Search for Rhûn RPG

[piosenniel]

Prologue - Arvedui III's post


The first thing he remembered, very dimly, was the old instructor, scolding him over a small cut.

‘It's painful' he had cried in a pitiful, childish moan that is a plea for older, stronger beings to take pity and speak words of love and comfort. But the shriveled, scared weapons-master instead gave him a hard slap across the face. ‘Painful!?!' He had roared. ‘Fool boy. You do not know the meaning of pain!' As he lay in the cold darkness, unable to master his body even to the point of opening his eyes, he thought then that he now had an idea as to what the old man had meant. The pounding of his temples would surely reach the point to where his head would explode like the fabled Orthanc fire of the great war. Every inch of him felt leaden, even though he had discarded his armor days ago. Had it been days? How long had he been lying here? And just where was here, anyway?

His questions overriding his apparent hurts, he opened his eyes, but not without a valiant struggle against his heavy eyelids. It also seemed every inch of his body wanted to sink back into sleep. The ghostly moonlight sulked into a crake of the jagged, black ceiling of wherever he was, a wet, sickening heat hovering all about the air, as if mocking what real air should be like, bent on tormenting all who could feel it. And it certainly was working. He felt like reaching, but pushed past the sensation for the moment to survey his surrounding. He appeared to be in a cave of some kind, but with only the moon for light he could not be sure of how high up he was or how deep the crevice ran. What surprised him, though, as he blinked in the darkness, was that he was not bound. Although, as he tried and failed to sit up, he realized whoever had brought him to this place didn't need chains to keep him here. His own body would betray him to that end, and quite honestly, he was too tired to care.

What little strength he had amassed in sleep was leaving him, but suddenly the blurred image of what perhaps had caused his pain and unconsciousness was not.

It was as if a torch had been lit in his pounding head. The glow...lights against the water...unceasing, merciless drums, hammering like the pounding of his head. And suddenly he was afraid and turned his head wildly around. What if they came back? The sensation of hard wood and leather being hit against his aching skin returned with the full force of a blow to his mind. Rather in vain, he tried to back away, to force his legs by shear fear and will to respond and speed him from this accursed place. He should never have come here. All the rush of dread and memory achieved however, was that he knocked his head against rock. He then lay still, a pit of fear welling in his stomach, pain seeping into his entire body, weariness finally claiming him. Just before he passed into darkness again, he thought with a sickening clarity that he fully understood what true pain the old teacher spoke of meant.

He knew that he was going to die here.

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Himaran’s post


The sea was like nothing I have seen before, since my journey to the bay of Belfalas in 1294. It was an incredibly wide expanse of water, and the mountains to the north gave it a majestic appearance. The waves tumbled against the shore, and from whence they came I had little knowledge. But the most amazing aspect of Rhûn’s sea is the great body of sparkling lights which shine near its bottom - not pearls, but perhaps a new rock form. If it were so, it could be worth more than mithril, as it could only be found in one remote area throughout middle-earth.

Of Rhûn’s its inhabitants, I have seen only tracks, which I have painstakingly recorded. I for one met neither man nor beast on my travels, but I have traversed only a small portion of this strange land. It is hard country to say the least, and it took all of my skill and wit to navigate it.

“So you and your brother intend to go through with it?”

Bali the dwarf looked up from the his book, The Diary of Baren Longhelm, finding the gaze of his father set upon him. “Aye, that we do.”

“And how many will to be taking with you?”

The dwarf set the book down and stood, stretching his arms and neck. He took several prolonged gulps from a glass on the table near him before answering. “About eight; all good travelers and fighters. We couldn’t justify taking a larger group; as we are not going on a mining expedition.”

The elderly dwarf walked over to a window in the Ereborian chamber, which faced the southwest. “Rhûn. The hidden land, filled with riches far greater than those which have been mined from the Iron Hills; as the legends say. You and Dwalin must be careful, Bali. We have heard naught of anyone living there; or if they are friendly.”

Bali looked down at the book he had been studying. Baren Longhelm had been a great traveler, and had journeyed to ever corner of Middle Earth. Rhûn had been his last venture, and when he returned to civilization he had died shortly thereafter. The cause of his death was unknown.

“We will be careful, father. And remember, Dwalin is leading the party, not I. He asked me to go with him, and I could not refuse. We have our maps, and can travel both there and back safely enough. And of course, we have several excellent dwarves traveling with us, and if Baren did not meet any inhabitants, neither will we.”

~*~

The next morning was hot and hazy, typical of a summer in Erebor. Bali rose and dressed, hurrying downstairs for the meal. He spoke with other members of the group, who were saying goodbye to friends and family in the hall. They all agreed to leave by noon.

After the meal, Bali returned to his room and chose his weapons. Lifting the heavy Ereborian axe off its hanging place on the wall, Bali patted the sharp blade fondly and set it with the rest of his bags. Snatching several throwing hatchets from the closet, he attached them to his leather belt. Then, opening a small chest, he removed his prize weapon; a long, beautiful elvish knife encased in a magnificent golden sheath. It had been given to him by an elf from Greenwood many years before, and the dwarf threw it perfectly. Strapping it on his belt, he gathered his things and carried them down to the hall.

Dwalin was already there, greasing the exit hole on his crossbow. Bali eyed it nervously, unconsciously feeling the scar across his eye. It had been received by one of his brother’s arrows, which had been released from the weapon accidentally.

The dwarf looked up from his task, setting the bow aside. “Good, I am glad that you are ready. As soon as the others arrive, we can discuss our route and leave.”

“Do you much knowledge of the region?” Bali blurted out. The question had been bothering him since early that morning. “It is not wise to walk blindly into a new land.”

Dwalin looked down at a map spread out on the table; now covered with lines and scribbled writing. “The map shows clearly where the region lies, and even gives us details of its properties. See here? Mountains, and just south of there a forest. And here is the great sea. But remember, we may be the first group of adventurers to enter Rhûn. Do not think it odd that there are no detailed maps of this strange sea and its surroundings. Just imagine it, Bali; whether or not the mountains carry anything beyond iron in their roots, there is a sea. A sparkling ocean filled with pearls, worth greater than mithril itself!”

“That is one dwarf’s wild estimation, Dwalin; there may be little truth to these… legends.”

The gleam did not leave the young dwarf’s eye as he continued. “They are true, Bali - I assure you.”

Bali shrugged, sitting down at the table. It would be useless to try to convince Dwalin that the great riches thought to be at Rhûn could be nothing more than a myth. But the dwarf knew that his brother was set on finding treasure in a new land; and after all, maybe there was some truth to the legends. Either way, Bali was going, and so he pushed the worry to the back of his mind and waited for the others to arrive.

[piosenniel]

Dwalin sat in the staircases. He looked downwards trying to get a satisfying look of his short brown beard. Too bad it isn’t longer, he thought being disappointed. Everyone else had long beards. However, what annoyed him the most was the fact that he couldn’t actually get a proper look, or any look, of his chin; and therefore not where his beard started. The dwarf started making odd grimaces, turning his gigantic head in all directions. Nope, his chin couldn’t be seen. No matter what methods he used, it wasn't possible to get a glimpse of it. Chins are only an illusion, he thought, smiling. Dwalin giggled. He had in fact never thought of this before. It was indeed brilliant.

The dwarf soon remembered why he actually was sitting here, and he felt the hunger of gold and treasures lurk inside of him. Why was he sitting here, looking like a complete idiot, when there was gold to find, and adventure to start and the finding of Rhûn? However, in order to start his adventure, he needed companions; which, by the way, he already had arranged. Now he just had to wait, wait for them to come. No more ‘chin-nonsense’, he thought. He put up a grim face and started waiting instead.

Not long had passed before his brother, Bali, came hurrying down and found Dwalin. Dwalin had now settled by a table, with a huge map covering the table’s surface. They chatted for a while, looking at the map and discussing further. Dwalin paid attention, but in the back of his mind memories from his childhood disturbed the conversation he had with his brother. As a child, he remembered he thought of days like these; when he would at last would travel and find riches. He had dreamed long of an adventure, this adventure. However, Dwalin didn’t have the slightest idea of how it was going to be like; what he would experience or what they would find in the ancient kingdom of Rhûn.

