragon head whipped around as a last priest tried to crawl from behind the altar. The jaws closed and he was snapped in two. Then rearing like a horse, the massive from legs of the Wyrm came down on the rock slab, crumbling it like a loaf of bread, while the wings smashed into the surrounding arches, cracking the pillars and sending the crosspieces tumbling down the slope. Stone chips and dust flew through the air, a shard of marble sharp as a knife cutting Gamba’s cheek as is whirled past him. Gamba rolled over, pressing himself against Azraph to try to shield and comfort her, since his arms were still bound. Then he laid his head down again and waited for the dragon to find them.

And then it was quiet, except for the bellowing sound of the dragon’s breath as it lay on top of the rubble, panting like a dog. Then Gamba felt the hot blasts of the panting beast on his neck. He pressed himself tighter against Azraph, and waited to die.

And then he felt the tip of one talon, as long as his arm, delicately insert itself into his bonds and cut the cords without so much as a tug on his arms. The claw moved on, repeating the action on Azraph and the two Men.

"Get up!" commanded the dragon. The four prisoners raised their heads and looked into the silver eyes of the beast. "I said:" get up!" it repeated in an annoyed, winded voice. "There is not much time. These men are all dead, but the horses will flee back to the pens, and the guards may have heard me if they were outside."

Azraph threw her arms around Gamba, and the two halflings held to each other as they tried to process all that had happened in the last few minutes. They still expected to die. The two Men, however, were climbing slowly to their feet. The one, reaching down to assist his companion. Either they think it’s alright, or they intend to die on their feet thought the Halfling, and this small act on the part of the Men seemed to bring his own courage back. "What do you want with us?" he said to the Dragon, looking it straight in the eye as he held Azraph.

"What do you think I want? I’m taking you back to the tunnels. You want to be with your people when they catch the ships, don’t you.? Now come on. Can you walk?"

Azraph finally looked at the dragon with tear-streaked eyes. "You’re taking us home?"

At this the dragon snorted. "I’m taking you back to the caves. If you want to call them "home", that’s up to you. But if you don’t hurry, you’ll miss the ships, and the chance at a real home!" Then the dragon shook it’s head ruefully and said. "Please, you’ll have to forgive me. Being a dragon always makes me testy. Now come on. Climb on my back."

Gamba did not even know what to make of this last comment. . . . "being a dragon"? Well what else would you be? So he just got to his feet, helping Azraph up and walked towards the extended leg of the dragon. "Come on, Azraph. It’s alright, I think. We’re going home. Home."

"Wait!" cried the taller of the Men. The Dragon turned it’s giant head for the first time and actually smiled as it looked at the two. "Gilrain! Rumil! Well, this is a bit of luck for you two. You should get going now. I wouldn’t stay here, if I were you. You’re free. You need to get down to the sea. And you need to hurry. If you have family, go and find them. This island will not be here much longer."

Gilrain stepped forward and laid his hand on the hot flank of the Dragon. "Take us with you. We have to go back and free our comrades in the cages. You can not deny us this. If you are taking these Halflings, then you must take us as well."

The dragon chewed it’s lip in a worried manner. Then it shrugged it’s shoulders, almost knocking Gamba off, and sighed. "Very well. Get on. Oh, I hope I don’t get in trouble for this. But hurry!"

Gilrain and Rumil jumped on the Dragon’s back, grasping it’s hornlike scales as best they could. The dragon spread it’s silver wings, and with one downward flap. leapt into the sky.

They left the smoking ruins and the slaughtered priests behind, and flew back to the Siril. The dragon settled at the mouth of the river tunnel and furled its wings above the its head to allow its passengers to descend. The two Men leapt down and and helped the Halflings scramble down from the massive back.
"Thank you for helping us, though I don't know the reason why." Gamba bowed low, as he remembered other heroes had done in old tales. Azraph performed a pretty curtsy behind him, making her rags look like a ball gown for just a moment.

Bird tried to suppress a smile at this demostration of Hobbit politeness and cheek. Apparently it had always been a part of their makeup. But she only said "Don't thank me yet. I have only delivered you from danger to danger. There is still much to be done. The river tunnel should be clear by now. You know what to do, I think. Hurry!"

Bowing again, Gamba and Azraph turned and ran for the tunnel, each scooping up a few heavy river stones. Gamba turned back at the tunnel mouth, with a wave a smile; then he was gone. Bird could only hope she would see him again.

Gilrain and Rumil were studying the tracks of the small band that had descended from the ship and led into the tunnels. "So few," said Rumil. "Who would come with such a small band to assail such a place as this?"

"Friends of the Free People, of which we consider the Halfling Folk to be a small, but important part." said the Dragon, "Try to remember this, the next time the Men of Numenor cross paths with the Periannth again."

"Come, Rumil. We must try to find our way through this labyrinth to our own cells. Our brothers need us. Perhaps we can find some swords on the bodies of the guards."

"Wait!" said the Wyrm, "I'm coming with you." And with that, the Dragon started to melt before their eyes, shrinking and blending, until nothing but a small woman with black hair stood before them.

"My lady of the Locks!" gasped Gilrain, as he and Rumil started to kneel. "Oh, bother all that!" snorted Birdie, as she unwound a leather sling from around her waist. "We have no time. Come", she said, stooping also to grab a handful of river stones. "I'll lead you to your people, if they are still in the cages. Then you would be wise to take them and go! You have little time left, and I must concern myself with the Halfings."

Then Bird, Gilrain and Rumil ran for the tunnel, following the footprints of the crew of the Lonely Star.

[ October 30, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[Mithadan]

Mithadan leaped aside as the foremost guard brought his sword around in a slashing attack. The blade ripped through his cloak and grated against his mail shirt. Bringing up his own sword, Mithadan parried the guard's second blow, forcing his opponent's blade to the side and swung his blade back up, tearing through the Numenorean's throat. The second guard leaped forward, then stumbled and fell, with one of Piosenniel's throwing knives protruding from his right eye.

"Free the remaining Hobbits!" gasped Mithadan. "I fear for Khelek. We must return down the tunnel!"

Kali emerged from the cell, holding Daisy in his arms. She looked from Piosenniel to Mithadan to the bodies lying on the floor and burst into tears. "At last!" she cried. "I began to think you'd never come!"

"We would not leave you here, little one," said the Elf as she struggled to unlock the remaining cells. Other Hobbits emerged from their prisons. One was elderly and frail. Daisy and Kali assisted her towards the tunnel, ignoring her questions and her fearful glances at the slain guards. "Wait!" said Piosenniel. "Mithadan and I will lead. Then follow quickly."

They retreated back down the tunnel, pausing briefly to glance down the Locks Entrance which led back to the surface. Seeing no one, they proceeded toward the alcove where they found Khelek still standing guard before the door to the Men's Locks. "I heard fighting," he said. "Are you all well?"

"As well as we can be," answered Mithadan. "Guards must have entered through the side tunnel leading to the surface and they assailed us. I am glad to see you whole Khelek, for we feared that you had been overcome."

"Nay," he replied. "I did not even see them."

Mithadan lifted the keyring and looked to the door to the Men's area. Then he sheathed his sword and began grappling with the desk which stood in the alcove. Khelek joined him and they pushed the desk into the tunnel, blocking it. Mithadan took a bag of dragonsfire from his belt and handed it to Khelek.

"If guards come down the tunnel from the Locks Entrance, set the desk afire," said the Man. "I will enter the Men's Locks with Piosenniel. Keep the Hobbits with you for now. If we do not return in five minutes, use your dragonsfire and retreat to the Perimeter Tunnel with your charges." He nodded, pulling a tinderbox from his satchel.

Mithadan approached the alcove door, refusing to think about the possible consequences of his actions. Trying one key after another, he unlocked the door and swung it open quietly. The second guard from the alcove sat snoring on a chair less than ten feet away. He entered silently, followed by Piosenniel. The guard stirred and opened his eyes which grew wide with shock. Before he could cry out Mithadan's sword sliced into his chest. The guard gurgled and moaned, fumbling for a knife, then collapsed back onto his seat.

Mithadan wiped his blade on the guard's cloak and entered the Locks. There was a corridor with cells on either side before him. Although there were at least ten cells, only three were occupied. Mithadan winced as he beheld the condition of their occupants. Two of the cages held three Men each, bearded and emaciated. The third held a Man in better condition who watched the rescuers silently.

A man in tattered rags stood and approached the bars. "So you have come to kill more of us," he said scornfully. "We are such a danger to your King?"

Mithadan looked at the Man for a moment. Though worn and beaten down, he held himself straight and tall. His eyes were grey and his dirty hair may have been raven black. "Isilmir?" asked Mithadan. Piosenniel looked at Mithadan in confusion.

The man took a deep breath, but held his head high. "So you have come for me?" he asked.

"Aye," answered Mithadan as he fumbled through the keys. "And all your fellows as well. We have come to take you from this place and give you your freedom." The gate swung open and the three exited slowly. Mithadan handed the one called Isilmir a knife as he stepped into the tunnel.

"What wonder is this?" cried the Numenorean as Mithadan moved to the second cell and freed the next group of prisoners.

"Treason I'll warrant!" cried the single Man in the third cell with a loud voice. "A plot of the Faithful. Guards!"

Piosenniel stepped forward and drew a throwing knife. The blade flew straight and true and caught the Man in the throat. But down the corridor, they heard running steps.

"Quickly," cried Mithadan as he and Piosenniel moved the Men through the alcove door. Even as the last exited, a guard came down the corridor armed with a cudgel. Mithadan slew him quickly, then threw the chair holding the guard they had slain earlier to the ground. A second guard ran down the corridor and was met with one of Mithadan's throwing knives. He fell writhing to the floor. They could hear no further noise from the Men's Locks.

Mithadan motioned Piosenniel through the door, then, using two small bags of dragonsfire, set the chair and the straw in one of the cells aflame.

Mithadan joined Piosenniel, Khelek and the prisoners in the Locks Tunnel. The wrestled the desk farther into the corridor so that it stood between the alcove and the way back down to the caverns and set it afire as well. Then they began their retreat.

