Holiday in the Sun RPG

[piosenniel]

First post by Deorlin

The sun beat down on the white sand, turning each minute grain into a shimmering, dancing jewel. The beach would have been as unbearably hot as an oven, but the breeze coming off the water blew fresh and cool. It carried the tang of sea salt, and a hint of exotic places lying far across the waves. Gulls wheeled in the azure sky, calling out in raucous chorus to the two girls who walked, arm in arm, through the shallow waves that gamboled up as far as the tide line. They were both barefoot, trying to hold up the hems of their gowns to keep them dry. But every so often, a rogue wave would break away from the mainstream and rush up to them, catching them off guard. Then the air would fill with their laughter, and high pitched exclamations, as they tried to outrun, usually unsuccessfully, the boisterous water, which grabbed and foamed at their ankles.

After several such encounters, their gowns were soaked to the knees. Making their way a few yards further in towards the low dunes that ran inland, they collapsed in a giggling heap on the hot, dry sand. Spreading the bottoms of their skirts in attempt to dry them, the two relaxed, the elder one sinking back onto her elbows, the younger raising her hand as a visor over her eyes and gazing out to the horizon.

"Mother won't be pleased at all, you know. All our other gowns have been packed already. We'll have to travel in these - and what a wrinkled mess yours is! Tch, tch!" Elvira shook her head in mock dismay at her younger sister, who blatantly ignored her and continued staring out to sea.

"Mine a mess! That's a good one - yours is soaked almost to the waist! And dirty too, to boot! Phaw! Don't you worry about me. You're the one who promised mother that we would be careful and that you would make sure I didn't get mussed." Gillan snorted, and smiled at the thought of her elder sister's soon to be chastisement by their mother.

"Well, whose idea was it in the first place that we should go wading this one last time?"

"Who suggested we come for a last walk on the beach? What fun would a walk be if we couldn't dip our toes?" After a slight pause, Gil suggested, "Maybe we could tell mother we . . . fell in?"

Elvira looked in scorn at her sister. Ever one for telling the truth, no matter what, she raised herself back into a sitting position, wrapping her arms about her knees. "Gillan, I'm surprised at you! Besides, Momma would never believe such a tale anyway. You and your stories!" Gil, the youngest child in the family, was prone to making up fantastic tales to amuse herself. Sometimes, she got a little carried away and told them to others, as if they had really happened. "What are you staring at all this time anyway?" Elvira demanded.

"A pirate ship. See, there . . . over to the south." Gil pointed with her free hand to a sail, just barely visible above the tops of the green waves.

"The south!" Elvira cried impatiently. "You don't even know the difference between left and right! Pirates!" She scoffed. "It's most likely just a ship belonging to a family on a holiday, like us. Leave pirates to our 'heroic' brother, please - you're too old for fairy tales. Come now, little sister, or we'll be late for the departure, and father will be even angrier with us." he shuddered at the image . . .

Reluctantly, the two rose and shook the sand from their skirts as best they could, Gil giving one last, longing look out to sea. Then they turned and made their way back through the dunes, to the castle of Dol Amroth.

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

"Should be a fine day for traveling, my lord.
Not a cloud in the sky, and a fine fresh breeze blowing in from the west." The old servant held tight to the reins of the nervous bay stallion, as the Gondorian noble prepared to mount. The courtyard of the castle here at Dol Amroth was never empty, except for the wee small hours of the night. Even in those lonely watches of the night, rarely a quarter of an hour passed without some member of the Prince's household, or court, or military hurrying through on some important errand. At this time of the day though, midmorning, the courtyard was full and bustling, with servants, courtiers, messengers, nobles, farmers, traders, travelers, even a good number of foreigners, going to and fro about their business.

The nobleman nodded somewhat absentmindedly at the old retainer, his mind elsewhere. Turning to his wife, who was just preparing to scold a maid for the ill-packed parcel of silk that was just starting to peep through its wrappings, he asked curtly, "Any word of them yet?"

His good wife, without even glancing at him, replied mildly, "No, of course not dear. I would have told you if they had returned, now wouldn't I?" Equally as calmly, she proceeded to tell the maid precisely how the material should be packed and unwrapped the bindings herself, to see that it was redone, and properly this time too.

Grunting with both frustration and the effort of lifting himself up into the saddle, the noble mounted the skittish horse with little difficulty, his expertise as a rider readily apparent. "Well, there's nothing for it then. I' guess I'll have to ride out and see where they've got to!" He cursed soundly as a baker's assistant with a basket of oranges on his head whisked by, right under the stallion's nose, sending him sidestepping like a ballet dancer. Bringing the horse back under control, the noble repeated, "Did you hear me,my love, I said . . . "

"Of course I heard you, dear. And I've already told you twice. I know precisely where they are – at the beach. You know, the one where we all had that delightful picnic with the Prince and his lovely family. You just look for them there. Now run along, there's a good man, and stop pestering me. I've important things to see to if we're ever to leave here by noon. And we absolutely must be back in Minas Tirith in time for the King's anniversary"

Swearing once more to cover the ignominy of his wife's dismissal, the noble clucked to the stallion and made his way through the castle gate, into the streets of Dol Amroth, turning the horse's head toward the beach road.

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

I will remove this comment once the game is in progress.

It is a rule on the Barrow Downs that you must:

REMOVE YOUR SIGNATURE FROM EVERY POST ON THE GAME THREAD.

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

[Lyra Greenleaf]

Eäris rode through Dol Amroth, still cursing under his breath.
"Run along. Like a puppy!...Gone to the beach! Time and a place for everything and this is NOT the time!..."

A young lad ran across the road in front of him. Reining his horse sharply, Eäris cast a disdainful glance downwards, causing the boy to gulp. Refusing to waste more time on the urchin, he quickened his pace.

Arriving at the beach he glanced scornfully at the sand that impeded his progress. Climbing down from the horse he started towards the dunes, from which he saw two figures approaching.

"Young ladies!" he called. "May I ask why you are on the beach when you know full well we are to sat off home shortly?"

Eäris attempted a repeat of the glare that had been so successful at quelling the young lad, but his daughters refused to be quelled. Both continued to smile. They knew it was beyond the power of their Papa to remain angry at them for too long. A smile threatened to crack his stern features, and the girls exchanged a glance.

Turning Eäris muttered gruffly "Your Mother will not like the state of your dresses I fear. Perhaps if we were to pay a visit to Morwen on the way, she could help? But hurry, for we must set off for home."

A smile spread across his face. Home...

[ February 04, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[Hirilaelin]

High in the rigging, Narwen looked out towards the distant horizon. Land. The sea twickled and sparked in the sun, pinpricks of brilliance. Land.

Even though she took to the sea by nature, land was always welcome. A chance to restock supplies, (she hated it when food stores went bad) recruit new members, and maybe get some action. Recently, nothing exciting had been happening. Everybody on the ship was just itching for action.

Looking down to the deck below her, she swung nimbly down, catching herself with her feet just a few yards above deck, like an acrobat. Jumping the rest of the distance, she hit the deck and rolled, standing at the end. As a girl in Umbar, she had been quite and acrobat.

She was hungry. Walking along the deck, her bare feet slapping on the wood, she cameto the galley. Opening the door down, she climbed the ladder to the floor. Chef turned around as she stepped off the last rung. "Hello chef," she greeted him cheerily. Land in sight after a long sojourn at sea always made her cheerful. "Hello Narwen," he nodded.

"Do you have anything for eating? I'm starved. The sea air and all." She grinned.

"Nary a lime I'm afraid. When will we get to port?" he grumbled sourly.