The feeling of wind, cold as ice, ran down his back and the dwarf jumped up, eyes wide open. Bali turned towards his brother, “Nervous, Dwalin?” He giggled, but the anxiety in his voice could clearly be heard. Dwalin lied and said no. Bali, who could see through this lie, giggled some more. “Aww, it’s alright to be nervous, afraid, scared, ‘jumpy’, and all those things on ones first adventure,” he said, pitying him, but still enjoying this a bit. Big brothers were supposed to ‘tease’ the younger ones once in a while. Dwalin didn’t care and ignored Bali, who was only trying to try his humour on somebody.

They exchanged a few words, both rather excited now. Dwalin felt the urge of running out of the Hall and start his adventure at once, but this of course would lead to disaster. Bali looked at Dwalin, reading him as an open book. “We have to wait, dear brother,” he said, comforting.

Dwalin giggled as he heard footsteps…

[piosenniel]

Eruantalon's post

The hills gave way to Erebor under the lonely mountain. Seeing this sight again made Erulon's breath leave him. The mountain's beauty only grew with each day. Now he looked on it with older eyes - yet its roots grew stronger and its people greater. Life was good here in the dwarven kingdom. And his old friend would be meeting him soon for new adventures. As always, with the race of Aule, it was again about finding treasures. Yet this was no dark task. The promise of a good journey with old friends was high.

Now, to make sure his kind friend didn’t get in any harms way while on this journey. The promise of riches so great can often make one stray. But he knew the hearts of these people that they where not as subtle as many in middle earth. A kind and good race lived here under the mountain. They knew the value of what hard work can give one. And yet the grievances that can some times follow them.

Coming to the great gate he hailed the guards. They waved back with smiles and greeted him warmly, remembering the man from a great battle several years earlier. "Erulon you have come! Going off on the journey from what we hear. Make your way in now. You Your friend is with his father in the Great Hall.”

Making his way down into the city he caught many familiar faces. One who was vary familiar, and he crept up behind the dwarf while his back was turned. The man though tall could walk very quietly.

"Durin! You’re here! I see you're not off on this journey yet.”

“Ahh, good friend, what are you doing here? Bali just sent word out a few days ago! Good to see you here, though. We are making our way off tomorrow. Ready yourself, Erulon and prepare for a grand journey!”

“Indeed, my old friend! We’ll have enough time to talk. I see you have many things to take care of for now. We’ll be drinking good ale by a fire side soon!”

Few of the errands made for riches ended well. On the last journey there were many unforeseen dangers that almost killed him and the whole company. Hopefully, this journey with Bali would turn out better. “Always stay on guard,” he muttered to himself. Life in Erebor was fair, but the wilds of a far off land where ominous to say the least.

Bali was shocked that Erulon had arrived so early. They sat long into the night around the fire, discussing the journey that would occur in the morning. The dwarf confided of his worries with the man, explaining that they were leaving more on impulse than knowledge.

"Well, what does it matter, anyway?" replied the man. "We are exploring a new land, not going on a mining expedition. Any information we bring back will be valuable."

Later, Erulon made his way up to his room, aided by Kalin. He found a splendid array of food ready for him. The night was coming on fast and he would need to rest. Laying his arms up to the side of the bed he got comfortable in his room.

Just then a knock at the door came. Kalin’s face was light by a candle. “One more thing Erulon. The master has bid you to take a horse. He’s found one that you could use and thinks it best. You cannot ride on our animals since you’re too large. Would you come pick one early tomorrow?”

“Tell the Lord I appreciate his kindness and thank him. I will make my way down early in the morning and be there ready and saddled.” Nodding his head Kalin shut the door for the night then opened back up swiftly. “Ahh yes, did you need anything else my friend?”

“Just good nights sleep and the assurance of a ready breakfast tomorrow. Bread will be fine with milk if you can?”

“Very good! And good night.”

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Carlas' post

The Sun was high in the air as Durin walked with his mother down the hot streets of Erebor. The sky was cloudless and the rich blue seemed even brighter than usual. Durin looked around at the buildings and roads around him, thinking about the last few years he had spent in Erebor. He loved it here, it was his home, but he needed to leave and explore the world outside again, like he had done years ago, with his father. Now though, he would not be with his father Dain since he had left to visit friends in Mirkwood a few months back, Durin was going to finally be responsible and be able to watch over himself instead. But, as much as he had always wanted just that, he couldn’t help but wishing that his father could come along to find Ruhn, the Land of Riches with him. It had been a myth for years, and now he and a group of dwarves were going to find Ruhn, and the legendary body of water with the shining lights, but his father would not be there.

Glis, his mother, looked over at him thoughtfully and smiled her warm smile that she kept especially for him. “Do not trouble about your father.” She said as though reading his mind. “He is getting on in years, as am I, and we know that you are ready to take care of yourself.” Durin nodded and stared at the ground in front of him. Glis stopped suddenly and took her son’s bearded face in her hands. “Your father and I are very proud of you. You are a strong and skilled dwarf, and you are going to go find Ruhn! Think of how pleased your father will be when he hears of where you are going, this journey is like no other you or anyone else will ever take. Be proud son.”

Durin looked up into his mother’s eyes and smiled from under his long beard. “But father will be even more proud when I bring him back a great sack of treasure!” Glis laughed and nodded. “Of course, but I better get a sack five times larger than his!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was nearly noon by the time Durin and his mother finally reached the Great Hall. They had walked around after their talk, and chatted about everything and anything, as Durin looked about the beautiful city one last time before leaving on his journey. He was sad to be leaving, but he was now becoming excited. Who knew what kind of things they would find in Ruhn, and from what he had heard, it sounded like a beauteous land.

He turned to face his aging mother who smiled kindly down at him. They didn’t say anything, and didn’t need to say anything. Durin knew his mother was sad to see him go, they had become very attached over the years, but Glis knew how important it was for Durin to finally be able to leave on his own and learn to be responsible for himself. She walked up to her son and embraced him tightly, not wanting to let go. As they pulled apart, she kissed him gently on the forehead.

Durin and his mother smiled sadly at eachother for a moment before he finally turned towards the Great Hall. Glis watched him walk away and silently whispered “Goodbye Durin, son of Dain, my son.”

[piosenniel]

Nilpaurion Felagund’s post

Narvi had received a letter. It told him of an expedition to Rhûn. Rhûn. A fitting name for a place little-known.

"Father," said he, "read this."

"Rhûn," Gimli said after setting down the missive. "I have heard of it in the writings of Baren Longhelm. A place full of riches, they say. This will be a journey any Dwarf will desire."

"Maybe," answered Narvi.

"I feel doubt in your words. Why is that?"

"This is a journey for miners and craftsmen, not one fit for a warrior."

"Ah, but the war is over. Peace now reign in all the lands. One must find new things to explore. Either you go, or you marry now."

"I am not ready for that." He sighed. "Very well. I shall go."

"If only I were a hundred years younger..." Gimli said.

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Fordim Hedgethistle’s post

Haenir awoke early that day, like a child on the morning of a party. For weeks he had awaited their departure but now that the time had come for him to leave his room he found himself reluctant to prepare. For forty years this one small room had been all the home he knew, and it had been enough to him. High up the mountain, not fifty feet from the Royal Bed-Chamber, he had served the King Under the Mountain loyally and with love, but his heart now longed to see the world beyond the shadow cast by the Mountain, and to seek his fortune in no-one’s service but his own.

It did not take him long to get ready, as he had been following the same routine for most of his life. He dashed some cold water on his face and quickly plaited his beard before donning his armour. It was heavy

upon him, but he hardly noticed the weight. He put the few possessions he wished to accompany him on the journey into a small pack that he slung on his back. The last thing he did was take down the long, richly engraved axe that hung on two pegs just above the head of his bed. He moved to his door and took one last look back into his room before turning his back on it.

