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Ringhilwen
Ilúvatar's Designer & Haldir\'s Little Squirrel
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 14, 2003 09:31
Maethorwen, standing at the edge of the group, looked out into the distance, a little more of her elvish sight coming back to her every day since they had escaped the dungeons of Angband.

Escaped, but not yet free.

"I'll never be free," Mae thought to herself as she watched clouds gathering in the north, but paid little attention to them. "The filth of Angband will remain on my skin. I'll never be rid of it."

As she stared, strange images from her imprisonment came rushing back to her. The silver-eyed elf in the corridor, beaten by orcs for helping her up. Elves who were consumed by madness within the prison's black walls. Morikelva, riding off in anger, not to be seen again. For some reason, when Morikelva had disappeared from the group's sight, Mae had felt some of the Easterling's rage and anger pass to her, hardening her. The memory that hurt her most of all was finally getting out of Angband, and realizing that her elven traits had been stolen from her during imprisonment. Her mind was now currently focused on getting them back at any cost.

A slight rumbling beneath her feet broke Mae's train of thought, and she quickly looked back to the others, wondering if they too had felt it. It appeared the group and the newcomers, Beleg and Mablung, were too busy tending to Malathar, and cooking the goat to notice. Mae looked back towards the peaks of Thangorodrim, still towering over the landscape, and felt the quakes below her deepen.

Mae realized, as her heart dropped to her stomach, what the quakes meant. Looking back to her companions, she saw that they had started a fire in order to cook one of the goats that Findley had hunted. Terror seized her, and she ran back to the others.

"Put the fire out!" she yelled, causing all of them to turn and look at her. "Put it out now!"

Artalion began to stand up and question Maethorwen, when a large blast behind them, to the north, shook the ground. Mae looked back in horror, and saw black clouds gathering over the peaks of Thangorodrim, and black smoke issued forth from the volcanos there, sending ash and rock far into the air.

Mae turned back to the group, each with their eyes focused on the smoke, each with the terror reflected in their eyes.

"He's after us," Mae said weakly, her voice catching in her throat.

"But why would - " she heard someone mutter in disbelief. Angry, she interupted them.

"The Enemy will not stop until he has each of us tortured and killed!" she screamed. "Don't you see? He will not stop, he will not cease until...until..." Mae stopped finding it hard to continue. "He has already started the hunt..." she manged to mutter, knowing all too well what the eruptions of Thangorodrim signified.

"We must get south as quickly as possible," Artaltion said calmy, but insistently, to the group, all of whom were struck to silence.

[Edited on 14/3/2003 by Ringhilwen]
Gilraen
Renaissance Elf
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 14, 2003 04:30
As Maethorwen and Thalin returned, Eaniel looked up and beckoned them forward. Their reactions to Beleg and Mablung was similar to the others'- Mae was surprised and relieved, Thalin probably a bit annoyed- Eaniel picked up a mutter along the lines of "more elves?"

However, as Eaniel watched Mae, the other Elf's expression changed and hardened. She's angry Eaniel realized. While it wasn't unusual for an elf to be angry, there was something different in Mae's eyes. It reminded her of someone she had seen. Morikelva She thought suddenly. She was supposed to rejoin us. What happened to her?

Eaniel then shoved her musings aside. Maethorwen began to run back to the group, yelling at them to put the fire out. Suddenly a volcano amid the peaks of Thangorodrim erupted, sending hot ash into the air. Mae was staring at them all now, and Eaniel could see their terrified faces reflected in her eyes. Eaniel's heart pounded, and fear such as she had hoped never to feel again washed over her like a wave.

"The Enemy will not stop until he has each of us tortured and killed!" she screamed. "Don't you see? He will not stop, he will not cease until...until..." Mae stopped finding it hard to continue. "He has already started the hunt..." she manged to mutter, knowing all too well what the eruptions of Thangorodrim signified.

"We must get south as quickly as possible," Artaltion said calmy, but insistently, to the group, all of whom were struck to silence.
Eldaline had begun to help Beleg gather up the healing herbs and lembas. Others hastened to put the fire out and hide all traces of their passage. Beleg and Mablung then picked up Malathar and began to carry him, walking, as the others could not, lightly on top of the snow. While the others were too weak to help Malathar this way, the two new elves could. They were truly a godsend. The others followed them, wading as best as they could through the snow.

The ground rumbled, and the volcano erupted again. Hot ash fell around the group, landing on their hands and faces, scorching them. Night seemed to fall, even thought it was only mid-day. The ash and smoke was blotting out the sun. Even here Eaniel thought almost beyond his reach, he manages to darken our hearts and steal the day.

As they went on, the other elves began to fall behind Beleg and Mablung. They were too weak, too weary. Mablung, looking back, saw them struggling through the snow. He spoke with Beleg quietly, then fell back with the others. Though he knew that there very well might not be enough time for this, time would certainly run out if they continued in this fashion. One as a time, he went to each elf, helping them clamour, even if for a moment, to the top of the snow. After a few moments they would sink back down again, but those few moments f the freedom of movement that they had once known made their hearts and limbs stronger.

Fear, also, may have had something to do with it. One who has never been captured fears captivity as he does a nightmare- an insubstantial fear- but the captive, once free, would give his life before he bowed to thraldom's chain again. But life, they all knew, might soon be taken from them all, whether they willed it or not.
Happy_Hobbit
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 14, 2003 10:31
"You will not eat her!!!"

Findleys roared with anger,

"After all the hard work you . . . you ungreatful, dim . . .grrr stupid, small minded . . . "

Findley ranted on and on as the Elves continued to prepare the fire.

Didn't they realise, could they not see, the goat would be more value alive,

"Milk she has . . . milk,"

Desperate Findley grabs the Strongbow's sleeve.

Looking up into the Elf face Findley realises his filthy hands have dirtied the Elfs garb. The Strongbow looks down his face stern and unyielding, he looks set to scold Findley as you would a naughty child, when all at once the ground begins to shudder.

At first the Elves froze. Findley however took the oppourtunity to remove himself from the Strongbows reach, he gathered up the kid who had begun to suckle and stuffed it back inside his ragged shirt.

Its mother, annoyed to lose her kid once more, bent her head to butt but was knocked over by Thangorodrim's eruuptions. The sky began to darken as ash, smoke and fumes belched from the volcano, slowly it grew dark as shooting flame and lava were flung high into the air.

The Elves carefully prepared to leave, Findley however was not so thoughtful he grabbed the goats teather and announced ,

"Ready!"

They were on their way, but with the added burden Findley soon fell to the back of the group. Beleg and Mablung carried the stretcher upon which Malathar lay, the herbs seemed to help a little for his cries of pain were less and for that Findley was greatful

"At least they tend their own," He grumbled, looking at Thalin a little ahead,

"Hey how about you taking a turn with our friend here?"

Findley sighed as Thalin refused to acknowlege the Petty Dwarf, there was no way a true Dwarf would play sheepdog to a goat.

Findley slunk back into watching the backs of the others pull further ahead. When he saw Mablung returning he thought for one brief moment that he was coming to help but when Mablung began to aid the Elves he realised his mistake.

"Oh thats right, you worry about prancing about ontop the snow, rather than the threat of that behind us."

With that he turned to jab a fist at the darkness rapidly approaching.

It began to rain, not water but ash, hard bright flakes that burnt as the touched. Findley winced as one hit him in the face then, before he could utter even one word a large burning coal fell upon the goats butt.

She let out a lond agonised bleat and shot off, charging ahead of the Elves. Behind her Findley still clinging to the rope was dragged along. On his back, the small kid stood trying to keep its balance as Findley skimmed over the ground.

Finally after a few hundred yards the goat stopped, she turned to welcome the little kid who jumped neatly off of Findley's back. Findley sat up slowly, checking that he was still in one piece.

His beard was filled with snow and his nose grazed and red but apart from that his tough skin and leather clothes had saved him from injury.

Looking back he saw the others struggling to reach him. It was Mablung who arrived first. He looked down trying to keep the smile off his face as he held out his hand gesturing to help Findley to his feet.

"I can mannage," came a rather unconvinced voice as Findley tried to stand. He tried a second and a third time before he realised his front was filled with snow, he opened his shirt alowing the snow to tumble out onto his lap.

He felt its freezing bite in areas he preferred to be warm and then in desperation to be rid of its chill he allowed the Elf to pull him free of the snow.

[Edited on 15/3/2003 by Happy_Hobbit]
KeeperofVilya
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 15, 2003 05:24
Eldaline felt icy cold fear grip her heart as she felt the ground beneath her feet shake and the mountains rumble. She knew what it meant, Morgoth knew they had escaped, the chase was on... and her heart dropped to her stomach when she realized who would be at the head, leading the chase – Gimbald. Quickly they made ready to leaves, doing their best to cover any signs of their presence there.

As they headed out yet again, Malathar being carried between the two new elves, Eldaline fell farther and farther behind with the rest of the group. The aid of Beleg had saved Malathar for now, the fever had left him, but not much else had seemed to change in him. Trudging along Eldaline found herself walking near Findley. She looked over at the dwarf, something was wrong. The usual smile was gone and the gleam in his eyes had faded. He kept muttering to himself, and Eldaline was only able to catch bits and pieces of what he was saying, but it was enough for her to tell he was angry and something was bothering the petty dwarf.

Just as she was about to speak, sky grew dark and great flakes of ash and burning embers fell upon them. Shielding her face Eldaline stopped for a moment, when suddenly the goat Findley was leading on the rope took off like a rocket and speed over the snow, dragging the dwarf and the kid along with her. Eldaline took off after Findley as best as she could, struggling through the deep snow drifts. Finally she reached him just as she struggled to his feet and then walking away gruffly still muttering to himself. Eldaline walked up to him and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“Findley” she said softly “Tell me what is troubling you friend.” She knew in her mind what was troubling him, she had seen the way he looked at Strongbow and his companion, and she knew the way they had spoken to each other. Findley was feeling hurt and maybe.... even unneeded now that some help had finally found them.
He just turned his head away from her.
“Nothing” he said, somewhat harshly.
“Findley... listen to me. We will never forget what you have done for us, you are the reason we are free, and without you we would still be prisoners or even worse. You saved us all, you saved me, and you saved Malathar. You have helped us in the past and you continue to help us now...” she said as she pointed to the kid struggling in his arms. “You are very special to us Findley; we will always need you, no matter what. We, all of us, we owe our very lives to you.”

She looked down at the dwarf and smiled slightly. He looked up at her a somewhat saddened look in his eyes.
“Oh lass” he said.
Eldaline smiled and gently took the struggling kid from Findley and held it in her arms trying to calm it.
“How could you care so for a dwarf, when others reject us without a second thought?” Findley asked quietly as they continued to trudge on, now that the rest of the company had caught up with them.
“Dear Findley... I have learned long ago that you cannot judge based on looks, if that were the case then Malathar and my self would be beyond hope. Indeed most of us would be doomed if friendship and love were based on looks alone. It’s what is on the inside that matters Findley. Being a dwarf has nothing to do with it as far as I am concerned. It’s who you are, all you have done for us, the sacrifices you have made on our behalf, that is what makes you special, that is what makes you, you.”
Findley looked at her and smiled and nodded as they trudged along, his heart lightened by her words for he knew she spoke the truth. He smiled to himself as they trudged along with the others.
Mhairi
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 16, 2003 12:28
From the high mountain peaks, a huddled figure wrapped in furs rides down the snow and treacherous ice, mounted on a great brindled warg. The wind whistles, snatching at the rider's clothes and tugging at long locks of wild black hair.

From her high vantage point, the huddled figure can see the elves and dwarves below, battling against the foul weather summoned as if by Melkor himself. Spurring the warg on with her bare heels, she scrambles down until she and her mount bar the way of the travellers. Silently, she awaits their approach, her hands raised to show she means no harm. She doubts they will recognise her amongst her layers of pelts and plundered armour.
Beleg_Strongbow
Master marksman, and ancestor to that Greenleaf kid
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 16, 2003 03:02
He looks fiercely upon the petty dwarf who dares to dirty his silken sleeve. The goat was food, repugnant creature, and it would serve to be roasted. He opens his mouth to let loose a string of scathing words -- when he is near knocked off his feet by an intense rumbling from underneath the ground. To keep his balance, lightly he leaps into the branches of a nearby tree and gazes around, into the direction of Thangorodrim. Its tops were spewing with lava; it glowed red as if it glowed with the anger of its master.
It was known that some slaves had escaped. And he gazed upon them at the moment, fear in their eyes and lightness their step, ready to flee, anywhere, away from the ash-laden, fear driven caves that proved to be their prison for much too long.
He would never tell anyone, not even Mablung Drambor his best friend, that fear had struck his heart at that moment, once he saw Thangorodrim erupt. His first thoughts were imagining himself being captured and forced to be a wasted and hopeless thrall, doomed as a slave to his enemy.

"We must get south as quickly as possible," he hears Artalion say, firmly but quietly.

His voice brings the Strongbow out of his fear, and he nods. "Heliana's is straight way. Quickly, leave your fear behind you." He speaks sharply and quickly, offering a firm grip to lift the Elves to their feet and encourage them. Findley and Thalin he ignores, letting them gain their own feet; they were stout Dwarves after all. He lets Mablung help the Petty Dwarf up and speak kind words to him, as Findley had lost control of the unruly goat and kid; he would not lower himself at such a level to do so. Soon Mablung rejoins him, and they continues to carry Malathar upon his stretcher....yet he knew they could not continue this way.