"Soon enough. If you'd been up on deck lately, you would have known that for yourself." With no food, Narwen climbed the ladder back up to the deck, and went to stand in the forecastle. Breezes pushed her long braid around into her face, as she looked out to sea.

[ February 04, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Merri]

Elvira felt a stab of guilt, but that didn't erase her lopsided smile.

"Well, Father, you see-" she began, glancing at Gillian for aid. "We felt overwhelmed by all the confusion of packing, so we- that is, I, decided that it would be a good idea to take a walk on the beach. And we aren't setting off now, are we? Besides, you don't need us."

Elvira attempted the most charming smile possible, hoping it would pacify her father. Then she laughed, and flung her arms around him.

"Dear Papa, you know you aren't really angry with us! We've just come back from vacation. Surely mother won't mind about our dresses too much?" She asked, knowing that she would mind, very much. "And I don't think Morwen would be able to help much- she has enough laundry to do without adding ours on." She let go of her father and took his hand instead, taking her sister's hand with the other.

"Let's go now, shall we? I do believe our outing is over, is it not?"

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

[Orual]

The salty sea-wind snapped at Airan's curly black hair and stung her blue eyes as she looked out from the crow's nest, but she hardly even noticed. She fingered her lucky chain--the one she had found the selfsame day that she fell in with the corsairs. So far she wasn't dead, so it hadn't failed her yet.

The water stretched out around her. It was all that she could see behind and around, but now they could all see the land in front of them, as she had so joyously called out a few minutes ago. They had been at sea for a long while, and it would be a welcome respite to be on firm dry land again.

But still she had no doubt that this was where she was supposed to be, here on this ship. She did miss her father every now and then, but she wouldn't have gone back to him for all of the treasure in the world, for all the treasure she could ask for was here, with the corsairs.

To be sure, it had been difficult at first. It was still difficult. She was a girl, and a little girl, so it was hard to earn the respect of her shipmates. She hadn't been on board very long, and was still struggling to gain acceptance. Sometimes she was bothered by the way they all treated her like a child--still being a teenager, she was the youngest on the ship. But when it came down to the line, she knew her shipmates could trust her with their lives just as she could trust any of them with hers. There was never that sort of respect and trust with her old friends, back at her father's house: not that there were many. And by the time she had run away, there were none. Finally she felt part of something--she was home here. She was, for once, at home.

[ February 06, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

Zul'jin looked around the cheerful and animated bar. People were taking with one another,Shouts and laughter always filled the air. The smell of ale and wine could be smelt from outside. He walked up and sat at an old table. It was large, round and smelt of steamy food.

A batender walked up to the table where he sat and asked him what he would like. She was very beautiful, long blonde curly hair, a green dress that could light up the whole room. He face was fair, her lips bright red. Her eyes were pale blue. Her high heel shoes were pitch black. Her finger and toe nails were bright red just like her lips.

"Just some chicken legs and some steamy mashed patatos, with gravy please." He said

"Well of course. It will be ready shortly." She replied

He watched her walk back into the kitchen. As soon as she walked in it seemed like she came out with a steamy plate of food for him.

"Thank you." he said

"Your welcome, I made it myself." she said

Her took a big bite out of his chicken. "This food is delicious." complimented Zul'jin

"Thank you." she replied

Zul'jin ate his food like he had not eaten in a long time, and he hadn't. All he had for two weeks was stale biscuts and over cooked meat. He gave the bartender ten gold coins for her wondeful cooking. He thanked her and walked out of the bar. The salty air nipped his face as he gazed out onto the sea.

[Hirilaelin]

Finally they had docked. Narwen decided to get to a bar or tavern first, as her hunger was knawing a hole in her stomach. Walking down the street she saw many other people, mostly corsairs like herself, going about their business. She stopped in front of a likely looking tavern. The sign read, "The Broken Mast." A ship with its mast cleanly snapped in two was painted on the sign, which swung in the salty breeze.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Heads swivled to see the newcomer, curious. She straightened herself, and stepped up to the bar. "Barkeep!" she called over the din of people talking, gambling, and what-not. A fat man stepped up to the bar, wiping his hands on his none-to-clean apron.

"Yes?" he replied to her call. "I would like a pint of your finest please," she addressed him. "Be just a minute." He lumbered away, calling for one of the barmaids to serve the lady at the counter ale. In a moment, she was happily sipping what the barmaid had said was "the finest grog in Umbar." Setting her mug down, she looked around the tavern. In one corner she could see an elaborate game of change taking place. A dagger was flipped, and people would bet on where it would land.

Narwen nodded to herself, and slipped off her seat and sauntered over to the corner, where six burly men where playing. She addressed them politely, "May I join?" They took one look at her, and guffawed. "What is so funny, my good men?" she asked them quietly, though her fist was tightly clenched around her mug handle.

"You play?" one laughed again. "A girl? Haw!"

"Yes, I would like to play," she insisted, her blood boiling hotter by the second. "Well," said another, "might as well let her. It's not my money that's going to be lost." Narwen glared at him, but sat down, pulling a small jingling sack out of her pocket as she did so, and setting it on the table. One of the man picked up the small dagger, and said, "Place your bets." Opening the bag, Narwen laid five gold coins on the table and announced quietly, "First inner circle." The other men placed their bets.

The man gripped the dagger expertly, and flipped it up. It flashed as it came down, a jewel in its hilt gleaming. "Thunk," it went, burrowing into the wood of the low table. The first inner circle. Narwen smiled at the astonished men and scooped the gold into her pouch. "I guess it's just luck," she said, now grinning widely. Again the daggar flashed up, and again Narwen claimed more gold. The men were starting to get angry. Narwen decided that she had better leave.

Standing she said loudly, "Thank you for obliging me gentlemen, but I think that I will be on my way now."

One of the men stood. "I want my gold back," he growled. Narwen smiled and said silkily, "Your gold? I think that it is my gold now."

Another man stood, and another, ringing her in. "Give up the gold girl."

Putting the now heavy pouch in her pocket, she turned to leave, but found her way blocked. Spinning, she buried her elbow into the nearest man's gut, making him grunt with pain and surprise. "I'm leaving, and this is my gold," she said again, but more heatedly.

"Oh no you don't you cheating snake." A man rushed at her. Narwen sank into a crouch even as he came on, readying herself. As he rushed her, she dodged to the side and came up behind him, viciously slamming her elbow into his kidneys. Even as he sank to the floor, the other men charged forward, yelling.

By now, the other patrons of the tavern had gone silent as they watched the fight. Narwen went to work on the bulky men, weaving in and out, landing blows in soft areas. Though tall and slender, she could still fight.

As the last of the men sank to the floor, the crowd raised a cheer. Narwen grinned. That had been... Refreshing. It had been a while since she had really fought. She now grinned at the crowd, acknowledging the crys. But it truely was time for her to depart now. Sooner of later, these men would come to, and they wouldn't be happy. Flipping some coins to the bartender to pay for the damages, she walked out of the door, the pouch clinking at her waist.

But, she reflected, she still had not gotten anything to eat. Tossing the pouch from hand to hand, she thought to herself, "Well, now I can get anything I want." Grinning, she walked down the street, listening to the gulls crying.

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

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

[Envinyatar]

Only midmorning, and already the merciless sun beat down against the green shuttered windows of the Three Palms. What few patrons there were sat in the back courtyard beneath the tall trees that lent their name to the tavern. Never mind that there were only two of them now, one of them having blown over in the great storm some twenty years back. The cracked wooden sign at the front of the grey, clapboard building had three palms carved on it, and Three Palms it would remain.