He moved through the long corridors and wide halls of the Mountain without paying heed to his route, for he knew every inch of this place as though it were an extension of his own body. Indeed, in the last few years he had begun to feel as though he were himself made of the stone of the Mountain, so used was he to living within it. It was this, he decided, that had finally prompted him to ask the King to be released from his service to the Royal Family and be allowed to accompany Durin and the others on this mad journey into the unknown. Haenir had heard the wild stories of riches in the East, but he did not fully believe them; he was not undertaking this journey for wealth – with which he was already well-provided – but for the possibility of gaining what had ever eluded him: honour. Of all the long generations in his family that had borne the axe that he now held in his hand, he was the only who had yet to do a thing of renown that would make him worth to engrave his name into the steel of the axe’s head. He saw this journey as his last chance at such honour.

When he reached the Great Hall the others were gathering to bid farewell to their friends and family. He stood by himself off to one side, impatient to get underway.

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The Perky Ent’s post

Some dwarves never hear it the first time. “Yes. Yes. Yes, don’t worry. I’ll have your ax repaired by the end of the month. Engraving of a dove? Yes. Ok.” As the stout dwarf left Káin’s shop, Káin started on the repair of the dwarf’s ax. In several hours, it looked good as new. “Now there is a quality ax! Time to get you off to your master!” said Káin as he trotted off to find the ax’s owner. “Ah! Now that is an ax! Here’s your gold!” said the owner of the ax. Káin always enjoyed delivering the weapons he crafted. The smiles and the compliments were the best in the world.

As Káin entered his forge, he noticed a small letter on his business table. “Now who could this be from?” Káin said, as there was no name except his own. The letter read:

Káin Bronzetooth,

Your service is required in a “quest” of glory! I am inviting dwarves and….possibly others to an expidition that, if all goes well, will make us filthy rich. There are recent tales of the land of Rhún, far off into the east. If all goes well, there should be a paradise awaiting us. Have you ever wanted to be a legend? Even wanted to be counted among the great? Well, this is your chance. If interested, please meet me in the Great Hall my mid-day. However, this isn’t a walk around the street. This is a serious quest. So, you’ll have to pack up belongings you want to bring, and food while your at it. Please remember, we don’t know how long it will be before we can restock, so back for the long haul. Please consider this opportunity!

“Weird” Káin said as he pondered the letter. “Rhún. Haven’t heard of that in years. Why now? Who wrote that letter anyway? What’s this all about?” As Káin reread the letter, he stopped. “Have you ever wanted to be a legend? Of course! Who wouldn’t! But I have to think fast! If I’m not quick, they might give up my part! I better get over there and find out what’s going on!” The blue sky gleamed in the heavens like a ocean of simarils. The conditions were perfect for a journey. “Well, I better get started! Borfin!” In a heartbeat, Borfin, Káin’s apprentice scurried out from behind the forge. He was about 30 and had dirt on his face. “Borfin! This is it! If you pass, you will be as skilled as I. If you’re successful, you are free to open your own forge. Here is your task. I’m going out on a quest with several dwarves to Rhún. You’ve heard of it, haven’t you? Anyways, I will be gone for a couple of months, and I want you to run the store! When I come back, if the place is well kept up, you are free to be your own master.” Borfin was stunned. Giving a smile, Borfin nooded. “Yes, then I’ll pack and see you in a couple of months. Um…please don’t ruin The Mithril Star Borfin! I’ve grown quite fond of my forge!” and with that, Káin started packing. He backed his favorite ax, along with an ax for throwing and a small blunt dagger. After packing food and other essentials, Káin started walking to the Great Hall. “Goodbye Mithril Star, take care of yourself. “ At last, Káin had made it to the Great Hall. He looked upon the assembled dwarves. “I’ll do it! When do we leave?”

[piosenniel]

Esgallhugwen’s post

Nerin Cloudfoot was awake rather early to get underway. He had to find his father, who was always difficult to find at any time of the day or week, as well as some close friends that were not to accompany him on the quest. He busied about his room at first, getting such things as he needed, clothes, blankets, rope, cooking gear, rations; setting out his armour and gloves, taking all necessary procedures to be sure he didn't miss a single thing.

So with all in order upon his bed he pulled on his gold chainmail and buttoned his red tunic over it, fastening it at the waist using a black belt with a golden buckle. Then he finally packed his large leather bag worn with use, pulled on his gloves making his hands into a fist, fitting his hatchets under his belt and picking up his powerful walking axe he stepped out the door and shut it behind him.

To Nerin's shock and amazement his father was walking up the way to his very room! They grabbed hold of one another and patted eachother on the back "Sorry my boy, I heard news earlier on about how you were to go on the search for Rhûn, but I wasn't able to see you any earlier than now" he bowed.

"Well now is as good a time as any Father, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to say farewell before I left. I understand how busy you are in the mines"

"It makes a Father proud to know you plan on taking that journey, I pray and wish that that unknown land has bountiful treasures for you to behold, for I have heard many strange tales indeed, but no time for that we must grab an ale before we go as a proper farewell".

Later on, when all the marrymaking and catching up was done Nerin had to join with the others in the Great Hall. He managed to say goodbye to others as he passed which made his heart light and glad. A very good way to leave one's home.

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Arestevana’s post

Woken abruptly from a dreamless sleep, Maulká realized she had rolled off her low pallet and onto the cold floor of her chamber. She stood up, grateful for the comforting darkness. It was a cool, deep darkness, soothing in its black totality. Maulká neatly folded the thick, warm furs that covered her bed and pulled on her garments. Then she crossed the room to kneel at a small altar and give homage to the sacred ones. She touched the pale burn scar on her neck. It was a sign of the blessing given her by the divine powers, or so she had been told.

Even in the surreal darkness of the underground chamber, no candle lit the small altar. Though she kept her eyes downcast in respectful reverence, Maulká knew that if she looked up, she would see, unhindered by the darkness, the signs engraved deep in the wood. The altar was carved of black lebethron, like the hilt of her dirk. Unconsciously, the woman reached up to touch the weapon sheathed across her back. The dirk, she knew, had once belonged to an outsider. She suspected the same of the altar wood; perhaps it had once been a cargo destined for trade.

Rising, Maulká cast an awed glance at the symbolic carvings. There were rows of curving waves, intricate runes, and the central figure… Maulká quickly averted her eyes. The divine powers! A thing beyond price. She gave a final bow toward the altar and, turning, strode from the room. The following evening she had heard rumors of a catch. Now she would find if there was truth in them. If not… Maulká caressed a leather-covered hilt protruding from the sheath at her left hip. The blade was shorter than her thumb, but wickedly sharp. If not, then that woman, Chiksi, won’t be telling false tales to anyone for a long while.

[piosenniel]

Eruwen's post

"What do you mean there's been a catch?" Bestialán whispered to the small messenger as he slid the blade of his sword into its sheath.

Bestialán had been out in the murky forests of Rhûn all night hunting for this so-called "beast" that someone had seen in daylight. They said that it was the largest piece of meat their kind had seen in Rhûn, which was not saying much. However, as the sun began to break through the canopy of leaves overhead, he was beginning to doubt that any such animal existed. He grew tires. His legs began to ache in pain, but he did not want to rest at this moment. He stared at the messenger in wonder.

"There's not been a catch in all my time," continued Bestialán. "What news do you have on the matter?"

"Naught but what they told me, sir," the young messenger replied earnestly. "The elders advise that you come immediately. The catch was found with something that might interest you."

Bestialán raised his eyebrow in suspense. He hurried along the thick line of trees that covered the invisible paths in the wood as his garments flapped violently behind him.

His steps were so quick that he felt as if his feet were not touching the ground, but gliding along the air. All was silent. The only sound he could hear was his gasping breath and the wind passing by his ears. The forest began to get blurry, and suddenly he began to feel as if his feet had been nailed to the forest floor. There was a quick jerk, and then a loud, hard thump as he felt his hands crash against the ground.

The sky was black for a brief moment, but the gradual sight of grass soon appeared. Bestialán squinted greatly at the sun's bright rays as he spit clumps of dirt and leaves out of his mouth. He returned the hood of his dark cloak to his head, for it had blown back in the fall, while the young messenger suddenly ran up with quite a humorous expression on his face.