Agents of the Dark Lord were soon to be after them, if not already. Heliana's home was not entirely safe, but far from the hills and peaks of Thangorodrim and within yards of the Girdle of Melian. It would perhaps offer them some protection and solace. He sheds his cloak and cast it upon Malathar to shield him from the raining ash and fiery coal. He pays no heed to the burning coals that lit upon his arms and shoulders, pausing only to brush them off.

His sharp elven sight looks yards, miles ahead past the trees and shadows, keeping track of the path he chooses in the foilage, minding where Heliana's abode would be.

Yet a hooded figure upon a large beast blocks the way, waving its arms. He cannot tell if it is male or female, nor its culture. But as he walks near, with the others following closely, he realizes that the creature the rider is upon is a Warg - a hideous, hairy, wolf-like creature. He remembers Carcaroth, the slathering, fearful wolf-beast that bit off the hand of the warrior Beren bearing a Silmaril.

"Daro!" he cries, stopping quickly and letting warrior instinct take over. He sets down Malathar's stretcher and instantly Belthronding is in his hands, an arrow trained upon it, aiming at the Warg and its rider. He senses Mablung quickly pulling back an arrow as well.
Ringhilwen
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 16, 2003 03:44
Mathorwen continues with the others, not speaking, lost in her own thoughts, as the group tries to move as quickly as possible away from the peaks of Thangorodrim. She walks behind Beleg and Mablung, watching their every move. Though she is grateful to have them there, she was uncomfortable being around anyone who had not gone through what the captives had. For the rest of her life, she knew she may never find anyone but these companions who would understand the years they had been trapped in Angband.

Mae watched Beleg scan miles ahead with his elvish sight, and she cursed her own luck to have lost it while imprisoned. She followed Beleg's gaze forward, and saw it stop on a dark figure that blocked the way some distance ahead. The figure looked to be mounted on a creature...a Horse? No, it was too low to the ground....Wait, it was a Warg...

"Daro!" she heard Beleg call, and she turned to see him fit an arrow to his large bow, and she saw Mablung do the same out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively, she gripped her spear tighter, but as she watched the figure ahead, and sensed the groups reactions, a new emotion came to her...a new presence.

She knew who the warg rider was.

Without thinking, she leapt in front of Beleg as he aimed his arrow at the figure.

"Wait!" she cried out in the Elven tongue, and the entire group turned to look at her. Artalion dashed forward, and gripped Mae's arm, since the look on Mae's face made him think she was about to leap onto Beleg, for her eyes were filled with anger.

"Maethorwen, what is it?" Artalion said as the others watched.

"It is her," Mae said, not taking her eyes off the arrow still notched in Beleg's bow. "It is the Easterling, I can feel it..."

"Are you sure, there are wargs riders all across this country," Beleg said.

"There is no doubt in my mind, it is her. She has escaped from Angband. Do you doubt me?"
Syriana
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 17, 2003 03:03
Polgara walked at the end of the group helping eldaline whenever she would fall behind too far.When she helped Findley back up his feet,he first wanted to pull away from her help.

"Daro!" she suddenly heard Beleg yell.Both he and Mablung got out their bows and notched an arrow.Yet she could not see what made them do this.

When shortly after this Mae cried "Wait!" she also saw the figure in the distance.

"It is her," Mae said, not taking her eyes off the arrow still notched in Beleg's bow. "It is the Easterling, I can feel it..."

"Are you sure, there are wargs riders all across this country," Beleg said.

"There is no doubt in my mind, it is her. She has escaped from Angband. Do you doubt me?"

While following the conversation Polgara focused on the rider,tho her vision was not clear she thought the rider showed his/her hands and they held no weapon.

"If it were an enemy,would the rider make clear to be unarmed?" she asked softly.

At this both Mablung and Beleg saw that she was right,the rider showed empty hands and not even a weapon close by.

"It cannot be anyone else but Morikelva..." she whispered.She was not sure to be happy or angry about this.
She felt that Beleg and Mablung were not sure and did not want to put their weapons down.

"We are going in that direction anyway if I´m not mistaken," Mae said. "We will see then who this person is,but we cannot stay here..."
Mhairi
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 17, 2003 06:42
The warg rider slowly lifts her hands to her head, never taking her glittering violet eyes off of Beleg. She removes a heavy fur hood. The grey mountain light reveals a familiar, if not entirely trusted, face to the gathered fugitives.

The elves and dwarves gasp and whisper exclamations to themselves. Upon Morikelva's head sits an ornate silver helmet, fashioned after the head of a wolf. Her solemn brow is framed by silver teeth. The eyes of the wolf are set with great amethysts, deepest violet like the woman's own eyes. From under the helmet streams wild black hair, whipped this way and that by the wind. She rides slowly forward.

Mae is the first to speak. "Morikelva! We thought you were dead! Or worse..."

The Easterling woman dismounts, shaking her head. "Not quite, but they tried".

Morikelva eyes Beleg, whose bow is still drawn. "Now is not the time or place to tell of my own escape. We must hurry. I entertained them for a while, but now Morgoth's search parties roam far and wide searching for you. And for me".

She looks back up the line, to where Malathar is laid semi-unconscious on his makeshift stretcher. "We would travel faster if the elf would ride with me. Is he fit?"

Mae looks back uncertainly at Malathar. "Riding may kill him".

"So may the guards of Angband if we do not move swiftly". Morikelva frowns and then speaks again. "If you do not want him to ride, then at least let the warg take some of the weight of the stretcher".

The Easterling woman strides over to Malathar and crouches to take hold of one end of the stretcher. Beleg, who has followed her closely and with suspicion, reluctantly takes the other and together they carry the wounded elf to the warg. Rummaging under an array of pelts, shields and bags, Morikelva finds two good lengths of leather. She passes each through the girth of the warg, one on each side, and then ties the ends to the foot of the stretcher.

"There", she shrugs. "Until he is fit to ride, at least it will require only one of you to carry the head of the stretcher. For the rest of you, if you wish, there are cloaks and furs enough. And a handful of weapons".

Findley rushes forward, his spirits somewhat renewed by seeing an old ally. "What have you got suited to these hands?", he asks, squinting up at Morikelva and holding his small, square hands in front of her.

A bemused smile tugs at Morikelva's mouth. She turns and reaches inside a leather bag. "These, perhaps?" The Easterling woman hands down a pair of double-edged throwing axes. Findley's eyes light up.

"Aye.. aye. These will do nicely". He looks back up at the Easterling woman. "If these are for giving away, what are you carrying?"

This time, Morikelva smiles broadly. A dark, triumphant, knowing smile. "Why, they gave me my sword back". From a long scabbard hidden amongst the pelts, she unsheathes a sword of mythical stature, twice as tall as Findley, if not more so, and engraved with a bold foreign script the elves cannot read. The hilt is plainly designed to be held by two hands but Morikelva wields the sword with one, playing with the blade slowly against the icy wind. The elves look on in bewilderment and Findley whistles softly.

"What kind of lunatic would pair you and that sword together again?" he whispers. "Begging your pardon".

"The type of lunatic, Findley, whose pride renders him stupid". The Easterling woman's eyes glitter as she watches the blade.

Beleg, disturbed by and untrusting of Morikelva, strides forward. "If all the hoardes of Angband have been turned out against us as you say, then we should make haste".

Morikelva nods in agreement. "The elf is right. We should move on". Quickly, she throws pelts and cloaks to the group and then mounts her warg. Beleg takes the other end of Malathar's stretcher. Determinedly, the fugitives move on.
Syriana
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 20, 2003 12:12
After Morikelva threw cloaks on the snow the group started to go further. Malathar´s stretcher was bound to the Warg so they could move a bit faster. Most of the others were now talking more joyfully; they had more hope to make it. Only the dwarves were quiet, though that was just because of the arrival of Mablung and Beleg.

Polgara was not really that cold, but she took a cloak from the snow just to keep the chill out. She didn’t join in the conversation and walked quietly behind the others, they didn’t seem to notice how quiet she was. Her thoughts travelled back to when her parents had died.

A cold winter’s day, her parents were outside getting some wood for the fire. Though she had promised them to stay inside, she followed them out. The snow attracted her and she wanted to help her parents. She followed the soft prints on the snow, even barely visible to her own eyes.

At a certain point she heard her father’s voice, yelling something to her mother. She only understood the last part of the sentence. “…cannot win, get Polgara and leave here!”
Her heart was troubled and she ran towards the voices, they were now being mixed with others more hoarse and brute. She was close to a small clearing when she heard her mother scream. As she ran closer she noticed her mother running to her father, he was lying on the snow and didn’t move anymore. Her mother blocked her view, but in her heart she knew he was dead.

Though tears clouded her sight she saw her mother pick up the sword that had fallen from his hand and that she attacked the creatures around her. Orcs she found out only minutes later…
Her mother was killed before her eyes. “Ada…nana…” she spoke, walking to her parents. She didn’t notice that the orcs, who were closing in on her, were suddenly backing away. 2 strong, warm arms lifting her were the next thing she remembered; though she struggled to get out in the beginning it was his voice that calmed her anger.

He comforted her first sadness and stayed with her as she fell asleep. The next morning he tried to explain what had happened, who had done it and also how she could revenge her parent’s dead. She was merely a child, but his dark, deep voice went through her soul and heart making so that she would never forget the words he told her. She believed every word he told her.

He made sure she was not alone till the death of her parents was discovered by other elves and she would be taken to her uncle. A day before her uncle found her he left Polgara, handing her a note with instructions on how to send him a message. No one ever found out about this note.

As she grew up, Polgara started to send him messages and the replies to her were as gentle and kind as she remembered the man. But in it were questions about her new home and the undying lands, she could answer the ones about her home and she started to ask questions about the undying lands. Questions no one answered.

She never knew this man was Sauron…

As they moved along Polgara´s hand went to the necklace she was wearing, in it was the note he had given her a long time ago. She wondered if he remembered her, for it was a while ago since she last send him a message. Her mind was fixed; she would renew contact with him…
Beleg_Strongbow
Master marksman, and ancestor to that Greenleaf kid
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 21, 2003 09:17
So Morikelva was the Easterling's name. As tall as Mablung, and waving a sword around that reached to his shoulder.

That was all he needed to know.

The Lady Elf Maethorwen prevented him from releasing any arrows at the Easterling woman -- not that he would have. He was the tried and sturdy chief of all of Lord Thingol's warriors; he would not let any arrow slip. Or miss. Only when the other elves showed recognition towards her, and she offered them pelts and speed for Malathar's aid did the Strongbow begin to trust her. Yet full trust was far off. Soon after he let Mablung take over the side of Malathar's stretcher and lead them to Heliana's, and faded to the back of the fugitive company. If they were all to be hunted, he would give the hunters worthy prey to pursue and capture - Belthronding made sure of it.

At least the Petty Dwarf was happy with his new axes. Better happy than surly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He sees no dark form or shadows in the trees, as the snow melts away and Thangorodrim's view shrinks back. He does notice a shift in the light and in the leaves, a golden mist floating upon the air with the soft scent of flowers, and a faint chorus of birds, nightengales. The Girdle of Melian was near.

Yet that is not their destination. The company stops amidst high-looming trees and vine-like foilage, and marvel upon a tight, voluminous collection of plants and flowers that are laid out before them. The Strongbow remains at his post, at the end of the company, and with a nod bids Mablung to summon the healer. In the silence of the trees Mablung makes the warbling song of the nightengale with his own voice three times. Lightly he calls, song still in his voice, "Hail Heliana, Mistress of Herbs and of Healing!"

A light chuckle reaches all of their ears, not relieving the company's tension but heightening it. The unknown they faced with dread and with weapons, despite being the care of two marchwardens, and the trusted Easterling. Not until they look upon the small frame of an older, grandmotherly woman wiping her hands upon an apron did they concede to relaxing. Mablung leaves them a few yards behind and goes to meet her.

He cheeks are rosy, bunching up as she smiles upon Mablung and recieves him in a firm hug. She does not release him until after she plays with some locks of his hair and comments on how healthy he has been looking. Her voice is shrill but pleasant, her eyes glittering softly upon her friend the marchwarden. It was clear that she had been visited by Mablung many times.

The company watches the two talk for a time, slightly out of their altered hearing range as Mablung's eyes grow pleading, as well as his gestures. Heliana's eyes blaze slightly and she waves her hands, shaking her head. Mablung continues to ask, tilting his head slightly and placing his hands upon his chest.

"What do they speak of?" Morikelva asks anyone who will answer.

The Strongbow decides to do so; his hearing is not altered. "Heavy-Hand is trying to earn all of you shelter, and medicine. The healer is loth to do so, living alone and without need or trouble, as we will bring her much; yet she will heed Mablung better than I." He ignored a rude snort from the Dwarves.

Heliana continues to resist; she will not allow them to her home. She crosses her arms and juts out her chin, and turns slightly away from Mablung. Stiffly, he turns and catches the Strongbow's eye. He sighs softly, and walks through the fugitive company to reach Mablung and Heliana. Belthronding he places in his quiver with his arrows, and he clasps his hands as he walks up to her, bowing slightly.

"Pah! And what makes you think that I will listen to this one if I will not heed you, Drambor? Leave him to his trees and his arrows -- it was a wonder that he would bother to help them when he was patrolling for Greymantle. I know your heart, Mighty Cuthalion -- you would rather be firing upon orcs than lead these destitutes to me!"

"My Lady Heliana," the Strongbow begins, "Anything happening upon the hills and areas of Beleriand is my duty. And so they are. Will you not look upon them? Will you not see that they are hurt-- and one is dying? Where we wardens are not capable you best us in the utmost skill." He lets his honeyed-tone grow lower, and shifts slightly to speak in Heliana's ear as he lets her take a good look upon the fugitives. They stare back, proud but weary. Malathar's eyes are closed. "If were are truly mighty, we wouldn't have come to you. For the Lady Heliana is a healer worthy of kings --and that is why she is given her privacy and respect."