Three weeks without a billet. Khazdifir felt landlocked here in Umbar, though a short walk westward would bring him within sight of the bay. He ran his finger through the wine that lay puddled on the surface of the table before him, drawing it out in lines. A crude map of the bay formed, and he swept his finger from the harbor at its eastern edge westward and into the Great Sea.

That is where he wanted to be. Now. A ship rolling beneath his feet, and the cool, salty breezes of the sea stinging his face. He could feel the texture of the rope rigging beneath his feet as he climbed to the crow’s nest. See the waters before him shimmer like a thousand, faceted jewels beneath the sun. He would hover there, far above the deck, like his namesake, the kestrel, unmoving in the wind, his sharp eyes seeing to the rim of the sea.

Khaz sighed, and called for another glass of wine. The small purse at his belt was growing thin, he noted, as he gave the server a few coins to bring him a full bottle. He poured himself another glass and sipped at it slowly. The bottle would have to last him well into the evening.

When it was dark, he would slip down to the quay and look for a likely ship to sign on with. A gaff rigged cutter, perhaps, fast and deadly. Something likely to turn a good profit from its ‘business’.

[Carrûn]

The sun shown down without pity on the man dressed entirely in black. It had been some weeks since he had passed Erech. Dol Amroth and was drawing close and he could feel the roots of the Sea call to him. He was walking in a lazy slow fashion, almost as if drunk from the rays that beat down upon him. In reality all muscles in his body were coiled like a spring, ready to be unleasehd at any second. His thoughts elsewhere, he tripped over a stone in the rode and uttered a stream of black curses as he picked himself up. Inspecting the rock closly a wry smile crept up on his lips and threatened to linger there longer than an observer might have guessed. So you have been here my estranged brethern. No doubt you put it where you knew my feet would "find it." May your ale turn forever sour, your ears stop, and your eyes grow blind. "Humourous!" He shouted in case any of them where still within shouting distance. The signs were but a few days old at the most. What were you doing so far South? Tsch..that is not my concern.

Reading the signs of the people of the North he straightened up and looked off in the distance to the South. His green eyes strained and while he caught no sign of dust or flame in the distance the weathered man could feel a great strain in the Earth as if Arda itself was somehow in protest. "Strange signs," he murmmered. Glancing at the stone one more time he scuffed a few marks of his own on the other side and tossed it away. To all but the most skilled it was just another stone on the wayside. He fingered his nearest knife lovingly and, making sure his sword was at least somewhat concealed by his cloak, continued on his way; eyes and ears alert for the slightest change in his surroundings.

It could have been nothing more than a change in the dance of a leaf of grass or the song of the wind, but it was enough and Awyrgan threw himself flat upon the ground, drawing two knives instictively as he did so. Looking up, he happended to glance the two bloodshot eyes and gaping mouth of teeth as they sprang. By luck and skill he managed to role over as the great shape leaped over top of him, giving him time to regain his feet. Missing its attack the wolf turned and, growling, moved in again.

The two circled each other, green eyes locked with red, each showing their teeth and daring the other to make the first move. It was purely animalistic, like two stags clashing over territory. But the red-eyed wolf was young and lacked the patience of the green-eyed "wolf." He sprang suddenly, but Awyrgan sidesteped and brought the knife in a quick slash across the creature's nose. "Búrz glob - skai!," the man taunted. Engraged by the words and fuled on by the taste of its own blood the creature charged again, its mouth wide open with intent to bite its prey in two. The man ducked swiftly, avoiding the teeth but could not completely avoid the heavy paw which cuffed him soundly on the shoulder and pulled him down to the ground. Cursing in the tounges of men and wolves they rolled locked together, knives and claws showing no mercy nor expecting any. Experience soon won out over blind rage and with a twist of a knife it was finally over.

Wiping the two weapons on the dead creature Awyrgan replaced them in their sheaths and drew another, with a single edge and slight curve. With this he carefuly skinned the wolf and dragged its carcass off into a nearby grove of trees away from the road. He cut off what he hoped to be an edible portion of meat, for he had not eaten in days. Wrapping it in leaves, he placed both it and the skin in a bag. Perhaps when I arrive someone might enjoy a wolf rug. It's almost large enough to pitch it as a Warg, that should increase its value. He glanced up at the Sun. Bright One, you are cruel to me these days. It had been more than a day since he had found a source of water and his container was empty. He sniffed the air and his eyes flashed. Behind a tree to the left of the path a small stream was forcing its way out of the ground. Refilling his watersking he readjusted his equipment and returned to the path.

Almost as an afterthought he looked himself over. He had some uncomfortable scratches but some hot water would fix them without too much trouble. That can wait until nightfall. No sense lighting a fire twice. That pup gave me more trouble than he should have, I am out of practice. I had better not be loosing my edge. With that final thought he strode off again down the path, singing softly. His words were not out of tune but they followed no common pattern, as if he was putting the words to sound as they came to his mind. He fingered a small silver ring on his left index finger with blue jewel set in it as he sang.

The higher I climb the futher I fall,
The longer I walk the longer I crawl.

I look up know but I see you not,
Those who have gone before me;
and those who might have followed me.

Condemned am I to walk these circles,
Until I no longer can.

The sillouette on the road of the man was as dark as his mood as he strode southwards towards Dol Amroth.

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

[Rochelle]

The fair haired ranger walked slowly towards the small fire she had started earlier. Her silver steed stood grazing silently as if guarding the flame. Hannon le Quellë. The stallion lifted his head before letting out a leisurely snort and returning to his affairs. She sat down and brought around the rabbit she had snared. She had been traveling half the day without rest, and now her hunger could be ignored no longer. She pulled the dagger from its sheath and skinned the rabbit. A stick as a skewer would have to suffice as she carried no cooking untensils.

Several hours passed and she had enjoyed her meal. She had managed to organize her thoughts and decided that she would head south from the River Ringlo to Dol Amaroth. She had no foresight, yet something was almost pulling her to head in that direction. Perhaps there she would find an answer.

After the fire had been put out, she remounted Quellë and the pair set out southwards. She rode elf-style, allowing her to keep her hand keenly around the hilt of her dagger, ready to throw it at anything that deemed worthy. Her quiver was full and her bow was aching to be used. Dark eyes glanced the horizon. She knew wild things made their home in these parts...she did not wish to encounter any of them tonight. Several times she had seen their shadows against the hills, but none had made their presence in her company as of yet. With a silent command they were off at a gallop towards the city on the sea.

Soon she hit what seemed to have been a path for another. The grass was flattened a pace apart. Even from the back of Quellë she knew that they were human, and that they had been made that very day. She did not slow her progress and in time a black speck could be seen on the horizon. She slowed the stallion, hand still on the hilt. She would approch warily.

[Helkahothion]

The darknes was pooring trough the window and Anuion was resting. He had just returned from his visit and it had got pretty late. The inn was about to close when he arrived. He knew he should not have taken that extra ale. But he got in right in time and could get a bed. Laying there he wondered what he was going to do next. He had been in Ithilien and was now in Gondor. He might just give it a little tought.

"I have not seen my father for a while. Mirkwood would be nice." Anuion said to himself.

He decided to stay here for a while and rest some more. The trip has not been quite easy. He had a bed now and a meal. His purse was filled with gold and he could go anywhere. Wasn't the world great?
*********************************************

The people where moving down the street and everyone was busy. Not Anuion tough. He was sitting on a bench and eating an apple. It had been calm allday. He had just been wandering in all kind of directions. Sightseeing more the less. He walked over to the smitty and looked arround. He needed some new arrow's. He found some with beautifull points. He could simply not resist them. He bought them and filled his quiver. Happy with himslef, he walked in a different direction.
________
New Jersey Marijuana Dispensary

[ElentariGreenleaf]

“Elvira!” said a surprised voice. “What have you been up to? Look at your clothes.” Sofiya walked up to her mistress to inspect the state of her closes more closely. “And don’t think you’re going anywhere either Gillian. I hope you two realise your mother will be furious!” The young maidservant gave the two girls the best stern look she should master. It was no good, she could not help laughing. “Ok you two. Go and take those clothes off. I’ll wash them as best I can!”