"Sir, are you alright?" the messenger said with a slight laugh in his voice. "There's a tree limb there, you know?"

Bestialán stood slowly, discretely removing a small dagger from his boot as he rose. In one short moment he had turned and pinned the messenger against a nearby tree with his hands. Bestialan's dagger was pressed firmly against the young man's neck.

"The sun is bright. It's hard to see," Bestialán said as he peered cruelly into the messenger's eyes. "No one will know about this. See that you remember that."

The young messenger nodded his head in fear and ran off quickly into the woods. Bestialán re-sheathed his dagger and continued toward his dwelling in a slow, steady pace. His home was not that far. He came upon the location not much time later where two men stood waiting for him. The men motioned for Bestialán to follow them through many rooms and halls until they appeared at the entrance of a room.

"The catch is in there,” one of the men said to Bestialán as he pointed towards the door. “But what you might like to know is the catch was found in the woods with this…”

The two men stepped aside revealing a small boy behind them. The boy looked up at Bestialán as he shook in fear. Anger began to rise inside Bestialán. He grabbed the boy firmly by the arm and began to drag him away from the room. As soon as a stone’s cast difference was between he and the room. Bestialán stopped and moved the boy in front of him.

“Carnen, what do you think you are doing?” Bestialán yelled. Carnen began to explain how he had been found with the catch, but Bestialán stopped him before he could barely utter a sentence.

“You know what, Carnen,” he began,” I don’t even want to hear your excuses. Just get yourself home before you cause even more trouble.”

“But father,” Carnen protested.

“But nothing, now go!” Bestialán yelled.

“But where are you going, father?” asked Carnen.

“I’m going to see about this “catch”. And what’s with all this ‘father’ business? I told you to call me ‘Sir’. Now get home, and tell your mother to punish you twice as much
this time.”

Carnen bit his lip in anger. “Well, it’s not like you’d ever know if I didn’t tell her!” he yelled as his father began to walk away. “You’re never home enough to know anything that happens. You probably don’t even remembered what today is. It’s mother’s birthday! That’s why I was in the woods today. I was coming to find you!!”

Carnen ran off down the long hall before Bestialán could reply. Bestialán walked back towards the room that was holding "the catch" being neither affected, nor moved by his only son's words.

[piosenniel]

Saraphim's’s post

The cool tunnels of Nephil’s home enveloped him as he set out from his dwelling. They were so different from the sweating confines of the outside forest. Just yesterday, he had returned from hunting, disappointed from his lack of spoil, but joined his friends in a rowdy drinking-game anyway.

He had slept in because of his revels, and lamented the loss of a chance to speak with his cousin, Corith, who had mentioned something about a “catch” to a semi -conscious Nephil, and a half-heard order to meet him later wafted through his memory, before giving up and wafting away.

A catch. That was worth missing some sleep over. The last catch had been years ago, and one that was caught by Nephil himself. He swelled with pride at the memory. A weasel-like merchant, lost in the wilds and far from any vestige of his civilization.

But no outsider had been seen since then, and Nephil was hungry for news, and he walked quickly down the corridor, sandals slapping on the stone floor, on the lookout for Corith, and news.

[Himaran]

Bali sat in his comfortable stone chair in Erebor's great hall, attempting to relax. In truth, every nerve in his body was ready to burst. He kept counting the dwarves waiting around him, knowing that all those interested were present. But for some inexplainable reason, the dwarf was wildly searching for a reason to stall. He simply didn't want to initiate the meeting that would catapult his party into the wild. Fool! This is an adventure, and a fun one at that. Just enjoy the treasure hunt! But deep down, the dwarf knew that the whole venture was viewed far too lightly; Rhûn was thought of as a child's playworld. It may not be what it seems.

Knowing that he could not wait any longer, the dwarf stood, pacing in a nervous manner around the group. "You all know the purpose of this journey. We are seeking the land of Rhûn, and any riches it may hold. My brother Dwalin and I are leading the expedition, and have mapped out a route to the new land. But do not be certain that you will return with a sack of riches, or even knowledge of Rhûn itself. It may not even exist."

As he sat down, Bali knew that he had annoyed his brother. Dwalin a treasure-seeker, who often placed his love of riches over common sense. All huff and business, the young dwarf stepped forward, laying a map on the table with a flourish. "Here we have Erebor... and over there, the land of Rhûn. Our route is simple and safe: We shall follow the Great River Running south and east, which shall lead us directly to the great Sea.

As you can see, the northeast corner of the Sea is surrounded by a dense forest. Along the south western side is a group of low mountains. The sea itself is far larger than either feature, and it appears that most of the land is clear; although possibly marshy."

Dwalin returned to his chair, and the brothers waited for a reaction from the travellers.

[bilbo_baggins]

As Aras stoked the now-low fire, he wondered what exactly had brought him here, to the junction of the Celduin and Carnen rivers. He did not have any pressing errands, and the orcs were all but exterminated these days. Nothing was urgent, but this sense would not leave him that he was needed here for some reason. He thought of all he had done to get here, namely disturbing a few orcs in the progress of licking their wounds after the Great war, and slaying a lone cave troll in hiding deep in Mirkwood - but that wasn't what they called it anymore was it, - and risking his life in various and sundry ways so far; and he wished to know why... someone better have some answers.

But he was enjoying himself so far, with the river flowing by and the breeze feeding the fire and refreshing him; it was enjoyable. Almost too much; such pleasure almost affidavited the sinking specter of death on the horizon, which nothing could stop. He had never felt so helpless, and so alone.

As the fire started to build itself up on the wood he fed it, he prepared a haunch of meat for the flame; a large enough piece to last him for several days... he knew he should be expecting some people.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

An odd silence fell into the Great Hall as Dwalin resumed his seat and glanced, it almost seemed a bit worriedly, at his brother. Haenir glanced around him at those gathered and did as he had done for forty years – kept his peace. There was much he could have said, had it occurred to him. Forests and marsh? That’s not the place for Dwarves, he thought. Earth and stone, rock and bone: that’s what we should bother ourselves with Still, where the hand of Aule pointed him, he would follow.

The silence stretched taut like a wire being hammered into airy thinness by the smiths, and still no one spoke. Dwalin and Bali looked at one another nervously and somebody in the crowd cleared his throat but the stillness remained like the Arkenstone itself, inviolate and impenetrable. Haenir shifted his muscles beneath his armour. It was a habit he had picked up from the older Dwarves among the King’s Men, to keep the body supple and loose beneath its second skin of plate and chain-mail. He looked about him at the other people there and wondered at such an odd assortment. Most were armoured but there was a variety of skill and wealth on display in that area: all were armed with axes. He knew most of the Dwarves there by name and face, but had never really spoken with any of them, unless it had been to relay a message from his lord, or to usher them into the Royal Presence.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable even for Haenir, who had spent long hours of his life standing silently before doors or off to the side of chambers, ever ready to answer the call of his King. Finally, driven mad by the indecision of those about him, Haenir spoke. “It would seem,” he began slowly, choosing his words – as he always did – with great care, “that there’s none here as wish to discuss the matter any more than we already have. You have a map; it shows the way. Where there’s a clear road, let’s follow.”

“Aye,” another Dwarf replied, “but a road to what? Danger and death, or riches and reward?”

It was Dwalin who replied first. “Maybe all those things. Maybe none, we will only see by going.”

“Aye,” Haenir muttered, almost under his breath, “and that we won’t do standing about here in idle talk.”

[Will Witfoot]

A lonely figure, broad and short in stature, capered along the banks of the River Celduin, or Running as it was called in the common tongue. Although the loud, inane singing and at times reeling gait would have caused many to judge him to be a harmless lunatic, the more careful observer would have noticed a certain wariness about him, and known that he would be ready to answer any given threat in a heartbeat.
Suddenly the inane rhymes the creature had been chanting took on the distinct quality of a song.

'I travel forth from Erebor,
Pause at the hall's of folk of Dale,
After that, in my stupor,
I pause to look for proper Ale,'

The deep, guttural voice bellowed out the words of the popular bawdy ballad with a heart-felt enthusiasm, though the voice of the singer left room for hope.

