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Heart_of_Courage
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Post The Scattered (pm only)
on: July 31, 2006 05:43
(ooc: This is going to be a plotted RPG - please PM me if you are interested in joining, and we'll talk about it)



Blue eyes peered through the grove and brush; darkness falling upon the lands quickly - both weatherwise, and by Sauron's hand and minions. Eldarwen was on the other side of the Burinen...about to head back into Rivendell. One of the LAST havens for all that is good and gold. Most survivors from other parts of the lands flocked here. Mostly elves; some men, and Dunedain. However, most men fled to Helm's Deep... Eomer was sheilding and protecting his people and others. At least, what people were left. Many had been captured, and were now working as slaves in the Prisoner Camps and Flat Lands.

Aragorn, too, had come back to Rivendell - once again picking up his sword and joining the ranks of Dunedain Chiefton. Some of his people were still in Minas Tirith.... or what was left of it. Some hiding out. Many cities had already been destroyed - the ring, lost and found by minions of Sauron, and restored to the dark lord. There seemed to be no hope for good anymore. Yet the determined few still tried. Signalling with her hand - Eldarwen and her small troupe of elven rangers from the Mirkwood, and even some from Lothlorien who'd stumbled into their company having lost their own... emerged from the brush and grove - crossing the River Bruinen by foot; it rose just above their knees as they began to wade through it. They'd been out, scouting and observing the movements of the enemy. Everyday - a battle seemed to rage; either outside of Rivendell, or to Eomer's front. But darkness was drawing closer to Imladris. They faught and strived to keep THIS haven alive.

But sunlight was far gone; hidden behind rain and grey clouds. It was light enough to see during the days....but just cloudy. Eldarwen almost forgot what sunshine felt like. No stars were seen at night; and it rained three out of seven days a week, if not more. Crossing the river - Eldarwen called out in Elvish, alerting those guards that hey had returned, and they were indeed friend and not foe. Walking into the thicket, they passed bush and tree, looming and overgrown by neglect. Elves had no time to tend and keep their Rivendell woods anymore, since more important matters were at hand. However, the overgrown wood did serve as good protection from outside forces. Almost like a maze, to those who did not know the way. Eldarwen and her small troupe made their way through the thick overgrown woods, heading back towards the walls and sancitiy of Rivendell.

Elrond had sailed; but the twins had stayed, hoping to tend Rivendell in this time of need, and assist men and their fellow Elves in this tragic time. Lorien elves had also flocked here to help....but still, no word yet from Thranduil's people, or their elven prince. From what Aragorn had told her -- the Fellowship had been seperated, and some even captured. Mostly the Hobbits. There were rumors circulating that Mirkwood had fallen by the minions in Dol Guldur -- and was overrun by evil, no elves remaining. The forces of good prayed it wasn't so; especially Aragorn, who had befriended the elven prince and others. But those few left from Mirkwood... being Eldarwen and the others in the small company with her... had escaped; a few scars and bruises, but nothing too threatening. Reaching the city, Eldarwen and the others were admitted. Though in dark times, the city bustled with activity; men and elves interacting together once more; speaking and laughing, despite horrible times outside the walls.

Their last haven - their release. If they couldn't be merry here, then their souls would die from sadness. They had to keep their spirits up. It warmed Eldarwen of the Dunedain - to see elves and men interacting so. A last hope....perhaps a glimpse of what could have been, had the Ring been destroyed.

But such was not so. "What news?" Eldarwen asked; watching the small company drift off to get water, clean clothes and food. She, however, moved straight over to the military advisors; an elf named, Finias.

"We've recieved reports of Easterlings heading North and North West." Fionas said, point at the map and showing her the trail with his finger. His elven eyes turned to her. "What saw you?"

She nodded. "The truth in those rumors," She said sadly, leaning on the small table and pointing out their trail once more. "Easterlings move closer - we can only suspect a planned attack. Two days. Maybe more, should they come to an unexpected stop." She said.

"We'll be ready." Fionas nodded slowly. "More elves have arrived....it seems Mirkwood had been overrun, but some escaped." Eldarwen nodded slowly, already knowing the truth in that. Her poor homewood... now overrun with those vile creatures. To think of it. Eldarwen was just greatful that her parents had sailed already. Saying her farewells to Finias for now, Eldarwen joined her company, and sat down to get some water and food. It was most welcomed and needed.
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 01, 2006 09:32
((Thanks for the okay to join in, Heart_of_Courage!! Hopefully, this is ok. I've updated Garavorn's profile slightly, and maybe I can bring in another char later on. ))

From within the crowd of men and elves, a tall figure watched the returning Scouts filter in. Except for one, who seemed to be their leader, the weary group went in search of water... food... and (he was quite sure) some much-needed rest.

The banter and laughter - for the time being, 'washed' over the watching elf... he was 'aware' of it, but - as he'd once have done, could not - yet - join in.

Blue-eyed, and with long, dark-blond hair, 'rested' Garavorn was now... in body, if not in 'spirit'. - But, the past days and weeks had 'robbed' the ellon of his usual 'lightheartedness'... and he had not been able to 'shake off' the trials and horrors he'd been though - not yet, anyway.

And, there had been many... he'd fought as hard as anyone to preserve the Elven-King's Realm, but to no avail. - And so, bruised, battered, and bearing clear 'signs' of his battles, Garavorn had escaped Westward.

Knowing he dare not use the 'normal' passes through the Hithaeglir, the elf had had to forge his own... and crossing the Misty Mountains where he was certain no goblin, no orc, no enemy could follow... and slowly made his way to Imladris, to the Haven of Lord Elrond's Enchanted Valley.

Wearily, Garavorn had told his story - and for an ellon who'd always enjoyed spinning a yarn, this one was hard to tell. - For, it was nothing 'like' he could ever have created from his own 'imagination'.

But, as the elleth moved to speak with the Military Advisors... he realized it was Eldarwen, of his own destroyed home, and Garavorn sidled closer... unobtrusively, but near enough for his elven-ears to pick up the conversation...
But such was not so. "What news?" Eldarwen asked; watching the small company drift off to get water, clean clothes and food. She, however, moved straight over to the military advisors; an elf named, Finias.

"We've recieved reports of Easterlings heading North and North West." Fionas said, point at the map and showing her the trail with his finger. His elven eyes turned to her. "What saw you?"

She nodded. "The truth in those rumors," She said sadly, leaning on the small table and pointing out their trail once more. "Easterlings move closer - we can only suspect a planned attack. Two days. Maybe more, should they come to an unexpected stop." She said.

"We'll be ready." Fionas nodded slowly. "More elves have arrived....it seems Mirkwood had been overrun, but some escaped." Eldarwen nodded slowly, already knowing the truth in that. Her poor homewood... now overrun with those vile creatures. To think of it. Eldarwen was just greatful that her parents had sailed already. Saying her farewells to Finias for now, Eldarwen joined her company, and sat down to get some water and food. It was most welcomed and needed.

After a few moments of looking after the Scout Leader, Garavorn silently followed... stopping by Eldarwen's elbow. It had been long since they'd seen each other... but then, for those who's life-span matched the World's, what was 'long' and what 'not'?

But, with a slight bow - slight, since he was still somewhat 'sore' from his hard journey, "Hiril, do you remember me? - Garavorn?" the elf inquired, and nodded politely at Eldarwen's company. "It is no 'seeming' that Mirkwood is 'lost'," he went on, "For I did not leave until Hope had vanished from the underground caverns. - But... if you can use One who is skilled in the warrior-arts, I would be happy to join your group..."

((P.S. since Garavorn was originally from Mirkwood, hope it's ok that he knows Eldarwen - or at least knows 'of' her. If I need to edit anything, let me know!))
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
Heart_of_Courage
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 01, 2006 10:22
((ooc: A lovely intro, it was, so my thanks to you for joining in - I don't mind if they know each other It's rather nice))

"Hiril, do you remember me? - Garavorn?" The elf inquired, and nodded politely at Eldarwen's company. She turned slowly, and found her eyes resting upon Garavorn. A smile crossed her fair lips as she nodded in return to him. "Indeed, I do remember thy face... and I am happy to see you too have survived the downfalling of our beloved wood." She said, her blue eyes drifting down slowly in thought, before raising again to look at him.

"It is no 'seeming' that Mirkwood is 'lost'," He went on, "For I did not leave until hope had vanished from the underground caverns. But... if you can use one who is skilled in the warrior-arts, I would be happy to join your group..." He said strongly and supportively.

Eldarwen smiled to him softly, and nodded. "We all fight for the same cause now, mellon nîn." She said, patting him on the arm. "And any troupe, be it mine or another, would be fortunate to have such a skilled blade in their midst." Eldarwen said, complimenting the elf of her realm. "I know not when next we set out... but I have no doubt it will be soon. More servants of the Dark Lord move towards our last havens. Eomer's front, too, battles them, as we do. Already there are rumors that they have feld their stronghold... and make way for Imladris." She told him gravely.

Her eyes shifted briefly, towards the tired men and elves who had just returned... and the elves and men who were getting ready to head out. By request of their higher chieftons... they were to travel and scout in groups and sections - always able to give those returning enough time to rest and recooperate. "Garavorn... " She began slowly. "I fear to think that soon enough... Imladris will be the only haven left." She said, voicing her concern to the male elf beside her.


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


His nimble lithe legs enabled him to hop from rock to rock, which were embedded within the flowing widestream. The water flowed around the larger rocks which Mornian moved to and from - looking for a good spot. He loved coming here. The overhanging willow and birch trees gave the wood an even cozier feeling, especially when streams of sunlight were abled to pass through and reflect off the water. However, streams of light barely passed through the darkened clouds of late. So long had it been since anyone had seen the beloved sunlight. It was missed.

The whole thing seemed otherworldly. And though this place was beautiful, even under shadow, Mornian still longed for days of light and merriment. Those barely existed anymore... not since the loss of the Ring, and the enslavement of all free peoples alike; be they Elf, Dwarf, Human or Hobbit. Those poor Hobbits.

Stopping on a large slanted rock, Mornian poised himself in a ready position - he watched the waters silently, blue eyes searching. Finally, he smiled and slid off the bow which had been positioned on his shoulder. He reached back and pulled an arrow out from the quiver, and readied his bow with impecable percision. Something he'd learned from his master and teacher.

Waiting, Mornian was still as stone; many people came to such a place in order to sit and be with themselves. He, was fishing. The camp needed a good supply of food, and while the Twins of Elrond did their best, it was required to, at times, pick from the bounty of their waters. Fish was pleasing to most everyone. Especially in times as these.

Pausing for only another moment, the arrow was released, and whizzed into the water with great speed. Smiling, Mornian reached down and picked up the arrow from the shallow rake of the stream; on the end, was a dead fish. He gazed at it for a moment, before sliding the fish off the end of his arrow and placing it flat on the rock. He took another arrow from the quiver and aimed again; he was to catch three fish. It was a menial task... but the elf sentinal did not mind doing it. He enjoyed getting away from the camp - leaving the councils and meetings and discussions behind, if only for an hour or two.

He was one to be looked to, especially by those of his company here with him... and those that knew him by reputation.
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 01, 2006 03:50
(Intro for someone on the inside of Mordor...and the four friends-two elves, a Rohannian and a ranger- for anyone who might want to pick up one of them as well.)