Elvira and Gillian came back some five minutes later and handed Sofiya their clothes. Sofiya looked at them with her light grey eyes. They would miss the beach. Sofiya understood what it was like to leave somewhere you liked. Sofiya was from Rohan, but she had last when her family died. But she was glad Elvira’s parents had allowed Sofiya to be her maidservant. She had a good life and was very attached to the family and so she would never want to leave.

Half an hour later Sofiya was hanging Elvira and Gillian’s clothes on a makeshift washing line. Oh those two were always up to no good. What mischief would they be part of next? Oh well. At least they were returning home. Maybe Sofiya would get some peace on the way back. It was too crowed in Dol Amroth for Sofiya, as she had a fear of large crowds. Alas, she would have more work when then returned to their home!

[Hirilaelin]

Narwen walked along the quay, and back up the docking ramp to the ship. The sun was low on the horizon, gleaming red over the sea. The ship swayed slightly with the rythm of the waves, it's sails gently flapping. Walking down the deck, with the salt air blowing on her face, the cabinboy ran up.

"Narwen, captain wants you in his cabin. Now." She looked down at the young lad. "Did he say why?"

"No, he only said to come right away. He sounded angry." She pondered this for a moment, and then replied to the boy, "Thank you. I'll be with the captain in a minute." He ran off as she wondeed to herself, "Could he have heard about the fight?" But, she knew better than to defy the captain's wishes.

Rapping smartly on the cabin door with her knuckles, she waited for the captain's call of "Enter." Walking inside, she saw him seated in his chair, boltedto the hull of the ship for when things got stormy. "Yes sir?" she politely inquired.

He looked up at her from a chart he was reading. "Narwen," he growled, "I heard about the fight. You are to leave the ship this instant."

"What?!" she protested. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I have no use for an insubordinate woman that starts fights." Narwen's eyes widened in sudden anger. "Insubordinate? STARTS FIGHTS!? I obey every orderyou have ever given me, and they accused me of cheating, so I taught them a little lesson! What is wrong with that? You have no right to throw me off the ship! You.."

The captain interupted. "My dear woman," he said, stressing the word, "I told you to leave the ship this instant. It is not your place to talk back to your catain, or get into fights. I don't know why I even sighed you onto my ship in the first place."

Narwen's blood began to boil, making her irrational. "If I was a man," she spat at him, "you wouldn't even have me in here." He smiled maliciously at her. "Ah, but you are a woman, are you not? Dismissed. Off the ship." Narwen ground her teeth, but obeyed.

As she stalked off the ship, belongs from her cabin stowed in a pack, the only thought in her mind was revenge. Getting back at him. But, as she walked along the streets, the same one she had walked but a few hours earlier, her brain began to settle, and she began to think logically. The first thing she would have to do would be to find a place to stay. Than she could go about finding another ship. And earning an indisputable place on board, so no captain would or could kick her off.

She would show them all. (BWA HA HA HA!!
[img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] )

[ February 05, 2003: Message edited by: Hirilaelin ]

[Merri]

Elvira nearly jumped a mile in surprise when Sofiya appeared behind her.

"Thank you so much," She flung her arms around the maid. "What would Gillian and I ever do without you?" She laughed and answered herself. "Mother would have had us roasting on a spit long ago!"

"Father," She looked around for her 'dear papa'. "Father, shall I go and finish packing now?"


<Will finish later>

[ February 06, 2003: Message edited by: Merri ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Rolan sighed as he packed his things. He couldn't wait to get back to Minas Tirith. Mostly he spent the holiday in Belfalas talking with his sisters or reading Asta's books.

Rolan had always been rather quiet. It wasn't that he had nothing to say, only he didn't think anyone really wanted to hear it. Did it really matter what he thought? Even if someone really listened, they usually didn't understand what he meant or why he thought something. Either that, or they didn't agree at all with him.

Rolan hardly would call the past few days a real vacation, considering all the noise Linde made around the clock! Just when Rolan thought he was going to have a nice, quiet vacation, his adorable new neice decides to cry and throw a fit every twenty minutes for no reason. She was an adorable baby, though. Obviously got her looks from their side of the family.

Rolan loved his family though. Anyone could hear what Rolan said, but his family listened to what he said. Rolan would do anything for his family.

Rolan looked around his room, and let out a slight 'Aha!' when he found the book he had been reading. It was Asta's, but he borrowed it from her a few days back. He walked out of his room, hoping he could catch Asta before she finished packing.

When he got to Asta's room, Asta was organizing everything she needed to pack. In between packing this and that, Asta would pick up Linde and cradle her.

"I came to return the book I borrowed," Rolan said quietly, getting his older sister's attention.

[ February 06, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Lyra Greenleaf]

Eäris walked into the pretty bed chamber.
“Asta” he called softly, but his oldest daughter was not in the room. He walked over to the cot where his baby granddaughter lay asleep. Gently he picked her up.
“Typical woman. Never around when you need them. I’m leaving to go home, and my daughter has disappeared! Not like you, my little love. So, will you miss your Grandpapa darling? He’ll miss you lots and lots and LOTS! And your Mama. Why she had to marry someone from this outlandish place I’ll never understand. I’ll be very glad to get home. If only you could live with us! I’ll have to convince Mama to repay this summer visit. She’ll miss her friends in Gondor, I know it.”

The baby stirred in his arms and opened her eyes.
“Hello Linde” said Eäris and span the baby round. She gurgled. “You’ll remember Grandpapa when he goes away won’t you? And if your father…” he pulled a face and she gurgled again “if your father ties to tell you I’m a grumpy old man, you won’t believe him, will you?”
“It’s the truth though, isn’t it Linde” said a voice at the doorway “Grandpapa is a very grumpy old man indeed.”
“Ssh Asta” returned her Papa. “You’ll give Linde the wrong impression of me.”
Asta snorted.
“So where were you anyway Asta?”
“Taking your son downstairs to get ready to leave. You should be down there too Papa.”
“I know, but I’ll miss you and the little one so much.” Eäris sighed. He would not have admitted such to anyone but his oldest daughter. “Linde is such a lovely good child.”
As if she had heard the praise, unwarranted by her usual behaviour, Linde began to bawl.
“Oh dear” said Eäris, and the two exchanged a rueful glance.

[Eruwen]

Asta walked over and took the child from her father's arms. As she slowly rocked Linde, the crying began to cease.
"But truly," Asta said to her father. "I think you should check on Rolan. He just recently returned one of my books, and I was about finished packing. You might see that he has everything of his packed before we leave?"

Eäris laughed at his daughter's remark.
"As always, yes, but I think Rolan has everything under control. I'll see you downstairs soon?"

Asta nodded as her father left the room. She set Linde down in the cot where she lay and made her way back to her large piles of belongings still not packed. She sighed as she looked at the mess.
"Perhaps I exaggerated a bit when I said I was almost finished packing..." she said to herself.

Rave sat down and continued to pack her things. After a while, she became aggitated with all the mess and walked out to find Foronîl.

[ February 10, 2003: Message edited by: Eruwen ]

[astarielle]

Astarielle was getting anxious they must go soon. at every clatter of hooves she leapt to the window only to find that it was a pedlar selling vegetables or some such person.