"Isilmir?" whispered Piosenniel to her husband. "My ancestor aboard Elendil's ships had been imprisoned until just before the island was overthrown by the waters," he answered. "He never told how he escaped; it was a secret he took to his grave or so it is told in my family. His name was Isilmir."

Piosenniel nearly staggered at this. "So if you did not rescue the Men..." Mithadan did not answer, but instead shuddered at the thought.

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

Child's Post:

Nitir and Pearl had worked swiftly and quietly with group after group. They found their task enormously satisfying. They had watched as the elderly, the infirm, and the youngsters all made their way to the safety of the ships. Mithadan's air bladders and the small rafts woven by the hobbrim had enabled many to reach their goal who could not otherwise have done so. As soon as the main cavern was secure, the more general exodus of able bodied hobbits would begin.
Only a handful of children remained at the mouth of the tunnel waiting for safe escort down the river. But, just as the hobbits were starting the final group into the tunnel, something happened which no one had anticipated. Milo came racing down to Nitir. Azra was with him. She'd stripped off her skirts to reveal a sword and leggings underneath.

Gasping for breath, she leaned against Nitir's shoulder and blurted out, "The battle for the caverns is still going on. But some of the guards broke loose and headed toward the mouth of the tunnel. We've got children trapped there. About six of the older ones. Hobbits are trying to rescue them, but we need help."

"How many guards?" Nitir asked, her heart pounding furiously.

Azra shook her head. "It's hard to say. You can't see much. But I'd say at least eight."

Eight guards, thought Nitir. That was no small thing. "Go ahead, both of you, get back to the children, and start harrying the Men. I'll get the hobbrim to come up the tunnel and help.

Nitir turned and sprinted back to the water, where Andril was waiting. Within a moment of telling her story, five hobbrim had raced onto land and were running up the passageway, with lances in hand.

The children were penned in at the mouth of the tunnel, the Men completely surrounding them. Several hobbits attempting to assault the guards were armed only with swords and sharpened vizers. They swiftly darted in and out, striking blows. They had managed to divert the Men's attention from the children, but couldn't bring the guards down for a mortal blow.

Andril cried out, "Go in with the lances, the lances and the bows. Hobbits clear out." Six hobbits scattered to the corners.

Andril ran in and drew back her arm to hurl her lance forward, as she had done so many times when hunting the great fish of the sea. Then as now, her weapon found its mark. A guard was pinned against the ground, a lance pierced through his side. Blood flowed out onto the floor of the cavern.

The remaining guards raced forward against the hobbrim. Four other lances instantly shot through the air. Each was quick to find its target. Those hobbits armed with swords and other smaller weapons sprinted in to finish off the victims lying on the ground. Still, three guards remained.

Nitir strung her bow and cocked an arrow. It sped through the air and buried itself in the shoulder of a guard. He staggered about to retreat up the cavern, but was met by hobbrim who had now retrieved their lances.

Nitir pulled Andril over. "The rest can take care of the few guards who are left. Go in and get the children, and take them down the tunnel. I know they can swim. Just keep an eye on them in the water."

She nodded her head, "But where are you going?"

"We're missing children, four small children." Nitir explained. "I know exactly who they are, and I have a good idea where they went to. I've got to get outside and find them."

She started heading to the left, planning on inching her way along the wall of the main cavern until she came to the graveyard exit. But, before she could leave, Azra ran up to her. "I'm coming. It's Gamba's brood, isn't it?"

Nitir shook her head yes, but then bellowed, "Azra, stay here. I think I can make it back in time, but I'm not sure. It only takes one to go haul in lost children."

"And what do you think you'll find out there? A welcoming party? You could run into anything! Stop talking, and start moving. We're going together."

Nitir muttered something indiscernible under her breath. Out loud, she only said, "Stay close then. It's pitch black in here."

The two women felt their way in the dark towards the graveyard exit. Once they reached the passage, they had to crawl along the ground. The smoke and fumes were making it impossible to breath. There were only a few Elves still fighting in this area. They paid scant attention to the two small hobbits.

Nitir wondered if she should tell someone where she was going. But then, she didn't really know, and who could she tell? Anyways, it might be better if they said nothing. She and Azra were doing this by their own free choice. No use to endanger others by having them come search for her. Hopefully, they'd make it back. But there was no way she'd board the ship without trying to find the children. Gamba had seen enough misery for a lifetime. She pushed back the little voice in her head which whispered that it wasn't only Gamba who had feelings for these boys.

There was still a single torch burning at the entrance to the graveyards. Nitir grabbed it in her hand and brought it along. The two women ran into the field of death looking for any hint that the children had been there. It was then that Nitir spied the imprint of a shovel which was being dragged erratically on the ground in the direction of the horse pens. They quickly moved in that direction.

[ November 01, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[piosenniel]

It was a slow procession down the perimeter road heading west to the front prison entrance. Anee with Daisy and Kali led the band of Hobbits and Men back down the tunnel. The more able of the freed band lent arms for support to their fellow prisoners. The frail, old hobbit lady clung to Khelek’s free arm, and often stared up at him with her rheumy eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘An Elf!’ she murmured to herself, as she patted his arm to assure herself that he was real. ‘And a lordly one, at that! I never thought to see the day that old Pansy would see such a sight.’

They had reached the front entrance tunnel to the prison. One of the Noldor, his spear laid aside, sword drawn, challenged them, as he saw the Men approaching. Pio stepped forward and spoke briefly with him. He told her that the Hobbits with the aid of several Teleri had tenuously secured the northwestern section of the caverns outside the main cave. One of the Hobbit warriors within the main cave had come recently to say they feared an influx of guards coming west through the tunnel that lead in from the Locks area.

A sudden commotion, growing louder as it approached from the south, caused them all to become silent. The freed prisoners were put behind them, Kali and Daisy as their guard, as the Elves and Mithadan prepared to meet this new challenge. Daisy quickly passed out the once hidden knives from her cell to the abler Hobbits. Two men came round the bend in the road, and Pio stepped forth with her blade to stop them. She stayed her hand and bade the others do the same. ‘They bear no weapons!’ she said. It was then that a familiar figure came running into view, followed by two Hobbits. ‘Damn their long legs!’ she heard the woman mutter. Pio burst out laughing, and Bird smiled wryly at her.

The two Men, Gilrain and Rumil, joined the small band of the Faithful, who wept to see them safe again. Gamba and Azraph went to stand with Daisy and the other Hobbits. They stared curiously at Kali, then Gamba offered his hand in greeting saying, ‘You are one of the Hobbrim that Cami told us would come to aid us. We thank you.’ Azraph smiled at Daisy, noting how Kali clasped her hand, keeping close beside her.

Pio motioned Mithadan forward. ‘We cannot take the Men through the main cave and out through the river tunnel. They are defenseless. There will be too much confusion, and the probability is that in the heat of battle they will be mistaken for guards and slain.’ He nodded his head in agreement. ‘Let us send Khelek and one of the Noldor to lead them and the freed Hobbits down the perimeter road to the river. They can board the ships from there.’

She gathered the group about her and told them what they must do. Gamba and Azraph looked at one another, and Gamba shook his head ‘no’ at this plan. ‘We cannot abandon our family and friends who fight in the main cave.’ he told her firmly. She smiled at his resolve, and drew the knives from her boots, handing one to each of them. ‘Then you will come.’ she said, ‘and fight with us beside them.’

Mithadan moved toward the small group of Men, and took Isilmir aside for a few moments. They stood close together, speaking softly, Mithadan’s hand resting on the other’s shoulder. Isilmir nodded when they were done, and rejoined the others. She could not see his face, noting only that he carried himself with the same gentle strength and grace as did her belovéd. She smiled to see them walk away from each other. ‘Root and branch.’ she thought. A small plea escaped her lips that Mithadan might live to see his own children as they branched out from him.

Khelek led the remainder of the Hobbits and the Men south toward the graveyard entrance. The Noldor warrior brought up the rear.

Mithadan led the way through the front prison tunnel to the main cave, followed closely by Bird, Kali, Daisy, Anee, Gamba, and Azraph. Pio, sword drawn, a long knife held in the opposite hand came last.

She entered the cave quickly, and took in the scene. The Hobbit warriors and the Teleri held the main entrance in the north, giving cover to the Hobbit groups struggling to get into the cave and then pass through the tunnel in its southern wall to the river. The tunnel from the Locks was barely secured, though as yet she saw no fighting at its entrance into the cave. There would be heavy fighting in all this area and soon, she noted grimly.

She sighed, and went forward toward the Locks’ tunnel.

[ October 30, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Mithadan]

The Main Cavern was dark, lit dimly only by a torch at the River Tunnel entrance and light entering indirectly from fires set in the Guards' Quarters Tunnel by the Noldor. Mithadan could barely see between the darkness and the smoke. Shadowy shapes of Hobbits and a very few Men flitted by on all sides. Orienting himself as best he could, he moved off toward the North, back towards the Locks.

He had only taken a few steps before he tripped over a body lying on the floor. He rolled to his right and regained his feet settling into a crouch with his sword held before them. Blinking, he looked back towards where Piosenniel and the others should have been. At that moment he was struck behind each knee. As he stumbled, he was struck again in the center of his back and fell sprawling on his face. Small hands fumbled towards his throat even as bodies pinned down his legs and right arm.

"Wait!" he cried. "I'm with Piosenniel..." The hands on his throat paused even as he felt a sharp edge press against his neck. Then the Hobbit sitting astride his back was pulled off by Daisy. "This is Mithadan!" she cried. "He is with me and Azra and Nitir!"

The pressure on his arm and legs was released and he climbed slowly to his feet. A Hobbit stood before him holding a knife. "Sorry," he said before he turned and joined his fellows and moved off across the cave.

Piosenniel's voice drifted to him from the left. "Are you alright?" Ignoring various aches and pains, he nodded. "I cannot see well in here," he complained.

"Then, let the Elf lead," she retorted with a slight laugh. "Why don't you do that," he responded.

They continued on to the North, pausing once to lend aid to a group of Hobbits held at bay by two guards. Just before they reached the tunnel entrance, a stone whizzed by Mithadan's head. He ducked and dodged forward into the perimeter path, where he was nearly skewered by an over-eager Elf before he was recognized. "It's dangerous in here," he muttered.