Adrahil sat in the shadows with the three men, and elf from Rivendell, a rider from from Rohan and a ranger from the north. The chaos that surrounded them was the only thing that allowed them these few moments. "You said you saw Meriadoc and Peregrine? You're certain? You know who they are?" The ranger, the one whose arm he had grabbed and of whom he had asked the questions, answered, "Yes, I remember them from their stay with Lord Elrond before the council meeting. I know it was them. I'm positive!"

Adrahil eyes searched the area, peeking out from behind the corner of the tent. The orcs were sitting around several small fires, eating, drinking and sharpening their weapons. Near a small slope of stones, were at least 10 'slaves' that had been added to the campsite this evening. They all looked frightened, not knowing what was going to happen to them in the near future. Adrahil could have told them, having been captured himself on a trip from Dol Amroth to what was left of Minas Tirith. As the Prince of the sea side city of Dol Amroth, he had been a highly cheered prisoner, the orcs clapping each other on their scaly, scarred backs and laughing their harsh laughs. He had been bound and gagged, and dragged off to the north, to the black gates of Mordor, to Morannon. In the past week, he had been stripped of his elegant tunic, embroidered with the symbol of his family, the White Swan Ship, though he had been left with his 'once' snow white, long sleeved shirt and his leggings. His only cover in the long chilly nights was the filthy cloak of a dead slave and his heart ached for the times that used to be....the clear blue skies and the turquoise seas, the smell of the salty air as the breezes blew across the flowered meadows. The skies were now overcast in gray, the seas murky and brown, and the flowers were gone in the fields trampled into an expanse of muddy battlefields.

The three he was now whispering to and he had been put to work collecting armor and weapons, lugging it to a blacksmith, who it turned out was an elf formerly from Rivendell. Most all of their kind that they had seen were cowered into obedience by fear, beatings, and starvation. But the blacksmith and his friends refused to give up. There had to be a way out of here and they needed to find a way to contact the outside world. At first, they had thought perhaps that there was little left of anyone to contact but the blacksmith elf had told them that there were holdouts throughout Middle Earth, small compounds like Rivendell where elf and man, dwarf and hobbit, still held hope. He had told them the shire was no longer the green haven it had once been, the hobbits had been overcome and either hid in their hobbit holes or toiled as chattles under the overseer assigned by Sauron. Lorien still maintained its isolation, thanks to the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, though it was surrounded by the minions of the dark lord. Thranduil and his people were enclosed in their caves and though holding the evil at bay, had difficulty in traveling beyond their realm. Elrond and Rivendell still stood but were teetering on the edge of disaster. The dunedain rangers moved freely as they always had, knowing the sheltered places to hide, but they were being caught in large numbers by the roaming orcs.

The news was shattering but the fact that the people of Middle Earth were holding on to whatever hope was left gave Adrahil and his friends hope as well. He had been encouraging a small hawk to eat from his hand and only this morning the bird had taken a small bit of crumb from his palm. He believed he could tame the bird and perhaps use it to send messages. But now, he focussed on the three sitting with him.

"We must find a way to get to Merry and Pippen. We must find out if they've seen Frodo and Samwise and we must try and find them ourselves." Glancing around at the sound of raucous laughter moving closer to their hiding place, he said, "And right now, we must get back to work before they find us meeting like this. They will separate us for conspiracy and we will lose all the ground we've gained. Hurry, pick up that load of armor," he said, as he filled his arms with rusty orc swords, and lowering his head meekly, he staggered passed the orcs as they came around the corner of the tent, submissively bowing with his eyes lowered as he passed them.
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
Heart_of_Courage
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 01, 2006 05:13
(from the camps in the flatlands for the prisoners)

Hathën sat uneasily - listening to his other captive companions as they spoke heatedly and intensely. "You said you saw Meriadoc and Peregrine? You're certain? You know who they are?" One Adrahil asked. The ranger, the one whose arm he had grabbed and of whom he had asked the questions, answered, "Yes, I remember them from their stay with Lord Elrond before the council meeting. I know it was them. I'm positive!" Said he.

The Rohan man inhaled deeply, but held his tongue for now. Their small group had been chosen to collect armour and weaponry - to shift over to the blacksmith.. some for repair and others for rebuilding. Improvement. But Eru knows those orcs did enjoy a bloody, rusty blade every once in a while. More painful, more excruciating to those on the other end of it. Damed foul creatures they were. Hathën had done nothing but think about Edoras and Rohan for the past few days.... or rather, since his capture. He wondered if he people were safe. His friends. His king and Lord Eomer. A good man, that.

Only once or twice did he think of Gondor... his 'original' bred home, or so he'd found out. But that cursed place was not his home. No. His family deserted him and betrayed him to the elements... leaving him for dead. If it were not for the servant Fionas and his administrations and care in Edoras - Hathën would not be the man he was today; the loyal, strong man he was.

"We must find a way to get to Merry and Pippen. We must find out if they've seen Frodo and Samwise and we must try and find them ourselves." He said - the words and voice bringing Hathën from his thoughts once more. Glancing around at the sound of raucous laughter moving closer to their hiding place, he said, "And right now, we must get back to work before they find us meeting like this. They will separate us for conspiracy and we will lose all the ground we've gained. Hurry, pick up that load of armor," He said, as he filled his arms with rusty orc swords.

Hathën and the others did the same - standing, and lugging out the rustic and heavy orc armour out and past the lurching orcs. Nodding and keeping his eyes focused downwards, Hathën moved forward, and kept pace with Adrahil. "I believe our concerns should stretch much further than wondering if the hobbits are alright," Hathën said, honestly. "There are graver things at stake. Word has been passed... I have overheard these foul creatures on more occasions. It is said that Mirkwood has been taken, it's forces breeched - and those that could have also fled to Rivendell... joining the remaining forces there." Hathën said intently, eyes focused upon Adrahil.

Pausing, the reached the small armoury tent set up - and piled the loose and dented armour before it. Turning, they began to head back... Hathën keeping his dark eyes fixed upon the orcs ahead, noting to silence himself should they grow suspicious or furraled at speaking slaves. "Things grow worse. I can only imagine the nightmare Eomer and his forces face... as well as your kin, and those of the elven people." He told him. "Our only hope is to begin our own rebellion... gather our own people, our own forces, from within. Our friends, our family - they need our help, as much as we need theirs, my friend." Hathën said.

The young man was not one to sit idlely by... and watch as the world he loved succomed to evil. Many felt this way. Hense, why, even in their prison camps... there were those that stayed strong. There were those outside the camps who still faught. There were those who believed in an age of coming light. Those who believed in hope.
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 02, 2006 09:40
((well... intro'ing another char - my young Dwarf named Falin. Hope it's ok!))

Eldarwen smiled to him softly, and nodded. "We all fight for the same cause now, mellon nîn." She said, patting him on the arm. "And any troupe, be it mine or another, would be fortunate to have such a skilled blade in their midst." Eldarwen said, complimenting the elf of her realm. "I know not when next we set out... but I have no doubt it will be soon. More servants of the Dark Lord move towards our last havens. Eomer's front, too, battles them, as we do. Already there are rumors that they have feld their stronghold... and make way for Imladris." She told him gravely.

Her eyes shifted briefly, towards the tired men and elves who had just returned... and the elves and men who were getting ready to head out. By request of their higher chieftons... they were to travel and scout in groups and sections - always able to give those returning enough time to rest and recooperate. "Garavorn... " She began slowly. "I fear to think that soon enough... Imladris will be the only haven left." She said, voicing her concern to the male elf beside her.

"I fear it will be so," Garavorn answered gravely, and pulled an empty chair from another table to sit beside the elleth. "We can only thank - in his absence - Hîr Elrond for his spell of Protection on this Valley that has kept it 'free' so far. - But, how long can it last from an assault by Sauron's minions?" His last question was asked with a sigh, and what 'answer' could anyone give?

Yet… the elf would fight to his last breath… and for that he'd come to Rivendell. Garavorn had nearly done so in Mirkwood - but wanted at least *one* more 'chance' to battle the Dark Lord's forces, and just then, a burst of laughter came from another table nearby… in response to some 'amusing' story someone had shared.

Maybe, the ellon thought to himself, it was 'time' to begin spinning his own Tales again… and so, trying to 'lift' his own spirits (as well as the Scouts'), Garavorn began to relate how he (as an elfling) and two friends had decided to scale the inner wall of King Thranduil's Throne Room in the underground caverns of Mirkwood. - And, with 'winks' and 'grins', spoke of the ensuing 'trouble' they'd been in. - The 'description' of which was one sure to put smiles on the most war-weary of hearts…

When he'd fallen silent again… the elf realized he'd forgotten that laughter could be it's own 'release' from worry and tension. As he then finished his own meal (brought during the telling of his recount), Garavorn was thoughtful. Eldarwen didn't know 'when' she and her scouts would be heading out again, but, "When you are ready to leave, I will be so as well," Garavorn nodded, and glanced over the elleth's company. "In the meantime," the ellon offered, "I can help with getting your supplies renewed while you rest. - If you would like…"

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

From behind a screen of thick bushes, Falin watched as an elf jumped from rock to rock in the middle of the fast-moving stream he'd been camping by. Though… no fire had he lit… it was too 'dangerous' for *that*. Even residual smoke from burned-out embers could attract a lurking enemy - the young Dwarf had learned THAT lesson all-too quickly.

And, Falin wasn't sure (even now) whether to 'rue' the day he'd come above-ground from his home, deep in the Blue Mountains of Middle Earth. - But… he had, and had had one 'harrowing' escape after another… bearing a newly-healed slice on his right leg that still made him limp as 'proof' of his experiences.

But, driven ever farther 'away' from everything he'd ever known… across the (now) 'ruined' Shire to where he now was hiding, Falin had discovered he wasn't 'prepared' for the Outside World… even if Sauron's orcs and henchmen hadn't been everywhere the Dwarf hadn't 'expected' them to be…
Stopping on a large slanted rock, Mornian poised himself in a ready position - he watched the waters silently, blue eyes searching. Finally, he smiled and slid off the bow which had been positioned on his shoulder. He reached back and pulled an arrow out from the quiver, and readied his bow with impecable percision. Waiting, Mornian was still as stone;
Pausing for only another moment, the arrow was released, and whizzed into the water with great speed. Smiling, Mornian reached down and picked up the arrow from the shallow rake of the stream; on the end, was a dead fish. He gazed at it for a moment, before sliding the fish off the end of his arrow and placing it flat on the rock. He took another arrow from the quiver and aimed again

As he watched the elf 'catch' one fish, and prepare to get another, Falin's mouth began to water. Oh, how hard he'd tried to do the same - only yesterday!

But… his lone axe was 'unwieldy' in the water… and he wasn't fast enough to grab the slippery morsels in his hands.

Throwing rocks at them (mostly out of frustrated desperation) hadn't worked, either… and, despite the fact that fish weren't the young Dwarf's first 'preference' for a meal, as he'd tried to get some sleep on the third night of eating nothing at all, Falin knew he'd been glad of having it.

As a third fish was added to the first two, and the elf prepared to leave, a small moan escaped Falin's lips… and instantly, he winced. - And, knowing he'd no other 'choice' (and shoving aside his 'natural' dwarven instincts that screamed 'Never trust an elf!' through his mind, he rose stiffly, and (nervously) made his way through the brush to face the elven-fisherman.

Great, hungry eyes fastened on the elf's 'catch'… but (tearing them away), the Dwarf licked his lips. "I… um… my name's 'Falin'. - And… uh… I don't 'suppose'," Falin stammered, "That, um, any one of those little 'beasties' ye got hold of might be an 'extra' one… might they?"