She wondered back upstairs after finding no one in the courtyard. The door creaked as it opened. "There you are! I have been so worried!" she said in a desperate voice. She walked purposefully over to Earis who was holding Linde.

[Garen LiLorian]

Foronîl sat in the open window, allowing the warm southern sun to bake his face and body. He luxuriated in the feel of it, stretching like a cat. As soon as Rave and the others were finished packing, he'd be saying farwell to it for far too long.

A puffing and blowing on the stairs alerted Foronîl to the presence of another.
"Yes?" He snapped, not bothering to turn around.
"P-pardon, lord. Did you want the red cloak packed, or was it to be left here?" The voice was timorous and small, and issued from a boy who could be no more than eleven. Foronîl regarded him coldly.
"You have a list, have you not?" He asked, in a deceptively calm manner, and, not waiting for the lad's response, turned back to the window.
"W-w-well... Erm. My lord, I... uh, that is to say, the list."
"Stop blathering and speak, child."
"I lost it." The boy looked terrified, and Foronîl stared at him as you might a particularly loathsome bacterium. The child gulped, and refused to meet the older man's eye.

"You... lost it." Foronîl mused, almost to himself. "Then, what might you do in this situation. Ah. You might ask my steward. You might ask my wife. You might even ask Grayson the butler. Or, I suppose, if you were particularly brave, you could come up here and disturb me. Are you particularly brave, boy?"
The lad trembled. Foronîl locked eyes with him. "Well?"
"Yes. I mean no. I mean, by your leave, lord!" And the mousy boy, without waiting for a reply, turned and vanished with startling speed.

Foronîl watched him go speculatively. He turned back to his window, watching the waves break on the beach. He was going to miss this.

[Nurumaiel]

It was night in Gondor. Stars were shining softly in the sky, and it was a full moon. All of Minas Tirith lay in a deep slumber except for one man. Aragorn, the King Elessar, stood on the balcony of his bedroom and gazed out over his city. Something had disturbed him from his sleep.

As he stood he did not hear the soft footsteps behind him, but he knew his wife, Arwen Evenstar daughter of Elrond, was watching him. "What do you fear?" she asked, taking his hand.

"I do not know," he replied, but he did not look at her. "Something is disturbing me, though I know not what."

Arwen looked grave. "I have been troubled as well," she said. "But as long as you are near I do not fear what dangers may draw close."
Aragorn turned to her, taking her face in his hands, and looked lovingly into her eyes. "If danger does come, I will try to fulfill the trust you place in me." She smiled gently at him. "But I fear you will not need my help, though danger will come."

"You then believe we are in danger?"

"Even as we speak. I cannot tell what lies ahead; I have not that power. But I can feel danger drawing closer." His hands dropped to take both of hers. "Arwen, if some evil misfortune befalls me, know that you always have my love, and that I entrust the ruling of Gondor to you **and Eldarion**."

"Ar le him garmelen," the Queen said softly. "An anann im padacae sen... ar ab."

And you shall always have my love. For as long as I walk this earth... and after.

They left the balcony together, and the night wore on. At last the first rays of the morning touched Gondor, and as Aragorn awoke, he knew he had placed his kingdom in worthy hands, if evil should befall him.

[Helkahothion]

Late at night, Anuion walked across the street. He could see the last men going home. Probably way to late considering the noise coming from every building that had light coming from the windows. He walked on into the night, nothing to worry and nowhere to go.

He might needed a job within a while. His money was going down. He went over to the inn and went in. Another day with no meaning. Eru, immortalety was great. But somewhere he hoped that something would happen tough. He had not have action within a lot of days. He would go to meet Bordarigorn soon. Of to Mirkwood again. To see his friends.
________
BUY SILVER SURFER

[Carrûn]

Awrygan stiffened slightly as his keen ears caught the faint but closing sound of a running horse. It was not the solid thud of the horses of the Men of the South but rather a clear rhythmic drumbeat of hooves more akin to Rohan or the North. He loostened the knife on the right side of his belt and cracked his neck. Many of his joints were still protesting from his morning argument with the wolf. I should have washed the skin a little better, he thought to himself as his nose wrinkled slightly at the smell of the hide now in his pack. Or maybe it's the meat. He brought out the slice of the carcess and looked it over. I am not yet hungry enough to eat this. He gave the meat a strong chuck off the path and wiped his hands.

He had been walking most of the day now and the sun was past the middle of its journey across the sky. He glanced briefly at the moutains to his West which were slowly being wreathed in a bright glowing flame. The flame of the West, he thought with some ammusement. He pulled out his pipe and lit it, allowing the end to rest in the corner of his mouth. A wisp of smoke went up from beneath his hood and raced away to the East on a swift breeze.

The sound of the hooves were growing louder rapidly but he kept his pace steady. Eventually it slowed, but it continued towards him. Soon the breath of the steed mixed with that of the rider could be heard as they approached him from behind. The man stared straight ahead, trusting to luck.

"A traveler's road is long," Awrygan challenged. His hand rested easily on his nearest weapon and he took a low, deep breath as he waited. "And joys are few," came the accepted response among the free travellers. The man was surprised; the voice was clear, instead of the gruff tone the words were customarily spoken in. Still he did not look up to see the one riding slightly behind him and instead continued on his way, waiting for the other to break the tensely thick silence. If they are looking for company they will be most disappointed.

[ February 08, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Manardariel]

"And I´ll take two arm-lengths of that red silk, please."

Market day in Dol Amroth. It was the last day of their stay and Morwen, having finished all the preperations for the journey, had taken a small break at the market . She let her hands run over the silk she had just purchased. It was good quality, no doubt about that. Lady Astarielle had been right upon saying the Dol Amroth market was the best for fine things in all of Gondor.

It was time to return though. Morwen took her parcels and made for the Inn the family was staying in. As she turned around a corner, a couple came her way. They were walking arm in arm, the woman bearing a baby, the whole family so wonderfully in love.

Morwen felt pain stab her heart. She tried to blink back her tears, tried to hold back her thoughts- she couldn´t.

That could have been you. That could have been you, with Narya and Barodir. That could have been you, so happy, so in love.. But it can´t be. Because he is DEAD. He is gone and he will never come back.

Morwen burst into silent tears. She let them run down her face ant had to sit down on a little bench for a moment. After a few minutes, she stoud up again. It was no good to let herself be carried away. It was no good to dwell on things that couldn´t be. She had a job, and she had a baby. She had to be strong.

About half an hour later, she returned home, feeling better. She entered the inn, and went straight into her chamber. With skilled hands, she opened the package containing the silk and looked at it. It would make a wonderfull shawl for her, especially with the embroidery she was planning on. But first she had to prepare it. Morwen grabbed neadle and thread andstarted to sew the silk into what would be a beautiful shawl.

rom time to time she peeked in the little basket “parked” in a corner. Her six-months-old daugher Narya was sleeping peacefully in there. Peacefully-still. The more Narya slept, the better. Morwen knew this sounded heartless, but she was just thinking practical. Narya could be the sweetest of babies, but unfortunatly she hardly ever felt like it. Rather, she would state her opinion on certain things by bawling on the top of her lungs for no reason, or so it seemed. Sometimes she understood Sofiya, Elvira´s maidservant, when she said “I´m just glad when that kid learns how to say what it´s problem is.” But still, Morwen loved her daughter dearly. And nothing, nothing in the world could change her mind that Narya was just “a bit strong-willed”

Two hours later, she sat in the courtyard, nursing Narya. She was resting a bit, before she would be called again. The sun sent its last, orange-golden rays directly in her face. Morwen felt warm, comfetable and perfectly peacefull. How long still?