[piosenniel]

‘By the One!’ she swore, as she hauled Mithadan close in beside her. ‘You have come through the foemen safely this far, I will not lose you to our allies!’ She peered closely at him. ‘Where is the red band you were to wear about your neck?’ she asked him. He reached into the collar of his shirt. The band had come unbound, and now hung loosely beneath his shirt. She reached for it and tied it high on his neck. ‘You look much like the prize turkey.’ she whispered to him, her expression of amusement lost in the smoky haze as she turned and led him down the tunnel eastward to the Locks.

Bird and the two Hobbits had joined the fray at the northern entrance to the main cave. Many who saw Gamba and Azraph thought them wraiths in the smoke, come back to give aid. But a firm touch of Gamba’s hand brought the assurance of their reality and a renewed hope to the Hobbit troops. Bird, by this time had pulled out her sling, and was finding the candlestones to be excellent missiles. The satisfying thunk! of rock hitting the guardsmens’ flesh spurred her on. Anee made quick work of the downed guards with her knife. Daisy and Kali also stood with the Hobbits, their swords flashing red as the dim lights of the fires caught them.

The Elf and man went carefully down the dim corridor, lit by the occasional guttering candle in the lamps along the walls. Most of them had been put out by the Hobbits who had scouted out this passage. To their right were the entrances to the Old tombs. As they passed them, Mithadan paused briefly, as if in salute, and then walked on.

Just a little further on, they met a sentry from the Hobbits who had secured the smithy. Pio stepped forward, showing herself, at his challenge and he led them to where Phura had deployed his troops. She and Mithadan spoke quietly with him. ‘You will soon be needed back in the main caves.’ Mithadan told him. ‘The fighting there is escalating as more of the Hobbit groups make for the river tunnel. We will secure this tunnel for you. Take your troops and head back to join the others.’ Pio put her arm on his shoulder and drew the Hobbit close. ‘Gamba and Azraph have been rescued. They are fighting at the north entrance to the main cave, as is Daisy.’ He looked at her in astonishment, and closed his eyes briefly his lips murmuring words unheard. His eyes were filled with a clear light when he opened them, and he bowed to both the Man and Elf. Then he motioned to his group and they followed swiftly after him, down the tunnel, heading west.

It was just past the entry to the smithy where they first encountered guards heading west. Six of them, swords drawn, and only thirty feet away. She could just make out their feral eyes as they brightened at the easy prospect of killing them both. She pushed Mithadan back down the tunnel, not taking her eyes from the advancing Men. The Elf sheathed her long knife as she stopped at one of the spluttering candles. Both she and Mithadan pulled out one of the smaller dragon-fires and lit it, quickly hurling them before the feet of the first three guards. The pots exploded on impact with a white hot flame. Pitch and resin spattered upward and stuck to the clothes and skin of the first four Men. They screamed and tore at their attire, slapping at the areas where the burning goo clung to them and would not be put out.

The guards who had been most at the rear now pushed their comrades aside and rushed, swords raised, at the Elf and Man. One of them lunged at Pio, and she leapt back from him, thought not before his blade cut her deeply down the left forearm. A gasp escaped her as the pain of it shot up her arm. Then, ignoring it, Pio drew her long knife, laying it across the flat of her sword just ahead of the guard. She caught the guard’s blade as it slashed down again at her, turning it roughly aside with the flat of her sword, and stepping in close to drive her long knife into his throat. Mithadan had by then skewered the other guard, who dropped heavily at his feet. The other four had by now fallen dead, overcome by the burning.

‘There is no point in going any further, Mithadan. There will be more coming now who will seek entrance to the other parts of the caverns through this tunnel.’ He helped her stack the six bodies across the narrow tunnel. Then she placed two of the large dragon-fires among them and lit them, pulling Mithadan quickly back down the tunnel toward the main cavern.

The nauseating, flaming heap would burn for a long time, and prove a grisly and effective barrier to any who sought entrance from that direction.

[ October 31, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Helen's post

Melting silently with his band of hobbits down the smoky tunnels towards the main cavern, Phura relished the new hope that burned within him. The rescue had been a success! Azraph and Gamba were ahead of him-- unscathed, he dared to hope.

Phura's teams emerged into the main cavern, and engaged the guards they found, aided by smoke and darkness. The guards fumbled about, giving themselves away by sheer noise; and the stealthy hobbits maneuvered behind them. The most difficult part was to coordinate the attack in the dark without speaking . The hobbits in Phura's team accomplished this by a combination of touch, and also hearing the progressive fall of the targeted man.

The effect, however, was that the remaining men could hear the demise of their companions, and their frayed nerves made them as taut as a bowstring, so that the attacks became progressively more difficult as the mens' desperation increased. The men began coordinating, calling each other for help.

Phura had five teams, but he guessed that there were now twelve men nearby. The hobbits hesitated, and Phura signalled, and suddenly they all melted into the shadows and smoke. The twelve men circled, weapons outward. Suddenly, a grim chant began. The hobbits were reciting Piosenniel's instructions for mortally wounding an opponent.

Some of the men, listening, tried to jeer at the hobbits. But most of the guards waited silently, swords brandished, shifting their weight. Suddenly a hail of stones pummeled them, blinding them; the hobbits were aiming at their eyes, and their aim was deadly enough that every one of the men had to shield their eyes.

The hail continued as half the hobbits ran into the circle and quickly hamstrung the men, and the rest of the hobbits rushed in. Several of the guards, however, swung their swords wildly behind them even as they fell. Phura was horrified to see three hobbits fall and not rise again, and several more were badly wounded.

He addressed the wounded. "Go now. Don't argue. Go." They headed for the river. Phura checked the fallen, and made a mental note of who they were; but just then more men came in at the entrance, and he had to thrust his grief aside.

He hoped that Azraph and Gamba were still here somewhere, but he could not see them in the smoke. He fought on.

[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Nitir and Azra stood together on the lone bluff overlooking the horsepens, their arms tightly linked about each other's waists. Beneath them lay a scene of indescribable carnage. The bodies of some forty guards were strewn about the pens and the adjacent grounds. Scattered among these were a few escapees from the Men's Prison.

Two or three horses also lay on the grass. A single animal writhed in agony, spears extending upward from his left flank and withers, trickles of blood from the base of his wounds seeping into the earth. His shrill, pleading cries were the only sounds rending the silence of the night.

To Nitir, it looked as if some hideous creature had plummetted from above, striking without remorse in a paroxysm of killing and rage. Now, only mangled corpses and bloodied weapons remained, mute discards in a grim tableau. But this had not been the doing of the great wyrms or of any who had accompanied the Star.

"What has happened? Who has done this?"

Azra's words sliced through her thoughts. Nitir shook her head in disgust, "This is not us. There are no hobbits here for rescue."

"Then what?" queried the girl. Her words came with difficulty as she searched Nitir's eyes.

"This thing lies in the hands of the Men." The woman responded harshly. "These guards have butchered their companions and the few prisoners who found their way here, fighting to see who could grab onto an animal and gallop away."

A shudder ran through her body. Why had this happened? These guards were not familiar to her; they were assigned to the Men's Prison. During the rescue of the Faithful, Mithadan had unlocked that compound and left it open, to create the illusion of a general prison break. No one from the Star had blocked that gate, or followed the guards across to the horsepens. They could have walked out of here, or even ridden. Nearly fifty horses had been stabled in the pens. If the guards had helped their companions to mount, two on each steed, every man could have left this field unharmed. There was no need for murder.

For the first time, Nitir understood why the great wave would claim this land in one week's time. The evil of ar-Pharazon and Angthaur had spread deep into Numenor and its people. There was so little goodness left that they could turn on each other without remorse.

But all this lay beyond her own simple task. Where were the children? Please, not here, she thought.

Aloud she said only, "Come. We must search for them."

They looked at each other with grim faces, hoping they would find nothing. Their steps took them throughout the pen, as they bent down to search, body by body, rolling over the Men with difficulty. The horse had stopped bellowing and was now frozen in death. But they noticed a small movement beneath him.

With trembling hands, they searched, pushing the horses head and a pile of weapons out of the way. They found only a Man, lying mortally wounded, his eyes stretched in pain that extended beyond the ability to scream.

"Please," he whispered, pointing at Nitir's bow. "Please," he pleaded again, feebly grabbing onto her skirts.

What he wanted was clear enough. Nitir was not certain what to do. And then the Man turned to her with agony in his face, "I beg you, by all that Eru holds sacred. Let me go."

Nitir sat back and drew an arrow from her quiver. A single shot sped forward. Then she went to the edge of the field, and was sick.

So the bleakness of Numenor touched even her. She could not have said if she'd done right or wrong. Perhaps, if she'd had the time, she would have simply sat by his side and talked. But she had no time. She forced her thoughts forward, struggling to clear her mind.

Nitir did not think the children would wander blindly into the night, without direction. They had come to the graveyards to try and find Gamba, because they had visited Esta there that day. Where else would they have gone? She thought back on the conversations of the children in the study. All day, she'd had to shush them up again and again, because they kept talking about boats and the river. She was certain she'd heard Roka saying such things at least a dozen times.

She wasn't sure, but it was the best chance they had. It was getting late. They had to try again and quickly. "Come, Azra, to the river." The two women raced across the grass as swiftly as they could.

[ November 02, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Mithadan]

Mithadan halted Piosenniel and grasped her wrist so that he might examine her wound. Then he stripped off his left vambrace and handed it to her. "Tie it tightly," he instructed. "It will staunch the flow of blood."

They continued back down the tunnel. From behind them came shouts. Guards were attempting to enter the tunnel either from the Locks or the smithy. They reached the Elven guard at the mouth of the tunnel and warned them of the coming onslaught. Two Elves crouched down holding their spears at ready. Two bowmen stood behind them, ready to let loose their arrows. Elves wielding axes stood to the sides. Mithadan and Piosenniel took up positions next to the bowmen with Bird and the Hobbits behind.

Several guards came racing down the tunnel. Two fell with arrows in their throats. The next two were impaled upon the spears. One burst through, knocking over a crouching Elf, only to be slain by a blow from an axe. Then the melee spilt out into the perimeter tunnel.