[Edited on 2/8/2006 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 02, 2006 10:50
Hathën moved forward, and kept pace with Adrahil. "I believe our concerns should stretch much further than wondering if the hobbits are alright," Hathën said, honestly. "There are graver things at stake. Word has been passed... I have overheard these foul creatures on more occasions. It is said that Mirkwood has been taken, it's forces breeched - and those that could have also fled to Rivendell... joining the remaining forces there." Hathën said intently, eyes focused upon Adrahil.


Adrahil glanced at Hathën from the corner of his eyes, hurriedly lowering them again as they passed a group of carousing orcs. "Hathën, it is not only my concern for the welfare of the hobbits that I ask of them. Not that I do not care but they may have information that we could use as they have only just arrived." An uruk-hai appeared in front of the pair, standing tall and powerful, "What are you two talking about. You've been told not to talk. Now get on with your work," he growled and slammed Adrahil on the back as he passed. Adrahil lost his footing and his armload of weapons fell to the ground. A group of orcs lifted their heads and when they saw the fear in the eye of the mortal, guffawed raucously. "You dropped somethin', worm. Pick it up and move along," said one.

Adrahil did as he was ordered and continued on with Hathën to the shack that had been set up as the smith and next to it, the tent that served as the armoury. There they dropped the assortment of weapons and armour they carried.

Pausing, the reached the small armoury tent set up - and piled the loose and dented armour before it. Turning, they began to head back... Hathën keeping his dark eyes fixed upon the orcs ahead, noting to silence himself should they grow suspicious or furraled at speaking slaves. "Things grow worse. I can only imagine the nightmare Eomer and his forces face... as well as your kin, and those of the elven people." He told him. "Our only hope is to begin our own rebellion... gather our own people, our own forces, from within. Our friends, our family - they need our help, as much as we need theirs, my friend." Hathën said.


"Think you I do not worry for those still on the outside? And your idea has already taken seed. Two days before your arrival, several of us began to develop a plan." He nodded toward the blacksmith, working in the open walled shack next to where they stood. "He is one as well as the ranger and the elf we just left. We meet when we can, as we just did, or even better during whatever meal they give us." He grinned with amusement as he looked at Hathën. "Far better to scheme and plan than to eat the muck they serve us."

As they began to walk back to pick up more weapons, he quietly continued, keeping his eye on the orcs and holding his tongue as they passed. "We can also talk at night when the orcs have had their fill of drink and nod off. You must find a way to stay close to us so you can join our talks. I have a hawk almost trained enough to send him beyond the Ephel Duath, the mountains of Shadow, hopefully to reach some of the rangers still holed up in Ithilien. If we can coordinate our actions....well, all is hope....and a lot of luck. But we welcome you to our small band of insurrectionists," he smiled, clapping Hathën's shoulder. "All ideas of insubordination and sabotage are most welcome."
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
Eveligh
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 03, 2006 06:04
((Thank you Heart_of_Courage for letting me join! Hopefully this post is alright, let me know otherwise. ))

The orcs stood jeering over their captives of the rohirrim company making way to safety of Rivendell. The captives were knelt with their heads bowed as the jeering turned to debate over where the effort of their newfound ‘slaves’ was to be placed. The company had been captured on road to Rivendell, with their horses slain and those that had fled cut down those that remained were then brought to Mordor. Rielwyn, sister of Beadumod, Marshal of Rohan was among them. Nervously did she exchange glances with Rider by her side and then hastily return her eyes to look to the small pile of armoury before her.

Each rider stripped of their weapons, spears, helms and swords laid piled before their previous master. The mail shirt and sword within Rielwyn’s own items had been given to her by Beadumod on their parting hoping that they would not be needed. He had sent his sister a head of him to Rivendell convinced that it was there that she would be safest. Beadumod was to travel but a few days after her bringing a message from the Lord Eomer to the forces that held in the elven land.

Rohan’s own forces were not holding, Eomer King was fast losing his number of riders and horses. And so the Marshal had sent his sister ahead fearing that soon they would be overrun and how he would despair if he could see where his sister was now. In the very land he wished to keep her from. The orc band had wasted no time in bringing the company into the midst of a camp, few had jeered as they were brought in and then made to kneel and wait as the captors debated.

“I say we send ‘em to collect armoury with the others, giving up their own first.” Rohan maiden’s thoughts were returned to their present situation, as the orc debate grew louder. There was muttering of agreement and the first Rohir was brought to his feet, “To the armoury with you slaves!” he ordered bringing another to stand and pushing him towards the tent as the rider took up his gear.

The man stumbled and his gear scattered as Rielwyn got to her own feet, in a moment the orcs were about him yelling as he was brought up his neck. With lowered eyes Rielwyn followed the men of her company as they brought their armoury to be turned to weapons against them.

As Rielwyn waited and followed she wondered at her brothers present state, had he yet learned that she was not within the haven of Rivendell? Had the message he and others were sent to tell be brought to light? Rohan would soon fall and it was the will of the King Eomer that had prevented it from happening thus far. Just then the Rider behind Rielwyn tripped but caught himself before he fell, his helm fell from his arms and clattered by Rielwyn as she moved toward the armoury. She did not reach to pick it up but watched as it crashed to a halt near the tent.
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 03, 2006 07:53
"I… um… my name's Falin. - And… uh… I don't suppose," Falin stammered, "That, um, any one of those little beasties ye got hold of might be an extra one… might they?" The gruff voice asked.

Slowly, Mornian turned his head in order to fully look at the dwarf who now stood in plain view by the streamside. He'd heard the dwarf, naturally, before he had even begun to speak. And honestly, the blonde haired elf had expected some kind of snappy comment about his 'form' or the 'way' he was fishing. However - that was not the case for this dwarf. He seemed more concerned with his rumbling stomach.

The elf glanced down to the three fishes he'd caught, then drew his blue eyes back up to the dwarf. "You may help yourself, Master Dwarf, to two of my caught fish." He said, turning back and pausing, before shooting another arrow into the waters. "I intend to catch many more." Part of that sentence perhaps might come off as a bit arrogant on Mornian's part... but he didn't care. It was true. "This stream is quite bountiful." He mumbled, slightly to himself but it was aloud.

Picking off another fish from his shot-arrow... Mornian tossed it with the others, now enabling four in the pile. He began to notch another arrow, prepared to keep going, especially if this dwarf was going to take two. Mornian turned his eyes back to the dwarf. "I've not seen many dwarves here...." Mornian admitted. "I assumed most stayed within their caverned caves - battling orcs and goblins on their own front," The elf said. True enough, he was sure all parts and races of Middle Earth were now seeing battle.


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


Adrahil glanced at Hathën from the corner of his eyes, hurriedly lowering them again as they passed a group of carousing orcs. "Hathën, it is not only my concern for the welfare of the hobbits that I ask of them. Not that I do not care but they may have information that we could use as they have only just arrived." An uruk-hai appeared in front of the pair, standing tall and powerful, "What are you two talking about. You've been told not to talk. Now get on with your work," he growled and slammed Adrahil on the back as he passed. Adrahil lost his footing and his armload of weapons fell to the ground. A group of orcs lifted their heads and when they saw the fear in the eye of the mortal, guffawed raucously. "You dropped somethin', worm. Pick it up and move along," said one.

Adrahil did as he was ordered and continued on with Hathën to the shack that had been set up as the smith and next to it, the tent that served as the armoury. There they dropped the assortment of weapons and armour they carried.


Pausing, the reached the small armoury tent set up - and piled the loose and dented armour before it. Turning, they began to head back... Hathën keeping his dark eyes fixed upon the orcs ahead, noting to silence himself should they grow suspicious or furraled at speaking slaves. "Things grow worse. I can only imagine the nightmare Eomer and his forces face... as well as your kin, and those of the elven people." He told him. "Our only hope is to begin our own rebellion... gather our own people, our own forces, from within. Our friends, our family - they need our help, as much as we need theirs, my friend." Hathën said.

"Think you I do not worry for those still on the outside? And your idea has already taken seed. Two days before your arrival, several of us began to develop a plan." He nodded toward the blacksmith, working in the open walled shack next to where they stood. "He is one as well as the ranger and the elf we just left. We meet when we can, as we just did, or even better during whatever meal they give us." He grinned with amusement as he looked at Hathën. "Far better to scheme and plan than to eat the muck they serve us."

As they began to walk back to pick up more weapons, he quietly continued, keeping his eye on the orcs and holding his tongue as they passed. "We can also talk at night when the orcs have had their fill of drink and nod off. You must find a way to stay close to us so you can join our talks. I have a hawk almost trained enough to send him beyond the Ephel Duath, the mountains of Shadow, hopefully to reach some of the rangers still holed up in Ithilien. If we can coordinate our actions....well, all is hope....and a lot of luck. But we welcome you to our small band of insurrectionists," he smiled, clapping Hathën's shoulder. "All ideas of insubordination and sabotage are most welcome."


Hathën sighed, glancing towards the gathered orcs briefly. "I can only hope such a thing will work..." He mumbled to himself. Springing an attack, while beit their only hope, was a dangerous one, at that. They were all weaker - at least, weaker than usual. But it was then his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a few more slaves; some women this time. Hathën sighed. He felt more sorry for the women in their midst... granted, they were strong or heart and soul, but most could barely withstand the physical pains endured in such a place as this. Shifting his dark eyes to the orcs once more, Hathën attempted to keep one ear to their conversation as he picked up more metal armour.

"Within the month, then..." One of the larger orcs gruffed out. "We'll keep 'em here... then Gorbeck can shift 'em off to Dol Guldur. Mirkwood's in the power of Sauron now." He chuckled, some of the others laughing sickly along with him. "Some of this lot is gettin' a bit weak anyway..." He said, turning his eyes to Hathën and the others. The man drew his eyes away quickly, looking back to his task. "Cuttin' down them trees will do 'em all good." He laughed.

Standing with another armload - Hathën began to again, make another trip to carry it back to the tent... thinking over what he'd heard. Within the month - as it appeared - most of them would be shipped over to the realm of Mirkwood, to Dol Guldur. Shipped over. A long hike it was, and probably little rest of mercy to show for it.... but still... it would be the opportune moment to spring their rebellion - given if the right planning was taken within the month of their station here. Perhaps even, send work to Rivendell for outside forces to help with the attack. Hathën's dark eyes shifted to Adrahil once more, hoping the young prince was indeed thinking the same thing.

As he dumped the amrour back into it's intended place - Hathën found himself now standing beside the newly arrived young woman he'd seen before. "Are you alright?..." He asked quietly and calmly to her. Hathën figured he might as well try to show some support... even comfort to the girl. Most people were scared. With every reason. So far, Middle Earth was descending at a rapid rate.
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 03, 2006 10:18
Nervously, Falin waited as the elf turned his head to observe him... half-wondering if the fisherman would send the nocked shaft through his heart. Elves and Dwarves weren't the 'best' of friends... they hadn't been for... well... longer than young Falin could grasp. - But... 'times' were *different* now... weren't they?
The elf glanced down to the three fishes he'd caught, then drew his blue eyes back up to the dwarf. "You may help yourself, Master Dwarf, to two of my caught fish." He said, turning back and pausing, before shooting another arrow into the waters. "I intend to catch many more." "This stream is quite bountiful." He mumbled, slightly to himself but it was aloud.