Mablung flanks the other side of the older woman, his voice softened as well. "Will you not reconsider, Heliana?"

The older woman blushes slightly, abash at her insensitivity, and flings her hands into the air. "Oh, I am no noble Lady, but I agree with what you say! Inside now, quickly! Follow where I go!" Before gathering her skirts and turning to go inside her home, she lifts a finger and nearly jabs it into the Strongbow's face. "And you, Cuthalion, can consider yourself fortunate that Drambor was with you!"

She disappears inside; Mablung and the Strongbow stay outside to make sure the fugitives enter safely. The company, upon nearing the house, realize that the tight croppings of foilage that seemed to wind upon nonexistant trees did indeed wind upon pillars and the sides of the house, making the domicile near invisible and camoflaged except to skilled Elven eyes.

Eldaline bows slightly to the two marchwardens, her lips curving slightly. "So Malathar will live?"

Mablung nods slightly. "As surely as Heliana grows every herb known to all civilization in her fields. Though that is a slight exaggeration." He smiles at her.

Artalion clasps Mablung's hands, and then the Strongbow's. "I fear I will not be able to repay you for how you have helped us."

"Lessen your fears," The Strongbow replies. "You owe us nothing. Yet I fear that we will remain with you for some time."

The Easterling Morikelva lingered last, and Heliana emerged once again, sensing their hesitation. "What is the wait for? The dark one enters too."

Mablung and the Strongbow freeze as they lock eyes with each other; neither can speak to her. She looks up at both of them and places her hands upon her hips. "Surely she is not poisoned or cursed, is she? Ai! Yet that surely is!!"

Heliana shrieks as she hears a loud sniffing, followed by slight slobbering. The Easterling is stiff, and does not bother to hide the huge Warg that was forgotten, ordered to linger behind so the healer would not see.

"Leave that thing behind, and hurry inside before I lose my wits and change my decision!" the healer orders, ushering Morikelva inside with haste, but not before the Easterling woman pets the Warg gently, speaking in explanatory tones, and ties it to a tree.

The Strongbow releases a long-held breath as he follows Mablung inside the foilage-covered house of Heliana.
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 21, 2003 10:26
When Morikkelva presented Findley with his axes he was overcome by the desire to hug her, it was only his Dwarvish reticence with the presence of the Marchwardens that prevented him. Instead he took them from her beaming happily. Tucking the two fine blades across his back. He gathered the kid from its mother and set off, his step was lighter for the kindness of the gift and because he knew they were heading for help.

Malathars frame so fine and pale lay under the furs, but even their warmth could not bring color to the stricken Elf. His end was close now, Findley found he was practically running to keep up. But he took no heed for he would not slow them least his friend die so close to help.

Despite this he could not stem the odd comment,

"Damm Elves and their long legs" being one of the more polite ones.

As they entered a more wooded area Findley found the going no better for here roots would trip an unwary foot, he frowned as the Strongbow strode so easily through them without so much of a hitch.

"They'll grow wings no doubt if such were needed" The little kid peered out below the dwarves beard "baaah!" Its bleat startling the Dwarf from his darker thoughts,

"Baah indeed, I guess youre hungry eh? Findleys Face grew gentle as he lowered the small creature to the ground.

"Stay away from ole ugly there, he'll have you for dinner."

Findley eyed the warg, it might be that it was useful at the moment but he could find no comfortable way of being near the beast. Each time he looked upon it he saw his daughters frightened face staring back.

"Daddy help me." Her small voice filtered down from the scented air, the deep woodland reminincent of the old woods close to the Blue Mountains. The chain bit deeper as he continued to struggle his voice curing the dark form that stood laughing close by.

"Daddy save me." It mimicked its dark voice too high to be male

"Ooh Daddy it hurts hahahahaaa!!!"

Findley clenched his fists tight his nails driving into the flesh, he could feel nothing only the bitter grief in his heart, when he opened his eyes, it was with surprise to see Polgara looking at him.

"What is it Findley." she asked concerned.

"It was nothing lass . . . only a vision from the past.

Findley gathered up the kid once more and tucked it back into his shirt, a few moments later they arrived at the house of Heliana.

It was soon obvious she had some concerns about taking in the refugees, and the Elves had to spend a good few moments trying to persuade her. A hacked cough from Malathar and Eldalines frightened face warned they had precious little time now.

It was all Findley could do to stop himself from rushing forward and knocking her down, how could she turn them away? Could she not see the need?

It was Maethorwen's strong grip that held him and just as well for Heliana would not have taken kindly to being knocked to the ground by an irate Dwarf with a small white face looking out from his beard.

Finally she relented, for once Findley was glad the Elves had such fine and sweet voices, for they had managed to convince the lady to help willingly. Something that Findley knew he could not have done, all the same he would have got help for Malathar quicker his way.

Before he entered her house he hastily tucked the kid away, then carefully leading the mother goat he hid her amoungst the many objects that filled the old ladys domain.
Gilraen
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 22, 2003 03:19
The group moved further and further into the woods, let with surety by Beleg and Mablung. As they went, Eaniel noticed with relief that the snowdrifts were shrinking, and a faint song of nightengales reached her ears. She drew and let out a shuddering breath, relieved almost to tears at their fortune at being here. She cocked her head to hear the song of the birds better, for

she had heard of these elven birds, but had never heard their song, for there had been none in Gondolin. The song of the birds was the sweetest music Eaniel had ever heard, and the feel of the soft breeze as it wafted across her skin was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

Suddenly, the group stopped, and Eaniel realized that a woman had come out af a house that stood in a clearing.

Mablung went forward to speak to her, and though the conversation was out of the range of the Elves' ears Eaniel was dismayed to see that the woman seemed to be refusing to give them the aid. Couldn't the woman see how desperate their need was? Though Eaniel herself was only scratched in comparison to Malathar's wounds, she and the others were hungry, bruised, hurt, tired, and worn.

Eaniel saw the woman- Heliana, she thought that Beleg had called her- and Mablung look back towards the group, and Bleleg went to join the two. The woman seemed to bluster for a few more moments before finally conceding to help the.

Mablung gestured the others forward, and they followed eagerly, but Heliana stopped as she saw Morikelva. Eaniel's heart tightened as shepictured the potential conflict between the two.

Morikelva was in no better shape than they were, but if she alone was refused aid she would not beg for it. The tense moment was soon passed, though, for Heliana ushered Morikelva inside, pausing only to tie the warg to a tree outside.

Eaniel ducked inside after Morikelva had passed in, and was greeted by a cozy, warm place. Eaniel had met few of the race of men and had never been inside one of their dwellings before, and depite her weariness she found herself looking around curiously. Jars, crocks and bottles lined the walls of the room that Eaniel assumed was the kitchen, apparently filled with food and medicine. Bunches of dried herbs hung from the beams of the rafters and gave off a faint sweet and pungent odor.

Her attnetion was brought sharply back to reality as Mablung and Beleg carried in Malathar's stretcher and laid it, at Heliana's direction, in front of the fire. Lainauriel and Eldaline knelt down next to him on the floor, and Heliana crouched across from them, her bustling manner now replaced by one of a sure, skilled healer.

Eaniel sat wearily down on the floor on the other side of the hearth, leaning against the warm bricks of the fireplace. She did her best to stay out of Heliana's way, for she had no special healing skills, as Lainauriel did, with which to help her now. Eldaline knelt next to Malathar, holding his hand and speaking softly to him as Heliana worked.
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 22, 2003 12:10
.......Malathar could faintly hear voices. One was familiar the other was strange to him. They seemed to be far away like he was far removed from where they were. His mind wandered and his thoughts were blurry. Malathar’s mind drifted again and he saw himself that day, the day he had gotten the news that his father had died. He saw himself sitting on his bed, tears in his eyes and his brother Estelar stood beside him.

“Father is gone Malathar.... there is nothing we can do, we cannot bring him back.”
Malathar sat there, knees drawn up to his chin, great sobs shaking his body. He felt his brother’s hand rest gently on his shoulder.
“Malathar. Father wanted to tell you something before we went to battle. But now he is gone and it falls to me to tell you.... to tell you of our family, about your past.”
Malathar looked up at his brother with questioning eyes.
“All your life little brother, you have been taught the ways of our people. You have learned of the great ones of the past, those of the Noldor. You know of the great Feanor do you not Malathar ?
“Yes... Feanor was the greatest craftsman of the Noldor. He made the Palantirs and the precious stones of the Silmarilli. He is the one who lead us to Middle Earth, for though he was exiled it was meant to be, he brought us into the lands of Middle Earth.
“Yes dear brothers that is true.... but there is more of your past you have not yet learned. Not only are you of the Noldor as you have been told all your life, you are descended from Feanor himself, just as I am. Father was Feanor’s brother.
Malathar looked at his brother in shock surprise and disbelief.
“Feanor’s brother ? It’s can’t be...Feanor’s brothers were Fingolfin and Finarfin. Our father....”
“Father was Fingolfin. He came with Feanor across the Great Sea and was exiled with him. Yet after Feanor was killed in the great battle against Morgoth and most of the exiles returned to Valinor, he did not. He remained in Middle Earth, he changed his name, and he started a new life. You are a descendant of the great Feanor....”
Malathar looked up at his brother hardly daring to believe it was true.
“How.... how can you be sure ?”
“Because of this....” Estelar opened his hand and there Malathar saw it, and he knew right away it was all true. In his brother’s hand was a brooch to an old battle cloak – the colors of the house of Feanor shone bright in the morning light. “This was fathers, he wore it when he first came to these lands. It is true Malathar all I have said is true. This now belongs to you”
“Why me” he asked as he looked at the brooch that was now in his hands. “Why me, Talavar is the eldest, why would it not go to him ?”
Malathar took the brooch which was strung on a thin band of silver. Estelar took it and put it over his head so it hung at his chest, and there it remained for the rest of Malathatr’s days.
“Father said it was to go to you, for you were the one destined to do great things, you were the on who would shine, you were the one to carry on our name. Great things will come from you Malathar.....”

Slowly the vision faded and Malathar heard his named called again, then again, and yet again. But this time it was a softer voice calling him. He fought against the darkness that held him, trying to pull him down. He felt like he was sinking, drowning in some unknown deep darkness and it held him firm, determined to drag him under. Malathar fought to make his way back....
“Malathar...” Eldaline called softly as Heliana worked.
Slowly Malathar’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at Eldaline, yet he really did not see her. His eyes wandered then closed again and his moans could be heard by the others. The sweet smell of herbs filled the air. Heliana looked at Eldaline sadly as she opened the pouch and took out a handful of the dried leaves.
““None of them are pain free. The cleansing power is very strong yet it will be almost intolerable for him, so sever are his injuries. It may kill him in the end, but without it he is sure to die...”
She searched Eldaline’s face. Eldaline looked at her and nodded, she knew it was true but it was the only way...
Taking Malathar’s hand she held it tight and kissed it.
“Forgive us Malathar” she said as Heliana began. She took the dried leaves and crumbled them into the hot water and then soaking a cloth in the mixture laid it on the wound. Malathar felt pain like he had never known before course through his body and it’s fiery fingers laid hold of him. His grip tightened on Eldaline’s hand and so it was, that to Malathar’s painful cries, Helina worked, striving to save the life of one that so many held dear....
Andaariel
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 23, 2003 12:42
Heliana had been cooking again, making a fine stew of rabbit, potatoes, carrots and herbs. Stew was Heliana's favourite meal. The smell floated around the kitchen, and as Heliana breathed it in, she tried to ignore the fact that once again, she had made far too much for just herself to consume. She was stirring the pot when she heard a familiar voice beckoning her.

It had been the only two regular visitors she ever received. And while Cuthalion often frustrated her, she cared for him as deeply as Mablung. They'd needed her help, and now, as she was looking down at the battered, weak body of Malathar, Heliana felt ashamed for refusing to take them in earlier. She didn't understand it. She'd always welcomed travellers and visitors. Perhaps she was getting a bit grumpy as she aged.

"I need all of you to get into some sort of line," she ordered, not taking her eyes from Malathar. "Worst injured to healthiest, if you please. I intend on looking each of you over once I am finished here." Malathar gasped as she put some herbs into Malathar's wound.

Heliana looked up at Eldaline. "I'm sorry, dear, I know not your name...I need you to blow gently where I've put the herbs. It will cool the burning he feels." Her eyes scanned the group and that's when Heliana saw Findley. "Pardon me," she said politely but firmly, "There's a jar to your left, filled with a sort of greenish salve, you wouldn't mind fetching that for me, would you?"

Findley looked shocked. Of all the people to choose to help her, Heliana chose him. She smiled at him kindly, despite the urgency of the task at hand.

"Now, if you please, Master Dwarf, time is wasting!" she said, followed with a sigh. "I have a lot of names to learn I'm afraid."

She took the jar, and opened it, applying the salve over the herbs. Malathar calmed instantly.

"Okay, dear, you can stop blowing. This salve will numb him," Heliana said to Eldaline, patting her hand. She turns again to the petty dwarf. "Now, Master Dwarf, there are some pieces of cloth in a pile near your right elbow, I need some of those. And a few of those leather strips beside them!"

Once Findley had given them to her, Heliana bowed her head slightly. "I thank you," she said with a smile.

She covered Malathar's wound with some cloth, then ordered Findley to apply pressure to them as she tied them in place with the strips of leather.

"You just hold his hand, dear," she told Eldaline. "Speak to him. My voice will do nothing to bring him back to us, but I sense yours will." Heliana winked at Eldaline, causing the elf-maiden to smile slightly.