The encounter was quick but deadly. Another guard fell with an arrow in his chest. Heavy blows were dealt by the axemen as the spearmen retreated and drew their swords. Piosenniel advanced into the fray, her sword clashing against that of a Numenorean. Gamba and Azraph slashed at a Man who had leapt upon the toppled Elf. Mithadan grappled with an opponent armed with two knives. He threw the guard to the floor and silenced him with a blow to the head. The last remaining Man fled back up the tunnel shouting for help. Weary but whole, the Elves resumed their positions.

Mithadan leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. His cloak was tattered and his clothing covered with blood. A red gash had been opened on his right arm. "We cannot hold them long if many more come," he panted. "I hope all goes well at the Guards Quarters Tunnel."

"If we played candlestones, then many of the guards would have been in the Main Cave," said Gamba. A fey light was in his eyes, but he held his knife high. "We might be harder pressed here than there."

The guards' bodies were piled into the mouth of the tunnel while they awaited the next assault. They did not wait long. More Men charged their position. This time, after the Elves let their arrows fly, Piosenniel lit a pot of dragonfire and threw it at the feet of the advancing guards. The Elves averted their eyes from the carnage and stepped back as heat and foul smoke poured from the tunnel. Piosenniel lit a second pot and threw it into the fiery opening. The piled bodies caught and burned as well.

Mithadan and Piosenniel stepped into the North end of the cave. There, the battle had subsided and of the few Hobbits that remained, all were moving to the River Tunnel. They looked to the West. No Hobbits could be seen entering from the annexes there.

"I think it is time to begin our withdrawal," said Piosenniel. "It appears that all who are able are escaping."

"We must check the annexes," cried Azraph. She and Gamba raced off before they could be restrained. Mithadan turned back towards the flame-filled tunnel. Shouts could be heard there, but none could approach the conflagration. Soon the Hobbits returned. "We can find no one there alive," said Gamba.

"Then we must retreat," cried Piosenniel. She turned to the Elves. "Proceed down the perimeter to the Front Prison Tunnel. Give your fellows aid there if it is needed. Then block the tunnel with fire as here and retreat to the Graveyard Tunnel. Wait there until we signal. We shall set dragonfire in the Main Cave when it is time to go. If you see no signal but guards come from the East, go on to the River Tunnel and escape."

The Elves nodded and turned to go. Piosenniel took another bag of dragonfire and threw it into the Locks passageway. The flames erupted even higher. Then a rumbling could be heard and a portion of the tunnel collapsed.

"Let us go," cried the Elf. She led the way
around to the East followed by Mithadan, Bird and the Hobbits.

[piosenniel]

It was pitch black now along the perimeter road. All the candles had gone out, and only the wavering light from the fires still burning in the Locks tunnel reached feebly to the path. It was smoky as they passed the corridor leading to the Locks, and eerily quiet, with only the sound of their running steps to break the silence. Daisy stopped at the entrance and then sprinted into the smoke. Pio halted the others and ran after her, cursing the impulsiveness of her action. Curses turned to praise as Daisy ran back toward her holding two thick, flaming brands in her fists. Pio hurried her out and they stood coughing, eyes tearing on the road.

‘It was one of my jobs when I was here at first.’ She told the Elf. ‘I had to stack them in the corner of the alcove for the guards to use.’ She turned her head away and sniffled her runny nose; then turned, and held Pio’s gaze with her own. ‘Sometimes they used them for light, but mostly they just beat us with them.’ Pio reached out for the brands giving one each to Kali and to Gamba. She pulled Daisy tight against her, and whispered in her ear. ‘Never again, little one!’ She kissed the tangled curls on the top of her head, and urged her on.

Kali and Gamba ran before them, lighting the way. They passed the new mines entrance and the tunnel to the new tombs. What Hobbits, Elves or guards had been here were now long gone. They moved on unimpeded.

This small band of warriors was just rounding the perimeter road and turning in a westerly direction toward the guards' quarters when Mithadan called a halt. There was light up ahead, the red glow of the flames made the rock walls seem to weep blood. Shouts rang out and the screams of the dying. They left the brands burning where they had flung them down on the road bed, and moved forward slowly weapons drawn.

The clash and ring of steel against steel filled the area, punctuated by the song of the bowstrings as they snapped in the air sending their deadly missiles deep into the foe. Against the mass of guards, five Noldor held the main entryway – three with swords, two with axes, one to each side of the sword line. Of the eight bowmen, there were now six left. Their stock of arrows was running low, and two had put down their bows to draw their blades. They were weary, and sore, but still all fought on, preventing the Men access to the River.

Angara was there, and even the Wyrm was hard pressed by the number of her attackers. They came at her with long spears, and though she forced them back with her fiery breath, they had just closed in a ring about her. She could not defend against all. And when one craven Man came at her from behind, piercing her deeply on the leg, she screamed in rage and pain and swept the rear line from her with her tail.

The dragon’s scream and the sight of her beleaguered companion ripped through Bird and tore the human mask from her. Her dragon form came on her then and she came against the horde of attackers rending them with tooth and claw.

Mithadan joined the line of Elven swords, as did Daisy and Kali. They advanced upon the line of guards who now faced them. Their blades forced a deadly retreat, as they sought to pen them in a smaller area.

Knives slashing furiously, Gamba, Azraph, and Anee took up the grim business of finishing off those guards who had only fallen wounded or stunned. Phura and his companions had been engaged with this task already, and welcomed the added strength of their fellow Hobbits. The brothers had no time to say the things their hearts wished to say. They looked toward one another as those in combat do, and nodded briefly to each other. Words would come later, when the fighting was done.

Dragon-fire in hand, Pio had gone in search of those who had held back from this main fray. She torched both the barracks and the armory, ignoring the calls of those trapped inside, then ran quickly to the dark and seemingly empty headquarters. Gamba had joined her, and led her through the maze of offices and up the stairs. They saw no one, and as they retreated down the hall back toward the stairs she threw several dragon-fires into open doorways. Papers and wooden furniture caught fire quickly, and the Hobbit and Elf raced down the stairs to safety.

A single Man stood before the door, sword drawn, barring their escape. His uniform was ripped and stained with blood, his dark hair lank with the sweat of fear. His lips were drawn back in a wolfish grin, and from his eyes shown madness.

‘Tarcil!’ hissed Gamba, brandishing his knife.

The Captain lunged at the Hobbit, his blade slashing at him in a cutting arc. Gamba danced back and the blade missed him. Pio stepped in front of Tarcil, shielding the Hobbit. She blocked his wild blows easily, turning them aside with the flat of her blade. He was stronger and larger than she, and try as she might, she could not gain the advantage. She had drawn her long knife and grasped it tightly in her left hand, crossing it over her blade to block his blows. Her wounded left arm grew all the more weak and painful as she used it, and blood flowed out from beneath the vambrace.

Gamba came round the Elf to harry Tarcil with his knife. The Captain ignored him, though his feints often drew blood, intent only on killing the hated Elf. They fought on and she grew increasingly weary. No longer able to hold the long knife in her hand, it clattered to the floor.

Tarcil swung his blade in a flat sideways arc at her. Coming beneath her blade, the edge met her right side hard. The force of the impact knocked the breath from her, and she crumpled to the floor. Her sword fell from her grip. The captain lunged at her, intending to slit her throat. Gamba grabbed the Elf’s sword with both hands and drove it deep into the chest of the advancing Man, killing him.

Smoke and flames had made their way downstairs by now. Gamba pulled the Elf from the burning building and sat numbly on the ground, cradling her head in his lap. Behind them the fires raged on.

[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Rose/Sharon joint post (but taking the spear was Rose's idea, and all her thoughts/ action of this sequence as well!

Ahead of them, at the foot of the hill, lay the River Siril. Few houses or buildings remained along the bank, as they'd been cleared out on orders of the king in an effort to isolate the prisoners. One or two fishing vessels were docked alongside the river awaiting the next morning when they would push out to sea. They were small things, holding no more than three or four Men.

The two women walked to the edge of the hill, looking downward on the river. The fog that had covered the land was even more dense here. It was difficult to see anything beyond the broadest outline of the water and the boats. Nitir strained her eyes for a glimpse of young hobbits, but to no avail. The children had seemingly vanished without a trace. Even if they could be found, she wasn't sure how they would ever get back to the Elven ships. The hobbrim escorts were nowhere to be seen. They'd probably gotten the last hobbits through and departed back to safety. No one from the Star even knew she and Azra, or the boys, were missing. A tendril of fear rooted in Nitir's heart, but she quickly pushed it back.

Then, from somewhere in the darkness and silence, could be heard the cries of a young child who was clearly struggling without success to hold back a flood of tears. It sounded a bit like Ban. The noise seemed to be from the adjacent boat, but it was hard to tell with certainty. With the speed of youth, Azra sprinted ahead on the path towards the vessel, leaving Nitir behind to make her way more slowly down the steep hill.

As she reached the river's edge, the girl had her first clear view of the scene and could glimpse three children huddled together at the very front of the docked boat. Two men towered over them brandishing harpoons. A few words came floating over to her ears, filled with hideous intent, "Look what we've got here. Rats, little rats. I hear they're good for sport."

Azra wondered where the smallest boy had gone. She could not see him anywhere.

Little Maura had managed to escape the detection of the men by hiding behind a barrel, one of several which had been left standing on the docks. He'd become separated from the older boys, and was now crouched down in terror, wondering whether he should try and clamber up on the deck of the small boat to get close to them again. But the Men with their harpoons frightened him. They looked too much like guards. When Maura spied Azra, he cried out and began to run in her direction along the long wooden dock, hoping she could do something about those men.

But Nitir and Azra weren't the only ones to see him running. The two men on the ship looked out and saw one of their prey escaping. The Man could certainly have run down and scooped up the boy under his arm with little effort. But either because of an automatic reaction, or perhaps out of cold blood, the Man hurled his harpoon at the youngster.

Azra saw this and in a single moment what seemed like a thousand thoughts raced through her head. She thought of the Shire, of her friends, of Maura, but most of all her promise to Nitir that they would both make it through that night. Rose threw aside this last thought and hurled herself in front of Maura, her head hitting the wooden post along the edge of the dock, as she landed with a thud.