Gortek Mad-Eye bellowed the final words of the song and gave a high-pitched, maniacal cackle. He was in a great mood today. His journey to Umbar and back, a long trudge across the Brown Lands, had proven to be quite a success. His ventures with some of the corsair-folk had yielded a hefty prize, which he had mostly lost carousing and gambling in the Corsair City. But he was always ready for another adventure, and as an explorer he had rarely the need to suffer tedium for long.
While these happy thoughts raced through his head, he arrived at the junction of the two rivers, Celduin and Carnen.

Just as he was begining to look for a place to rest,he noticed a line of smoke drifting skywards from the close by copse of trees. Deciding that it would be nice to have some company, he made towards the small wood.

As he approached the strangers campsite, his movements became stealthier and his earlier air of jolliness was replaced by one of immaculate watchfulness. He hadn't heard of orcs making their way this far upriver for years, but you could never be too carful.
He strained his senses to the utmost, sniffing the air in an attempt to identify the creature who had made its resting-place here. His keen nose was disturbed by the delicious scent of cooked meat, but he did catch a faint scent that was not orc by any standards. Rather, it had the smell of a human, albeit quite different from most.

Still, he usually got on famously with humans, and so he dropped his stealthy approach and strode into the small clearing. A man sat there, tall, dark and gaunt, preparing a delicious looking joint of meat over a fire. Gortek saw the stranger look at him, measuring him from head to toe's. Gortek greeted him.

"Greetings, human. Would it be too much asked to share yer fire?".

[Elentarimir]

The river Celduin was one of Raendin's favorite places to come during this time of the year. The sounds it made as it continued its long journey toward the sea of Rhun comforted him; they reminded him of home in the Great Greenwood. Raendin sang a song in Sindarin quietly, his voice flowing with the sounds of the water.

As he sang, Raendin thought about the various things he had been doing lately. His most recent trip had been a visit to the forests of Ithilien, which had been quiet beautiful in his eyes. Raendin loved to be in forests, with the trees and the soft calls of animals in and around them. He was happy that the War was over, and that the forests would not be disturbed again for quite some time.

Raendin finished his song. He raised his head and looked about him, searching for any sign of life. Scanning the horizon line, he noticed a thin trail of smoke rising above what appeared as a copse of trees. He stood slowly, and picked his bow up off the ground. With practiced grace, Raendin picked his way toward the smoke.

Upon reaching the copse, Raendin ducked behind a tree and watched. A tall man -- a ranger by the looks -- was sitting near the fire. Raendin observed him curiously, wondering what was going on here. As he watched, a dwarf stepped out of the trees. Raendin sighed. He slung his bow across his back and slid out into the clearing.

"I don't want to disturb you, but I'd like a little company," he said, smiling.

[bilbo_baggins]

Almost no time passed between when he was accosted by this noble khazad, than when he hapened to be joined also by this fair Eldar. Surely the Vala were taking a hand in arranging this, he thought to himself before answering.

"Certainly, Khazad, you may share this fire with me, and you may also have your portion of meat when it is done, though I have no seasoning or spice for it. It will have to be only slightly scorched, I'm afraid. And to you, person of the Eldar, company is appreciated, although this khazad will almost certainly have something to say to that. Please sit both of you, and talk with me; but if either of you try any arguing, I shall not open my camp to nor share of my hunt, nor shall I stay with you in this journey we obviously were all called to partake in. Is that clear?"

It seemed reasonbly clear to the both of them, so Aras gave in and let them join him in his repast.

"Now that we have eaten, I propose we tell each other why we came here; as it is obvious we did not do so by chance..."

[Will Witfoot]

Gortek studied his new-found company with his one good eye. The man had the look of one of the ancient people of Númenor, and the other one was a tall, blonde elf. Gortek was'nt bothered with the ancient and inbred hatred for the Firstborns which nearly every dwarf shared. His early separation from society had left him without proper foundations for such national animosities, and during his travels he had had both good and bad experiences so he knew not to judge rashly.

He gave them both a small, polite bow, and smilled showing yellowed teeth.
"Nah, I've no qualms if the elf joins us. Allways a pleasure meeting new people, as I allways says. Me I'm called Gortek the 'Mad-Eye'." He gave a maniacal cackle at this, perhaps causing some disscomfort in his companions.
Gratefully he dug in to the meat which the man offered him and the elf. Deciding that it would be impolite to not to return the favour, he produced some black bread and ,more importantly, a small flask of ale from his bag. He took a hefty pull from the bottle of beverage, and offered it to the man.

After the meal, Gortek tamped some 'Green Hill' into his pipe and lit it with a kinder taken from the fire. He had just got it burning properly when the man suggested they tell eachother of their exploits.

"I had a small venture in Umbar, in the City of Corsairs. Got a few friend's there who says they needed some help, so I went. After that I crossed the Brown Lands and followed this 'ere river" he indicated Celduin with a wave of his hand "to the junction. I thought I'd spend a couple o' days 'ere, fishing, hunting, taking it easy."

[Elentarimir]

Raendin smiled. "I have no problems sharing a campsite with a dwarf. Company is company." Raendin sat down on the grass, and listened politely as the ranger told him not to argue. Nodding his agreement, Raendin studied the dwarf. He was unlike any he'd ever seen before. After hearing Gortek's tale, Raendin spoke up:

"I was in Ithilien not long ago, but this is my favorite time to be here." He indicated the rivers flowing around them. "I journeyed long to come here. After that, I simply saw the smoke from this campfire rising above the line of trees." He shrugged. "Like I said before, I wanted company. My name's Raendin."

Raendin turned his eyes to the ranger that was slowly cooking a slab of meat on the fire. "What of you? Why are you here?" he asked.

[bilbo_baggins]

After both the Dwarf and the Elf had told their stories, the Elf asked Arasiniel, "What of you? Why are you here?"

"That is a hard question to answer Raendin. Ah, forgive me. My name is Arasiniel, but you may call me Aras. As to why I am here with the both of you, I do not rightly know. I felt a strange longing for this place, a place I had never been before. My thoughts guided me here, beyond the Misty Mountains and the Forest, south of the Lonely Mountain, and then I followed the Celduin - or, the River Running - to here. I do not know why I was brought here, but I fortell strange matters afoot and certain for some, though I do not know who. That is all I can tell."

The others sat for awhile, taking this in. He had some things to think over too, such as the Dwarf's adventure in Umbar, and the Elf's travels from Ithilien. He had interesting companions.

After they had mused on the new information brought to light for all of them, it began to grow dark. "I propose we hold exploring and any further disscussions til the dawn light," said Aras, "as we all do not know why we are."

The others agreed, and while some slept that night, others did not.

[Arestevana]

Maulká stayed close to the wall as if keeping to the shadows, though no shadow could be darker than the pitch black of the sloping corridor. There was only one topic of conversation throughout the colony. Everyone was speaking of the catch, and wild rumors began to spread. Sighing in exasperation, Maulká reflected that the fact of the catch itself was likely the only rumor with an ounce of truth.

A soft noise sounded from further up the hallway, and Maulká drew her knife. A man appeared through a doorway several yards from her position. He was a messenger, she saw, recently come from the jungle. She grimaced, recognizing the man. He was easily intimidated, a weakness she despised. Sheathing her knife, Maulká hissed at the messenger. He twisted around, startled.

“Where is the catch kept?” Maulká demanded. The messenger winced, but tried to answer with a semblance of calm.
“In the cell at the end of the left hall. Bestialán will be there by now, and Kínadhen is on guard,” he muttered. Maulká nodded and hastened up the corridor, dismissing the messenger from mind. She reflected momentarily on the two names. Kínadhen… foolish, but strong. She tolerated his existence, but spared the man no thought. Bestialán was another matter, one of the few people she respected and treated in a civil manner. The respect was born of fear, though Maulká was loath to admit it. She knew Bestialán could best her without trouble in a fight in the jungle. Cursed sun-eyes…

Reaching the cell the messenger had directed her to, Maulká found Kínadhen standing at the entrance. Bestialán was not there, she noted irritably. It made no difference, but she disliked being mislead.

