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BerethEdhellen
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: February 01, 2010 02:09
Dorian’s eyes scanned the area closely for any potential watchers as the two women slipped around the side of building, hopefully finding the side door he had told them about. The door behind him opened and his duty replacement stepped forward.

"Dorian, end of your shift, my man. Food awaits you in the kitchen. The cook has prepared some of the best quail I've ever tasted." the guard said, clapping Dorian on the shoulder then taking his place with his lance in front of the entrance to the King's residence.

Dorian laughed and joked for a few minutes with his fellow guard before taking off to the side of the building. Opening the door, he stepped through, checking and seeing no one in the short hallway. Making his way to Freawyn's doorway, he tapped softly, saying softly, "M'lady Freawyn, I am here whenever you are ready." Then he leaned against the wall next to the door, waiting.

When the door finally opened, two beautiful women stepped into the hallway. Naturally, to Dorian, Freawyn was the most beautiful of any woman, but he had to admit that her friend, now bathed, her hair washed and brushed to a gleam, and dressed in a simple but well fitting blue and white gown, was even lovelier than he had originally imagined.

Bowing slightly, glancing for a moment at the other woman, he spoke to Freawyn, "M'lady, may I escort you both to the king? I will need to know your friend's name if I am to announce you."

When they reached the huge double doorway to the great hall, Dorian stepped to a place just inside the doors and called out, “the Lady Freawyn and her companion, Rhianna, Sire.” He stepped back as the two women entered the hall.


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

Though days had passed since Delagost had left Emyn Arnen with his friends, Cenewith had yet to give up on her hope that he would come home to spend what was left of his month off duty. Her aunt watched as she wandered through her days, quiet and withdrawn as she had never been before. However, her aunt was also feeling poorly. Neither of them could comprehend the changes in Baldir who, although he had always been a cold fish as far as Cenewith's aunt was concerned, he had never been violent, especially towards his sister.

Hugging Cenewith, she said, "Delagost will be back soon, my dear. And happy he will be to see you, that I know. I believe he has a soft spot in his heart for you," she said, smiling warmly.

"Oh Aunt, do you really think so? I do hope you're right for I am quite fond of him as well. I only fear for his welfare should Baldir discover the two of us together again. Oh Auntie, what has happened to Baldir? Why has he become so vicious and cruel? I know he was never overly friendly with people but he was always kind to me." She burst into tears, laying her head on her aunt's shoulder while those warm arms wrapped around her.

However, life went on as did Cenewith's visits to the poor, which she did every day. And every day as she made her way home with the evening creeping upon her, her eyes searched the road to Minas Tirith. One night, as she walked home later than usual after a troublesome day with one of her favorite old ladies, she turned her eyes towards the Minas Tirith road, stopping in the middle of the path. A lone rider was approaching the village. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized it looked very much like Delagost. She ran out into the middle of the road, waving in greeting, hoping it was Delagost and not some total stranger, or she'd certainly look the fool. The rider drew closer and her eyes squinted against the darkening evening to see if it was who she so hoped it was.

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

Gaddon led Berelach and Saelon to a room carved into the mountainside and closed off with a sturdy wooden door. He pointed and told them that Borlas was just beyond, and that he would see that food and drink were brought to them. Receiving a grateful acknowledgement from Berelach, he then turned and strode off, leaving the pair to enter on their own.

Borlas heard the knock and rose from the well padded cot where he had been comfortably recovering, though he was well past his need for healing now. "Enter," he called out, fully expecting it to be one of the kind rangers who had spent so much time on his care. When the door opened and he saw his son standing before him, his eyes filled with tears of joy. The next thing he knew he was gripped in Berelach's arms and his son was asking him, "Are you healing alright?"

Squeezing him back, Borlas stepped back, looking up into the warm eyes of his beloved son and then noticed Saelon right behind him. Smiling at Saelon over Berelach's shoulder, he said, "Oh yes, I'm fine. Actually I am better than fine though I have a slight limp now but I think it goes nicely with my age, don't you?" Reaching out a hand to Saelon, he asked, "My boy, I have been worried about you, you know, but we can talk later. First I want to know how you both have come to be here now. Radagast said I would be safe here...." His voice trailed off and his eyes shadowed with a passing moment of fear. But a smile returned to his face and he said, "But sit, please. Talk to me. I am yearning for news about you, son..and you, too, Saelon." He led them to a small round table with two chairs and a round stool.

At that moment, another knock on the door announced the arrival of a tray of bread, cheese, fruit and a pitcher of ale. The three men sat down, Saelon taking the stool, and while they ate and drank, Berelach and Saelon updated the old man on what had been happening. Saelon had glanced at Berelach questioningly, asking with his eyes how much he thought he and the Admiral should say before speaking to Borlas about what was taking place at home. A slight nod assured him that it was alright to continue so Saelon explained to Borlas what had occurred the night the old man disappeared, even including the meeting he had gone to and its results. "Borlas, I'm not one of them, please believe that. I'm ... I'm simply...simply spying, and it has helped. I've found out much that will help the King, haven't I, Berelach?"