You might think it would be painful to have a spear piercing your side with your own blood spilling out onto the ground. Azra could only feel a numb disbelief at what she'd just done. She didn't have much time to dwell on this since the next moment, as she hit the ground, she lost consciousness.

Nitir stopped dead at the base of the hill, unable to assimilate what had just occurred. The toddler came racing up, clinging fiercely to her skirts. A second harpoon whizzed by in their direction, just two or three inches to the side. Finally, she reacted. Nitir quickly pulled out two arrows and cocked her bow, first once and then again. This time she shot with deadly speed and aim. One-by-one, the arrows found their mark, points and shaft buried deep inside the men's chests, only the feathers sticking out. One man dropped to the deck with a gasp, while the other, who'd been leaning against the rail, tottered forward and then heaved left, keeling into the river. Instantly, the children leapt from their prison and ran forward, mobbing the woman in happy relief.

Nitir stopped to make sure they were not hurt, then broke loose from their hugs and raced over by Azra. She gently tugged back and forth at the lancehead and managed to loosen it from the flesh so that it came free. The wound was grievous, but Nitir could not say exactly how deep. She tried to staunch the bleeding with her skirts. It slowed a little, but, to her dismay, did not stop. Azra was unconscious, and showed no sign of waking.

Their only hope was to return to the ship. But how? It was too late to retrace their steps and go back inside the tombs. An enormous ball of smoke and fire hung over the entire prison compound, and probably blocked all the entrances except for the river tunnel itself. And how could she walk anywhere with Azra so grievously wounded? On her own, she might have swum up the river to the ship, but with the small boys and unconscious girl in her care, this was not a possibility.

The children had gathered near Azra's body trying to show their concern. Little Maura ran about in circles, oblivious to their sadness, rhythmically chanting to himself. "Birdie, Maura want pretty birdie."

Nitir gathered the toddler in her arms, "Hush now, I need to think a minute."

"But Maura want birdie, black and white birdie." He pointed to the sky.

Nitir looked at Maura. She saw something quite remarkable. The child had a fey look in his eye, a knowing akin to wisdom, almost as if he held lore somewhere in his brain that had been preserved and hidden, waiting for the moment when it was needed, and when his own body would mature. He was one of those rare hobbits who saw and felt things others just passed by.

It was at least worth a try. Their chances were small, but anything was better than sitting and doing nothing. She'd done it before with Angara. Why not one of the others fighting in the tombs? And, for some reason, Nitir knew that Maura was right. It had to be Bird who would come this time.

She snuggled the child into her body, and whispered to him, "Think about Birdie real, real hard, as hard as you can, and ask her to come to us." Then Nitir closed her eyes and tried, as she'd never tried before, to tell someone, anyone, to send the great dragon to their aid.

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Birdland]

The screaming of Angara blending with the answering scream of the great silver and black dragon that suddenly had appeared in the tunnel with her. The two wyrms would come in low, protecting their soft underbellies from the sword strokes and spears of the Men.

The tunnel was cramped, but the scaled heads on the long, reptilian necks would snake through the melee with the speed of striking adders, picking up the guards and piercing them with stone daggers of their teeth and smashing their forms against the walls of the caves. Those few guards who had made through the gauntlet of Men and Halflings to attack the beasts were ripped asunder by shining, adamant claws.

And deep within the being of the dragon, Birdie the skinchanger was screaming her head off. Bird was a creature of stealth and flight. She would not ever have been called a coward, never having left a friend in a pinch, but she had always preferred subterfuge and cunning to the direct attack and before joining the crew of the Lonely Star, had never assumed the role of soldier, (Though she had fled from her share of advancing armies.) The sights, smells and sounds of the Battle of the Tunnels were overwhelming.

But not as overwhelming as the form of the dragon. Never had she felt such an alien in her own skin as she did when she took on the aspect of the Wyrm. Her heart and mind was raging with the joy of combat and destruction. Her body rejoiced in its massive strength and superiority to the puny creatures that surrounded her, and died so easily. Bird's own, small spirit fought equally as hard against this other spirit unleashed within her, but it was becoming harder and harder to tell whether she wore the dragon, or the dragon wore her.

Then, as often happens in battle, a lull in the assault occurred. It was unclear whether the field had been won, or the enemy was only reassembling, but it was suddenly quiet in the tunnels, except for the groans of the wounded, the harsh breathing of exhausted combatants, and the drip of blood.

Pio and Mithadan were together, examining and dismissing each others wounds, when suddenly the Elf stared intently ahead, then called to her friend, "Bird! To the River! Cami and Rose are there with the lost children. They need you to take them to the ship, before other find them. Hurry!"

"No!" growled Bird. "You and Mithadan are wounded. I will not leave you here". She flexed her black claws like a cat kneading, and gazed at the carnage around her. Bird did not want to leave her friends, but the creature surrounding her did not want to leave the battle.

Pio gazed at the whirling silver eyes of the dragon and said quietly and firmly. "Birdland, change to your raven form now, and go. Now!"

The dragon disappeared, and the small black and white crow appeared, and sighed with weariness and relief. Then shrugging its shoulders as if it were putting on an old, familiar cloak, it spread its wings and took off down the tunnel.

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

Cami cradled the wounded, silent Rose in her arms and kept up her feverish, silent calls to whoever might hear. When the little crow landed beside her, the Halfings child beside her cocked his head in puzzlement and said "Birdie?" Then he tried to grab a fistful of wing.

Bird gently disengaged her limb from the groping fingers and changed to woman form, bending over the still bleeding form of Rose. "Rose! What happened? Why are you not with the other children? What are you all still doing here?"

"There's no time to explain now. We need to get back to the ship. Change to your dragon form and carry us to the Star, Bird. Hurry!"

Bird hung her head in weariness, but Cami's attention was still on Rose's wound, and she did not see look of dread in the skinchanger's eyes. Then the great, shadowed form rose up among the Halflings. The toddler held out it's arms and chuckled with delight. "Birdie! Big birdie!"

"Get on." the dragon growled.

[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

As she was about to vault onto the back of the winged beast, Cami took a moment to study the inert form of Rose sprawled on the ground, still bleeding heavily. She stopped in horror. If she did not take some action now, the girl would perish before they even reached the Elven ship. The woman vacillated and wondered what she could do.

Once again, the dragon roared, "Get on now!"

Cami stared at Bird with something akin to anger, "Rose lies badly wounded. I do not know how badly. There is something I must do."

She scrambled quickly towards the boat, yelling over her shoulder, "Wait here. I promise to hurry."

The dragon part of the creature drummed great claws on the ground in an impatient, staccato rhythm, overcome by the desire to return to the fray. The Bird part, locked deep inside, looked out with concern at the still figure of the girl whose chest rose and fell so slightly that it was hard to tell whether she lived or died.

Cami was consciously aware of none of this. Her sole concern was Rose. She scrambled about on deck, then wrenched out her knife to cut a long piece off one of the ropes, another thin strip from the base of a fishing net, and a similar swatch of sail. Then she ran back to the girl.

"Help me, Roka," she demanded. Hold these, and hand them to me when I ask." Cami forced the girl's body upward, and tore off her blood-soaked clothing, wrapping the long strip of sail around her as tightly as she dared. Then she bound it with the fishing net over the outside and held the net in place with several strong knots in an effort to staunch the blood.

She again spoke to Roka. "Help the others climb onto the dragon and have them sit in front of you. I will mount in the middle with Rose propped ahead of me. We'll use this to help us all stay on." She held up the coil of rope.

Cami tied the noose around Bird's neck, then secured the rope around each waist, including her own, with many knots. The dragon turned her whirling eyes to protest this unorthodox arrangement, but then thought better and only shook her head in disapproval.

Think what you like, groused Cami, I will not have children falling off into the river, since I can not hold onto them all at once.

With a single lunge, the dragon ascended towards the skies, then veered south down the river, quickly leaving the tombs behind. Cami and the children clung tightly to the bird and to their halter of rope. Yet, unlike that glittering night in Beleriand, only a few months before, never once did the woman look back.

But inside her head, she spoke to the stars, which she knew lay hidden behind the clouds, "Maura, I have done what I promised. I have kept my vow to you. And now I truly know what I never understood in Minas Anor, how I love my people, for their resilience and sturdiness as well as their laughter, and the kindness of their ways. And I will live among them, and seek to nurture the strength of their hearts, even though the sad memory of the past with all its lore and wisdom again slip away."

The great dragon bellowed in the air as it sighted the first Elven vessel in the long queue of ships. Slowly, Bird began her descent.

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami could see the deck rushing up to them as Bird angled in for her descent. The woman fumbled with the knots in the rope, undoing several of them in preparation for the landing. She managed to get the children's halter untied, as the dragon alit on the deck. The wyrm bated and reared up, coming to a complete stop and shaking her head in complete frustration. The boys slid off her rear one-by-one, into a gentle pile just behind. Cami clung on for dear life, holding Rose in her arms.

"Get off," Bird roared, "I must return. The Man still fights in the tunnel." She lunged about, her wings beating against the air, and quickly rose up into the skies, veering in the direction of the tombs. Her black and silver body could barely be glimpsed an instant later, silhouetted as it was against the darkness and the thick fog which shrouded the river.

Cami slid down, and hollered for someone to come help her with Rose. Two Elves ran forward to support the girl and administer to her wounds. One of them, she noted with relief, was Khelek.

"Have Mithadan or Pio returned?"

Khelek was sliding his fingers over Rose's body, undoing the makeshift banadage which Cami had contrived. He shook his head no, then added, "But we expect them back very soon." His fingers continued to work without ceasing on the girl. Then he stood up, "We must get her below. This spear was no small thing. It missed her heart by an inch or two. And, if you had not strapped her into the sail with the netting, she would already have died from loss of blood."

As Khelek looked more closely, he saw a large buise and scrape on the girl's head which must have come from her stiking something hard. This was not good either. But he said nothing more to Cami.

The tears that had been held back for so long came cascading down the woman's face. Please Rose, she pleaded, do not die. You are so young. And the hobbits have seen too much death. In the back of her mind she chided herself for taking so long to react. It should have been her, not Rose, lying in that bed. Then she ran below to follow the Elves who were now lifting up her friend to take her below to a cabin.