“Kínadhen! What is to be done with it?” she called. The guard shrugged. Maulká sighed, thinking, He probably has orders to let no one near. It’s not worth killing over, I must be patient. She moved to a small alcove across the hallway and sat down, watching the cell door, wondering who else would come to see the catch.

[Carlas]

“Aye, and that we won’t do standing about here in idle talk.” The dwarf next to Durin answered quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. Durin nodded his agreement as he looked about the room at the gathering of dwarves, who for the most part stood silently immersed in their own thoughts. Durin thought it strange that the group would be so quiet when they were about to take out on such an amazing journey. It was not often that one would get the chance to visit the great land of Ruhn, which had been little more than a legend for many ages.

Durin thought back to his last journey a few years back, to help save their homeland. The entire trip they had all been tormented by the thought that they would not make it on time, and they would return to a ruined city. Tormented by the thought that they would not be able to help the land and people they loved.

This time though, it was different. This was no great race to save their family, no immense battle they had to win, it was a journey to a strange new land filled with riches beyond anyone’s greatest dreams. Durin couldn’t imagine a greater honor than to be one of the few who would be able to prove that the great legend of Ruhn was no legend, but a real place filled with much wealth and beauty.

After the silence had gone on for some time, Durin finally decided that enough was enough. “Than what are we waiting for? If you say the route is simple and safe, then there is not much else worth discussing, we are all here and ready. Let us take our leave and begin the journey south before our beards grow so long we must tie them around our waists!” He said impatiently as he looked up at Balin.

[Saraphim]

The darkness of the lower corridors hid Nephil's wide, mischevious grin. He had caught up with his cousin, who knew everything that had happened. How Corith had known, however, remained a mystery. Nephil had long since stopped attending to the minor gossip his kinsman flaunted, but now he was grateful to the socially-bred, sensitive ears Corith had.

Nephil turned a corner and was faced with a few of his peple outdide a heavily barricaded door. One, upon closer inspection, was a woman, sitting sourly in an alcove. Nephil did not recognize her. The other, a man, he did know, by association only, stood at the door, obviously refusing admittance to anyone.

Hence the sour woman. Nephil nodded politely at her. She stared at him as if he was a particularly putrid piece of feces that had just insulted her and everyone she knew. Nephil turned to Kinadhen.

"Alright, so I'm assuming the rumors are true. Meat doesn't often get a gaurd. It's a catch." He said, "And I don't suppose I can see it, correct?"

Kinadhen was a man of few words. He shook his head.

Nephil sighed, but nodded his head. "As I suspected."

Moving over to lean against the wall next to the sour woman's alcove, Nephil pulled put a peice of dried meat.

I'd better get comfortable,He thought, this could take a while.

[Eruwen]

The short walk back to the room holding "the catch" seemed longer than it actually was, though Bestialán was not quite sure why. He quickly threw any distracting thought out of his mind and continued his slow walk. The door was not far ahead. As he soon arrived at the entrance, he raised his dragging head to find three persons, all of his race, standing at the door. One was a guard, named Kínadhen that had been there earlier. The others were two civilians of his community.

Bestialán gestured a "hello" at one of the by-standers, named Maulká, who happened to be looking his direction. Nephil, the other one standing at the door, stood against the wall with his eyes concentrating on what seemed like either the floor or whatever object he was holding in his hand that Bestialán could not see.

"Don't tell me all of you are here for this 'catch' as well?" Bestialán said as he approached the door. "What, has this news already spread to every Rhûn-ian in the area?"

Kínadhen nodded his head.

"Well, then what are we doing standing out here for? Let us see it," commanded Bestialán.

As Bestialán began to reach for the handle of the door, Kínadhen stepped in the way and pushed him back. Kínadhen stood firmly at the door with a large spear held out in defense. Bestialán looked at he guard in anger.

"My orders were to not let anyone in," Kínadhen said.

"You don't expect me to believe that the only reason I was called here was because of that pint-sizes menace earlier, do you?" replied Bestialán

The guard gestured a "yes" with his eyes. "I would advise you," Kínadhen began, "that you return to your post. Those in your position do not have any business with matters such as this."

Bestialán gave Kínadhen a wry look of discontent. He felt his left hand clench the sword at his waist, but seeing the guard also clench his spear tightly, he quickly lowered his hand...just in case. Bestialán took a deep breath and stared into the guard's eyes.

"I'm not leaving," Bestialán said, and he took his place against the opposite wall from which the others stood.

[Novnarwen]

Dwalin had seated again, shaking with excitement as he watched the other dwarves standing in front of him. Bali seemed to be fairly calm where he sat, next to Dwalin. The room was filled with this intolerable silence, which made Dwalin wonder whether the others expected him to say anything. He looked questioningly at Bali who didn't meet his eyes. Dwalin felt his hands get all sweaty and his forehead went all watery. Was he supposed to be in charge? He swallowed, which he found hard. As a result of his ever growing eagerness and excitement, he tried to speak.

"So what route are we taking?" he asked with determination. As Bali looked with surprise at his younger brother, Dwalin realised that this question had already been asked and answered just moments earlier. There was muttering amongst the others, as if they were hesitant to the adventure itself, when Dwalin obviously wasn’t paying attention, or so it seemed. He had tried to seem professional, but he felt little where he sat in his seat. What were they expecting? Where they expecting to leave this instant? Didn't they want to be prepared, as in even more prepared? The dwarf looked alarmingly at his brother, whispering in his ear. "Well... You are the adveturerer. How do we do this?"

Bali giggled, but didn't give him a straight answer. He only muttered something about going to Rhûn and finding treasure before anyone else got there first. He made it sound simple, with few words and an easy forumlation: We are going to Rhûn. Those were his exact words. Dwalin's brother also hinted that it was time to go, as in really time to go, which made him understand completely. This was simple. The treasure was as good as theirs.

As the other dwarves were starting to lose their patience, (Dwalin reckoned this conversation with his brother was excluding the others,) Dwalin returned his gaze to the other dwarves. "Well then..." he started.

“This will probably sound very… odd.. But.. Let’s go fellows!" Dwalin remembered Durin's words, about their beards growing extremely long if they didn't get moving. He repeated this, and addressed the dwarf. "As Durin, for that is your name,” he said, nodding towards the dwarf in front. “We don’t want our beards to grow that long!” Dwalin gave a short laugh, while thinking; actually, he’d always dreamed of a long beard.

[Arestevana]

Maulká’s gaze did not waver from the door for many minutes, until she was interrupted in her vigil by the arrival of a stranger. She cast a brief, calculating glance in his direction, confirming the fact that she did not know him. She then resumed her watch at the door. Several minutes later Bestialán arrived, eliciting the barest hint of a nod with his wave. Maulká grudged the politeness implied by the motion, but dared not be openly rude.

Bestialán traded several rough words with Kínadhen and there was a moment when Maulká expected weapons to clash. She felt slightly disappointed when Bestialán pulled his hand away from his weapon and took up a stand along the opposite wall. There were several minutes of silence. Maulká breathed deeply, savoring the sharp feeling of discomfort the silence obviously incited in the guard.

Set on edge by his brief conversation with Bestialán, Kínadhen seemed nervous. His gaze shifted repeatedly as he tried to watch them all at once. The guard seemed to expect some kind of riot. Maulká let the silence linger for several more minutes. Then she drew her short knife, tilting the blade slightly as she freed it to cause a faint ringing. Kinadhen swallowed audibly.

Slowly, deliberately, Maulká pulled a small stone from a pouch at her belt and began to sharpen the knife. She drew the blade across the stone with rhythmic, measured movements. She kept her head downward, eyes on her work. Casting several covert glances at the guard, Maulká could see that he was watching the knife as if entranced. After several moments Maulká stopped and tilted her head to look up at the guard. He stared for a moment longer at the knife, seemingly fascinated by its sudden stillness. Then he chanced to look up, and, seeing her staring, jerked his gaze back to a point on the wall somewhere above her head.

Maulká watched the guard’s face impassively for another moment, then returned the stone and knife to their respective places. The ensuing silence seemed even more tense, heightened by the absence of the ringing of metal-on-stone which had filled the previous minutes. Maulká waited expectantly, listening to the silence and wondering who would be the next to break it.