"Thankee," Falin's empty stomach was almost sitting up and begging... but (for the moment) he stayed put, not wanting to 'interfere' with the elf's task.
Picking off another fish from his shot-arrow... Mornian tossed it with the others, now enabling four in the pile. He began to notch another arrow, prepared to keep going, especially if this dwarf was going to take two. Mornian turned his eyes back to the dwarf. "I've not seen many dwarves here...." Mornian admitted. "I assumed most stayed within their caverned caves - battling orcs and goblins on their own front," The elf said.

"They are... mostly," Falin nodded, and cautiously (for the rocks were a bit 'farther' apart than his short legs could manage) began making his way closer... though he winced when his sore limb 'twinged' with the effort.

"I was stupid, and came aboveground... I can't even remember 'why' now... but I almost got 'caught' trying to get back. - Almost got killed a couple'a times, too," the young Dwarf added, and then stopped short of the rock the ellon was standing on, and painfully sat down. As hungry as he was, Falin was willing to 'wait' until the elf had finished catching as many as he wanted before grabbing 'his' two.

And, peering into the stream... the squirmy, slithery, beasties the elf was catching so neatly, were as plentiful as when Falin had failed.

"I... um... don't suppose," the Dwarf ventured to say... his voice 'gruff', though still (for a dwarf) 'politely', "You'd be willing to give me your name... seein' as how I gave you mine."
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 04, 2006 06:08
Beadumod was sat with his company newly arrived in Rivendell. His head was bowed and his brow furrowed with his troubled thoughts as he recalled the moment he had entered Rivendell. The Rohirrim Company had travelled with all haste riding under the dim grey of the day and the endless dark of night until they had reached the River Bruinen. The Marshal had halted and looked back over his Company, they had seemed to follow him in a drifting manner. The horses as tired and weary as their Riders shifted and snorted as they waited.
“My Lord?” The Marshal’s attention was drawn to the Rider who appeared by his side, the head of his steed hung low his ears flicking this way and that as he listened to the smallest sound.
“We cross now.” Beadumod said and stroking his mounts side pushed on to cross the River Bruinen.

When Beadumod had entered he saw that many men and elves were gathered talking and even at times laughing. It made his heart a little lighter to see that friendships could be found in this time. Yet this feeling was short lived. No sign had he seen of the party he had sent ahead, Rohan’s banner seemed to be absent and Beadumod dismounted. He had expected a greeting in the form of his sister coming to greet him, her smile glad that he had arrived as promised. Yet it was not so and now he was sitting, listening to the talk about him as he wondered at the fate of his sister.
“My Lord.” Breaking his thought Beadumod looked up to see his scout bow to him and with a nod the Marshal bid him to speak. “I have asked many of your sisters party, lord. No sight has been seen of them but few advised that you should speak with the newly returned scouting-party.” The Rider gave direction of the newly returned with a bow of his head and Beadumod followed his gaze.

“Indeed I shall.” And with saying such, Beadumod rose to his feet to go and seek answers to his most troubling question. Reaching the party Beadumod bowed respectfully, “I wonder if I might ask of your sightings on the road to Rivendell?” the Marshal asked the Scout Leader with some uncertainty.

~*~

Reaching the makeshift armoury Rielwyn gave up the gifts her brother had given before turning with her gaze still lowered to follow the others. They were now collecting any amour or weapons that could be found, turning them over as they had done their own things. Taking as heavy a load as she could Rielwyn returned to the tent again, thinking of her path to Rivendell as she did so. Never had she stepped foot inside the elven haven and she wondered at its beauty. When Beadumod had informed her that she was to be riding there she had objected but within she found herself wanting to see the last true strong hold of elves and men.

As he dumped the amrour back into it's intended place - Hathën found himself now standing beside the newly arrived young woman he'd seen before. "Are you alright?..." He asked quietly and calmly to her. Hathën figured he might as well try to show some support... even comfort to the girl. Most people were scared. With every reason. So far, Middle Earth was descending at a rapid rate.


It was as she was placing down this heavy armload that Rielwyn heard the voice beside her. Lifting her grey eyes to meet the dark ones of the speaker Rielwyn replied in a whisper.
“As well as one can be in such a place as this.” At hearing the orders of the orcs behind her Rielwyn looked to the stranger and the man in the stained white shirt near to him. Keeping her voice lowered she asked: “How do you fare?” And then with a quick glance about, “Have you been prisoner long?”

[Edited on 4/8/2006 by Eveligh]
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 04, 2006 03:48
(sorry, this is really bad but don't know what to say.....strange for a big mouth like me. LOL)

The newest captives included women, all Rohannions by the color of their hair and their weaponry and armor. Adrahil felt his shoulders sag at what he knew would be their fate and vowed to protect as many of the women as he could. Looking at Hathen, they both walked as close to the first one they saw.

Hathën found himself now standing beside the newly arrived young woman he'd seen before. "Are you alright?..." He asked quietly and calmly to her.


Adrahil kept watch of the orcs, knowing they would come down on them should they see the two speaking to the woman.

Keeping her voice lowered she asked: “How do you fare?” And then with a quick glance about, “Have you been prisoner long?”


He let Hathen speak quietly to the woman, hearing that her group had been assigned to the armory just as the they were, and leaned forward, whispering to the woman. "This is Hathen, and my name is Adrahil. You are assigned to our group so stay close to us. We will do our best to care for you. What is your name, m'lady?"

As the next few days passed, Adrahil and Hathen continued there scheming, talking whenever possible to the smithy, the ranger and the elf from Imladris. They kept Rielwyn close to them, though the orcs made it difficult. For some reason, they liked to work the women harder than most could take, and many had dropped to the ground, being picked up by the orcs and dragged away. Adrahil, as often as possible without getting caught, did the work assigned to the women, particularly Rielwyn's, who he liked very much for her toughness and fortitude.

He had worked with his hawk, who he named Nightwing, and had sent his first message off beyond the mountains, and now at night, when the orcs were busy with their raucous gatherings and their drink, he watched the skies. Late one night, he heard the 'grack' of the hawk and he stood up, near enough to a fire to watch the sky above. Within minutes, the hawk swooped down from the clouds, landing on Adrahil's out held arm. Tied to one leg was a small roll of parchment, which Adrahil untied and the unrolled, peering at it in the light of the fire. When he was finished, he fed the hawk a scrap of his own night meal that he had kept in his waist band for just this occasion. "I wish it could be more, Nightwing, for this is news indeed and you deserve much for bringing it." Patting the hawk on the feathers of his head, he rose and crept slowly towards the armory and the smith shop, where Hathen and the smithy were faking activity while whispering together.

"Hathen, look," he said, slipping the parchment to his friend's hand. While Hathen read, he turned to the smithy, repeating what was in the parchment. "Faramir wants to know when they are planning to move us out of Mordor to Dol Guldor. He and his rangers will intercept us on our way, and free us. We need to know exactly when so I can send Nightwing with a message."
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 07, 2006 03:35
Eldarwen's eyes shifted briefly, towards the tired men and elves who had just returned... and the elves and men who were getting ready to head out. By request of their higher chieftons... they were to travel and scout in groups and sections - always able to give those returning enough time to rest and recooperate. "Garavorn... " She began slowly. "I fear to think that soon enough... Imladris will be the only haven left." She said, voicing her concern to the male elf beside her.

"I fear it will be so," Garavorn answered gravely. "We can only thank - in his absence - Hîr Elrond for his spell of Protection on this Valley that has kept it 'free' so far. - But, how long can it last from an assault by Sauron's minions?" His last question was asked with a sigh, and what 'answer' could anyone give?

"When you are ready to leave, I will be so as well," Garavorn nodded, and glanced over the elleth's company. "In the meantime," the ellon offered, "I can help with getting your supplies renewed while you rest. - If you would like…"


Eldarwen nodded, turning from where she stood - gazing into her own thoughts while looking at the camp. "Thank you, mellon nîn. As I said - we shall not be heading out for a while. There are at least three to five other scouting parties ready for their own leave. Mine is governed by Lord Mornian Lonigh... from Lothlorien. When he gives such a word - only then do we take our leave." She informed him.

However, another soon came into their midst. A man. “I wonder if I might ask of your sightings on the road to Rivendell?” The human asked, looking in Eldarwen's direction.

"Of course." Eldarwen nodded. "Easterling tribes moving North and Northwest as rumored... prisoner camps shifting monthly by orc lead... and Mirkwood was recently lost." She told him, her blue eyes lowering a bit after the last words. Hitting home. "I am afraid that is all I can tell you." She said. Pausing, she looked behind him to his party. "And where is it you hail from?.... I have not seen you before." Eldarwen said curiously.


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


"They are... mostly," Falin nodded, and cautiously (for the rocks were a bit 'farther' apart than his short legs could manage) began making his way closer... though he winced when his sore limb 'twinged' with the effort.

"I was stupid, and came aboveground... I can't even remember 'why' now... but I almost got 'caught' trying to get back. - Almost got killed a couple'a times, too," the young Dwarf added, and then stopped short of the rock the ellon was standing on, and painfully sat down. As hungry as he was, Falin was willing to 'wait' until the elf had finished catching as many as he wanted before grabbing 'his' two.

And, peering into the stream... the squirmy, slithery, beasties the elf was catching so neatly, were as plentiful as when Falin had failed.

"I... um... don't suppose," the Dwarf ventured to say... his voice 'gruff', though still (for a dwarf) 'politely', "You'd be willing to give me your name... seein' as how I gave you mine."


Mornian turned his head, again slowly, to look upon the dwarf curiously. How odd it was indeed... that a dwarf should remain rather tolerable around one who was not of his same race. Especially an elf. "Forgive me, Falin," He said, nodding to him briefly. "I am Mornian Lonigh - sentinal of Lothlorien." He said, introducing himself. Pausing, the elf shot another arrow down rather quickly... and upon pulling it up - not one, but two fish lay stuck upon it.

Smiling to himself, Mornian reached down and picked up his string arrowed fish... before he nimbily jumped from one large rocking to the next, until again reaching solid earth... now beside the dwarf. Setting down the fish, he left them there to allow the dwarf to take whatever two he wished. Perhaps Mornian would come back later. "Well, Master Dwarf, perhaps it is a noble fate which brings you into our midsts here... to assist us in fighting against those forces which, not only overrun your home, but now, threaten to overrun ours." He said strongly, patting the dwarf on the shoulder briefly.

Though he wasn't too fond of Dwarves, Mornian was making a great effort to be civil. Normally he found them to be rather rude, ugly and crude people. But Falin did not seem to wish him any discomfort, and was perhaps just a hungry dwarf in need of some brief conversation and companionship for the moment.


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

"Keeping her voice lowered she asked: “How do you fare?” And then with a quick glance about, “Have you been prisoner long?”

He let Hathen speak quietly to the woman. "A month or two, now.... 'tis hard to keep track of the world's time when one is in such a dark place as this. Lack of sunlight does not help." Hathën sighed, glancing up at the still, ever-cloudy sky.

Upon hearing that her group had been assigned to the armory just as the they were, Adrahil leaned forward, whispering to the woman. "This is Hathen, and my name is Adrahil. You are assigned to our group so stay close to us. We will do our best to care for you. What is your name, m'lady?" He asked.

As the next few days passed, Adrahil and Hathen continued there scheming, talking whenever possible to the smithy, the ranger and the elf from Imladris. They kept Rielwyn close to them, though the orcs made it difficult. For some reason, they liked to work the women harder than most could take, and many had dropped to the ground, being picked up by the orcs and dragged away.

One eve, Adrahil rose and crept slowly towards the armory and the smith shop, where Hathen and the smithy were faking activity while whispering together...