After sending Findley to fetch more water, Heliana finished caring for Malathar. She then asked Beleg and Mablung to move him to her bedroom. She took Eldaline's hand.

"Go sit with him," she said, her green eyes kind and urgent. "I will be in to look on the both of you shortly."

She wiped her hands on her apron, and looked up at the crowd in her kitchen.

"I think it's time for me to reopen my upstairs," she said with a smile, trying to lighten the heavy mood in the room. "After I've seen to all of your wounds, we can have some stew. I hope you're all hungry." She pulled two stools to her massive table. "Now, I don't care if all you have is a scratch or a bruise, I want to take a look at each of you." She eyed Beleg and added, "No matter how proud you may be."

[Edited on 24/3/2003 by Andaariel]
Gilraen
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 23, 2003 02:41
"Now, I don't care if all you have is a scratch or a bruise, I want to take a look at each of you." She eyed Beleg and added, "No matter how proud you may be."

Eaniel found herself obeying Heliana's command, though (she thought) her own hurts were slight. She got up to stand at the back of the line that was forming, but as she moved past the fireplace that she had been sitting beside the teakettle that had been hanging over the kettle began to whistle. Without thinking, Eaniel reached out a hand to push the pot hook that suspended the kettle over the fire away from the middle of the fire. Having effectively moved the kettle off of the fire, Eaniel withdrew her hand and resumed her walk to the back of the line, but Heliana's voice stopped her.

"No you don't, dear. Come here."

Eaniel obeyed, though she wondered what Heliana wanted of her.

"First- tell me, what is your name?"

"I am called Eaniel, m'lady"

"Let me see your hands, Eaniel"

Eaniel held out her hands, and Heliana took them in her own, examining them with a healer's eye. Scars covered them to her wrists, and her fingers and palms were callousesd heavily. But that was not what was concerning Heliana, at least at the moment.

"Couldn't you feel how hot that pot hook was?

Eaniel hadn't, and said as much.

Heliana frowned, but as if she were thinking hard.

"Why?"

"I don't know, m'lady. I worked at the forges in Angband, working with hot metal every day for years. I guess my hands got used to the heat. After a while, it didn't bother me."

"Your hands didn't get used to the heat, Eaniel. The heat destroyed the nerves in your hands. I'm surprised you can feel anything at all. I can give you medicine that will bring back some of the feeling in your hands, but it will be up to your own strength to bring the rest back. Now, Do you have any other wounds?"

Eaniel protested that no, she was fine, and that Heliana tend to the others first. Without waiting for a reply, she slipped away to the back of the line. The cut on her cheek and slash on her shoulder burned, but she could wait for help.

As Eaniel passed Findley, she heard him mutter distinctly "Proud, stubborn Elves"
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 24, 2003 01:38
The old healer's house was snug and low-beamed. Morikelva stooped uncomfortably and untrusting, close to the door. Quite obviously, the salves and potions of this industrious little woman were having a good effect on the elves but the Easterling woman felt like a trapped animal in the confined and heavily-scented house.

"I cannot stay here", she announces abruptly. "I will take watch outside and feed the warg. I have no wounds requiring elvish spells".

The elves look at her with tired and weary eyes. Findley patters over to Morikelva and says in a low voice, "I'd be grateful, you know, if you'd not feed the goat nor the kid to your warg friend".

"Your goats are safe, Findley. Although I have no desire to hunt far, this looks like good deer and rabbit land".

Outside in the starlit night, Morikelva scents the air. Sure enough, through the waft of jasmine and pine comes the warm frightened animal smell of warg quarry. The beast she had stolen from Angband is restless, snorting and tugging on his tether. Morikelva quiets him with a murmur and sits wearily down on a tussock of springy grass. The moonlight plays upon her wolf-crown, the amethyst eyes sparking eerily.

From her belt, the dark Easterling woman retrieves a small silver bottle. As she opens it, traces of vapour release into the night. Morikelva touches the bottle to her lips. The liquid burns into her stomach, warming her chilled body. She mutters quietly to herself in a strange tongue and then crouches, drawing her hood over her helmet, her keen violet eyes piercing the night.

In the shadowy moonlight her predator's sight - not so acute as that of the elves but sharp and deadly nonetheless - picks out a small group of grazing deer. The warg snorts and a stag closest to the house raises his head. Morikelva whispers to the warg to calm him and then begins to move slowly forward, cat-like, stalking her prey.

From inside the house, the elves hear a sudden rush of hooves heading away from the house, followed by a high-pitched scream of animal fear. All falls silent. Beleg goes to the window, his hand on his sword. The other elves reach for their own weapons, rising from their seats. Heliana tuts in a motherly fashion.

"If you will take company with creatures so alien to you, do not be surprised if their behaviour then shocks you". The old woman stands behind Beleg, peering over his shoulder.

From the shadow of the trees, Morikelva emerges, carrying the carcass of a young deer over one shoulder. In her right hand is a sharp, bloody hunting knife.
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 24, 2003 10:35
Findley watches as the healer started to tend to Malathar she spoke in a low voice and Findley strained to hear. To be honest he wasn't concentrating fully, for he found her curvy form much to his liking and was intent on following the gentle movements of her body.

When she spoke to him it took a few moments for his thoughts to disappear and the need for action to occur, with a wide grin he handed the jar of salve to her.

"Here ya go Lass," His voice betraying the desire his heart felt.

She sighed, Findley felt his own heart soar for she had sighed at him.

Soon she called for his help again, he brought the bandages to her and as she placed his hand upon the pad to hold firm he was sure he felt her squeeze it gently.

Findley felt his face flush, by the stars she was making him blush. He marvelled at her skill in healing, seeing her work in a quiet confident way. He saw softness and tender heart and was happily dreaming of being wrapped in her warm embrace when she spoke.

"Come forward Master Dwarf"

"Me . . . hurumph Meee, nay Lass I need no fixing,"

'You fool his heart cried she wants to touch you, to know the Dwarf you are,'

Findley turned scarlet and stepped forward despite the warning in his head he had almost reached her when the voice now screaming made itself heard

'You fool Findley you still have the kid in your shirt'

"Aww Lass" He said looking directly at Heliana with a sheepish grin.

"I'll not have your fair hands soiled by my filthy body" He rushed outside to find a water trough. Gently he put down the kid before dunking his head into the trough.

It was moments later he spotted Morikelva, he eyed her suspiciously,

"Your goats are safe, Findley. Although I have no desire to hunt far, this looks like good deer and rabbit land." She left to go hunting. Findley sighed and turned to go back indoors,

"You stop there." He muttered to the little white face staring at him. He walked back inside and up to Heliana.

"Well Lass," He said, grinning broadly "I am ready for you."
KeeperofVilya
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 26, 2003 10:50
Eldaline knelt next to Malathar holding his hand as Helina worked. When she was done, Malathar was moved to the next room while she looked after the others. Sitting next to him, Eldaline held his hand stroking his hair, as she spoke softly to him. Looking up through the doorway, into the next room, she saw Helina attending to her fellow companions. In her heart she felt relief that they had found a place of refuge and safety, at least for the time being. The house was large and roomy and a clam safe, homely feel to it. The walls were covered with shelves containing jars and containers of herbs and other foods, along with many, many books. A sweet smell filled the air as the herbs Helina was using mixed and mingled and helped clear her mind and calm her heart.

Looking down at Malathar she smiled slightly. His eyes were closed as if in sleep, yet this sleep was different. It was a peaceful pain free sleep, unlike that he had been experiencing the last few days. She began to believe once more that he would make it, that she would not loose him. Yet as she sat there, she noted Helina looking at her from time to time with her bright eyes. It was as if she was trying to read her, like she knew something. Eldaline was unnerved by this, did she know her secret ? Looking down she closed her eyes. She knew it showed, she had felt the changes herself, yet the others did not know the fullness of the secret she carried. Sitting there she lost herself to her thoughts and fears. What would the others think ? How would they react to her and the child ?
“Rejection is all we shall receive” she thought sadly. “There can be hope for one so shamed as I, what hope do I have of being accepted, that the child will be accepted. Yet can I even be sure I can accept it... “

As her mind wandered she felt a hand on hers and looked up into Helina’s bright eyes as she knelt down on the other side of Malathar.
“How is he dear ?”
“He’s been asleep the whole time...” Eldaline said softly.
“Good, good.... sleep is the best thing for him. I am surprised indeed that he has made it this far. Few have ever survived an attack by a warg, fewer still could survive and injury such as his for so long. He does indeed have a strong will, and noble blood in his veins. ” She looked up at Eldaline. “And now dear, about you.”
“Oh I am fine... nothing wrong with me” Eldaline said, trying to fake a smile.
“Come now, stop this nonsense. It is plain to see the signs dear... and I am amazed that you have fared as well as you have in your condition.”
Eldaline turned her head away slightly as she felt Helina put a hand on her shoulder.
“What is your name dear ?” Helina asked softly.
“Eldaline...”
“Eldaline.... am I right to assume, judging by your actions, that it was not Malathar who...” here her voice trailed off as she looked at Eldaline.
Eldaline breathed in deeply, fighting back the tears that stung at her eyes. She told Helina of their capture and of the prisons of Angband, she told of the shame she had been given at the hands of Grishnak, Lublolo, and Grimbald.
“No one else knows of the secret I carry but Malathar.... and now you."
With tears in her eyes she looked up at Helina, then back down at Malathar.
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 26, 2003 06:35
He doesn't break the stare Heliana challenges him with, upon her saying that she would examine every single one of them. He had not recieved a bruise nor a scratch - and neither did Mablung-- yet he would not argue her command.

He steps to the back, letting the fugitives pass before him and Mablung, and neatly folds his hands while planting both feet firmly upon the floor. He is at ease, but poised for action should it be needed. The Lady Elf Eaniel he saw touch the heated pot, without a wince, with her hands, and puts back the grief in his heart that such delicate hands were hardened by work underneath the mountains of the Dark One.

He keeps a sharp eye upon the Dwarves - the smaller one especially. As Findley passes him to be examined by Heliana, he looks up and gives the Strongbow a rather sour look, laced with perhaps some grudging respect - or gratitude at least. He does not blink as he returns the look with just as much intensity.

He watches as the Petty Dwarf stumbles upon his words and flushes to a bright red as the healer fixed her attentions upon him. So the Dwarf was smitten....how amusing. Heliana certainly had the personality for him. He places a hand over his eyes in concealed exasperation as the Dwarf makes pause to venture outside and release the young goat he hid underneath his garments. Mablung only smiles softly and with mirth, in the same at ease position. The Strongbow looks upon his second in command dubiously -- surely he wasn't favoring the Dwarf...

When she finishes with Malathar, packing his wounds with herbs and salves and cooing over his murmurs and groans of pain, she has the Strongbow and Mablung carry him to the bedroom, a spacious place with wide windows, spread open to allow fresh air to sweep inside. Although it would help the Noldor, it still puts the Strongbow at ill ease; anyone or anything could easily climb inside, or perhaps even arrows could be sent flying in to harm anyone in their path.

Yet they were near Melian's Girdle, he tells himself. There was nothing to fear here. And the Noldorin needed time alone, and needed it with his Lady Elf, for her to watch over him. He learned that her name was Eldaline, and immediately he sensed that there was a bond forged between her and Malathar that stretched beyond normal grounds. For though the Noldor's beautiful face was marred terribly, she looked upon him as if he was the prince of all Arda.

He also senses something more about her, the Lady Elf...she walked slower than the others, looked paler, weaker. During their travels to Heliana's home Mablung twice had to stop and offer Eldaline aid so she would not lag behind. She was not well. It was not his business to make his query upon why, for he for the moment was only a guide and guardian -- but still he wondered. And he knew Mablung sensed the same, even before he noticed.

He and Mablung return to the main room, to the same at ease positions, and he lets his guard fall. The Easterling pardoned herself outside, for she was not injured, and seemed more than able to care for herself if she was. If the fugitives trusted her enough to allow her to travel with them --and upon a Warg of all creatures -- then perhaps he could let down his biased opinion of the Swarthy one.

He hears hooves-- and a piercing animal scream fill the air, making all of them freeze. Instantly he leaps towards the window, hand poised around the hilt of his longsword. In a fluid motion he pulls it out of the sheath strapped across his back, and twirls it forward, pointed ears primed for any other noise. Mablung was at the other window, primed for any action, ready to protect their charges; the fugitives brandish their own crude weapons and the ones the Easterling gave to them, tense and taut as they were when the marchwardens first came upon them.

Yet all the Strongbow saw was the Easterling, bearing a fallen deer upon her shoulder, a soiled knife in one hand.

He hears Heliana clucking softly, and her voice directly behind him. "If you will take company with creatures so alien to you, do not be surprised if their behaviour then shocks you."

He turns around. "It doesn't shock me, not in the least." In a blur he leaves the domicile, blocking Morikelva's way and meeting her.

His eyes are dark, his voice sharp as the knife the Easterling held. "There was no need for such bloodshed. Your companions have seen much of it -- do you think they wish to see more now?"

"I bring us food, proud marchwarden," Morikelva responds coolly, her voice deep and calm.

"Plenty of food Heliana has. You saw it straightway -- yet you chose to kill such a beautiful creature." If he had any cultivated trust towards Morikelva, it was beginning to wither. "If you feel the need to hunt and satiate your bloodlust, than I suggest you return from whence you came."

He returns to Heliana's house, his cloak billowing behind him. Mablung caught his eye, as he also spied Artalion fixing a curious gaze upon him -- but he would not speak. The dark mood he was in only grew darker.
Syriana
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 27, 2003 03:21
The heat in the house had struck Polgara, but she quickly adjusted to it and relaxed a bit more. Though she was not sure she was relaxing at all, memories were flooding back at her. Memories she hated as much as she loved them.