[Everdawn]

A tall, fair man appeared from the stables. Bebberyn, High Guard of Dol Amroth had just finished his rounds of the city watchtowers. He stopped and overlooked what he could see of the ocean and thought to himself "this the grandest city of Gondor, be it never challenged."

He looked further out. "there are so many more ships coming.. I hope the harbourmen are prepared."

For eleven generations, Bebberyn's forefathers had guarded the prince and his city. Bebberyn sighed "and now I return to an empty house. or rather one full of other guards who have no home for tonight."

He laughed, Bebberyn was always generous. And the house he dwelled which had been awarded to his family 200 years prior by the prince, was always a place for wiery foreign high soldiers to stay. He made his way through the markets towards his home.

[Rochelle]

She kept Quellë a pace behind the man, even her shadow obeyed. A gentle smirk played over her features "Only the bravest dare travel the wild on foot. Wolves dance amidst the shadow and rumor is orcs have been seen in these mountains." A finger reached up to brush a stray wisp of her blonde hair back under her hood. The cloak offered minimal protection from the beating of the suns rays. She finally urged Quellë to draw even to the ranger.

"I am Rochelle and I travel to Dol Amaroth. Where are you bound?"

The responding voice was deep and weathered. "South" was all he offered. Her brow raised at the response before her eyes darted to the lingering hand at his side "You needn't bind your hand 'round any blade ranger. I intend no harm."

The stallion snorted and began to prance in place. Her eyes moved to the hills and a shadow disappeared to the other side. "Wolves...or orcs. Either way it spells trouble for our company." She drew her bow and let it rest in her lap, ready to be used in the slightest of instances.

Her nose curled at a scent the wind brought to her nose. "If I'm not mistaken, you have already had a run in with one of these?"

[ February 09, 2003: Message edited by: Rochelle ]

[Lyra Greenleaf]

Eäris carried the, again sleeping, baby back to her crib.
"There you are! I have been so worried!"
Astarielle began to walk towards him.

Affecting a frown, Eäris said "Then you said 'run along' and now you want me here?"
Adressing the baby he added "I told you women were funny creatures."
Turning back to his wife he said "Well, my love, shall we go down to the carriage to check the packing?" The two made their way down the stairs together. Upon reaching the door to the courtyard they were forced by the narrow gap to go single file.

Eäris was hailed by his second daughter.
"Father, shall I go and finish packing now?"

"Linde now you will see the oddness of women to perfection." he whispered.

"Did you say you were not packed?" asked Astarielle of Elvira. Elvira gulped, she had not seen her mother there. The two left with the argument in full flow.

Eäris, looking around, spotted his son by the coach.
"Rolan" he called "please tell me you at least have finished packing?"
"Yes Papa"
"Ah, you're a good boy. If I did not have you I would go mad in this family of women! Have you seen Gilian?"
"No, but she was with Elvira."
"She was, but no longer. Elvira is with your mother, being told off for not packing!"
The two shared a conspiritorial glance.
"Well, I suppose I must go to look for her, if only to spare her the same fate. And I must find Asta, give her back this angel."
With an absent minded smile at his son, Eäris walked off.

[ February 15, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[Schmendrick]

Durmán was standing in the Sea- ward tower of Dol Amroth, deep in thoughts. The guards had let him get up, although seemingly reluctant. Nothing had changed since the last time he had been in the city. Most people pretended not to see him, when he passed them on the street. Only some curious children came to him sometimes, asking about his travels. And the Prince himself, the few times Durmán had met him, had been kind to him. He was a wise man and knew that Durmán could not be held responsible for something his father had done.


Durmán watched the gulls diving towards the mirrory surface of the sea and back up again. Some men were preparing a ship at the harbour; he could hear their distant voices. All this made him restless. He wasn’t used to staying a long time at one place; for years he had been travelling across the Middle Earth, trying to find his brother. And even now he felt he should be on the road, not in this cold city surrounded by so many unfriendly faces.


But he had wanted to see his mother. He had hoped that she would have changed some, maybe even missed him. But even if it was so, she certainly showed no sign of that. Durmán decided that he would leave in a couple of days, he couldn’t waste more time. Maybe he should go to Minas Tirith this time? It was a long time since he had last been there.


Suddenly Durmán remembered something his mother had said, when he had talked once again about finding his brother. She had smiled – a cold, wry smile – and said:
“ Surely you realize it is not your brother you are looking for, Durmán? That is nothing but an excuse. You are just like your father; you just can’t settle down and grow up! All this silly quest of yours is nothing but fear of growing up and taking responsibility.”


Durmán hadn’t known how to defend himself. Her mother knew nothing could be more painful to him than being compared to his father. And even more so, because deep down he knew there might be some truth to that. He was afraid of settling down. Had that not been the case, he could have signed up to be a guard here in Dol Amroth, for example. But the mere thought of that made him feel like a prisoner.


Suddenly he felt irritated. He didn’t have to tolereate any insults from his mother. She, if anyone, had made mistakes in her life. Who was she to tell him what to do? There and then Durmán decided to leave the city, as soon as possible.

[Envinyatar]

Day had slipped into evening. His wine now gone, Khaz left the bottle and the glass together on the tabletop, their sides touching, like two lovers spent after a brief night of passion. He smiled at this image, wondering what had happened to that dark eyed girl from Tol Falas he had met on his last trip north.

‘No use dredging up finished business.’ he told himself. ‘Best to get on with finding the new.’ He left the Three Palms by the door in the courtyard, and walked in shadows along the street, west to the harbor. The familiar scents of bilgewater and the clean, salty tang of the sea told him he was nearing the dock area.

The first two ships he bypassed. He knew the captains, and he did not care to sail under them again. It was not that they were too hard on their crew – that was something expected; it was that they cheated them from their rightful share. The third he went by without a thought. The owner of that one was too tight with his money. Khaz doubted that the ship would hold together for one more voyage, so in need of repairs it was.

He was getting discouraged as he made his way down the line, thinking perhaps he should return to the Palms and renew his acquaintance with his two glassy friends.

A voice from the shadows of a darkened cutter called out to him. ‘So, the Southron Sea Dog comes sniffing round for likely craft on which to make his fortune.’

Khaz put his hand to his knife, and stepped further into the shadows. ‘Who uses my name?’ he growled low. ‘Step into the light and let me see your face.’

He heard the scrape of the flint and a spark flared. Khaz looked up at the grinning face which now hung over the bow railing, its features lit with a small lantern that swung from the man’s hand. ‘Is that any way to greet the best captain you’ve ever sailed with, First Mate?’

Khaz stepped into the light, and shook his head, laughing. ‘Yr Saldan! I should have known it would be you.’

[ February 12, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Carrûn]

Awyrgan relaxed slightly as the one called Rochelle continued. Her horse shied and began to prance nervously. A shadow moved in the distance and the rider spoke again.

"Wolves...or orcs. Either way it spells trouble for our company."

Perhaps...most likely wolves, they are quieter than orcs. Could also be just a shadow. Seeing the horse's jittery movements the man followed its eyes and, glancing down, noticed that the skinned face of the wolf had fallen slightly out of his pack and was facing the horse. He chuckled to himself and covered the grinning teeth with his cloak. "A nervous pair?" A slight taunt was in his voice, more of a test to see what the response would be. He didn't get one.

"If I'm not mistaken, you have already had a run in with one of these?"

"You could say that. Actually he ran over me, not into me. Hasty little pup." He ran his hand thoughtfuly over several of the scratches on his face and in doing so found himself fingering the bizzare scar on the left of his face under his eye. His face darkened slightly as old memories returned and he strode forward with a bit of a renewed force.