"Hathen, look," he said, slipping the parchment to his friend's hand. While Hathen read, he turned to the smithy, repeating what was in the parchment. "Faramir wants to know when they are planning to move us out of Mordor to Dol Guldor. He and his rangers will intercept us on our way, and free us. We need to know exactly when so I can send Nightwing with a message."


Hathën sighed. "While good fortune indeed... there is no way to know when it is we move out. The orc said within the month... that leaves such time open, and almost impossible to determine. These creatures are strange and unruley. They could move us out TONIGHT if that so wished." Hathën said, being a bit disheartened. His dark eyes glanced over to where the young woman Rielwyn.... he wished to protect her, and see her out of here safely. All the women. None deserved this. Pausing, an idea popped into Hathën's head. It was perhaps a bit dangerous and risky, but it might bring them that much closer.

"Adrahil... send word back to Faramir that we leave within the day. That should give the Captain at least two days to attack before our reach to Mirkwood." He said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "I shall attempt to speed our leave..." He said. Standing, Hathën paused, looking over to the grouping of orcs who were drinking and speaking. "Eru give me strength." Hathën mumbled to himself... before walking strongly towards the direction of those orcs.

He didn't get far, before those orcs were drawing their blades and roaring at Hathën's approach. Stopping and raising his hands in a 'surrendering' motion, Hathën watched as one of the lead Orcs stood, and pushed his way passed the others - approaching Hathën where he now stood, in THEIR presence, with their weapons pointed at him. "What's in yer head, maggot?!" He gruffed out angrily.

"I was given a messege to give you..." He began, intaking a deep breath and trying to remain calm. "The workers are to be moved out and to Dol Guldur at sunrise." He said confidently.

The orc sneered - as the others growled... as if they were trying to attempt to figure out if Hathën was telling the truth. They could, by all rights, run him through now. Hathën knew this, and it was what kept his spine straight with fear. "Oh yeah!?..." The orc leader snapped, taking a few steps closer to Hathën. The human could smell his foul oder and it almost made him gag. But the lad held strong. "Who sent tha messege?!" He sneered, raising a brow. The other orcs mumbled their annoyance, wondering if Hathën had an answer. Pausing, almost in fear, Hathën struggled to think of an orc name he'd heard while in service here. Any name.

"Gorbeck." He said suddenly. He could only pray to the heavens that Gorbeck was not there among them. The orc before him sneered a bit, taking a step back. The other orcs paused also... things went almost silent. Hathën waited - sweat beginning to bead down the side of his face in anticipation.

Turning away from Hathën, the orc looked to all the others. "Well... you heard 'im!... Get ready to make leave for sunup ya filth! And get those slaves ready!" He barked out - the other orcs lowered their weapons and began to leave, gathering their things and preparing to take down their set camp. One grasped Hathën roughly by the shoulder, and drug him back towards Adrahil and the other's he'd been standing with - shoving the edoras man back into their midst. Stumbling a bit, but keeping his up balance, Hathën let out a long, relieved sigh. He'd been incredibly lucky this time. But it was worth the risk... because now, they would leave within the night.

They could now only hope that help would come.



[Edited on 7/8/2006 by Heart_of_Courage]
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 09, 2006 06:35
Eldarwen nodded, turning from where she stood - gazing into her own thoughts while looking at the camp. "Thank you, mellon nîn. As I said - we shall not be heading out for a while. There are at least three to five other scouting parties ready for their own leave. Mine is governed by Lord Mornian Lonigh... from Lothlorien. When he gives such a word - only then do we take our leave." She informed him.

However, another soon came into their midst. A man. “I wonder if I might ask of your sightings on the road to Rivendell?” The human asked, looking in Eldarwen's direction.

"Of course." Eldarwen nodded. "Easterling tribes moving North and Northwest as rumored... prisoner camps shifting monthly by orc lead... and Mirkwood was recently lost." She told him, her blue eyes lowering a bit after the last words. Hitting home. "I am afraid that is all I can tell you." She said. Pausing, she looked behind him to his party. "And where is it you hail from?.... I have not seen you before." Eldarwen said curiously.

Garavorn accepted with a bow Eldarwen's information it would be a few days yet before her Company would be scouting again. - But... that would give him 'time' to get to know those he'd be working with - always a 'good' thing to know one's companion's strengths and weaknesses, he thought.

But, too, Garavorn looked at the newcomer with curiosity. He wasn't Gondorian... the elf knew that... and politely waited for the man to answer...

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

Mornian turned his head, again slowly, to look upon the dwarf curiously. "Forgive me, Falin," He said, nodding to him briefly. "I am Mornian Lonigh - sentinal of Lothlorien." He said, introducing himself. Pausing, the elf shot another arrow down rather quickly... and upon pulling it up - not one, but two fish lay stuck upon it.

Smiling to himself, Mornian reached down and picked up his string arrowed fish... before he nimbily jumped from one large rocking to the next, until again reaching solid earth... now beside the dwarf. Setting down the fish, he left them there to allow the dwarf to take whatever two he wished. "Well, Master Dwarf, perhaps it is a noble fate which brings you into our midsts here... to assist us in fighting against those forces which, not only overrun your home, but now, threaten to overrun ours." He said strongly, patting the dwarf on the shoulder briefly.

Impressed that Mornian's last shot had brought up two fish, and not just one, Falin carefully (and diffidently) picked out two of the smallest of the elf's 'catch' for himself... almost 'shyly' offering a mumbled, "Thankee," to the fisherman.

Yet... whether it be 'fate' or not, the young Dwarf couldn't say, and it was hard not to 'wince' when Mornian patted his shoulder. "Perhaps," Falin answered, with a half-shrug. - But, then looked up at the elf sceptically. Ah, but he wanted the chance to do battle against their common enemy! - And... could it be that would be 'enough' for...? - And, so, "Think ye your 'fellow-kind' will allow me to fight with you?" Falin inquired. "I'm willin'... if *they* are..."

((sorry this is so lame... I don't think there's much I can do until the next 'phase' gets going. ))
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 09, 2006 05:18
Beadumod nodded his head thinking over all that the elf scout had told him. So, there was no news of the first Rohirrim party. And now the Marshal’s fears for his sister and her company were growing. If they were not here what fate had fallen to them?

"Of course." Eldarwen nodded. "Easterling tribes moving North and Northwest as rumored... prisoner camps shifting monthly by orc lead... and Mirkwood was recently lost." She told him, her blue eyes lowering a bit after the last words. Hitting home. "I am afraid that is all I can tell you." She said. Pausing, she looked behind him to his party. "And where is it you hail from?.... I have not seen you before." Eldarwen said curiously.


At her words Beadumod bowed his head slightly,
“I hail from Edoras, I am Beadumod, Marshal of the Mark. And what be your name? ” Beadumod looked over his own men. They were weary but said nothing; they would not rest until their Marshal had his answers. Looking to the maid again Beadumod questioned. “Do you know where my men might find their rest? They have travelled long with me from Helm’s Deep where Eomer King holds his forces.” Beadumod would speak of anything to keep his mind from jumping to conclusions, each telling him that his sister’s fate was worse each time.

~*~

Through the course of the next few days, Rielwyn had stayed close to Hathen and to Adrahil as bidden. Most grateful was she to them and oft as she had worked would she think of Edoras and of the Golden Hall shining in the sunlight. At times she would think of Rivendell and wondered at the elves and the splendour of their halls and gardens. It was late one night when she saw Adrahil go to the armory and the smithshop that she followed despite her tiredness.

Too late did she reach it to hear what word had passed between the men. As she approached she caught Hathen’s glance and then as she came to stand beside them she caught his last words. "I shall attempt to speed our leave..." He said.

Rielwyn turned to watch Hathen, a confused frown on her face and she exchanged glances with Adrahil as Hathen continued to approach the orc gathering.
“What has come to his mind?” She asked in a whisper, “Was news brought from beyond the mountains?” Rielwyn questioned further looking to the sky as Hathen gave the orcs the name of another. And then Hathen was returned forcefully to their cluster as the orcs began working and chattering in their strange tongue.
“What news came that brought you to take such a bold risk?” Rielwyn asked of Hathen for there had been little time for her to gather full news from Adrahil and it was now certain that soon they should be moving out.

((Not too great ... but hopefully enough. If editing is needed just let me know. ))
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BerethEdhellen
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 10, 2006 09:22
"Adrahil... send word back to Faramir that we leave within the day. That should give the Captain at least two days to attack before our reach to Mirkwood." He said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "I shall attempt to speed our leave..." He said.


"Within the day? How can you possibly determine that?" Adrahil asked, "And even if we did leave by the morrow, Faramir would have easily a week or more. It is several hundred miles to Mirkwood and with our party traveling afoot, we would certainly move slowly." Adrahil eyed his friend questioningly. "And what could you possibly do to speed things along?" Hathen did not answer.

Standing, Hathën paused, looking over to the grouping of orcs who were drinking and speaking. "Eru give me strength." Hathën mumbled to himself... before walking strongly towards the direction of those orcs.


"Hathën! What are you doing?" Adrahil cried out, reaching to grab at Hathën's arm but missing it as Hathën walked swiftly away and was already out of his reach. All Adrahil could do without calling attention to them was stand helplessly and watch. He tried to listen to what transpired but all he could hear were snatches of the conversation, bits that indicated trouble for his friend. Biting his lip, he waited anxiously until he heard the leader of this particular band of orcs call out, ""Well... you heard 'im!... Get ready to make leave for sunup ya filth! And get those slaves ready!"

One grasped Hathën roughly by the shoulder, and drug him back towards Adrahil and the other's he'd been standing with - shoving the edoras man back into their midst. Stumbling a bit, but keeping his up balance, Hathën let out a long, relieved sigh. He'd been incredibly lucky this time. But it was worth the risk... because now, they would leave within the night.

"What did you say to them?" Adrahil asked, as he caught Hathën and helped him keep his footing. When Hathën told him, Adrahil stared at him. He was astounded at the risky act that Hathën had attempted ...and succeeded at pulling off. Shaking his head, he clapped the Rohannian on the shoulder, smiling slightly. "Never will I doubt your courage, my friend. I will send Nightwing off with a message at once." Scrabbling through what few possessions any of them had been allowed to keep, mostly those that would be harmless as far as the orcs were concerned, he tore a small piece of a page from the one book that he still carried. Having nothing to write with, he searched for a scrap of a thin branch, and setting it in the tiny campfire, used the charred end to write a message. Rolling it up, he tied it to Nightwing's leg and sent him off into the dark of the long night, praying he would find his way back to Faramir in time.

As the sky lightened the next morning, though there was no sun to shine upon them, the orcs began to round up their captives, tying each of their hands together, then tying each to the person before and behind them. Adrahil had made certain that Rielwyn was placed between Hathën and himself, feeling that they could both watch out for her well being better this way. The long line of captives began to march northward, out of the Black Gates and across the Dagorlad, orcs strolling along their sides and whipping those who faltered or moved too slowly.

One particular old man just behind Aldahir had stumbled and fallen to his knees and an orc ran to his side, whipping him across his shoulders until he had collapsed to the ground. The line came to a halt as none of those before him could move forward without dragging him along. Adrahil glanced at Hathën over Rielwyn's head and shook his own. Turning, he held up his arm before the orc, his own arm receiving the blow the orc had begun to bring down on the old man.