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[mark12_30]

Smoke whirled abut them, and Gamba coughed, and then worried about the elf he cradled. Looking down at her, he whispered, "Piosenniel." Suddenly he smiled in disbelief that he cradled a legend in his arms; and then tears started, and he caressed her brow. "Hang on. You must hang on. Don't let me lose you too."

He thought of Mithadan, the Man that had fought with them, and wondered where he was; someone, elf or man, would come for them. In turmoil he balanced between gratefulness that Piosenniel was still alive, and grief over his own lost "Pio", his Esta; he had held her head in his lap, like this, gazing at the stars only last night. Her voice echoed in his mind: "We will see the stars again." He could not see the stars now. He wondered if Esta could.

"Hang on, Piosenniel, " he said aloud, and listened to her labored breathing.

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Rose had been tucked into the bed, with a clean bandage about her chest. Khelek looked over to Cami, and shook his head, "I have done everything that I know how. I can not say if she will live or die. To take a Man's spear in the side is no small thing for a hobbit. The wound is great and gaping, and she has lost much blood." He said nothing of his worry about the injury to Rose's head.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Cami begged.

Khelek thought, and then responded very slowly, "There are those among us who have greater skill in such things. Perhaps, Idril...." His words trailed off.

"I will stay with her until we shift out of the river." Cami said to the Elf. "We can not bring healers here till then. And I fear they will be very busy going from boat to boat. If I had a free choice, I would sit by Rose's side until she awakes, however long that would be, but there are things I must do for the other children. Hobbit families are split up and grieving. There is so much to be done."

Cami shook her head and put it down in her hands. The tombs had been the testing grounds for the Man and the Elf. Her own doom was far different. To rescue bodies from a hellish nightmare was one kind of challenge. To put back spirits into anguished hearts was another. She was afraid there was a great deal of that to be done, especially among those who would chose to sail to the Anduin.

"Khelek, when I'm not here, could you make sure someone is with Rose at all times?"

The Elf nodded his agreement. He went out the door and softly closed it, leaving Cami beside Rose's bed, grieving in silence.

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Mithadan]

When the last of the guards that had forced their way into the perimeter tunnel had been slain, Mithadan fell to one knee, his breath coming in painful gasps. Azraph looked at him with concern, thinking the Man to be sorely hurt, but could see only trickles of blood issuing from wounds on his arms. After a moment, he hauled himself to his feet and, without a word, entered the path into the guards' quarters, following the course that Piosenniel and Gamba had taken.

He approached the stairwell and gasped, seeing the Elf crumpled on the floor lying in the arms of the Hobbit. Coming to her side, he found she was breathing heavily and grimacing in pain. Her cloak and tunic had been gashed at her side and he pushed the cloth away, seeking a wound. Instead, his hands touched her mithril shirt, and, finding it unblemished, he sighed with relief.

Piosenniel sat up, clutching her side, and accepted his help in coming to her feet. Gamba lifted her sword and knife from the ground and accompanied the two as they shuffled towards the Main Cave. As they passed through the mouth of the tunnel, Angara hissed upon seeing the Elf leaning so heavily upon the Man. Piosenniel raised a hand to assure the wyrm. "Nothing but a bruise," she said with a grin. "No cause for alarm."

Bird shrunk back to her human form and took the Elf from Mithadan. He passed through the circle of Elves and looked into the Main Cavern. While shouting could still be heard to the North, the Cave was free of any sign of life. He withdrew his last bag of dragonsfire and, first lighting it, threw the container into the open space. As it caught and burned, he saw Elves peering from openings on the West side of the Cavern. He waved, then gestured to the South. The remaining rescuers began their final retreat to the River Tunnel...

[ October 31, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[piosenniel]

Mithadan's Post:

As they approached the River Tunnel, Mithadan heard shouting from the North. Peering into the Main Cave, he saw a number of guards enter from the direction of the Locks. A second group came through the gap in the cavern wall near the Front Prison Entrance. They moved rapidly toward the South seeking to reach the River Tunnel; too late. The remainder of the rescue party streamed through the mouth of that passage, racing toward the ships. A few Elves held the rear against a small band of guards who had followed the teams retreating from the West side of the caverns.

Mithadan looked towards Bird, who had returned to her dragon form. Their eyes met for a moment and the Shapechanger grinned in a toothsome fashion. She ambled off in the direction of the remaining skirmish. Mithadan leaned heavily against the wall waiting his turn to exit the field of battle. After a moment, he straightened himself with a grimace and followed Piosenniel to the tunnel. He reached under his tunic as he walked, then wiped his hand against the wall as he passed, leaving behind a streak of red.

[ November 01, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[piosenniel]

The perimeter pathway was free of guards as they made their way back to the Elven ship. In the distance, to each side of the road, there were minor skirmishes going on. Of some concern to Pio was the group of guards battling to win their way through to the exit from the river tunnel. ‘They know they have no hope of stopping the rescue.’ she thought to herself. ‘Death is in their faces, and they fight now only to kill as many as they can.’

She took her sword from Gamba, who walked beside her as did his brother, and ran a short way north, toward the fighting, thinking to lend aid against the guards. But Angara placed herself between the Elf and her intended goal, and forced her back. ‘You are needed on the ship, Elf. Others will take care of such minor problems.’

Pio leaned on her sword, and regarded the Dragon wearily, too tired to make protest, her sudden burst of energy now gone. She sheathed her sword and called the companions close about her. Fatigue dulled their eyes and made their steps slow. Together they made it back to the ship, and were hauled aboard by the Elves and Ancalimon.

Relief shone in his face as he brought her on board. She managed a smile when she saw him. A gasp and low moan escaped her as he grasped her left arm to help her onto the deck. He stripped off the vambrace, his eyes widening as he assessed the still bleeding gash on her forearm. He took her below, and made her sit on one of the bunks while he washed off the old blood, and sluiced the wound with clean water to wash out any debris. She winced as he did this, and looked away, her face pale even beneath the battle grime. Once done he bound the wound with strips of clean cloth, bringing the edges of the gash near each other, that the flesh might begin to knit itself back together in time.

She thanked him, and rose from her seat to go above, but a sudden wave of dizziness assailed her and she staggered as she stood. Ancalimon pushed her gently back onto the bunk, and made her lie down. ‘I must go up and see that all have returned.’ she insisted, raising herself up on her elbows. ‘We will need to shift times soon after that.’

‘You need not do all that, Pio.’ he chided her. ‘I will see that all are accounted for, and when it is time, I will come for you to make the link.’ ‘I will hold you to that, Olórin.’ She said softly, holding his gaze. ‘And so it will be.’ he assured her.

It was another hour before he came to get her. She lay on the bunk thinking that the grim nightmare of this night would never end. Her thoughts turned to those who would not see their way back to safety, the dead and those more unfortunate ones whose spirits would be broken by the unrelenting horror that had assailed them. She wept and entreated whoever might hear her, that, in time, they might be whole again.

Her eyes were dry when Ancalimon came for her, telling her all were now aboard the ships. Her gait was steady; her face composed as she came on deck and strode to the bow. The emptiness that came when battle was done filled her senses and a certain silence hung thick in the air.

Her grey eyes lightened and shone with clear purpose as she turned south and opened her mind to make the links. Their minds sparkled, like bright gems strung on a thin thread. She made the last, gentle link to Veritas, and felt the Elf’s mind reach for hers in relief.

Now! she called.


The smoke of battle and the river beneath them shimmered, and winked out.

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

Mithadan's Post:

He paused at the mouth of the tunnel and looked back into the caverns. He heard Bird roar, a sound followed by screams and the smell of burning flesh. The remaining Elves rushed by him towards the river.

Then he heard both dragons screech in anger as they turned to face the guards rushing through the Main Cave. None got within five paces of the wyrms. Then the two sent forth their blasts filling the caverns with flame. When they turned to exit, Mithadan made his way down to the river.

Seizing a bladder, he leaped into the water, gasping as the cold stream surrounded him. Underwater hands seized him and dragged him from the caves and over to the first boat where he was hauled on board to collapse upon the deck. Angara landed next to him and looked down on the sodden Man. Before she could speak, he heaved himself up from the deck and to his feet. The dragon nodded and wandered towards the rear of the ship.

The deck was a blur of activity. Hobbits were being ushered below decks by Elves. The wounded were being tended to where they sat or lay. The fog dissipated and the stars illuminated the vessel with a crystalline light. Ancalimon came up the gangway and began counting the crew of the ship. Mithadan grasped the rail tightly as the crew cast off the lines which had been tied to a nearby tree.

Daisy danced over, spinning and leaping with joy. "We did it!" she shouted over and over again. She halted before the Man and looked up at him with a wide smile on her face. Then her eyes narrowed. Mithadan's eyes were dull and his jaw was slack. His brows were covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Daisy took a step forward, then gasped as a drop of blood fell from his tunic, followed moments later by another and then another. He gazed down at her as she looked wildly about. He knew that she was seeking Piosenniel. "No, Daisy," he said. "Wait. Find her after we leave."

She shifted her weight from side to side, her mind uncertain and conflicted. Just then Piosenniel came up on deck. The Elf closed her eyes and Mithadan felt her thought seek out those on the other ships. Then the smoke of battle and the river beneath them shimmered, and winked out.

As all on board cheered wildly, Mithadan lost his grip on the rail, staggered to one side and fell heavily to the deck...

[ November 01, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Pio heard the cheer go up as time shifted. The clear, calm waters of the sea cradled them safely in her waves. When she turned, she saw they were just off the coastline. There lay the new island, like a small star. The surf rolled gently up to the beaches, and already life had come back to grace the land.

It was the birds which brought back a sudden memory of Númenor before the days of evil and of shadow. Seabirds rose up from the shore and wheeled and turned high above them in the clear air, crying out in welcome and in gladness. So had it been in gentler days, when ships drew near to Andor. She shaded her eyes and saw a flock of kirinki, small scarlet dots against the white sands, flying low. Their soft, piping voices echoed the song of the seabirds.

Further in, on the low lying slopes of Meneltarma, she saw the fragrant shrubs and flowers that clung to them. ‘Nísinen!’ she remembered, smiling now. And here, and there, dotting the slopes were scatterings of saplings – the evergreens and fragrant trees that had once been gifts from the West.