[Rochelle]

Quellë calmed once both shadow and carcass were removed from his sight and soon he was calmly striding forward. She disreguarded his comment. Let him mistake highstrung and readiness for nerves...perhaps most women would be nervous, but not she.

She listened to his account silently. Her head turned slightly towards him and she saw what appeared to be the battle scars upon his facade. "You wear victory well...however I believe I have something that will heal that." She fingered a small leather pouch at her waist before untying it. Slowly she extended her arm, offering it out to him. The bag contained the leaves of the athelas plant. Few now knew of it's healing powers, but her father had been a healer amoung the elves of Mirkwood. He had taught her all he knew, and she would not forget the healing powers of nature. "Take but a pinch, it's leaves hold healing powers."

His pace had quickened and he was reluctant to accept her gesture "You bring no justice to yourself by carrying an open wound. You only carry invitation to those who would thrive off of it." Again she held out the pouch "Take it lest I force it upon you" A slight smirk followed her remark. She knew full well that could prove to be a challenge...he was quite larger than she.

[ February 09, 2003: Message edited by: Rochelle ]

[Carrûn]

"You wear victory well..."

The man was lost in his own thoughts and did not hear her comments. A fly buzzed against his cheak and he trapped it in his hand. Taking it between his forefinger and thumb he squeezed it and tossed it aside. Looking briefly over his shoulder he realized she was offering him a bag. He coughed in slight disgust at her outstretched hand and would have avoided it entirely if he had not caught the familiar scent of the athelas leaf.

"Take it lest I force it upon you."

Her voice held a firmer tone. "That would be interesting," Awyrgan smirked in reply. However he held his hand out over his shoulder even though he would not turn around. With slight 'thump' the rider deftly tossed the bag into his overturned palm. Turning it over in his hand he grinned. "Ah, asëa aranion." He could sense her surprised look and he laughed. A gruff, but true laugh that was one of the more pleasent of sounds ever to come out of his mouth. The moment passed quickly as a rut in the road caught his foot and a stream of Black Speech poured out from between his clenched teeth.

Hot water would be nice, he thought to himself. Improvising he re-lit his pipe and held one of the leaves over it. The pleasent smell of athelas was soon floating in the air and the scratches began to cease to itch. Placing a few of the leaves in his jacket pocket he turned back to the rider who was staring at him. "Trade secrets," he offered in explanation as he tossed the bag back to her. "I suppose I am now safe from the insects."

[ February 10, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Rochelle]

Her brow raised as he used the lesser known name for the plant "You surprise me with your knowledge ranger." She smiled slightly at his laugh then quickly covered her mouth to keep from laughing herself as he tripped. She would have offered a witty comment but cringed at the outpouring of words that followed and Quellë again began to prance. Under her breath she spoke "The language of Sauron..." She did not know how to speak it, but she knew it's sound. This ranger was certainly well traveled. "I don't know many who will utter words of that tounge..."

Perhaps he hadn't heard her. She watched silently until he turned to hand her back the leather bag. She smirked at his comment...somehow she didn't think that the insects would stay away. Instead she simply nodded and retied the pouch to her belt. She would have liked to question how he came upon learning the black speech but Quellë was getting anxious. "I suppose I should let him run a bit...if your destination lies in Dol Amaroth then I'm sure we will cross paths again." She smiled "Suildad ranger."

She heeled the stallion "Yro Quellë!" She turned her head and offered a slight nod before galloping ahead.

[astarielle]

"I told you to pack! And where have you been! When will you learn Elvira, i've been so worried." Said Astarielle in an angry tone, however Elvira knew she was not.

"You can not be ang ry to save your life can you mother?" Elvira said sympatheticlay.

With a raising of the eyebrows and a glint in the eyes, a smirk grew on Astarielle's face as she said, "Nope!". "Now hurry and finish packing, I mean it this time. Oh! Where's your sister?"

[ February 10, 2003: Message edited by: astarielle ]

[Eruwen]

Asta watched Foronîl as she discovered him sitting in a window looking out onto the ocean. She quietly walked up behind him and stared out the window.

"I'm going to miss it too," she said breaking him out of his solemn peacefulness. "but I'm sure we'll return here someday. Belfalas is far too great of a place to only visit once and never return."

Foronîl smiled and stood up from the window. "Come," Asta said. "We should be leaving shortly."

[ February 10, 2003: Message edited by: Eruwen ]

[Carrûn]

"I don't know many who will utter words of that tounge..."

Well now you know one more who will, Awyrgan thought silently. He didn't bother to give an explanation, the tale would have taken too long and he was focused on covering as much distance as possible while the Sun still shone. Behind him he heard the stallion begin to protest slightly on the slowness of his current pace. Aye, he would wish to run.

"I suppose I should let him run a bit...if your destination lies in Dol Amaroth then I'm sure we will cross paths again - Suildad ranger."

Ranger. Not quite but close enough. He raised his hand slightly as if in aknowledgment of her passing as she brushed past him on Quelle. As they did so his fingers deftly looped a small bag around the laces of her left boot. His bright eyes followed them as they thundered off into the growing dusk. The shadows were beginning to dance as the Sun settled in over the West for the night. He will like the sugar cubes. He grinned. Or perhaps she will.

He continued for some time until it was nearly dark and his feet were complaining. Striding off the road he found a small hollow against a creek bank. His ears picked up a rustling in the bushes and with a quick toss of a knife he had secured a decent sized rabit. Building a small ring with stones he scrounged around until he had an acceptable amount of kindling. After lighting the fire he proceeded to skin the rabit. His face began to itch again and, folding the skin of the rabit in the form of a pouch, hung it over the fire and filled it with water. He boiled a leaf of the athelas plant and washed his face with the water. He ate the rabit with out paying too much attention to the taste. He then threw any remains and extra wood on the fire and proceeded to wrap himself in his cloak. He lay on his side with his face to the fire, one hand on a drawn knife and another resting on the hilt of his sword. He then attempted to sleep, staring upward at the sky. Eru, please no more wolves tonight. At least not until dawn. Allow this weary man a reprieve. He laughed. "Ah me, talking to the stars."

[ February 10, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Sadbh]

Gil sat upon a some stone sill that looked out over the harbor. Her small room was just starting to look clean, but she knew that her mother would want to know where she was by now. She rose from her kneeling stance at the smooth window and ducked under the dust ruffle of her bed to see if something had fallen underneath. There was nothing but the rush mat that carpeted the floor of every room. She stood and smiled like a satisfied cat. Her parents had been in frenzy that she would loose something. As she shot into the hall, she admitted to herself that she had lost something every year, but then again it had always been found.

A patch of sunlight fell onto the floor from a broad, open window with lattice metal work upon the panes. There was a small indentation in the wall where a seat was carved, and she reached for the satchel she always kept at her waist which held her favorite of books. She would only read for a little, and be on her way. But it was not there. She realized that she might have given it to Sofiya by accident, but that couldn't have happened she remembered. She would have seen it. She must have left it at the beach!

Thumping her palm onto her forhead in frustration, she flew down a set of steps into the courtyard where her father was. "Father!" She called to him. "I need to go back down to the beach." The folds of her kirtle stopped tripping her legs as she slowed.

"Gillian, you can't, we'll be going very soon, and what in the world could you need down there? You and Elvira have already been gone half the morning!" Sighing animatedly, Gil stomped her foot and fold her arms across her chest.

"Father, I left my book down there." Earis looked unimpressed.

"I still won't let you go alone."