[Himaran]

The route had been discussed and agreed upon. Weapons, provisions and other necessities had been gathered. Final goodbyes had been said. The expedition to Rhûn had finally begun.

Bali watched silently as the gates swung closed behind his party. His last journey had been about getting here... but it was all so different now. And his brother was with him. The dwarf smiled. Dwalin has a thing or two to learn about travelling. But I will get him in shape before he knows it.

The party was travelling on foot, as ponies might not be able to travel in Rhûn. It was best to go light. Each dwarf carried a heavy pack, his weapons, and any other possessions or objects they wished to take. Bali's sack was the smallest; he was able to be quite comfortable in the wilderness with his cloak and axe. He smiled, watching Dwalin stride along at the head of the group. Yes, little brother. It is time that you learned to lead.

[Novnarwen]

Dwalin went in the lead, having huge difficulties managing the heavy pack, he carried, with things he needed for the journey. The poor dwarf felt a certain pressure; he went in front, which was difficult considering the heavy load he had brought with him. He could get a glimpse of Bali, just behind him, as he looked backwards at the others for a possible rescuer. It was rather painful to watch his brother, carrying as little as possible and being quite pleased with it. Dwalin regretted he hadn't left some of his possessions at home. He frowned as the sun rose and he began to feel warm.

The middle-aged dwarf walked, pretending someone was stalking him, or following him, as it helped to keep the speed up. It was a rather silly method to use, but it worked. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Haenir come up on his side. Dwalin walked faster, trying to avoid his 'follower' to catch up. He could feel the dwarf behind him breathe, heavily. "Dwalin?"

The leader of the small company turned around, pretending to be surprised. "Yes?" Haenir assured Dwalin that he just wanted to check everything was okay, "After all, you are walking quite fast," Haenir said. Dwalin looked at him and slowed down. "Am I?" he asked, not wanting to tell his fellow companion that he was already tired of walking, and that it helped pretending an enemy of some kind was behind him; trying to catch up with him, and that he was trying, desperately, to escape. "Just thinking about.... Rhûn," Dwalin said gently. Haenir nodded. "Can't get my thoughts of Rhûn either," he said, ending his statement with a gruff laugh.

The two of them walked together, talked about Rhûn and the hopes of finding something of value. Dwalin was happy he had someone to talk too. It made him stop thinking of how tired he was and how tired he would become. Dwalin sighed, he should have prepared better for this journey. He didn't even feel he was in good shape. He hoped it would change, or rather, that he would be able to walk without getting so tired; he was after all heading for Rhûn.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The day wore on and the Dwarves passed through Dale and out through the plains south of Erebor, toward Lake Town. Haenir looked about him as they went at the rich land that had been wrested from the landscape after the fall of Smaug. The Desolation he had wrought was now little but a memory in song and the greyest of heads. The cultivation had been undertaken by the Men, for the Dwarves had – as always – dedicated themselves to harvesting the riches of the Mountain and depending on trade to bring them the food they required to continue their labours deep in the mines. It was from this trade that Haenir had, over many patient years of careful acquisition, been able to build his wealth. Like all Dwarves, his heart was fired by the thought of wealth, and his King was a rich gift-giver. So with every ring or gem or pouch of gold given him by his lord, Haenir had bought the produce of these fields to resell to the Dwarves of the Moutain. Usually, he would take only a small profit, depending on careful management to build wealth slowly but surely. But sometimes, during a season of scarcity, he would horde goods for a while until the prices had been driven so high that he could accrue huge gains. He regretted doing this, but the gold it earned him always quickly overcame his reservations.

His thoughts turned back to Dwalin. A deep and brooding silence had fallen between them as Haenir had considered the landscape – as well as other matters. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “I am a poor companion I fear. I have spent a quiet life – many would say a narrow one – in the service of my King, and I have never been given to much talk.” Dwalin assured him that he had taken no offence, adding “Rhûn’s too far for us to be talking all the way.”

Haenir considered this for a moment. “Aye, ‘tis a step of a ways indeed. And a dangerous one too, I deem, if half of what I’ve heard be true.”

“Why,” Dwalin looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes, “what have you heard?”

Again, Haenir took a moment to think before speaking. It was a habit he had picked up in his years in the Royal Presence. It did not do for people in positions of power to speak before considering. “Naught but children’s tales and the fanciful imaginings of Men I’m sure,” he replied. Then, to change the subject quickly, he looked back at the other Dwarves in the company and said, “At any rate, we’re an odd lot to be marching out on a venture such as this.” He shifted his axe to his other shoulder and shrugged his shoulders beneath his armour. “And how are you doing Master Dwalin?” he asked. “After that sprint you led us on at the outset I was afraid that we’d be carrying you before nightfall!” Dwalin laughed and assured Haenir that he was feeling quite all right. “Good,” Haenir replied, “I’m as eager as anyone to get to where we’re going, but I’m not too keen on the thought of running there as though the very breath of Smaug was singing my beard!”

[bilbo_baggins]

Aras woke before the others, but truly, the Elf did not sleep. Elves never slept, curious things.

While he was stoking the fire up from where it had died down from the night before, the Dwarf woke and the Elf came out of his reverie.

"Good morn to both of ye, my companions. What shall we do?"

Gortek rplied: "Well, lad. I believe we stay for a few days. My senses are as keen as yourn, and they say we should stay."

"I agree with our companion, the Khazad. I think we should make a more permanent camp here," said Raendin

As they had all reached a consensus, the Travelers set about doing, well nothing much. They had a while to wait.

Aras could see that both of his companions were slightly uneasy. He did not know what it was, though. He did not completely trust this Dwarf. And the Elf did not help matters, either. Both of them were not completely trustworthy.

He decided to try and break the proverbial 'ice', "So Gortek, what House or Mansion of Dwarves are you from?"

[Saraphim]

The silence dragged on and on for nearly a quarter of an hour. Nephril, who could stand for days in complete solitude was growing edgy about having to stand quietly with strangers.

Casting desperatly around for something to talk about, he noticed two maces strapped to the newcomer's back.

"Bestialan, is it?" Nephil said to him, causing the three others to jump in surprise.

Bestialan nodded slowly.

"Your maces," said Nephil, " A man named Corith forged them for you, did he not?"

Bestialan nodded again, confused and growing annoyed.

"He is my kinsman, and lives with me. He told me about your maces when he was forging them. He claimed it was the best work he ever did. What do you think of them? Do they serve the purpose that they were made for?"

[Esgallhugwen]

Nerin had already begun to seriously contemplate as to how he could carry his large share of treasure without difficulty, he would find a way. He also hoped there would be a large share of treasure for all of them or his planning would just be a waste.

I pray that will not be so, a wasteful thought is a sad thing , He looked around at his companions and realized he had never spoken since the journey began. It would be wise to make friends now instead of when things become difficult.

"But what to say?" Nerin almost whispered to himself, he wasn't much of a conversationalist, and at times found it akward to begin a conversation with somone else. Perhaps someone would approach the shy Dwarf and spark a little talk.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hænir turned to Dwalin and gestured back to the other Dwarves with a nod of his head. “They’re a quiet lot, aren’t they?”

Dwalin looked back in surprise and then turned to Hænir once more. “I suppose they are thinking about the journey ahead,” he ventured.

“Or perhaps their families behind,” Hænir replied. Dwalin shrugged and turned his attention back to the road before them. Hænir had marched out along this same road many times with his King and the King’s Companions, and always their journeys had passed quickly to the sound of singing beaten out with the rhythmic stamping of iron shod feet. This silent, almost brooding trek promised to be the longest he had known. Hænir had no family, and all the kin he knew were the Companions, now swiftly receding into the distance with the profile of the Lonely Mountain. His mind turned to the dangers that lay ahead of them. What kind of a Company will we be if we reach Rhûn like this? he thought to himself. If we can think of naught to say one another beneath the sun of our first day, then what shall we say to one another if things should turn dark? He had fought too many battles not to know the importance of friendship and trust in those who fought beside you.