She rubbed her forehead, and breathed deeply. ‘We are safe!’ she murmured to herself, allowing some hope to ease its way back into her heart. Her hand strayed to her belly, cradling the new life there as she looked once more at the new life before her. ‘All safe!’

Daisy had turned from Mithadan to watch Pio as the ships shifted. She, too, took up the cheer as they came to rest in the waters off the new island. Joy became horror when she turned back to smile at Mithadan.

He lay still as death on the deck, and there was blood about him. She knelt beside him, but he would not rouse as she shook him. Her shouts for help went unheard in the general clamor of excitement. She pulled at the cloak of a nearby Elf, and bade him stay with the fallen Man while she went to find Pio. By then several had gathered at his side and sought to rouse him.

The Hobbit ran to the bow, where Pio stood lost in thought, gazing at the land. She clasped Pio by her right hand and pulled her from her reverie. ‘You must come! And quickly!’ stammered the frightened girl. ‘It is Mithadan!’

Pio could get nothing further from Daisy as they made their way at great speed through the crowded deck. As they approached the place where Mithadan lay, the throng parted more easily for them, and an uneasy silence greeted her as people stood back to let her through, their eyes averted.

She was frightened now. And as the last of the crowd which ringed him opened up, she beheld his still figure, the deathly paleness of his face. She gasped, and knelt down beside him, taking his cold, limp hand in hers. Tears spilled from her eyes, mingling with his blood on the deck.

‘No!’ she cried. ‘I cannot lose you now!’

Mithadan! she called out, her mind seeking his.

No answer came.

[ November 05, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

save

[Rose Cotton]

Save

[piosenniel]

Mithadan's Post

Ancalimon stepped forward and gently pushed Piosenniel to the side. He lifted Mithadan's tunic to reveal a wide rent which had been slashed through his mail. Below that were two wounds, the first a cut across his abdomen nearly six inches in length, and the second, smaller as if from
the stab of a knife. Ancalimon explored the Man's injuries with a grave look upon his face, ignoring the commotion around him. Then he opened Mithadan's eyes and gazed into them for a time. He leaned back with a sigh.

"He has lost much blood but neither wound has penetrated to his vitals," he said. "They must be cleaned and then bound tightly to stop the bleeding."

Elves lifted the Man and carried him to a cabin below where Ancalimon stripped him of his cloak, mail and shirt and poured clean water on and around the wounds and then bound them tightly. Then he stood and backed away.

"He will need rest," said Ancalimon. "He is strong and possessed of a great will to live. He may yet survive..."

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Birdland]

The duties on the “Star” and its surrounding flotilla ed had increased drastically since the time crystal had transported ships and passengers to the quiet bay by the remains of Meneltarma. Bird helped when she could with the two patients, flying between Idril's ship and the "Star", but their care was in the loving and capable hands of Cami and Pio, so little was required of her, save the fetching of an occasional item from kitchen or storeroom.

But the feeding and care of the freed Halflings was another matter. Just bedding down all passengers amongst the fleet required all the patience and diplomacy in Birdie’s possession. Most of the younger hobbits wanted to sleep on deck and revel in the breezes playing over them and the glorious field of stars shining down. But more than a few Halflings were overawed by the too vast sense of space after years spent in tunnels and tombs, and insisted that they would much prefer sleeping below decks. The ships were small, but the ocean and sky were vast. It took some getting used to.

Then there was the meeting of Hobbits and Hobbrims. The Sea Hobbits had had time to adjust to the differences between them and their land-locked “cousins”; Cami, Rose, and Daisy had left them with a good impression. But most of the “freed” Hobbits had a hard time accepting that the Hobbrim were actually related to them in any way, shape or form. Patient explanations by Ancalimon, Pio, and Cami helped, and most were touched when they heard Kali‘s story of his long search for his kin, and were impressed that it had been his discoveries and good-heartedness that had led to their own rescue.

In the end, it was the table and the bottle that led to the final acceptance of the Hobbrim as kin. The Hobbits recognized their own love for the good things of life, particularly food, drink and song. It wasn’t long before Hobbits and Hobbrim were gathered around the fire pits at night, sharing tales, laughter and fellowship. The subject of “the choosing” had not yet been broached. That would come in time.

Bird spent much of her time replenishing the larders, milking the sea-cows, driving fish into the nets of the Elves with her dolphin form, and gathering what few edible plants were left on the tip of Meneltarma. The days were short and busy. But at night, she would retire to her old, favorite place in the "Star's" crows nest, and think about all that had happened to her on this long, strange trip. Particularly what had happened to her in the tunnels.

The Battle of the Caverns had left her scarred with its fury and bloodshed, more so than even the Sack of Gondolin, in a way. At Gondolin she had lost her best friend; for a time at least. On Meneltarma she had almost lost herself.

“I am such an ignorant, uneducated creature.” Bird thought as she lay on her back in the crows nest. “Years I’ve spent thinking I know what I am, and what I can do, but that Dragon has taught me better. I know nothing about the gift given to me by Eru, and I almost lost myself, tampering with a form I could not control.” She sat up and gazed down at the sleeping huddled forms covering the deck from stem to stern. “They all think I did a good thing, changing to that Dragon, rescuing Hobbits and carrying folk to safety and all. But they don‘t know what could have happened. Walking on the edge of a sword, I was, and barely controlling something that cared little who was “friend” or “foe”, but just cared for its own pride and strength.” She shuddered as she remembered how her dragon form had gloried in the death and destruction it had rained down upon the Men at the temple and the caves.

Bird’s gaze found the sleeping form of Angara, and wondered briefly if she, too, felt these same emotions, surrounded by the Elves and Halfings she had chosen to associate with. “No. She’s different. One of a Kind, though she can be insufferable at times. Still, the darkness doesn‘t lay in her as it does in that Other. I wonder why that is?”

Then the Skinchanger’s glance fell on another who lay in darkness. The boy, Phura, sleeping with his brother Gamba and his “foundlings” snugged around him like a healing cocoon. Bird knew that the young Halfling’s experiences had also left him in a state of shock and horror. He was one of the few Hobbits who had not “bounced back” from the long imprisonment, the loss of his friends, and the horrific battle. His wide, dark eyes still stared at scenes only he could see, and he cried out in his sleep at times. Bird felt that she should approach him and see if he wanted to talk about the things that haunted him, being more than sure that they would match her own, but she thought he was better off with his own kind. They would know what was best for their child, and would see him through it. There were times though, when Phura’s despairing glance would fall on Birdie, gazing at her intently as she went about her chores. But then a gaggle of Halfling children would sweep him away, grabbing his hand to lead him to some new site, or to teach him a new song that Cami had shared with them. So Bird and Phura had never met or spoken.

Bird sighed, and returned to her own musings on her “situation”. “Whatever I do, I must never, ever, take on the form of the Dragon again. It’s too much for me. If I’m ever to play the role of “warrior”, I must do it in my own form, where I can at least know myself. I suppose Mith could show me how to use a sword, once he’s better again.”

Then she felt a pair of eyes staring up at the crow’s nest, boring into her shoulders. Bird whirled around, and met the wise, golden gaze of Angara far below. And she heard in her head, as clear as if the Wyrm sat next to her and whispered in her ear: “That would be wise, Changeling.“

[ November 05, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[mark12_30]

Phura climbed aboard the ship with Kesha and the rest of his squad, looking over his shoulder and checking that Gamba and Azraph were not far behind. Gamba and Azraph were helping Piosenniel.

Once Ancalimon had taken Piosenniel from their care, Gamba and Azraph stood dripping and scanned the deck of the ship looking for Gamba's children, and for Phura and Kesha. They did not see Phura and Kesha anywhere; they had disappeared.

But from Andril's side, the four children saw Gamba first, and came running. "Gamba! Gamba!" cried Maura, and suddenly Gamba found his legs sturdily imprisoned by Asta and Roka. Kesha, however, was not there to knock him over backwards.

So Azraph oblidged, rather gently and carefully lowering the exhausted Gamba to the deck, and the four children piled on top of him with squeals of delight. Gamba's helpless laughter came in exhausted gasps, ringing awkwardly and jarringly through the silent ship as everyone else kept vigil or worried about the fallen Man. There was no Phura there at the moment to plead for or demand mercy on Gamba's behalf, and Azraph forgot until Gamba was quite breathless. For the moment, Gamba forgot everything else and drowned in laughter beneath the four attackers. When the tickling ceased, he picked up Maura, and then with one arm hugged each of the others in turn, kissing their foreheads, and then he lay back down for a moment, blissfully content as Ban, Asta and Roka sat on him happily.

Several elves had looked up, and sad smiles crossed their faces, and some chuckled softly. Their worry over the man did not abate, but they were glad the children could find a moment of joy.

Piosenniel, hearing the laughter, closed her eyes, placed her hand over her belly, and quietly and fiercely spoke to her children, "You will have joy like that. You will find it. You will triumph, and be glad." It was half promise, half command. Then she wiped away a tear, and turned back to Mithadan.

Gamba did not stay down long. "We've got to find Phura, " he said. "I saw him climb up onto this ship. He must be here, with Kesha. Come on, let's look for him." They got up, and began to look for Phura and Kesha among the crowds.

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

Phura sat apart from the crowds, holding the exhausted and sleeping Kesha, huddled among piles of coiled lines and canvas. The other three team members watched over him, concerned. He shivered, and often convulsions shook him that did not come from the cold.

An elf named Adaruin found them, and knelt beside Phura. "Halfling, what ails you? Is the child well?"

Phura's teeth chattered in reply, and Adaruin frowned, and touched his clammy forehead, and probed him for wounds. He found nothing serious. "Are you wounded?" Phura shook his head no; but his eyes were glassy and distant.

Gamba came around the corner, followed by Azraph, and the four children. Phura looked up at them all, but could not speak; he tried to smile but wept instead.

"There you are! Phura? What's wrong? Are you wounded?" Gamba asked, reaching for his brother. Phura shook his head no. Azraph knelt down beside him, but he still could not speak.

Adaruin met their eyes. "Aftermath, " he said. "Some mortals are thus affected by battle. Perhaps grief burdens him, or the memories of fighting and bloodshed. I believe he will recover, but he must be kept warm."