The sight of this kitchen reminded her of the kitchen of her parents, shelves also filled with jars full of herbs and food. Nobody noticed that Polgara just stood there, at least she thought, looking around the kitchen.

In the distance of her mind she heard the healer talk to Eldaline about Malathar. The door opened several times, but she didn´t pay attention to it. She threw the cloak she put on on a chair and walked to a corner and sat down on the ground, hiding away in the shadows.

"Polgara, how many times haven´t I told you that you have to sit on a chair and not on the ground!"

"Mom..." she softly whispered, tears running over her face. She covered her ears, trying to shut out the memories...she couldn´t.

A kitchen...a warm, cosy fire burning and the smell of fresh tea and food hanging in it. Joyfull voices coming from outside, her parent´s and also her uncle´s.

She was to young to open the door on her own, but she didn´t have to try. Her uncle came in, lifting her from her bed and throwing her in the air...his normal way of greeting her. As she hugged him she saw her father smiling behind him.

"Ada...ada..." she said happily, struggling free from her uncle´s grip and ran over to her father. He took her in his arms and placed her on a chair near the fire giving her a cup of milk to drink. She could hear her mother sing in the backroom...

She was pulled out of her memories by a voice asking her something.

"Well dear, are you okay?"

Polgara looked up in the face of the healer, suddenly she realised she had been crying like a little child with her head on her knees. As she looked around the room she saw that some of her friends were loking at her puzzled, especially Lainauriel looked worried at her.

"I´m just tired..." she said, hoping that would satisfy them.

Heliana didn´t really believe her, for her eyes searched her face for clues about what was bothering her.

"Well, then let me make sure you can get some sleep." she finally answered and stood up to re-open the upstairs.
SadisticYoda
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 31, 2003 05:17
Thalin sat on a high-risen stool that made him feel tall compared to the elves. Though a proud dwarf, he was surronded by elves, a people he hated, although not like he did in the past, but regardless, was not too friendly to them. He stared at Findley's new weapons for a little while, not too happy that he had the old ones, but was soon over it, now begining to complain about the lack of action, in waiting for Malathar's recovery. Thalin can be bored very easily, more then the average dwarf. He practices moving his fingers around in weird shapes, and pounding softly on the table. Anything to keep his tiny mind busy, and if it wasen't, he'd probaly snap and go crazy. But Thalin soon stops, and looks to the elves, but not saying a thing.
Mhairi
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 31, 2003 06:02
Morikelva blinks once at the retreating form of Beleg, her violet eyes belying nothing. Then she turns to the warg and throws the carcass down before it. Greedily, the great creature tears and rends at the tender hide. Neither warg nor rider had eaten anything other than the meagre half-frozen offerings of the mountains since escaping Angband. For her part, Morikelva slices at the thigh of the young deer and then returns to her grassy perch. She eats slowly, considering her next course of action.

The elves, now so close to their own kind and in the comfort of warm and welcoming homes, needed no more from her. She, for her part, had delayed their pursuers and won back her honour. But what now for one only prized for her savagery and battle-skill?

The fire in the Easterling woman's eyes dims slightly. She listens to the night, a thousand beasts near and far speaking the language of hunter and hunted. From inside the house she hears the low murmuring of the dwarves and elves. The dual voices of her entire life. The uncomfortable partnering of absolute wildness and a secret, unbidden desire for company.

Morikelva retreats to the shadow of the overhanging eaves and wraps her cloak about her, the bloodied knife still clasped in her right hand.
KeeperofVilya
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: March 31, 2003 01:30
They all were relived and thankful to have reached the safety of Helina’s home. That evening they slept comforted and peaceful for the first time in what seemed like ages. Beleg and his companion remained awake, their warrior and protector modes turned on. They silently kept watch, roaming the house, all night. As they slept, Beleg crept into the next room. Malathar lay in one of the rooms on the bed, still in a deep sleep, under the warm covers. Eldaline lay next to him, though she slept fitfully, waking every time Malathar moved or made a sound.


When the early morning rays fell through the window, Eldaline turned over to face Malathar. She turned to look into Malathar’s bright and shining eyes as he looked at her and smiled.
“Eldaline...” he said softly as he looked at her, that old familiar twinkle back in his eyes.
“Malathar !” she cried, barely able to believe it.
He smiled at her and reached up weakly and ran his fingers through her hair. He had made it through the night, he would be ok, yet he was far from fully recovered. Leaning over Eldaline kissed him gently.

“Oh Malathar... I was so afraid. I was so afraid I would loose you.”
“You will never be without me, even if I am not by your side. I will always be with you – in your heart.”
He reached up pulling her close and kissed her back as the morning rays fell through the window. Birds sang their song, welcoming the new day. The sweet fragrance of flowers drifted on the morning breeze. Eldaline sat up and looked down into Malathar’s eyes and once again she saw the spark – and she knew in her heart that he would make it. How long they stayed there gazing at each other they did not know.

Just then there was a noise from the door way. Turning to look, Eldaline laughed softly and Malathar smiled. Helina stood in the doorway, her hands on the door frame. Behind her were their friends, trying to see around her and get into the room. Above their murmurs a voice was heard and Malathar broke into a wide grin as he heard the unmistakable voice of Findley.
“Where is he ? Let me through... out of the way master elf...”
Then Findley broke through the crowd and slipped under Helina’s raised arm and ran towards the bed.
“Laddie” he exclaimed as he ran forward. Standing next to the bed he looked at Malathar as he weakly sat up and leaned back against the pillows Eldaline propped up behind him. He smiled kindly at the dwarf.
“Findley, my good friend....”
“Oh laddie... you worried us to death. Don't ya dare ever go and do something like again !”
“I don’t plan on it Findley” Malathar said with a laugh as he put a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder.

“Oh ok.... you all can visit with him” said Helina with a sigh. “But just for a little while.”
She steped aside as they all went over and gathered around the bed. It was a warm welcome Malathar received and he smiled broadly at all his dear friends. He was greatly relieved to find that they all had made it and all were well.
All too soon Helina was ushering then all out of the room, much to everyone’s disappointment and dismay.
“He’s on the mend but he aint better yet and needs his rest. Come on now.. out, out, out !”
Soon the room was empty saved for Eldaline who still remained seated on the bed next to Malathar, Helina, and the two stranger elves who stood by the door where they had been the whole time. Helina knelt down next to Malathar and checked his wound and re-bandaged it. As she worked the two elves walked over and stood next to Helina. Eldaline told Malathar who they were and all they had done for them.
Malathar stared at Beleg. Yes... he remember seeing those eyes and that face before. He looked over at the other elf standing next to him, arms folded and a slight smile at his lips. Then his eyes met the deep bright eyes of Helina. He looked at them and realized how much they had done for them – for him – they had saved his life.
“I owe more to you than I could ever repay” he said sincerely, a tear forming in his eye. “Without your aid... I would not be here now. I am forever in your debt.”



[Edited on 1/4/2003 by KeeperofVilya]
Mhairi
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 01, 2003 07:07
Morikelva watches the sun rise. It is a clear, bright morning full of hope. The Easterling warrior throws off her heavy cloaks, revealing the full splendour of her armour, given back to her in spite by the generals of Angband for one final duel, in which they had expected her to die.

Morikelva makes her way to a small brook a short distance from Heliana's comfortable home. Kneeling on the bank, she washes the dirt and blood and sweat from her body and from the priceless armour. She takes a long draught of the chill water and then stands, considering for one final time the decision she had reached in the night.

As she stands alone, Morikelva hears footsteps behind her. Turning, she sees Beleg making his way to the brook with his water bottle in hand. He acknowledges the Easterling's presence with a cold flick of his eyes and a mutter. Morikelva watches him with a steady stare. She looks at the sword he carries, a longsword much like her own but crafted in a finer elvish style. A faint shudder of anger and territorialism plays down her spine and the fingers of her right hand begin to reach for her sword. With a conscious effort, she stops herself and looks to the house, bright and cheerful in the morning light. The bloodshed and torture of recent times was sufficient, even for her.

"It is for you now, with your bright sword, to protect these people, so marred by Angband", she says to Beleg, who is crouched at the water's edge. He looks up at her, his eyes narrow with suspicion. "I have played my part and cannot follow you into the light and safety of elven realms".

Beleg stands and caps his water bottle, walking towards the tall Easterling woman as he does so.

"Tell them", she continues, "that should they travel abroad from their homes, into the darkness of the forest or the wilderness of the moors, then they may call on me and I will guide and protect them as best I can".

Morikelva pauses and from around her neck takes an elegant silver whistle, fashioned after a wolf's head. She offers it to Beleg, who opens his hand warily. Morikelva laughs. "Never did I think I would meet one more alone than I". She drops the whistle into Beleg's hand and closes his fingers around it. "If you hide thus from your own kind, then your fate will be as mine and we will both be as lonely phantoms, wandering the earth with none to call our own".

With a final piercing flash of her violet eyes, Morikelva turns sharply and strides back across the green turf to where her warg waits. She checks the saddlebags and girth and then springs on board. She raises her hand to Beleg in a final parting gesture and gallops away, the heavy thud of the warg's feet drumming on the firm ground.
Syriana
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 01, 2003 11:51
It was the first night for a long time that Polgara could sleep like this again, for some reason she felt save...no she more felt at home. Though she was really exhausted she woke up very early the next morning and she went down into the garden to get some fresh air.

When she was outside, she remembered the note she ahd written the night before.
'Note...' she thought bitterly. 'It´s more a complete letter.'

When she looked around, Polgara saw Morikelva sleeping against a tree. SHe looked as though she was sleeping deeply and would not be disturbed by anything easily.

She wondered why she was always so nervous when she send Aredraron a message, or was it now just because the Easterling was so close to her...

The morning after her parents were killed Polgara asked the man what his name was.

"Call me Aredraron," he said to her, guiding her away from the clearing where her parents lay dead. Keeping her thoughts busy with the stories he told her.

At a certain point she forgot what had happened the next day and she laughed with his stories. When she suddenly looked up at him he was smiling down on her and it gave her the feeling of safety.

In the meantime she started asking him questions over where he came from and if he had known her parents. Yet he never answered them, he merely avoided them by asking her more questions about the forest they were walking in.

She forgot about her own questions and trusted him completely. She lost the doubt in her heart when she heard him talk so badly about the orcs, the 'things' that killed her parents.

She sighed as she remembered all this.

Polgara gave a high, short pitched whistle and waited. The sound made Morikelva move in her sleep, yet she did not wake up. After a few minutes a raven landed in front of her, she tied the message to it´s paw and it took of immediatly.

She watched it fly away for a short while and then got back in, seeing most of the group back downstairs. They were all standing behind Heliana and she went to see what was going on. She smiled as she saw that Malathar was back on the mend.

The whole group went in the room to greet him, Polgara followed but she didn´t say much. She felt out of place. She hardly knew any of them.
Polgara left the room a short time later, going to the kitchen to get something to eat...
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 06, 2003 01:32
Findley woke, during the night he had clambered form the bed to sleep upon the floor. It would be some time before he would feel comfortable in a bed, and a wooden bed at that.

Sitting up he scratched himself, mmm he needed a bath. he got up still dressed in the same rags he had arrived in, he lifted his arm taking a great sniff . . . Big mistake, coughing violently he headed downstairs and outside.

His searched about for a while until his eyes fell upon a large stone trough, just the thing. Stripping off he jumped into the icy water and despite the cold he began to wash vigourously enjoying the clean water with great gusto.

He had been there perhaps ten or fifteen minutes when to his horror he espied Morikelva, She was busy tho so he hastened to leave, however he spotted another coming.

"Of all the blooming luck it had to be that snotty stuck up Elf Strong arm or whatever he's called."

He muttered angrily ducking himself back under the water. He lay there trying to not concentrate on his need for air, finally however he could hold back no longer and surfaced, a quick glance to the two who stood talking a way off and he was out grabbing his rags and heading to the barn.

An old cow lowed, startled by his naked body entering her barn. Findley glared at her,

"If yer offended then overt yer eyes." he snarled watching in amazement as she turned round.

"Silly moo." he muttered angrily.

Findley stared down at the things he held in his hands, he had forgotten to bring a towel, darn and he could hardly stay here waiting untill he dripped dried. He moved cautiosly to the door peering out, dammit they were still talking, what did an Easterling and a Elf have to talk of. It was then with great horror he notice another aproaching,

"Dammit it busier here than the halls of Norgrod,"

He turned and seeing no other place jumped into the hay rack nearby, fervently pulling they hay about him."

Heliana came into the barn carrying a pail, she knew the old cow would not yeild much but she hoped it would be enough at least for the one named Malathar.

She set down the stool beside Daisy and began to draw the milk with slow rythmic squeezes, as she worked her eyes fell upon the ragged bundle lying on the floor. Her brow furrowed, where on earth had they come from, perhaps some beast had dragged them hoping to make its bed warmer. She stood up and moved over to pick them up.

Findley suddenly afraid his few possesions might disappear, called out,

"Err Lass those be mine and I would trouble you to leave em be."

Heliana a little started, turned quickly to gaze in the direction of the voice, puzzled as to who or what had spoken for there was no one visable.

"Ahem please if yer wouldnt mind" He added.

She looked to the hay rack, among the golden hay she could just see the odd pinkness of a foot and a knee and the rather redder face half hidden by hay and a beard.

"Master Dwarf pray tell me why you are hiding in my hay? For I think foes would find far fairer places to hide." Heliana tried hard not to smile.