"Stop!" Adrahil cried out. "I will help him. It will do you no service to beat him," he said, as awkwardly, his hands being tied together, he helped the man to his feet. "Come, old one, lean on my back." The line began to move forward again, with the elderly man's hands clinging to Adrahil's shoulders. Thusly they traveled for several days, stopping only infrequently and at night, though the orcs pushed them all late into every night and woke them early. There was little food and water, and many fell along the way, they being left on the side of the path, their place taken by the one behind them.

They were well into their fourth day of plodding along when they came to a wooded area, not much more than a copse of trees and rare in these parts of open land. The first of the arrows brought down the orc leader, creating chaos among the orcs.

"Faramir," Adrahil whispered, sighing in relief. "Thank Eru."
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
Heart_of_Courage
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 16, 2006 07:12
"Perhaps," Falin answered, with a half-shrug. - But, then looked up at the elf sceptically. And, so, "Think ye your 'fellow-kind' will allow me to fight with you?" Falin inquired. "I'm willin'... if *they* are..."

Mornian nodded slowly, giving a slight laugh and picking up the strung fish he'd melded together whilst the dwarf spoke. "I think many things have changed, lately, Master Dwarf... one of which, being that who we choose to fight with. So long as you fight for good - I don't think elves, men... and even dwarves, will be too hastey to raise quarrel." The elf admitted.

It was true - if they were all fighting for the same cause, especially in a wartorn time such as this... what did it matter of race? All that mattered was thwarting their enemy. That was the only cause for concern; not who lived where, or what race everyone was. "Come, Falin, let us join in the graces of the camps once more." He said, nodding to the dwarf and leading the way back towards the camp area.

_________________________________________


"What did you say to them?" Adrahil asked, as he caught Hathën and helped him keep his footing. When Hathën told him, Adrahil stared at him. He was astounded at the risky act that Hathën had attempted ...and succeeded at pulling off. Shaking his head, he clapped the Rohannian on the shoulder, smiling slightly. "Never will I doubt your courage, my friend. I will send Nightwing off with a message at once." He said. Hathën nodded, and glanced to Rielwyn - nodding to her, as if to silently let her know that everything was alright.

Scrabbling through what few possessions any of them had been allowed to keep, mostly those that would be harmless as far as the orcs were concerned, he tore a small piece of a page from the one book that he still carried. Having nothing to write with, Adrahil searched for a scrap of a thin branch, and setting it in the tiny campfire, used the charred end to write a message. Rolling it up, he tied it to Nightwing's leg and sent him off into the dark of the long night, praying he would find his way back to Faramir in time.


As the sky lightened the next morning, though there was no sun to shine upon them, the orcs began to round up their captives, tying each of their hands together, then tying each to the person before and behind them. Adrahil had made certain that Rielwyn was placed between Hathën and himself, feeling that they could both watch out for her well being better this way. The long line of captives began to march northward, out of the Black Gates and across the Dagorlad, orcs strolling along their sides and whipping those who faltered or moved too slowly.

Thusly they traveled for several days, stopping only infrequently and at night, though the orcs pushed them all late into every night and woke them early. There was little food and water, and many fell along the way, they being left on the side of the path, their place taken by the one behind them.

They were well into their fourth day of plodding along when they came to a wooded area, not much more than a copse of trees and rare in these parts of open land. The first of the arrows brought down the orc leader, creating chaos among the orcs.


Hathën looked up in alarm - watching the orcs fall; some dying instantly, others merely in pain, attempting to scramble away while the others tried to gather their weapons and their senses -- and attempt to attack those who were attacking them. However, the forested rangers were concealed and hard to pick out. Giving them a sizable advantage.

"Rielwyn!" Hathën said, pulling her off of the path and towards the brush and gove - where many other captives had also scattered in the confusion... hoping to get away. Hanging onto her hand tightly, Hathën pushed his way through the grove thicket - branches scraping at him, though he paid no heed. "Adrahil!?" He called, but heard nothing. While discouraged at having lost sight of his companion... Hathën knew the man could take care of himself.

Distant screams and the sounds of whizzing arrows could still be heard as many attempted to escape. Glancing sideways, Hathën saw other slaves trying to run as well.... but there was nothing as discomforting as seeing someone running beside you, then suddenly, falling with an orc-arrow piercing their back. How he and Rielwyn failed to get hit was amazing luck to Hathën - though he still worried for Adrahil. "Here..." Hathën said, guiding Rielwyn into a small divet alongside a rather large looming willowtree. "We stay here... we stay silent, and await word of a victory." He whispered strongly to her.

If they moved any further, they'd loose sight of everyone - and have no way of knowing who won. Should Faramir and the others win, they would be found. Should the orcs win, they'd hear the terrifying screams... and no doubt, he and Rielwyn would be punished severely if found. Hathën grit his teeth eagerly as he could still hear the distant fighting... he wanted nothing more than to be there - helping, fighting. But alas, he had no weapon, and didn't want to risk chance of leaving Rielwyn alone or in harm's way.

____________________________


“I hail from Edoras. I am Beadumod, Marshal of the Mark. And what be your name?” Beadumod looked over his own men.

She nodded to him. "Well met, Beadumod. I am Eldarwen Euri'nach from Mirkwood... and this is Garavorn." She said.

Glancing to his men, she noted their condition. They were weary but said nothing; they would not rest until their Marshal had his answers. Looking to the maid again Beadumod questioned. “Do you know where my men might find their rest? They have travelled long with me from Helm’s Deep where Eomer King holds his forces.” Beadumod said.

"Of course." Eldarwen said. "They may steak their tents anywhere in the city that they desire..." She said - pointing out to the many other tent shanties that had been set up by various other companies... elves, men and even a few hobbits and dwarves. Though not many. "There is food and water also availible... as many men and elves hunt and fish to feed each group." She said. "You and your men are free to do such as well." Eldarwen explained.

Glancing up - she saw Mornian returning with a stringline of caught fish... and a dwarf. She smiled a bit, shaking her head. Something about the pair almost reminded her of Gimli and Legolas... and their now renoun and odd friendship. However, in this time of war, it was not unlikely that elves, men, dwarves, and all other races would soon form bonds in order to stop Sauron and his evil minions.

"MY LORD!" One elf shouted, riding hard into camp - three other elves trailing after him. Eldarwen looked up urgently... watching as the riders approached Mornian. "My lord... troops... and orcs, outside these boarders, near Lothlorien - no doubt enroute to Dol Guldur." The elf told him. "We were scouting, m'lord... saw hints of the group and the discomfort in the woods where we believe the orcs have been ambushed." He said.

Mornian listened intensely. "Ambushed?... Friend or foe?" He asked.

"We believe friend, my lord." He replied.

Pausing, Mornian glanced around to those present, before looking back to the three elves who had arrived, weary, on horseback. "Gather the company... and prepare to leave within the half," He ordered - his elven company immediately moving into full swing. "I want numbers heading out in that direction -- cover what ground we can, and should there be survivors, we want them here." Mornian said; taking charge in his true leadership role.

Eldarwen took a few steps along Mornian's side - prepared to leave as well, until she felt his hand upon her arm. "No Eldarwen... you remain here." He said. She opened her mouth - as if to protest Mornian's order, but he spoke again. "This is not to be debated. I ask you to stay... prepare for our return; water, food, and beds for the injured. They will need your skilled hands." He told her. Sighing, the elf Mornian noted the disappointed and angry look in Eldarwen's eyes at being told to stay here. "Think not ill of me for this... " He said, touching her cheek gently, before continuing on.

Glancing towards his other elves, Mornian and his small troupe headed out.


[Edited on 18/8/2006 by Heart_of_Courage]
BerethEdhellen
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 17, 2006 09:57
With their leader fallen, the orcs were confused, not only by being leaderless but from whence the attack was coming. They scrambled to pull their bows, shooting wildly into the surrounding trees, rampaging in every direction with their scimitar-shaped swords. The slaves were fallen as much by their being trampled upon as by any weapon being used against them. However, Adrahil, seeing a dagger on the ground next to a fallen orc used it to cut the ropes that bound the line of slaves together, allowing them to scramble for shelter. He lost sight of Hathën and Rielwyn but the old chap that had been clinging to his shoulder was still behind him, quaking with fear.

"Come, old man, follow me," Adrahil ordered, rounding up half a dozen other slaves at the same time. He led them from center of the battle further into the woods in the direction from which the arrows of Faramir's men had come. It was not long before he and his small band of ragged slaves reached the outer line of Faramir's offense and it was Faramir himself who hissed from behind a bush to Adrahil.

"Adrahil, over here," he called out. Adrahil glanced up and grinned at his old friend. Leading the slaves, he brought them behind Faramir and to safety .. for now.

"And it 'tis about time you arrived on the scene, old friend. I hope you brought food for we are all close to starvation," he teased, as though this was a long awaited picnic. Faramir shook his head, smiling at how the young man's humor could have survived what he must have suffered. From the deep underbrush, Adrahil watched as the rangers brought down many of the orcs and those they did not slay or injure finally scattered in disarray...and the battle was over. Slowly, with the rangers taking the lead, Adrahil led his fellow slaves to the center of the slaughter. Sadly, several of the captured had been slain or injured too badly to survive though little by little, many began to creep out from whatever hiding places they had been able to find. Adrahil began to call, "Hathën! Hathën, where are you? Rielwyn! Hathën!" His heart warmed as he saw his two fellow prisoners coming toward him from the other side of the battlefield. He began to walk towards them when an orc, injured only, mustered enough strength to lift his sword, taking a wide swipe as Adrahil passed, catching the young man on his hip.

Adrahil fell to the ground, his leg no longer functioning, and he groaned as his hand touched the deep gash that was bleeding profusely. "Eru, this is no time for this to happen," he whispered. Faramir rushed to his side, calling for the healer that accompanied all the rangers into battle, and knelt beside Adrahil, examining the depth of the wound. The healer was suddenly at their side, kneeling also as he pulled his bag of healing salves and bandages next to him. Opening it, he dug for a flask of water, a small bowl, some leaves and roots, mixing them with the water and after cutting Adrahil's legging aside, with a piece of clean cloth, washed the wound carefully and gently. Mashing some other leaves into a paste with some water, he pressed into the wound, causing Adrahil to wince and bite his lip, before the healer then bandaged his leg with clean cloths.

"I think that is the best we can do here, sir," the healer said. "It will be difficult walking on the that leg for a day or two but there is nothing we can do beyond this." Nodding to Faramir, he rose to his feet, and went off to the next person in need of his care. Faramir eyed Adrahil, asking, "Do you think you can manage with a few hours rest. I'm afraid that will be all the time we can allow. We must bury our dead and make a pyre of the orcs before we leave though we cannot waste much time as those orcs that escaped will regroup somewhere and return. We must get you all to Rivendell."

Adrahil nodded, looking up at Hathën and Rielwyn who were standing nearby, grateful that they had both made it unharmed. "Hathën, do you think you could find me a long branch that I can use as a staff to support me?"

Several hours later, the captives and two of the rangers who had been slain had been buried, and the orcs piled up and burned. While this transpired, the captives had been given whatever the Rangers could spare to eat and water to drink, when Faramir stood, calling to all to get to their feet. "We must leave now," he ordered, knowing the weak state of the slaves but having little choice but to push them onward. "We are still two days from Rivendell and there is no knowing what we may yet meet along the way."