"Warm? " Gamba echoed, putting his arm around his brother protectively. He took another close look at his brother, and then turned to Phura's other three team members. "We'll take care of him, " Gamba abruptly and dismissively told them. They nodded, full of concern, but understanding that Gamba did not want anyone seeing Phura in this weakened state. Knowing better than to argue with him, they left reluctantly.

Adaruin nodded. "Come." He handed Kesha to Gamba, and Adaruin gathered Phura gently into his arms, and stood.

Loremaster saw, and approached them, and he looked up at Adaruin, who held Phura so that Loremaster could see his face. Loremaster nodded. "He is overwhelmed."

Adaruin nodded.

Andril approached, looking like she wanted to speak to Gamba, but she saw Phura, and shook her head. "It will wait."

Loremaster clasped Phura's hand and reached up and felt his brow, and shook his head. "I must continue with the children. You will care for him?"

Adaruin nodded, and reassured Loremaster, who thanked him and reluctantly returned to the skiffs with Andril, where he and Andril were trying to bring children and parents together as best they could.

Adaruin carried Phura into his own room; Gamba, Azraph and the children all followed. Adaruin set Phura down, brought out his woolen great-cloak, and draped it around a corner of his room, and motioned Gamba, and Kesha to sit down on it. They did so, wondering, and then Adaruin carefully placed the shaking Phura in Gamba's arms. Phura lay his head on Gamba's shoulder. Kesha drew close. The four children huddled around them, Maura wondering why Gamba was not holding him. "Come on, " Gamba replied, and Maura clambered up over Phura and nestled against the two of them. Adaruin smiled despite his worry.

"Hold him, and warm him as best you can. I will return with warm food or drink." Adaruin proceeded to firmly wrap all seven of the boys in his cloak; he then fetched a wool tunic, and wrapped Azraph in that, and she sat next to Phura and Gamba and held Phura's hand. He met her gaze, and wordlessly squeezed her hand. Adaruin left.

Phura still shook violently. Azraph drew as close to him as she could, laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she dared.

After what seemed like quite a while, Adaruin returned with two bowls of fish stew. They poured one down Phura's throat, and he swallowed most of it, although his teeth were chattering against the bowl. They passed the other around between the rest of them while Adaruin went to fetch two more bowls. Eventually the inner warmth from the soup took effect, and as the rest of them warmed up, Phura's shaking began to calm down. He gently and quietly wept, and then finally relaxed, and slipped into restless dreams. Surrounded by the other children, Gamba, Kesha and Azraph held Phura 'til dawn.

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[mark12_30]

The next morning, Gamba and Kesha were quite stiff. Azraph stretched and went to the kitchen to find them all something to eat, and the children got up and began exploring Adaruin's room.

Gamba looked around the cabin, still holding Phura. Adaruin came in from on deck, and studied Gamba and Phura. "How is he?"

"Still asleep, " Gamba replied.

"No," Phura murmured. "Resting." He sounded weak.

"What happened?" Gamba asked him.

Phura shook his head. "I don't know, " he replied. "Where are we?"

"In my cabin, on board our ship, " replied Adaruin. "You are safe."

Phura sat up. "Barra? Daga, Tamba?" He turned to Gamba. "Esta? Meridoc?"

Gamba shook his head, worrying, wondering. "They're gone, Phura. They're all dead."

"I thought-- I had hoped--"

"What?"

"I dreamed I saw them."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"Come. Rest, " Adaruin said, lifting Phura out of Gamba's arms and putting him on his own bed. "Sleep again."

Just then Azraph re-entered, bringing more warm stew. Adaruin held Phura up and Azraph held the bowl, and Phura drank the stew, grimacing. "It's different."

"Bad?"

"No.... salty."

She set the bowl aside, and gazed at him, full of concern. He met her gaze, and his eyes were confused; he lay back down. She held his hands, and he drifted off to sleep.

Adaruin turned to Gamba. "Andril wishes to see you, " he said, and Gamba took a lingering look at Phura and headed off to find out who Andril was and what she wanted.

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

Andril led Gamba to Azra's bedside, telling the story of the little Maura and the spear as they went. Gamba didn't understand it. Nitir looked up as the door opened, and Gamba came in alone. "Andril says you rescued my children, " he said, and then stopped, looking down at the wounded girl in the bed.

"Azra?" he said, in disbelief. "What-- what happened?"

Nitir wearily repeated the entire story, and then looked up as she heard Gamba moan.

"No." Gamba had gone pale, and he knelt by Azra's bedside. "No, not you. Not now. No." He clenched the bedclothes in both fists, and waves of grief and anger fought for control of his soul. Nitir shook herself. She was weary beyond belief, and here was another burden. She stared at him, numbly, and forced herself to respond.

"Gamba. Gamba, get a hold of yourself."

"Not her!" His voice grew wilder.

"Stop it, " Nitir replied. He wasn't responding. Finally she grasped his shoulders and pulled him to face her, her face drawn with weariness.

He was crumbling. "I should have been there, " he panicked, his voice breaking and squeaking. "They're my children. I should have been with them, not her. It should have been me."

"You were a little busy, " Nitir scowled at him, exhasperated. "You can't be everywhere at once." She was weary beyond reason and endurance, and could muster no compassion, nothing to give to the boy but the sheer will to stand by him.

He fell apart, and she could only hold him as he sobbed. He clung to her, and she wearily and awkwardly sat down on the floor; he sat beside her, and she rested her own head on his shoulder as he wept.

He was utterly unreasonable, and stubborn as a mule. She thought of several derogatory names to call him; thinking back to her first dream when she saw him arguing fiercely with his brother, she wearily smiled, and raising her head for just a moment, gave his curly head a gentle kiss, and her heart filled with tenderness towards him. More and more, she wanted this unreasonable, rascally, mule-ish scamp to be a part of her life.

She lay her head back on his shoulder and rocked him gently as he sobbed.

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

Gamba stirred, wiped the tears from his face, looked up at Nitir, blushed, muttered something unintelligible, and she let him go. Gamba returned to Phura, subdued. Phura was dreaming. In a gentle voice, Gamba told Azraph that Azra was hurt, and Azraph hurried to see her.

"Hello, " Azraph said to Nitir as she came in.

Nitir smiled. "Hello."

"How is she?"

Nitir shook her head. "I do not know. How is Gamba?"

Azraph shook her head. "Quiet." She knelt down beside Rose. "Azra, listen to me. You have to live. You have to." She put her hand over Rose's. "Don't go. Don't. We need you."

Nitir looked at Azraph. "Do you know her real name?"

"Azra--?"

"Azra's real name is Rose. And my real name is Cami. Camelia."

"Cami." Azraph struggled. "And... Rose."

Cami wondered at Azraph's sudden frown; then Azraph said, "Nobody's calling me Rosph."

Cami smiled wryly. It should have been terribly funny, she thought, but she was too worried about Rose to laugh. Azraph stayed a while longer, and they talked about men, boys, and war.

"Where is your family?" Cami asked her.

"They'll find me. I'm not worried. I've heard that they are all right. I'm not leaving Phura, though."

"Is he all right?"

Azraph tightened her lips, and did not answer. But just then the door darkened, and Gamba re-entered, with Phura leaning on him.

"Hello, " Azraph said, surprised to see Phura up and about.

Phura smiled wanly at her and then looked down at Azra. "How is she?"

"I don't know."

Gamba guided Phura to the wall, and they sat, leaning against it. They stayed a while, and talked with Cami, who repeated her and Rose's real names again.

Phura frowned, and looked at Azraph with a twinkle in his eye. "Rosph."

Azraph indignantly shot him her fiercest glower, and Phura smiled again, but there was a sparkle in his eye. Gamba and Azraph both tried not to look too pleased, and Cami bet herself that Phura was going to be just fine.

She wished she could say the same for Rose. The visitors left after a while, and Cami returned to her lonely vigil.

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[mark12_30]

Child's post

Cami gazed up into Ancalimon's eyes. They looked almost as shadowed as her own. For over a day, they had sat together beside Rose's bed, leaving her side only when other responsibilities pressed in. They were still seaching for some indication of change. The wound itself seemed to be healing cleanly. There was no sign of fever or other festering. But Rose did not wake up.

While Mithadan tossed and turned in pain, trapped in evil dreams, Rose lay utterly still, with no movement or even fluttering of her eyelids. She seemed to be locked into some other world where they could not enter. Cami held Rose's hand and talked with her, telling her all the things they could do tgether if she would only return again. But her body did not responded. It remained silent and unmoving. There was no sign that she could hear Cami's voice or feel the touch of Ancalimon's hand on her brow.

Ancalimon shook his head. "I have seen this sometimes after a bad blow. It is not the spear wound, although that weakened her and threw her into shock. She was flung against the wooden docks with great force. It is this." Ancalimon pointed to a large contusion on the girl's head.

"A bruise?" asked Cami. "How can a bruise make this sleep like death?"

"Not the bruise," he responded gently, "but the injury which lies behind the bruise inside her head."

"Can't Idril help?"

Anclaimon nodded, "She has already seen her, and had hoped she would waken on her own. But that has not happened. Idril has powers with both herbs and osanwe. I have even seen her go inside the fea and give it a little push to awaken, although that can be dangerous." He looked out the small porthole and sighed.

Ancalimon took Cami's hand in his and said, "Rose is a stubborn girl, almost as stubborn as you are little Andreth. I will wait here and watch, and call you when Idril comes."

As she turned to go, Ancalimon called her back, "There is something else. I have asked Idril to show you some things about the healer's craft, both you and Andril. Although Andril already has some experience in this, the Elf has much she can teach her. But, Cami, it is you who will need to take these lessons in most carefully."

"Me? I'm no healer. I am a teacher."

"These two things are not so different as you think. And where you are going, both these skills will be needed."

Cami opened her mouth to protest, "But Loremaster has some skill in healing. I am certain of that."

Ancalimon shook his head, "You forget something. The hobbits will be splitting up in two different groups. We need teachers and healers in both places. To tell the truth, I am far more worried about the Anduin than Meneltarma." He whispered this last thought under his breath, almost to himself.

"Cami, your people need a healer. You have the ability to learn this."

She looked at him and nodded, "I will try."

[ November 04, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]