"I am not hunting foes."

Then trying to explain what he was about, but finding no sensible explanation, he burst into laughter.

"I am sorry Lass but you have caught me without a towel and without proper attire. Could you possibly leave me something so I might be respectable for your eyes my dear?"

Heliana grinned and laughed softly leaving to fetch a towel and some clothes she hoped might fit. Upon her return she set them down on the stool then taking the pail she headed back to the kitchen careful to close the barn door.

Once dry Findley put on the clothes, they were far to long of course but they a least fitted. Flapping into the kitchen he stood red faced before Heliana's gaze. She smilled and went to a drawer fetching out a large pair of scissors. To her amazement Findley shrank from them as if he feared them.

Findleys eyes darkened she wouldnt . . . she couldnt surely that was Morgoth's henchman . . . Lublolo . . .he shook his head sadly backing against the wall.

Heliana stood her face awashed with bemusement, then puzzlement, then understanding. She replaced the scissors and approached slowly.

"Findley its okay . . . you are safe here, whatever tortures you witness there are none here to fear." Her voice was soft and gentle, Findley blinked his eyes beholding the fine lady before him.

"I am sorry Lass," he mumbled,

"It was the scissors, if you had seen what they did to Thalin's hair, to his beard you'd understand."

Heliana knelt down before Findley, carefully turning up the legs of the trousers and the sleevs of the shirt,

"There she anounced that will do and better than ruining a good shirt or pants."

Looking at Findleys ashamed face she reached out her hand and touched his cheek,

"Come," she said "Lets see how your friends fare."

It was soon evident that his friends had decided to visit their sick friend and Findley found himself lost in the crush as Heliana barred the way determined he should be allowed to rest.

Findley was now determined to see him,

Where is he ? Let me through... out of the way master elf...”

He pushed his way past Mablung ducking under Heliana's arm to reach his friends side.

“Laddie” he exclaimed as he ran forward.

With a quick bow to Eldaline he gazed at his friend.

He was still pale but Findley could see the spark of life again in his eyes. He smiled kindly at the dwarf.

“Findley, my good friend....”

“Oh laddie... you worried us to death. Don't ya dare ever go and do something like again !”

“I don’t plan on it Findley” Malathar said with a laugh as he put a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder.

"Well now then thats good to hear and Ill bet you'll be wanting something more than good wishes to fill ya,"

He winked at Eldaline and drew from his pocket a newly baked biscuit.

Heliana gasped trying to look suitably shocked at the theft of her mornings work. But she couldnt help but smile as Findley leaned close and whispered

"Shes a fine cook Laddie, with her help you'll be back to your old self in no time."

Malathar did not see the sorrow in Findleys face as he turned, what a stupid comment none of them would ever be their old selves.

"Least I'll have them staples out." he muttered darkly as he left.

Returning to the kitchen Findley sat near the window, it was with some surprise he saw the warg gone. Fearing it had got loose he grabbed one of the axes nearby and hurried to the door.

"Its alright Findley," The Strongbow's voice halting him as he made to open the door,

"The Easterling has gone and taken the Warg with her."

Findley turned he almost choked as he began to say, why what did you say to her to drive her away but something in his heart, some memory held his tongue.

He sighed and stomped back to the table and to the meal that awaited them.
KeeperofVilya
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 06, 2003 08:58
AS Helina left the room, Eldaline turned back to Malathar.
“You need to get some sleep Malathar, I’ll be back in later.”
He took her hand and squeezed it gently and smiled at her
“I’ll be here...” he said softly as he closed his eyes and was soon asleep. Eldaline sat there starring at him a moment and brushed back a strand of hair from his face. With a slight sigh she stood and walked out of the room closing the door quietly behind her. Walking into the main room she smiled at those who were there, then Helina walked up to her.

“This is for you dear.”
In her hands was a dress, green in color, fresh and clean. Eldaline stared at it, speechless for a moment.
“Go on, take it dear” said Helina softly as she showed Eldaline to where she could change and freshen up. Eldaline went in and closed and locked the door behind her. She closed her eyes as the cool fresh water fell on her skin, washing away the filth of Angband – but doing nothing to wash away the memories. She let her mind wander aimlessly. They had escaped and survived – though just barely. Eru had blessed them but sending them a Beleg and Mablung, and Helina to shelter and heal them. They were alive and they were safe.
“.....at least for the moment...” her heart told her. “You know all too well, Morgoth will not let you all go so easily.” She tried to push the though out of her mind but to no avail.
“I bring nothing but peril to them” she thought to herself. “It is I he seeks...the whole company is in danger because of me. Angband is searching for us, and – He- is at the head....” Eldaline shuddered slightly at the thought of the Easterling.

Soon she was slipping into the dress. As she stood before the mirror, which was standing against the wall, her heart sank somewhat. Her old garments had concealed her secret, for they had been torn and loose. The dress however, now left nothing to be wondered. She feared the others knowing her secret. She feared their reaction. Yet in her heart she knew she would not be able to hide it forever, that eventually they would find out the truth...
Taking one last look, she turned and went to join the others. As she entered the room, it seemed to her that everyone stopped what they had been doing at looked at her. She was still Eldaline, yet not the same elf maiden they had known. Her pale skin was clean of the dirt and grime of the past. Her hair was brushed and flowed over her shoulders. It was blond, as they all knew, yet now it shone as if it was spun from strands of gold. Above all, they noticed the dress and....

Eldaline walked in slowly as the others stared. As she did, she could swear she heard them whispering saying something to each others as she walked by. Her eyes met Polgara’s and Eldaline swore she saw reproach and shock in her eyes. Eldaline adverted her eyes as she walked by.
“What more did I expect ?” she thought to herself.
Beleg walked back through the door just as Eldaline walked in. He stopped abruptly and stared at her, starting at her face and moving down to....
“So that’s what it was” he thought to himself. “She is with child...”


Eldaline sat down in one of the chairs, feeling very much out of place. After a moment of awkward silence, the conversations resumed, though some were carried out in hushed whispers. Eldaline sat there, feeling like every eye was on her. Just then, someone sat down beside her. Turning she saw it was Mablung and he smiled slightly at her.
“Mablung...” she said softly nodding her head slightly in greeting as she waited for his response.
Beleg_Strongbow
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 07, 2003 10:47

Mablung watched Polgara silently as he remained in the midst of the fugitives, who were now bandaged and treated for various wounds that he and the Strongbow did not have time to mend themselves. The Lady Elf had retreated into her personal thoughts, thoughts he would not tread through, for it was not his business. But he could not ignore the forlorn, withdrawn look upon her lovely face....she was in memories past, in the beginnings of her life, before she was ever captured and ever looked upon Angband. He averted his gaze before she set her eyes upon him, and remained silent as he rose to enter the room where Malathar stayed. He was not one to speak as much as the Strongbow, nor one to be so prideful. At times he could curse the Elf's neck for being so stubborn. They were marchwardens, not princes nor nobility.

The Strongbow was already there, stationed at one side of the door as Heliana tended to the Noldor. Eldaline laid at his side, murmuring softly, and he rejoiced in his heart to see the dark-haired Noldor open his eyes and gaze at his surroundings. He smiled softly and bowed slightly as Eldaline informed Malathar of the two wardens that aided their escape and arrival to Heliana's. He could see a spark in his eyes, a beginning of a flame that could only burn within a fiery Noldorin. Within time the healing Elf would become a growing threat to any foe.

And so Mablung remained, quiet and docile, within the midst of the fugitives, at times outside of Heliana's house to guard them with the Strongbow, at times talking with Heliana about his own thoughts concerning the fugitives.

"I know not whither they will go now," he told her. "Though they heal, look into their eyes-- they aren't the same people as they once were. And even the Petty Dwarf, as raucous and prideful as he is.... he is not the same."

Heliana nursed a mug of tea, gazing out into the moonlit forest as she sat with Mablung at the outskirts of her domicile; the fugitives were at rest. "Yes...I could tell the moment you introduced them. But fear not on their destination, dear Heavy-Hand, for I doubt they know it themselves. You are a warden, of the forests and of them -- protect them as you will, for that is your purpose here."

He smiled softly at her and takes her hand within both of his own. "I know, I know." He rises as he hears a sharp bird call - the Strongbow was summoning him back to his post. "Sleep well, fair healer."

He stepped lightly to his post, a towering tree splaying its heavy branches, and pulled out his bow, met by a sharp glance from the Strongbow. He returned a rather dull stare, and pushed back some hair from his shoulder. "I was speaking with the healer again, does that trouble you?"

"When it keeps you from your post."

"You're the Strongbow; surely you could guard this whole forest yourself." He stiffened, planting his feet squarely upon the ground, squaring his jaw. The moonlight did not fully reveal the power of the Strongbow's glare as would sunlight, but Mablung could feel it almost searing through his braids.

"I did not ask for your jests, good Drambor," The Strongbow's voice was sharp once more. "A simple nod or a simple apology would have met me."

"Have met you, of course." Mablung left his post and strode up to the Strongbow. "No wonder they're all wary of you. You're worse than when Heliana attempts to redecorate!"

He met the full force of the Strongbow's glare, blue eyes glowing silver in Tilion's light. This was perhaps the same glare reserved for the Petty Dwarf's indignance -- yet the dwarf perhaps did not quail as Mablung did. He recoiled slightly within himself, but did not step back. Yet the Strongbow knew, and he smirked...he knew that he had a presence, and influence -- not just over him, but over the others. He wasn't called the Strongbow for no reason.

Yet Mablung was called the Heavy-Hand. He clenched his jaw and met the Strongbow's eyes again. "You heard what I have said. Beware of yourself, Cuthalion...I wonder about you at times. I do not know what you think, because you will never show me."

The Strongbow relented slightly, eyebrows furrowed. He bowed his head, and turned away, his cloak ruffled slightly by the cool breeze shifting the forest's leaves and branches. "Forgive me. Sometimes the closest ally is the first to be betrayed."

The Strongbow took from around his neck a silver whistle shaped as the head of a wolf, strung on a fine silver chain. It glinted beautifully in the soft light, yet it looked unnatural, out of place gracing the Sindar's neck. "She told me that she could not go with us, into lighted places. But should we find ourselves in dark places of the forest or wilderness...to summon her, and she would arrive." He clasped the wolf-whistle tightly in his hand, his eyes far-seeing past the trees, past the hills, beyond.

Mablung didn't need to ask of whom he spoke. He already knew: it was the Easterling. He had lost the feeling of her presence near dusk, and was relieved yet troubled. He knew that it wasn't the Strongbow's brazen words towards her as she returned a time before with a fresk kill; she had heard worse, and feared him little, if at all. She had left for other reasons.

He lifted his gaze, and Mablung saw silver eyes glowing again. "....she called me lonely, Mablung. She told me that if I hid from my own then I would be like her -- naught but a spirit, roaming the lands for no purpose."

He looked into the Strongbow's eyes, and found his guard down; he did see loneliness in the Elf's eyes. He smiled slightly and placed a firm hand upon the Strongbow's shoulder. "Do not hide yourself from me, then. Do not hide yourself from us."

"Easy words create difficult tasks, friend," the Strongbow's voice was soft, weak. "I am something that I must remain...for them. They depend on us for the moment." His tone grew strong again. "And I will not have the dwarves -"

"Ai--bado mîbo orch!" Was what Mablung hissed, according to the undiscerning ears of anyone who did not know Sindarin. He whirled away and laughed gently. He did not remain to recieve anymore glares.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morning arrives. Golden tones from Arien (sp?) spill into the forest, meeting with the colorful array of flowers in Heliana's masterful garden. They open forth to meet the sun's rays, and the healer's tending and pruning hands. Mablung walks from out of his dreams, his bow still within his hands, and smiles upon the sweet song of nightengales in the distance. They sang during nightfall most of the time, and he knows it was not truly the song of a flock of birds that greeted his pointed ears -- it was a greeting from the Lady Maiar, Melian of Doriath. She understood that they were near.
He passed the foilaged columns and stepped into Heliana's domicile, nodding to the fugitives as they looked upon him. He wished to speak with Artalion concerning the group's travels in the future, but he stayed his tongue -- for the Elf was resting comfortably with his wife, bruises and cuts healing quickly.
Then his eyes rested upon Eldaline. She too had entered the same room, bathed and clothed in garments Heliana had supplied, a simple green dress. Yet she was lovely, as if she was a maiden of Yavanna; all she needed were flowers in her hair...
He stopped in mid-stride as he looked upon her swollen belly. Ai Elbereth -- she was with child the entire time?? Surely...the rags she once wore concealed the fact. It now made sense to him. He could read the pain and insecurity upon her face, and the doubt upon all the others', including the Strongbow's; yet he steeled his own doubts and strode towards where she sat, in a remote corner, away from the others. Sitting gently in a seat next to her, he smiled softly as her large blue eyes met his own.
"Mablung," she breathed, looking up to him for some acceptance.
He took her hand and rested it in his lap, stroking it ever so slightly, his voice hushed. "...how far along are you, Lady?"
She ducked her head, looking into her own lap. "A few months, I am not sure."
"So it is clear now, why I had to stop and help you along to Heliana's house. The child has slowed you." He smiled, but furrowed his brow as it was clear she was ashamed. "My Lady -- why do you redden? Malathar will be pleased, if he does not already know--"
"He knows," her voice is also hushed, laced with bitterness. "He was the first to know that I am with child-- and that it is not his own." She turned her face away, blue eyes filling with tears.
He falls silent, still gripping her hand. "...the..the father--where is he now? Dead?"
"Yes, in Angband."
"Ai..." He placed a hand upon his heart, grievance in his eyes. "Forgive me, you have my deepest sorrow."
Nothing could prepare him for what Eldaline then told him, being a strong warden Elf or no: "Do not be sorrowful for him, Mablung. For he was Grishnak -- an orc."
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 08, 2003 05:26
Eldaline looked up as Mablung as he sat down beside her. He took her hand and rested it in his lap, stroking it ever so slightly, his voice hushed.
"...how far along are you, Lady?"
She ducked her head, looking into her own lap. "A few months, I am not sure."
"So it is clear now, why I had to stop and help you along to Heliana's house. The child has slowed you." He smiled, but furrowed his brow as he looked upon Edlaline and saw her face turn red with shame.
"My Lady -- why do you redden? Malathar will be pleased, if he does not already know"
"He knows," her voice is also hushed, laced with bitterness. "He was the first to know that I am with child-- and that it is not his own." She turned her face away, blue eyes filling with tears.
"...the..the father--where is he now? Dead?"
"Yes, in Angband."
"Ai..." He placed a hand upon his heart, grievance in his eyes. "Forgive me, you have my deepest sorrow."
Nothing could prepare him for what Eldaline then told him, being a strong warden Elf or no: "Do not be sorrowful for him, Mablung. For he was Grishnak -- an orc."
Eldaline looked up at Mablung, her blue eyes wet with tears and her face red with shame. He looked at her in stunned silences. Nothing would have prepared him for her words. He tried to hide the shock on his face and the uncertainty and doubt in his eyes but he could not hide them from her. With a sigh she turned her head from his as a tear ran down her cheek.
“So know you know Mablung, and soon the will know as well” she said, her voice quiet, barely above a whisper. “Soon they will know the truth and…” her voice trailed off.
Slowly she stood and walked out the door. The others not knowing of the conversation that had just occurred, paid her no mind. Mablung watched as she walked out, closing the door behind her. He sat there a moment, his mind still numb. Then he kicked himself mentally.
“You fool ! Go after her… “