Hathën had found a tall branch with a crotch at one end, into which Adrahil lowered his arm, and pulled himself to his feet. He found his leg was in great pain but he could hobble along fairly well with his new staff. Thus, the remaining group of now-no-longer-captives pushed onward, guarded on all sides by Faramir and his rangers and in two days time, they were crossing the River Bruinen and entering the realm of Imladris. Adrahil stumbled along next to Hathën and Rielwyn and with the old man who's life he had saved along the trail. But he was in great pain and could only pray to reach Rivendell and a good healer and rest. But a small gift had been granted him along the way. His young hawk had appeared from nowhere and landed on his shoulder, pecking on his ear in greeting. "Ah, Nightwing, I have trained you well," he smiled at the bird. "I promise you that you will be rewarded for your efforts."
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 23, 2006 04:14
Mornian nodded slowly, giving a slight laugh and picking up the strung fish he'd melded together whilst the dwarf spoke. "I think many things have changed, lately, Master Dwarf... one of which, being that who we choose to fight with. So long as you fight for good - I don't think elves, men... and even dwarves, will be too hastey to raise quarrel." The elf admitted.

"Come, Falin, let us join in the graces of the camps once more." He said, nodding to the dwarf and leading the way back towards the camp area.

Falin was 'nervous' about meeting the rest of Mornian's Company... but it seemed the 'right' thing to do.

He, of course, could not 'battle' the Dark Forces by himself... and though he was young, Falin's axe was sharp, and he wielded it well. - Not the *best* of Dwarven-fighters was he... but 'good'.

And so, with his two small fish in hand, he followed the elf back to his campsite.

To his relief, the other elves seemed to accept him... but to his surprise, Falin was led down a steep pathway, and into a valley as beautiful as one could imagine. - When (quietly) he inquired of it to one of the elves (not wanting to 'bother' Mornion with his query), the Dwarf blinked in surprise. Imladris? - He'd no idea he had 'ranged' so far from home!

Ah, well, as he surveyed the various campfires and saw not only elves, but Men gathered around them, Falin began to feel (slightly) more 'comfortable', and now wanted only to cook and eat his fill of the fish - before his stomach began 'complaining' even more loudly than it was...

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

“I hail from Edoras. I am Beadumod, Marshal of the Mark. And what be your name?” Beadumod looked over his own men.

She nodded to him. "Well met, Beadumod. I am Eldarwen Euri'nach from Mirkwood... and this is Garavorn." She said.

Looking to the maid again Beadumod questioned. “Do you know where my men might find their rest? They have travelled long with me from Helm’s Deep where Eomer King holds his forces.” Beadumod said.

"Of course." Eldarwen said. "They may steak their tents anywhere in the city that they desire..." She said - pointing out to the many other tent shanties that had been set up by various other companies... elves, men and even a few hobbits and dwarves. Though not many. "There is food and water also availible... as many men and elves hunt and fish to feed each group." She said. "You and your men are free to do such as well." Eldarwen explained.

Bowing politely, Garavorn greeted Beadumod... and his heart sank. It would seem that the enclave of Helms Deep was in danger of being 'overrun' now - else why would a Marshal leave it? - But then, another group of elves and... a Dwarf? made their way amongst the tents and campfires.
"MY LORD!" One elf shouted, riding hard into camp - three other elves trailing after him. Eldarwen looked up urgently... watching as the riders approached Mornian. "My lord... troops... and orcs, outside these boarders, near Lothlorien - no doubt enroute to Dol Guldur." The elf told him. "We were scouting, m'lord... saw hints of the group and the discomfort in the woods where we believe the orcs have been ambushed." He said.

Mornian listened intensely. "Ambushed?... Friend or foe?" He asked.

"We believe friend, my lord." He replied.

Pausing, Mornian glanced around to those present, before looking back to the three elves who had arrived, weary, on horseback. "Gather the company... and prepare to leave within the half," He ordered - his elven company immediately moving into full swing. "I want numbers heading out in that direction -- cover what ground we can, and should there be survivors, we want them here." Mornian said; taking charge in his true leadership role.

Eldarwen took a few steps along Mornian's side - prepared to leave as well, until she felt his hand upon her arm. "No Eldarwen... you remain here." He said. She opened her mouth - as if to protest Mornian's order, but he spoke again. "This is not to be debated. I ask you to stay... prepare for our return; water, food, and beds for the injured. They will need your skilled hands." He told her. Sighing, the elf Mornian noted the disappointed and angry look in Eldarwen's eyes at being told to stay here. "Think not ill of me for this... " He said, touching her cheek gently, before continuing on.

Glancing towards his other elves, Mornian and his small troupe headed out.

Though he'd no idea who the other elven Leader was, Garavorn lightly touched Eldarwen's arm. "I will see to the beds," he offered, and then headed to do so.

Falin, after allowing the fish to barely finish cooking, stuffed them in his mouth so quickly he burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth from the heat. - Yet, as he listened, and watched Mornion head off, the young Dwarf sighed, and hesitantly approached the she-elf who'd been left behind.

HE wouldn't have 'minded' going along with Mornion... but Falin wasn't 'stupid'. He'd never even seen many horses at all, much less ridden one - and knew he'd look (and feel) 'ridiculous' if he tried now.

But, heartened by his meal, he bowed awkwardly. "Iffn' ye need another pair o'hands, lady, I'm willin' t'help. Bein' I'm a bit 'shorter' than ye... I'll start haulin' water if ye just direct me to where ye're keepin' the extra skins..."

And, soon, Falin was industriously filling skin after skin, and bringing them to the area where an elf was getting beds set up. To the ellon's wan smile and introduction of himself, "Falin," the Dwarf replied to Garavorn, and once he was finished with the water-supply, again presented himself to the she-elf. "Anything else I can 'do' fer ye?" he asked, a 'hopeful' look on his face.

Garavorn too, was finished with his task, and was hard on the Dwarf's heels as he reported back to Commander Eldarwen. "Any sign of them returning yet?" he inquired, and turned his elven-eyes toward the path leading up out of the valley...

((hope this is ok... and, Eveligh, wasn't sure what you're intending for Beadumod so wasn't sure whether to speak to him, etc. ))
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
Heart_of_Courage
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 24, 2006 10:23
Adrahil began to call, "Hathën! Hathën, where are you? Rielwyn! Hathën!"


The two emerged from the woodland, Hathën still taking note to walk close to Rielwyn, as if to further ensure her safety. "Adrahil!... Worry not. We have all arrived as safely as possible." He assured his friend with a smile. Things seemed to be alright. A few prisoner casualties here and there... and although sad, it was indeed to be expected. Though luckily, those Hathën had befriended were unharmed.

His heart warmed as he saw his two fellow prisoners coming toward him from the other side of the battlefield. He began to walk towards them when an orc, injured only, mustered enough strength to lift his sword, taking a wide swipe as Adrahil passed, catching the young man on his hip.


"Adrahil!" Hathën shouted as the orc took his foul swipe at his companion. Running towards him, he watched Adrahil fall to the ground, his leg no longer functioning - and he groaned as his hand touched the deep gash that was bleeding profusely. Faramir rushed to his side, calling for the healer that accompanied all the rangers into battle, and knelt beside Adrahil, examining the depth of the wound... but Hathën ran right towards the life-clinging orc - and wrestled it's blade away - striking the foul creature in it's chest with it's own blood. The orc cackled in amusement and without remorse, before dying.

Looking back to see Rielwyn arriving at their side, Hathën's concerned dark eyes turned back towards their friend. The healer was suddenly at their side, kneeling also as he pulled his bag of healing salves and bandages next to him. A few plants and water washings later - Adrahil's wound was tended. But indeed, perhaps not in the best of care.

"I think that is the best we can do here, sir," the healer said to Faramir. "It will be difficult walking on the that leg for a day or two but there is nothing we can do beyond this." Nodding to Faramir, he rose to his feet, and went off to the next person in need of his care. Faramir eyed Adrahil, asking, "Do you think you can manage with a few hours rest. I'm afraid that will be all the time we can allow. We must bury our dead and make a pyre of the orcs before we leave though we cannot waste much time as those orcs that escaped will regroup somewhere and return. We must get you all to Rivendell."

Adrahil nodded, looking up at Hathën and Rielwyn who were standing nearby, grateful that they had both made it unharmed. "Hathën, do you think you could find me a long branch that I can use as a staff to support me?"

"Of course, my friend." Hathën said.

Several hours later, the captives and two of the rangers who had been slain had been buried, and the orcs piled up and burned. While this transpired, the captives had been given whatever the Rangers could spare to eat and water to drink, when Faramir stood, calling to all to get to their feet. "We must leave now," he ordered, knowing the weak state of the slaves but having little choice but to push them onward. "We are still two days from Rivendell and there is no knowing what we may yet meet along the way."

Hathën had found a tall branch with a crotch at one end, into which Adrahil lowered his arm, and pulled himself to his feet. He found his leg was in great pain but he could hobble along fairly well with his new staff. Thus, the remaining group of ex-captives pushed onward, guarded on all sides by Faramir and his rangers and in two days time, they were crossing the River Bruinen and entering the realm of Imladris.


Adrahil stumbled occasionally along next to Hathën and Rielwyn and with the old man who's life he had saved along the trail. But Hathën made sure to support his friend - be it physically when he needed it, or with words of encouragement, as to how much closer they were to Rivendell. But his friend was in great pain and could only pray to reach Rivendell and a good healer and rest.

"HALT!" A loud but smooth voice yelled. The small troupe stopped - Hathën's eyes wide and alert - determined to care for his friend and the young woman. The company waited in silence, listening and watching. They had passed the river, and entered the small groveling and brush wood which would take them on the short path to Rivendell's stone walls. Suddenly, and yet slowly, elven archers and sentinals emerged - hidden, as if from no where.

Before them, and approaching Faramir who led, was a blonde haired elf, not like the rest. No long hair - but short and a bit ragged... which still, left nothing to his beauty and grace as possessed by all the elves. With his commanding air, he spoke, "Lord Faramir... Imladris owes you it's thanks... for bringing back our captive people. As well as your own." Mornian said, nodding in respects to the human slaves as well. "We've been watching you for a day now... only to ensure your safe return to Imladris." He said.

Faramir nodded in thanks, and explained to Mornian what happened. Though Hathën and the others could not hear everything.... he was sure Faramir said something about a needed council between their leaders. Should an attack ensue in light of this rebellion and leave of orc-slaves. Within moments, the small ex-captive troupe was being escorted into Rivendell by Mornian and his elven sentinals. "Hope, my friend," Hathën told Adrahil with a smile. "We're nearly in Rivendell... you'll find a warm bed and proper tending." He said, urging his friend to continue on for just a little longer.

_____________________________________________


Discouraged and perhaps disheartened by Mornian's refusal to let her go... Eldarwen left Garavorn lightly touch her arm. "I will see to the beds," he offered, and then headed to do so. Turning, she watched him go - almost sorry that he offered to do such a thing. Surely he too, wished to go along with Mornian and the other's to find and escort the human exiles back into their midsts.

Pausing, Eldarwen was about to fetch water, but a gruff deep voice stopped her in her steps. "Iffn' ye need another pair o'hands, lady, I'm willin' t'help. Bein' I'm a bit 'shorter' than ye... I'll start haulin' water if ye just direct me to where ye're keepin' the extra skins..." He said.

Touched by the dwarf's concern and offer - the elfess nodded. "Thank you, Master Dwarf. I would be greatful." She said. And so it was not long before Eldarwen and Falin were industriously filling skin after skin, and bringing them to the area where others were getting beds set up. To the ellon's wan smile and introduction of himself, "Falin," the Dwarf replied to Garavorn.

"I am Eldarwen." The elfess told the dwarf - not finding the dwarves as crude a people as she'd been led to believe.