Hænir had never been a leader and did not desire to start now, but he began to fear that if he did not try to meld the group into a true Company then nobody would. He turned to the Dwarf following just behind him and Dwalin. He was as shy lad, and Hænir had to search his memory for a moment before he could recall his name. “Nerin!” he said, as robustly as he could. “Why are you so quiet there? We are Dwarves, marching out to danger and treasure. We should be singing and talking merrily, not plodding along like Men set to work in the fields. Come, tell me, tell us all, what do you wish to do with your share of the treasure?” He raised his voice so that all could hear. “Come, all of you – what desires of your heart have driven you to this venture? Gold glitters and gems shine, but not for their beauty alone do we crave them. What are the things you wish to achieve with this bounty?” Hænir smiled to himself, thinking Treasure and dreams of wealth: if that doesn’t give them something to talk about, I don’t know Dwarves.

[Himaran]

Bali was instantly uncomfortable at the mention of treasure. There may be none at all, and it is all they can think about! He did, however, know that the dwarves needed something to talk about, so they could mingle and become friends. They were all young and shy, most on their first journey. It will be good to get their minds off home.

"I have always been a fan of making fine jewelry. Necklesses, mostly; but I enjoy working on rings as well. Ah... to have the skill of the elves, and craft those magic items. Rings can hold far more power than axe-heads, you know."

Nelin joined in the conversation. "Why rings and amulets instead of axes and knives? Weapons are far more exciting to build than gold cresents!"

Bali slowed his pace to match Nelin's, and patted the young dwarf on the shoulder. "Well, I have traveled a lot, and found that steel blades kill orcs better than gold ones. Besides, I hate to scratch up such good craftmanship, and there is little need to scrape a notch in a ring." He pulled his single-bladed, curved, Ereborian-style axe from the strap on his back, and showed Nelin the many scrapes along the pole. The dwarf's eyes widened: hundreds were visible.

"Once you're in a great battle, laddie, its quite easy," said Bali, winking. "And what about you others? What do you hope to make?"

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

He has been quiet for most of the trip, and it bothered him. Usually, Narvi would have been the first to crack jokes, or sing songs, or start conversations. But not this time.

Perhaps it was the thought of Rhûn. I have been through the greatest battle of the Third Age unharmed; now the name of some wild place disturbs me?

He decided to wander around, and listen for any hints of conversation interesting to him.

"Once you're in a great battle, laddie, its quite easy," said Bali, winking.

A talk about great battles! This would prove interesting.

As he slowly walked on to Dwalin, he didn't notice that the Dwarf was heedless of his path, and soon Dwalin bumped into Narvi.

[Novnarwen]

"Once you're in a great battle, laddie, its quite easy."

Narrow-eyed, Dwalin gazed at Bali. Battles were easy? He looked at his double-bladed axe and his cross bow; hanging over his shoulder. When leaving the Hall he had never really imagined he would need his weapons. Rhûn was filled with treasure and fortune, not wild barbarians who would kill everyone who came to seek luck, right? He frowned, taking no heed to poor Narvi who went quietly at Dwalin's left side. Dwalin, unintentionally, bumped into him, as he was in deep thought.

"Oh, sorry!" Dwalin exclaimed, realising he wasn't paying much attention to others than himself. Narvi didn't seem to mind, even though Dwalin had heard of his temper from others. He had a grim face and was, of appearance, taller than Dwalin.

Dwalin excused himself once more, looking up and into his dark brown eyes.

"Narvi, is it?" Dwalin asked, suddenly, feeling the urge to make up for any awkwardness between them. The Dwarf didn't want to offend anyone, or be in the way. After all, this was his first adventure, and he wasn't very familiar with this whole travelling thing. This of course, only he knew and his brother. No one, absolutely no one, knew that the gash on his cheek was not from a battle in a distant ..... He was interrupted as the other Dwarf answered his question.

"Aye, I'm indeed Narvi Silverfist." Dwalin nodded, not knowing what more to say to this grim dwarf. It was a strange feeling. He was known to be kind, social, friendly, (which came under 'kind', Dwalin reminded himself of) humorous, intelligent, (this made Dwalin giggle) generous, good looking; in fact quite handsome . . . Dwalin made a jump. I'm humble! He thought, and with this he settled as he realised humble dwarves didn't think of themselves as good-looking and intelligent and all the other things he had thought of, which had made him seem not humble at all. It was an odd feeling around this though, but he couldn't quite explain it. It was Narvi's fault; that dwarf made him think, Dwalin figured; giving one last glance up at him before taking his leave. Narvi looked down for a moment, before stretching out his hand, taking Dwalin by the arm. The so called humble dwarf felt Narvi's strong hands, around his, or so it seemed, tiny arm. Dwalin didn't have time to think now, he was too afraid? What could possibly Narvi do to him? Nothing.. Oh well... Narvi was so 'big', Dwalin pointed out to himself in a hurry, trying very hard to find something to say. He stood like a stiff mummy, trying not to seem rude or impolite, but the fact that Narvi had grabbed him, not very hard, just firmly, had given Dwalin a fright.

"Woah, I'm glad to be here," Narvi said. "Thank you Dwalin," he finished.

For a little Dwarf, Dwalin, this was indeed nice words to hear. Narvi wasn't that big, just tall. Yes, that was it. Dwalin gave him an encouraging look, before walking on with Narvi at his side.

[Will Witfoot]

Gortek lay on the grass of their common campsite, letting the sun shine down on him with it's pleasant warmth. His pipe was clutched between his teeth, and a stream of perfect smoke ring's rose to the breezeless morning air.

"So Gortek, what House or Mansion of Dwarves are you from?"

Gortek turned his head slightly, fixing his one good eye on the man, Aras. Despite his apparent and undenied madness he was far from stupid, and he caught a faint note of distrust in the rangers voice.

"From the Iron Hills, lad." He could not quite keep some amount of surliness from creeping into his voice. The man's lack of trust angered him. He had met distrust many times on his travel's, at times directed towards his honor and at others at his skill's. There was nothing he hated quite so much as not being trusted.

He tapped the ashes from his pipe and got up, resolving to go for a walk or to fish until his temper cooled.

"I'll see if the fish round 'ere is easy."

[Himaran]

The dwarves had walked for most of the day, and dusk was creeping upon their path. Thankfully, the city of Laketown was spreading out before them, it was not long before they arrived at its sturdy northern gates. Most of the young dwarves had never been far outside of Erebor, and they gaped as the huge doors creaked open. Bali spoke with the guards, and the iron-clad men nodded and waved them forward. Owing to the ease of their entrance was the fact that security had loosened slightly after the fall of Sauron; and travellers were frequent during the fall.

The town was far from glamorous; sturdy, wooden and straw houses were built around the great Lake Esgaroth. The townsfolk were primarily fishermen and farmers, also some were fortunate and had more important professions.

Bali and his companions soon arrived at a comfortable-looking inn, The Silver Stable, and entered. The dwarves situated themselves at a large table while Dwalin and his brother saw to the reservations. "Three rooms for two nights; large, if you can manage." Drinks were soon served, and the party was in far higher spirits than it had been during the day's long march.

[bilbo_baggins]

Aras was sorry to see the Dwarf walk off to see about fishing, and he was also sad to see him angry and slightly hurt at the mistrust he had shown. But could he do anything about it? How far would he in placing his life in the hands of these strangers? Maybe after some well-spent time together, he could trust them more, but not even 12 hours had passed, by Eru! 'How far can I trust?,... How far?' he thought, over and over in his mind.

Today would be a good day, and it was already starting to blossom. Maybe they could go hunting later, or fish, or just talk. Talk would be good. He needed to know something; something, anything that would tie a bond of friendship between him and these two. Their names already had passed around between them, and it was blatantly obvious what their general origins were,... what could be a pact?

He turned to the Elf, and asked, "Will you fish with the Dwarf, or go hunt, or what?"

"I do not know, I may find something in a while. My heart tells me that we are to wait for someone or something that will come to find us, though I don't entirely trust feelings or emotions."

Aras felt the same way. What could they do? They had to wait.