He stood and exited, finding himself in the hazy light as the sun sank down over the hills. A cool breeze blew and played at his hair as he stood there. He scanned the area searching for Eldaline. He walked a little ways from the house into the outskirts of the woods. There he saw her, standing alone, lost in her sorrow her fear and her shame. He stood there a moment, staring at her, then slowly he walked over to her. Gently he put a hand on her trembling shoulder.
“Eldaline..” he said softly.
“Mablung… how could they ever accept me ? How could anyone still care after knowing ? All I do is bring harm to them… all of Angband is hunting us, because of me.”
Mablung looked at Eldaline with questioning eyes. Slowly Eldaline told him of the horrors and the shame she had endured at the hands of Morgoth – of Grishnack and Grimbald who still desired her and hunted them all at that very moment.

“I cannot stay here, and bring evil to them. I cannot let them suffer for my sake. Grimbald will kill them all yet spare me, for there are still plans for me should we be found. I cannot be the one who causes those who have fought and suffered so much fro freedom, loose it. I will not be the one who brings death to them – to Artalion, Findley…. and Malathar. So I am leaving…”
“Eldaline, no…” said Mablung as he took her hands in his, keeping her from walking away. “You cannot do this… If you leave you will surely be caught.”
“Better them find only me than all the others as well.”
“Eldaline, you cannot leave. They… we…. Are your friends. Think of them, think of what it would do to them if you left. Think of Malathar. It is because of you, and you alone that he had the strength and will to fight and live. He is now recovering; think of what it would do to him to find that you have run away. Please Eldaline….”
Mablung looked at her with pleading eyes, and she looked back into his deep dark eyes. She dropped her head and sighed sadly.
“Forgive me Mablung… I do not know what came over me.”
“Oh Eldaline… you do not have to face this alone, not when your friends are here, but if you leave then you will be alone…”


A few moments later the two of them walked back into the room and returned to the corner and sat talking as the others continued in their conversations.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Malathar smiled at Eldaline and gently squeezed her hand.
“I’ll be here” he said with a smile as he closed his eyes. Soon he was lost to his dreams.
He saw himself back home, himself no more than a sapling in age. He saw himself sitting, nestled in someone’s arms. Those gentle warm arms holding him and comforting him. He remembered the gentle hands that dried his tears. And he heard the soft voice bringing comfort to his heart and driving away the fear and darkness. Looking up he saw her face… a face so fare and beautiful, a shinning smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye.
“There there Malathar, it’s ok…”
Her voice once again filled his ears. His mother…. She had died when he was still but a child. One of the last and few memories he had of her was sitting in her lap, her arms wrapped around him as she sang softly, lulling him to sleep.
He saw his mother – her dark hair falling down her back, black as nigh as his was, her eyes deep and blue gazing down at him, and her voice sweet and beautiful calming his fears.


As he looked at her face, gazing into her eyes, she began to fade and he heard another voice. Yet this one was not sweet and beautiful it was harsh and angry. It was the sound of his own voice, loud and angry at the news of his father’s death. Malathar saw himself alone in his room, as great sobs shook his body. He saw himself, his tear stained face, his shoulder bent. Someone reached out and touched his shoulder, speaking softly.
“Malathar…”
He sat up with a start; it was not his brother’s voice he heard. Looking up he stared into a very familiar face, a face that brought him comfort and calmed his heart every time he saw her. It was Eldaline, standing there smiling down at him. Slowly she sat down beside him and put her arm around his still trembling shoulders.
“Malathar… it’s ok, I am here.”
“Everyone has abandoned me, they are gone and I am alone” he said his voice quavering.
“No Malathar, you are not alone. You are never alone…. Not so long as I am here.” She put a finger under his chin and gently lifted his head so he was looking at her. “And I will never leave you Malathar…”
She gently wiped away the tears from his cheeks as he looked up at her and smiled sadly. She smiled back and gently brushed back the hair from his face.



The dream faded and Malathar was lost to the dark void of sleep again. When he opened his eyes again it was dark, only the pale moonlight fell through the windows. He lay there for a moment, pondering the dream. Then he heard something – voices – coming from the other room. He smiled to himself as he heard the lighthearted talk and the voices of his friends.
Slowly he sat up. Looking down he smiled, noting the new clean clothes he wore – a light tan shirt with scarlet trim and black leggings. As he sat there he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung on the wall nearby. His heart dropped and he felt sick, as he saw for the first time the results of the evil of Angband and the tortures of Morgoth. Slowly, his legs shaking both from fatigue and fear, he stood and staggered over to the mirror. He stared at the reflection in the mirror.
“So this…..” he thought bitterly “Is the results of their pleasure, of their games….” He felt his heart burn with anger as he once again relived the horrors of Angband. He thought of Grishnack and Lublolo, who lay dead in and Angband, and his mind went to the last of their tormentors who still remained alive – Grimbald. Stetting his jaw he stared straight ahead at the face staring back at him.
“I swear to you that they will be punished. I will avenge those whose lives had been destroyed, even if it be to my dying day, we shall be avenged, and the blood of the Easterling will be on my sword !”
With that he turned and staggered towards the door way, as the sounds of his friend’s voices once again reached his ears and brought him back out of his memories.



Malathar staggered down the short hallway and stood in the doorway, leaning on the door post. Everyone was there. Lainauriel and Aralion were seated together near the fire, lost in conversations. The Strongbow was standing against the wall, in his usuall at ease position. Findley and Thalin were talking in hushed tones as were the others. Malathar smiled to himself as he watched them. He smiled even broader when he saw Eldaline and Mablung talking. How long he stood there watching and listening, or who was the first to notice his presence was not known. But soon they all were staring at him lost for a moment in shock and joy. He smiled and tried not to laugh as Helina walked over to him, looking less than thrilled about his being out of bed.
Gilraen
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 08, 2003 09:52
Eaniel rose from the floor where she had been sitting. Malathar had wakened, and Eldaline knelt beside him, speaking softly to him. Heliana met her before she left the house, handing her a soft bundle. “Why don’t you go bathe, and change, dear?” Heliana suggested. “Thank you” Eaniel replied, and she meant it with all her heart.

At the stream, Eaniel bathed, washing years of grime and dirt from her body. Though she could not see all the scars on her body, she could feel the ones on her back, from the whip-lashings. Eagerly, she changed into the gown that Heliana had given her, a soft, light dress in blue-grey linen. Taking up the comb that Heliana had also leant her, Eaniel leaned out over the bank to use the water as a mirror.

Her own face, looking back at her from the water, was not what she remembered. Thinner, paler, gaunt from the years of sunless starvation in Angband. The shadows under her eyes had lessened already with the better sleep she had been getting, but as Eaniel watched, her image seemed to shift and change to show the face of the girl she had once been- younger, fuller, healthily colored, and eyes sparkiling with laughter, not tears. As Eaniel’s thoughts traveled back to her past, she seemed to see visions of her thoughts taking shape on the water.

She saw the banks of the river that had run through Gondolin, that she had often sat beside with her friends, talking, laughing and singing. She saw the face of her dearest friend, Nessanie, the daughter of one of King Turgon’s knights. Eaniel had been what Men might have termed a “commoner” Elf, but no real class difference was made between the maidens.

Then the day came when Nessanie was to be made one of Idril, Princess of Gondolin’s ladies in waiting. As Eaniel watched the conversation between the two unfold, she was amazed that such a small exchange between friends could be such a turning point of her life.

They were sitting beside the river, as usual, talking softly. The sun was setting, and the last golden beams of day touched the tops of the towers and surrounding mountains, kindling all to an almost unbearable brilliance and beauty. Nessanie was talking of a message her father had received earlier in the day.

“The Lady Idril has requested that I be one of her ladies-in-waiting, as Ada is one of the King’s knights. Ada accepted for me, of course, and also sent word that if she desired another lady, that you, as my dearest friend, would be a good choice”

Eaniel who had been watching the glorious sunset and only half listening to Nessanie, was jolted back to Middle-earth

“He said what?” Her voice was sharper than she intended,

Nessanie repeated what she had said before. Eaniel looked her straight in the eye, her voice deadly serious.

“I told you once before, and I will repeat myself now: I will never be another’s serving maid, no matter how high the honor. You know this city chafes my heart. Why do you seek to imprison me further? Yes, I know, you only wish to bring me honor. Honor I have, in the house of my father. Now I will find freedom!”

Nothing else of that day remained in her memory, but Eaniel knew that that night, she had left the city, fleeing to the Woods of Doriath. What had finally driven her to run away was not clear in her memory, but as she thought about it, the answer cam to her, suddenly.

“This is why I fled,” she spoke out loud, “some purpose drove me away, to lead me here. Why? I don’t know, but this is where I should be”


The images swirled in the water and took shape again into a face that Eaniel immediately recognized. It, again, was her own face, at the very lowest moment of her captivity. Filthy, tear-streaked, gaunt. The pain showing in her own eyes frightened her, belying the physical pain she felt from the whip that had lashed her back. Her hope had ebbed, her strength waned, and Eaniel had been ready to give life up. But as she left the forge that day, she had felt a touch on her arm, and had looked up to see Lainauriel’s worried eyes looking into her own. Lainauriel had steadied her during the walk back to the cells, and when the guards had gone, had whispered to her of a dream she shared with her husband, a hope and plan for escape...

Both the memories and the visions faded from mind and view, and Eaniel looked up from the bank. Arien had set in its blaze of fire, and now stars pierced the sky above. Clasping her hands around her knee, Eaniel tipped her head back to gaze at the stars. How long has it been she wondered since I watched the stars?

A song came to her lips, then, never recollected until that moment.

How beautiful the day and night;
the earth is singing in the wind,
the voices rise and touch the sky
telling all the earth’s believing,
and in the night sighs fall down,
and from the skies sighs fall down on me.

And when I move away from view
My voice is singing in the wind,
It rises up to touch the sky
Telling all that I believe in,
and from the night earth shall sing,
and from the night earth shall sing,
and from the night earth shall sing again.
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 13, 2003 11:32
Grimbald snarled lifting the dead spiders leg to his nose, they had been here he could smell them, he scanned the horizon hoping he might yet catch site of them but to no avail.

Cursing loudly he urged the warg riders to search again for their trail. A whip silenced those that complained and soon the mountain rang to the sounds of black speak and snarling.

When they finally found the cave Grimbald was dismayed to find it empty, his lust for a little sport was running high. Calling an Orc to him he demanded to know where they were, the orc shook its head its eyes growimg wide in fear as Grimbald began fingering a long knife.

The Orc staggered backwards then began to run, the others turning to watch, jeering and urging Grimbald to let im ave it. When the knife struck the orc fell forward, groping at the ground desperate to get away. He was soon covered by a group of his own but Grimbald claimed its heart as his prize.

After they fed they crawled into the cave to sleep, leaving the wargs to squabble over the bones, those that survived knew well the price of failure, they would search harder in the coming days.

But Morgoths wrath was far from abated, the fires in Angband blazed brightly and soon a great plume of hot ash and smoke creapt forward covering the suns face and turning day to night.

Now the orcs could hunt day long as well as through the night hours, they would find them, and when they were brought to him they would suffer, beyond all pain he would take them.
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 16, 2003 12:45
He cast his eyes but once over the swollen belly of the Lady Elf Eldaline. She did not see the scorn in his eyes, for she was too worried looking about and seeing it in the eyes of her friends, those she had traveled with. The room was silent. He cast a glance about the room as he walked to station himself against a wall, and spotted the Lady Elf Polgara...disgust brooded in her eyes upon seeing Eldaline, yet she said nothing. She looked away, and fell silent, or perhaps moreso.