Once he was finished with the water-supply, again presented himself to the she-elf. "Anything else I can 'do' fer ye?" he asked, a hopeful look on his face. Pausing, Eldarwen gave the dwarf a warm smile; gentle, and whilst still upset about being left behind - the elven woman hid it well. Garavorn too, was finished with his task, and was hard on the Dwarf's heels as he reported back to Eldarwen. "Any sign of them returning yet?" he inquired, and turned his elven-eyes toward the path leading up out of the valley...

She was about to answer - until a horn was heard; it was an elven horn, and from one of the sentinals, who had perched upon the walls of Imladris. That was it. The return horn. They had succeeded and were returning. Many elves and men and others moved from their small camps towards the walls of Rivendell - hoping to see and help the returning elven troupe, as well as the rumored 'freed' slaves from Sauron. Eldarwen moved with everyone else, hoping to catch sight of them and help. As the small troupe came down the path... and through the open gated walls of Rivendell -- some of the men and elves cheered and clapped supportively.

A sigh of relief left Eldarwen's lips as she saw Mornian walking with Faramir. All looked a bit tired... but the poor freed-slaves looked the weakest of all. The elves and others who had been sighed on to help - moved forward, taking one injured at a time to their desired stations. Eldarwen joined also, moving up and awaiting her chance to help one of the freed. "I think it would be best to start distributing that water now, my friends," She said to Garavorn and Falin. Turning back, she came to face two young men, and a young woman - all looking very tired and dirty. The injured one using a stick as a crutch and the aid of his other male companion.

"I shall take stead of him now." Eldarwen said, reaching forward and gently prying the injured man away from his companion. Hathën opened his mouth, as if to protest in regards to stay with Adrahil. But Eldarwen gave him a warm, reassuring smile. "Worry not... he will be treated in good hands." She said gently. "Tend to yourself... fresh water and food can be found within any of the camps. I shall care for your friend." She said, looking aside to Adrahil's weary and somewhat weak form.

Gently, she and another elven healer took Adrahil to their set station. These healing stations were outside - and simple, but effective. Away from the bustling camp activity, they were a place of solitude and quiet. She knew Falin and Garavorn would take care of the uninjured and weary slaves - by giving them water and food. Perhaps even good company.

"Set him down here, Kylean..." Eldarwen softly instructed the male healer who'd helped her get Adrahil to the makeshift cot at her station. Gently setting the male down, she nodded to him - and both elves kneeled on either side of the apparent semi-conscious Adrahil. Grasping their various herbs, waters and potent blends - with the finest of care and grace - the two elves began to administer to the injured Adrahil. Occasionally, Eldarwen would turn her blue eyes to the face of the young man... feeling a great swell of pity and concern for him. What a terrible and frightful ordeal... being a prisoner.

At one point - she saw the young man open his eyes... and look up to her, where she knelt by his side, administering to his wounds. Looking over and back down to him - Eldarwen gave a gentle smile, and brushed some of his dark hair away from his face. "Oltha.. bel-min..." She urged him gently. As he closed his eyes once more, Eldarwen and the other male healer continued to tend to him.

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

Hathën was pleased to see so many warm and concerned faces upon their arrival into Rivendell. Healers and others came out of many directions - taking the injured and beginning to tend to them. And it was as Hathën made eye contact with a dark-haired Elven woman... that he knew Adrahil would indeed be taken from them. "I shall take stead of him now." Eldarwen said, reaching forward and gently prying the injured man away from his companion.

Hathën opened his mouth, as if to protest in regards to stay with Adrahil. But Eldarwen gave him a warm, reassuring smile. "Worry not... he will be treated in good hands." She said gently. "Tend to yourself... fresh water and food can be found within any of the camps. I shall care for your friend." She said, looking aside to Adrahil's weary and somewhat weak form.

Though he wanted to stop, and insist that he stay with Adrahil... he knew the elfess would not be persuaded. His friend needed care and rest - and he was sure that he and Rielwyn would only make a bigger fuss. Watching Adrahil be taken away - Hathën reached down, and grasped Rielwyn's smaller hand into his own larger one. "Come... we'll find some water and rest." He said to her. Even though one of his friends was hurt, and now taken from them... Hathën was covinced not to let he and Rielwyn be seperated. At least not until they knew what was going on.

He'd looked after he this far... and he'd continue to do so. Leading her through the various crowds and others - they found a small camping with few people... though a man and a dwarf. An elf and a dwarf, rather, which struck Hathën as odd. "Greetings, friends," Hathën said to Garavorn and Falin. "Might we trouble you for some water?.... Even food, should you be able to spare it." Hathën asked. Hardly concerned for himself, but rather, concerned with getting Rielwyn some drink, food, and a place to rest.
Eveligh
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 26, 2006 06:26
((Sorry its taken me so long to come up with something! But hopefully this is alright. Let me know if anything needs to be changed.))

Beadumod’s men had set up camp quickly, eager to keep their minds from wandering dark thoughts. But such tasks would not keep Beadumod’s mind from worry. After speaking with the elf maiden and watching the elf Mornian leave, the Marshal did not linger. He had paced, staked his own tent then gone about sitting for a while before growing more restless until at last he went to take care of his horse, Fastfoot. The stallion was as tired as his master and gratefully nibbled at the handful of grass he was given and nudged at Beadumod as he removed his gear and brushed him down. Beadumod remained with Fastfoot for a long while, stroking him, as he stood, unable to escape his thoughts.

He recalled the evening when he had called Rielwyn to him. The evening Eomer King had told him that he was to go in Rivendell carrying a message. Beadumod had sought to keep his sister from harm but to him it now seemed that he had put her in the very front of it. He could only dread where Rielwyn was. But in his heart he knew that if she was not here in behind the walls of Rivendell that she had been captured. Beadumod would not allow himself to think otherwise, if his sister were dead he would have known it. But he had hope yet. Looking to his men as they now sat gathered in a circle eating and drinking, Beadumod gave Fastfoot a last stroke before going to join them. The talk was of families, of the fields of Rohan, anything but the current situation. They had been in Rivendell a few days now gathering what word they could of the present situations and learning the tales of those about them.

Beadumod heard the return of the elven party. He had wanted to go but then he was weary and knew that though his men said nothing, they would have followed him and that is why he had not gone. Wishing not to get in the way of the elven healers Beadumod remained where he was...

~*~

Never before had Rielwyn seen such fair faces as they entered Rivendell. In all her imaginings the Rohirrim maid could not have captured the kindness and wonder she saw in them now. As they had made their journey Rielwyn had remained close to Hathën and Adrahil and it was now that the Elven healers came to those that were most in need of their services. Adrahil among them.

"I shall take stead of him now." Eldarwen said, reaching forward and gently prying the injured man away from his companion.

Hathën opened his mouth, as if to protest in regards to stay with Adrahil. But Eldarwen gave him a warm, reassuring smile. "Worry not... he will be treated in good hands." She said gently. "Tend to yourself... fresh water and food can be found within any of the camps. I shall care for your friend." She said, looking aside to Adrahil's weary and somewhat weak form.


Rielwyn had wanted to stay with Adrahil but she made no notion of protest, certain that Adrahil would receive the best of care. As their friend was taken into the Healers care Rielwyn glanced down to find her hand held with Hathën's, just as it had been when he had led her away from the battle and taken her to hide. She was most grateful to him for doing so and she went with him now not wanting to be parted from him. As they walked Rielwyn looked all about seeing the splendor of the Elven haven despite the numerous small camps that had been raised.

Upon halting at one of the smallest gatherings. An elf and a dwarf sat here and Rielwyn smiled to see them. She was reminded of the tales she had heard of another such pair. As Hathën spoke to them she held his hand the tighter. She was tired but would not speak of it, instead she nodded her head to the elf and the dwarf.
"I am Rielwyn of Rohan, pray, may I have your names?" She asked looking to them both in turn and then to Hathën.
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BerethEdhellen
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Post RE: The Scattered (pm only)
on: August 26, 2006 10:36
With Hathën and Rielwyn walking next to him, along with the old man who refused to leave his side, they approached Rivendell slowly, too slowly for Adrahil though he could really move no more quickly. The loss of blood and the pain weakened him with each step he took but he pushed on. However, his sense of humor never left him. Once, as he stumbled and was caught by Hathën, he commented, "This was hardly the trip I planned when first I left Dol Amroth," as he chuckled.

"HALT!" A loud but smooth voice yelled. Suddenly, and yet slowly, elven archers and sentinals emerged - hidden, as if from no where.


Adrahil rested on his staff, watching as their group was surrounded. He watched as a blond elf, whose hair was most unusually cropped short met with Faramir, and a short conversation ensued.

Within moments, the small ex-captive troupe was being escorted into Rivendell by Mornian and his elven sentinals. "Hope, my friend," Hathën told Adrahil with a smile. "We're nearly in Rivendell... you'll find a warm bed and proper tending." He said, urging his friend to continue on for just a little longer.


As they followed the sloping path and crossed a bridge, they passed through the open archway into the grounds of the Last Homely House. Adrahil was heartened by the sight, one he had not seen in many years but had always loved. But knowing he had reached safety at long last, his incomparable strength began to fail him. By the time a soft voice spoke, darkness was beginning to encompass him.

"I shall take stead of him now." Eldarwen said, reaching forward and gently prying the injured man away from his companion. Hathën opened his mouth, as if to protest in regards to stay with Adrahil. But Eldarwen gave him a warm, reassuring smile. "Worry not... he will be treated in good hands." She said gently. "Tend to yourself... fresh water and food can be found within any of the camps. I shall care for your friend." She said, looking aside to Adrahil's weary and somewhat weak form.


Adrahil could feel himself being led along a smooth path, knew when he was gently laid face down on a soft cot. He heard musical voices speaking but their words meant nothing to him. He felt when his legging was cut away from hip and leg, and the soothing feel of cool water wash over his wounded hip. But as gentle fingers administered the necessary potions, even the care with which this was done forced waves of pain to flow through his body and his eyes closed against it. But the salves and herbs were designed to ease the pain and soon began to do their work. The relief was enormous and sighing, he opened his eyes. Next to his side he beheld the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Dark waves framed her face, her eyes were a brilliant blue, her features fair.

Eldarwen gave a gentle smile, and brushed some of his dark hair away from his face. "Oltha.. bel-min..." She urged him gently.


He closed his eyes, drifting into darkness again. When next he opened them, rays of sunlight were shimmering through the leaves of the trees around him. He moved slightly and winced as his hip reminded him of what he had been through. Turning his head, he noticed Hathen and Rielwyn sitting not far off, heads near one another as they quietly conversed. He wanted to speak with them but his eyes were searching, searching for the beautiful elleth. Had he just dreamed her in his pain? A quiet movement near his head made him lift himself enough to turn and .... there she was. She wasn't a dream. The soft brown waves of her hair flowed over her shoulder as she bent over tending to something, her face hidden, but it was her.

"Good morning, m'lady," he whispered, his voice croaking hoarsely. When her head lifted to turn to his voice, her blue eyes met his...and held. He believed he could drown in those blue pools. When she came to his side, asking how he was feeling, he wanted to tell her he had never felt better, now that he knew she was real, that she was not just a pain-driven dream but he merely responded, "I am well, thank you. And very hungry and thirsty. I don't suppose there's something to eat and drink, is there?"

He struggled until he was in a sitting position, protecting his hip from the full weight of his body, and cheerfully called out, "Hathën! Rielwyn! You are both well, I see. Do come and tell me the news."
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
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