"Then let me take Rolan or Elvira, please?" Gil clasped her hands and blinked sweetly at her father.

"Oh, alright." He sighed and patted his daughter's head. Racing towards Rolan, she spoke quickly and pleadingly.

"Rolan, will you down to the beach with me? I left my favorite book down there this morning when Elvira and I were there. Please?" She gave a final sweet plea at the end for a finsihing touch.

[ February 12, 2003: Message edited by: Sadbh ]

[Envinyatar]

‘Come aboard, Khaz!’ Yr Saldan shoved the boarding plank down to the dock’s edge, and motioned the man up with his lantern. Khazdifir stopped just as his foot touched the deck. Under the light of the half full moon, he made out the familiar tidiness of the ship. Everything stowed and secured, sails furled, deck clean, and he would bet whatever few coins he had in his purse that all the crew was aboard. No drunken revelries for Saldan’s sailors tonight.

There was a feeling of expectancy about the captain. The air about him thrummed with electricity. Something was going on and soon. The captain had motioned him to a small table by the starboard railing, and was pouring a tot of Southron spirits for them as Khaz spoke. ‘I want to be in on it, Saldan.’

‘In on what, my dear Kestrel?’ he asked, smiling.

‘You make a poor effort at being guileless, my dear captain. The very air screams you have something in mind.’ He glanced about the darkened ship again. ‘And why does the ship bear so much cargo aboard?’ He nodded toward the neat stacks of barrels and crates about the deck. ‘Have you gone legitimate since last I saw you? Are you now the captain of a merchant vessel?’

Saldan howled with laughter at this assessment of him. ‘In a way, yes!’ Khaz frowned, waiting for him to go on. Saldan sat back, taking the measure of his old shipmate. There was a calculating look in his eyes. His fingers drummed on the table, a considering rhythm.

The captain leaned forward, speaking in a low voice. He had been approached by a ‘certain’ group he said. They needed a diversion while they went forward with their own plans. And they wanted Saldan to create it for them. He fished in his vest pocket and found a silver coin. Placing it carefully on the table, he pushed it across the smooth planks with his thick fingers.

Khaz looked at the coin considering the vague explanation. ‘And . . ‘ he said, keeping his hands off the table. Saldan grinned, pushing the coin a little nearer. ‘There’s a fat purse to be made for a good mate like you. And a chance to make your cutlass sing, if you like. He sat back in his chair, sipping at his mug. ‘The rest I can tell you once we’re well at sea.’

Khaz smiled and shook his head, sensing that what Saldan had said was true, but not the whole of it. He wondered if even the open sea would bring the entire scheme to light. His left hand slapped down on the coin before him, and he palmed it, placing it in the purse at his belt. ‘I’m yours for the duration.’ he said, raising his mug to the captain.

‘Ah! That’s my Kestrel. Back in the nest.’ Saldan leaned forward, speaking softly once again. ‘What maps do you have of the approaches to Belfalas. And of the shoreland cities there?’

[ February 12, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Rolan sighed as he looked at Gillian's sweet, pleading puppy-dog eyes. She had left a book. Always like Gil. Forgetting this and that at the most inconveniant time. How could he resist his little sisters big eyes when she needed something? Besides, it was a book she had left. A book! How could she forget a book? It was probably one of Rolan's books anyway.

"Oh fine! You've convinced me!" He gave in finally. Gil hugged him and they began to make their way back towards the beach. "How do you do that, by the way?" Rolan wondered aloud, amazed at his sister's ability to always get what she wanted. Must have been the eyes.

"We'll catch up to you!" Gil assured her family and the others as they walked to the beach.

Gil ran down into the sand of the beach, and seemed to like having one last chance to see the beauty of their vacation spot.

"Come on, Gil! Where do you think the book is?" Rolan called to her sister. "We'll never catch up to everyone if you don't hurry!"

Rolan ran to catch up with his sister, and hoped they didn't tarry for too long.

[Hirilaelin]

The money is running low, Narwen reflected as she sat at the bar of "The Singing Mermaid." It was late at night, and through the window near her, she could see stars twinkling faintly in the sky, and the moon shining like a round silver coin. Thinking of silver, she remembered her tab, and put a coin next to her empty mug. Slipping off the high barstool, she collected her backpack and quarterstaff, pushed open the door of the inn, and departed into the night.

She loped along the streets to the docks, which were buzzing with activity even at this late hour. Men were unloading crates, singing around small fires, tending ships, or just loafing about. She stopped in front of the first ship, and looked it over with a practiced eye. It was a fast looking sloop, in fairly good condition. She might have considered it if not for the noise of drunken revelry coming from the deck. She knew from personal experience that a ship with too little discipline never got anywhere.

Passing on to the next ship, the saw that there was no one aboard, the lanterns hanging high on the bow but unlit shells of metal and glass.

The third ship looked plausible, clean and in good condition. She stopped in front of it to admire its fast sharp lines. Turning to a man nearby, she asked him, "Who captains this ship?" He straightened from the rope he was splicing, and said gruffly, "Yr Saldan be the captain of this fine ship. And who are you, looking for a ship so late?"

"Narwen," said she. "Are you a sailor under this Yr Saldan?" He nodded crisply. "Do you like serving under him?" she inquired, pumping him for any information he had. The burly man stood there, as if considering the question. After a moments hesitation he answered. "Aye, he's the best captain to be found in Umbar. It's a good ship, but your just a woman,and the work is hard."

Narwen was extremely annoyed. It was the same wherever she went. It seemed to be a rule that if you were a girl, you were immediately classified as a weakling. She breathed deeply before replying, trying to keep her easily provoked temper in check. "I don't think that the work would be to hard," she replied. "I have been a corsair for some years now, and I am tougher than I look." The man gazed at her doubtfully, measuring her up.

Finally, he said, "Fine. You can talk to the captain." She followed him as hewalked up the gangway to the ship, listening to the racous calls of the seabirds. He led her to the door of what she assumed was the captain's cabin, then left to go back to his work. Narwen knocked swiftly, three times, on the solid wooden door.

[Envinyatar]

‘I have some maps and sailing charts of that area. Why do you wish to know?’ Khaz reached across the table for the wine, his nose wrinkling as the breeze shifted, bringing him the strong scent of the man. ‘Your sailors may not have had their pleasures this evening, but you stink of them. Cheap scent and old sweat!’ He laughed, pouring himself another glass, and one for Saldan. ‘And that scar,’ he pointed to the one that puckered the skin from nose to ear, leaving an angry trail across the right cheek, ‘it’s a new one isn’t it?’ He snorted. ‘No need to tell me what happened to the one who gave it to you.’

Saldan gave a wicked half-smile to Khaz and sipped his wine. ‘Right on all accounts, Kestrel.’ He looked toward the darkened waters of the bay. Get your gear and stow it on board tonight. We’re leaving before the sun’s above the rim of the sea tomorrow. The winds are good this time of year and five days of sailing will bring us to our position.’

Khaz drank his wine quickly and stood to leave. ‘I should return within the hour. I am staying near and have little gear.’ He turned and strode quickly down the plank, then south to his quarters. ‘So,’ he thought to himself, calculating quickly where five days of good sailing would take them, ‘we are bound for Dol Amroth.’

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

The small fleet set sail. Ten trim ships loaded with “merchandise” – “merchant ships” bound for trade with Gondor. Khaz watched Yr Saldan as he paced the bow, eyes gleaming, looking ever north. ‘He has more than a small diversion planned.’ he said, noting the number of men who were on board each ship. ‘He’ll need close watching if I am to turn the situation to my advantage.’

He climbed the rigging to the crow’s nest and settled in, for his turn at the watch.