The room remained still untill the Strongbow saw his second, Mablung, walk directly to Eldaline and take a seat next to her, and most appallingly, touch her by taking her hand. He spoke with her as if she was a dear friend, kin perhaps. He felt anger and distaste burning in his heart; his faithful second would *dare* to speak with a polluted, used...disgrace? He became as motionless as a statue as the others rested and spoke quietly among themselves, yet kept his ears tuned to what the Heavy-Hand and Eldaline spoke of. Yet they were too soft in their speech; he was on the opposite side of where they sat. Yet he could tell that Mablung was making his best effort to raise Eldaline's spirits.

His eyes fell to her swollen belly again. It didn't look as if she was with child....it looked as if she had a cancer, an incurable sickness, something eating her inside...something that she had *allowed* to enter her. He fought back a shudder of indignancy and repulsion.

One thought kept brooding in his mind the most. This group was blessed, allowed to be near the Girdle of Melian and sent greeting of the Lady Maiar's singing nightengales. They had escaped for a purpose, a reason. ...so why did the pregnant Lady Elf tarry with them? What was her reason for carrying an illegitimate child?

He gripped Belthronding harder, if it were possible. And who was the father, no doubt? He caught a wisp of Eldaline's words to Mablung, that the child was not sired by Malathar, but the father dead in Angband. Just who was it? Who dared to disgrace himself, and Eldaline -- and the child?

His thoughts were broken as Eldaline rose and left the domicile of Heliana, tears filling her eyes, and Mablung rising after her. His anger towards his fellow marchwarden only heightened. As Elves, they were to care for every race -- even Dwarves to a certain point-- yet as marchwardens, they were to only see to their well-being, and defend them against any dark foe that would harm them. Caring for someone only hindered a warden from doing his full duty. Caring only kept a warden from thinking clearly, from making the right and best decision.

It was only a short time when Mablung returned with Eldaline, her hand cradled in the crook of his arm, and regained his seat next to her, near the opposite wall. Judging by the flight in her steps, the Strongbow thought she meant to take leave and never return again. Yet the Heavy-Hand had talked sense into her. He was good at that, he had to admit. Yet he didn't know everything. The Strongbow smirked faintly; if Malathar was never present, Mablung could have been judged as slightly smitten with Eldaline.

Shortly, the Noldor entered the room, bathed and clothed, his dark hair brushed, his skin gaining color. He was still weak, but the Strongbow could see a regal aura around Malathar, for he stood, and was not laying down. Seeing the Noldor stand high and proud put him in a different light. Yet the Strongbow still saw him as one of his charges. He began to wonder what Malathar thought of Eldaline's pregnancy...

The healer walked up to him, craning her neck to scold him, and with a deep, soft voice he put away her worries, making her smile. The Petty Dwarf was second to greet him, also straining his neck to meet the Noldor's eyes, joy in the dwarf's racous tone and face upon seeing Malathar stand and walk. Mablung stood as Malathar walked over to Eldaline, and bowed deeply, exchanging low words of respect with him. Mablung bowed to Eldaline -- much to the Strongbow's disapproval-- and left the resting group, walking down a chosen hallway to take his leave and patrol the surroundings. The Strongbow left his station at the wall, and followed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mablung stepped noiselessly down the hall, mentally retrieving maps of the trees and areas that Heliana's house was near. He neared the threshold of the exit, dipping his head as the doorways were fitted for Heliana's kin, a people much shorter than his own. He stopped as the rich voice of the Strongbow floated upon the air and reached his pointed ears.

"Where do you go, Mablung Heavy-Hand?"

He turned around to meet his distant kin, and smiled slightly. "You know of course. To patrol the forest."

"I would speak with you first."

The tone in the Strongbow's voice was no longer cordial. Mablung had done something against his likes, which seemed to be often these days. He stepped over to him, near the middle of the hallway.

"Eldaline." The Strongbow almost spat out her name. "You enjoy her company."

Mablung nodded. "Yes, she is very docile and warm--"

"And with child, no doubting." The Strongbow folded his hands behind his back, and began to inspect Mablung, walking around him and looking him over. Sighing softly, Mablung could only stand and be questioned. "Did you realize that?"

"Yes, Cuthalion, I did so. Yet do not judge her before you have spent time with her. You see, she--"

"Why do you tarry with one such as her Mablung ? Those who give themselves up just so they can continue living... they are not worth the effort. Though I doubt WHY she would want to continue life after what she has done. Such shame she has brought to herself by her actions."

“It was not her fault, Cuthalion. She did it to help Malathar, to help the others. She did it out of hope for freedom....”

“Freedom? I only see that she brings shame to all who call themselves of elven blood! No deed such as hers can be justified.”

“But she had no choice--”

The Strongbow steps in front of his fellow warden and roughly jabs a finger into his chest. “And you Mablung. You I would have given more sense than to mingle with one such as her. You disgrace yourself !”

The Strongbow's fair hand was gripped tightly by a tanned, calloused one, and pulled away. His person was shifted to look up into the fiery eyes of towering Malathar, the Noldor.

"Stop this," he ordered.

[Edited on 17/4/2003 by Beleg_Strongbow]
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 16, 2003 01:15
Malathar sat down next to Eldaline as Mablung stood and walked out into the hallway. Malathar watched as the Strongbow followed. As he sat there, his arm around Eldaline, he looked around at the faces of those he had fought and suffered through so much with. He saw for the first time smiles on their faces and lightness to their voices. The danger was behind them – for now – and a new light shone in their eyes. Yet Malathar knew it was a false light. The danger was still there and it grew ever closer. He could feel it in his heart, that old fire began to burn again. He was Noldor, he was not one to run from danger, like a frightened animal. They had robbed him of the one thing he treasured the most, his pride and his freedom. He had won his freedom back, now he must fight to gain back his name. He could not stand to simply run from those who pursued them. Deep in his heart Malathar felt it, that old longing, the fiery spirit of his forefathers the same fire that flowed through the great Feanor flowed through his veins.

With Eldaline beside him, her head on his shoulder, he sat and listened to the bits and pieces of the different conversations that were going on. Suddenly his ears picked up on one out in the hall. It was Mablung and the Strongbow. Malathar trained his ears to their conversation. He heard Beleg’s deep rich voice, tinted with anger, and Mablung’s gentle voice, seemingly so small compared to the Strongbow’s.
“Why do you tarry with one such as her Mablung ? Those who give themselves up just so they can continue living... they are not worth the effort. Though I doubt WHY she would want to continue life after what she has done. Such shame she has brought to herself by her act.”
“It was not her fault Cultharion. She did it to help Malathar, to help the others. She did it out of hope for freedom....”
“Freedom? More like she brings shame to all who call themselves of elven blood! No deed such as hers can be justified.”
“But she had no choice...”
“And you Mablung, you I would have given more sense than to mingle with one such as her. You disgrace yourself !”

Malathar felt anger rise in him as he heard the words come from the mouth of one he thought to be a wise and trusted ally. Slowly he stood, Eldaline looking at him questioningly, seeing the hint of anger in his eyes as he walked into the hall and disappeared around the corner.

He stood there and saw Mablung, his back to the wall, the Strongbow, with his finger pointed at his fellow warden’s chest. Malathar strode up to them, stood and faced Beleg. Reaching up he grasped the Strongbow’s hand and pulled it away from Mablung.
“Stop it” he said firmly, causing the elf to stare at him.
Beleg looked at Malathar and he stared right back. Malathar was a few inches taller than the Strongbow. As he stared into the eyes of the Sindar, Malathar felt the flame grow even stronger within him. Mablung stood watching the two elves rival each other, and was amazed at the transformation and change he saw in Malathar. He was not the same elf he had seen at first, weak and barely alive – he was, in just a short time, returned partially to his old self. Mablung saw the fire that could burn only in the eyes of a Noldor. He stood and marveled at the transformation.
"You are not one to speak of things you do not know Strongbow. Great as you think you are, you know nothing of what we have been through.”
“Indeed I know the road you all have traveled has been a hard one... and for that I am sorry. But it still does not justify....”
“You are sorry...” said Malathar, anger clearly showing in his voice. “You are sorry that we are not the perfect elves like you think you are yourself. You are sorry that we carry the scars of torture and the marks of evil upon us. You are sorry that we have done things to put the proudest elf to shame, in the name of life and freedom. You are sorry that we are not like you !”
Malathar was silent for a moment, looking down at Beleg, who could see the fire burning in his eyes. Yet Beleg was a proud elf and would not back down easily.
“You can easily say such things Malathar... for Eldaline is yours, so naturally you defend her and the child she carries. You can see no wrong in it !”
“You speak as if you were the king of all Arda little one ! Yes Eldaline is mine and yes I love her. But you speak of that which you know nothing about. She has suffered more than you can know... she has suffered at the hand of the cruelest being alive.”
“No more cruel than what you have done to her...”
Malathar stepped closer to Beleg, till they were almost standing toe to toe with each other.
“I have done nothing but love and care for her as best as I can.”
Malathar turned to walk away. Just as he did Beleg spoke up.
“Why would a proud Noldor such as yourself stoop so low as her?”
Malathar wheeled around and in a flash had the Strongbow by the collar glaring down at him.

“You open your mouth without thinking of what comes out from it ! You think you know what happened ? You think you got it all figured out ? Well you do not know half of what we... what she has been through. You want to know the truth ? The child she carries it not mine.”
Malathar looked down and saw the slight smirk on Beleg’s face. So he already knew this but Malathar continued.
“That’s right. Eldaline, so fine and beautiful, so innocent, one who never did any wrong, nothing to deserve it, suffered perhaps the greatest of us all at the hands of Morgoth. Many of us felt the lash and the whip and the pains of hunger. But she felt the pains of her innocence being taken away, of her pride and dignity snatched away... all at the hands of Grishnack, one of the minions of Morgoth – an orc !”
Beleg looked up at Malathar, dumb struck, unable to speak.
“So next time you make judgments of others better think about it twice. That stubbornness is going to hurt you one day Beleg....”
With that Malathar let go of Beleg’s collar and turned and walked back into the room where the others were already talking – oblivious to the confrontation that had just taken place.

As Malathar walked back into the room, Artalion had just finished asking the group what their plans were and where they would go from there. They all turned and looked at Malathar as he stepped up, standing before his companions. They all marveled at how different he looked, though still weak and bearing the signs of his imprisonment, a new fire burned in his eyes and his voice flowed with power and pride – this was not the same Malathar they had know, the one that lay near death seemingly such a short time ago.
“I cannot stay and wait for the enemy to find us, yet I cannot bear to run away like a frightened animal before the hunters. Far too much of my life has been spent in fear and pain at their hands, hiding, and running from those who sought to kill us. We escaped and we ran. Now is the time to fight. Some can be content to spend their lives sneaking and hiding, being forever hunted like animals. I cannot. I am Noldor, the blood that is my veins will not let me hide away and spend my life in fear. They took so much of our lives, indeed they almost claimed us. Yet because of our strength and will we survived and escaped – freedom is ours. Yet they can still take our freedom, they can rob us of our strength by making us afraid. We can run and spend the rest of our lives living in fear of being found, or we can fight and know that we truly are free. I know not what you all choose, but I for one would rather fight than live life like a fugitive.”
They all sat in stunned silence and started at Malathar, no one quite knowing what to say. Malathar sat down next to Eldaline, taking her hand in his, and he looked over at Beleg who had slipped into the room and now stood at the back wall arms folded across his chest. How long they sat in silence was not know but finally someone stood and broke the silence.....
Mhairi
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Post RE: A Way to Freedom (scripted) Keep
on: April 19, 2003 12:03
After departing Heliana's house, Morikelva makes a wide loop around the area, her keen senses alert to any unnatural presence. She knows the tenacity of Angband's warg cavalry only too well, for she trained them herself.

For two days and nights, the Easterling woman rides at an easy pace, studying the ground before her and the sky above for any signs of danger. On the third day, she passes through a copse of stunted trees and needle-sharp gorse. In a small clearing in the centre of the bushes, she spies disturbed ground. Dismounting, she treads softly, crouches and runs her fingers over the earth. Beneath a hasty covering of dead leaves are the still-warm ashes of a small campfire.

Morikelva raises her head, her keen ears alert to any sound, but only the lonely keening of the wind can be heard. Slowly, she circles out from the fire until, at the farthest reaches of the clearing, where the gorse stretches out with spiny fingers, she comes across a collection of chewed and fragmented bone. She mutters dark words to herself and then hastily returns to her waiting warg.

The Easterling warrior follows a muddled track of warg prints and orc boots out from the copse. For some miles, the tracks are clearly indented in soft earth, or else the bruised grass gives away the presence of the travelling cavalry. Finally, though, as the ground dries and the grass gives way to solid earth, all visible signs of the hunters fails.

Morikelva stops in a sheer-sided gully and considers her options. The warg riders are likely to be at least a dozen in number and well-armed. To come upon them alone, even with her great skill, would be to risk death with no purpose, for how is she to forewarn those resting in Heliana's healing company? Reluctantly, the Easterling retraces her steps, until she is back at the entrance to the gully. She turns into the sun and rides up the steep rocky embankment, her course now taking her ahead of the warg riders.

Pausing to look into the blue sky, Morikelva lets go a rasping, crow-like call. Then she waits. From over the mountains, a small flock of ravens appear and land on the rocks and bushes closest to the Easterling woman. She stares at each of them in turn and whispers in a strange language. The ravens blink and tilt their heads, then take off again, heading this time in the direction of the warg cavalry, flying so high as to be mere specks against the cloud-dotted sky.

Morikelva watches them leave and then spurs her mount into a great, ground-eating gallop and races back towards Heliana's home. She can only hope that the watchfulness of Beleg has not ceased and that her rested and well-fed warg is able to outrun those of the merciless and hard-riding soldiers of Angband.
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