When Borlas finished listening to all that had transpired while he was hiding out here in the caves of the Ithilien Rangers, his eyes were flashing with anger. "Saelon and I spoke the night I was taken, and if you remember, my boy, I mentioned my fear of another shadow rising. It is far worse than even I suspected. We must return home." Catching Berelach's startled glance, he assured him, "I was taken by an evil man who wanted nothing more than to determine the location of the palantir. I never told him but now that it is the Citadel, he will not return. I'm sure he's as aware of where it is as I now am. So let's go home."
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
gwendeth
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: February 10, 2010 05:50
Overwhelmed with relief at seeing his missing father, Berelach hugged him tightly. He’d almost forgotten that Saelon was there…


Smiling at Saelon over Berelach's shoulder, he said, "Oh yes, I'm fine. Actually I am better than fine though I have a slight limp now but I think it goes nicely with my age, don't you?" Reaching out a hand to Saelon, he asked, "My boy, I have been worried about you, you know, but we can talk later. First I want to know how you both have come to be here now. Radagast said I would be safe here...." His voice trailed off and his eyes shadowed with a passing moment of fear. But a smile returned to his face and he said, "But sit, please. Talk to me. I am yearning for news about you, son..and you, too, Saelon." He led them to a small round table with two chairs and a round stool.

Thanking the man who brought them food and ale with a nod, Berelach sat next to his father. As they ate, “Much has happened, father,” he said. “First, I have news of Morwen,” though whether or not Borlas would ‘appreciate’ knowing it, “She is dead,” the Admiral stated, “But I have met her daughter, Freawyn. She came to find *you*, father; she wants to meet you and know you…”

But then, turning to more serious things, between them, Berelach and Saelon recounted all that had happened. And, to Saelon’s pleading, “It’s true, father,” he agreed. “Saelon has been invaluable. At least the Palantir is now safe in Minas Tirith, under King Eldarion’s guard.”
When Borlas finished listening to all that had transpired while he was hiding out here in the caves of the Ithilien Rangers, his eyes were flashing with anger. "Saelon and I spoke the night I was taken, and if you remember, my boy, I mentioned my fear of another shadow rising. It is far worse than even I suspected. We must return home." Catching Berelach's startled glance, he assured him, "I was taken by an evil man who wanted nothing more than to determine the location of the palantir. I never told him but now that it is the Citadel, he will not return. I'm sure he's as aware of where it is as I now am. So let's go home."

Instantly, Berelach shook his head. “No,” he stated flatly. “I don’t think that is a good idea at all! This ‘Dark’ wizard may still think he can get you to help him somehow. Idhrenion is quite worried,” and very much, the Gondorian Admiral wished that the elf and Radagast hadn’t gone into Mordor…
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
Dinenlasse
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: February 16, 2010 06:24
Before the young guard came in to escort them to the king’s presence chamber, Rhiannon twirled around and stared at her reflection in a crystal mirror. Her appearance had radically altered. Dressed in a splendid but simple blue and white gown with her hair plaited with a few loose tendrils framing her face, the tavern wench felt more beautiful than she ever had before. Her face and body had been scrubbed clean by a lowly servant, and for once in her life, Rhiannon felt like a lady. She turned to Freawyn and asked, “M’lady, is this how all noble ladies are treated?” She stared down at her dress; compared to Freawyn’s it was rather plain, but in Rhia’s eyes, there was nothing more gorgeous in the world.

Her gaze turned to Frea. Her friend looked simply radiant, and if Rhia didn’t know better, the young guard had a fondness for her. His eyes followed Frea’s every movement, and he seemed to stumble over his words. She did not want to bring it up directly, but Rhiannon wanted to gauge how Frea felt about him. A hopeless romantic herself (oh how she missed her Fal), she desired for Frea to be as happy as she was. “Frea, our friend Dorian seems to be a pleasant fellow, don’t you think?” Glancing at her friend sideways through her lashes, she waited. But then a knock sounded on their door. Dorian poked his head through the door.

Bowing slightly, glancing for a moment at the other woman, he spoke to Freawyn, "M'lady, may I escort you both to the king? I will need to know your friend's name if I am to announce you."


Rhiannon caught Dorian's eye and lifted the corner of her mouth in a smile of acknowledgment. She was grateful that he had shown them such kindness. But then her eyes were drawn to the soaring ceilings down the long corridor as they walked.

When they reached the huge double doorway to the great hall, Dorian stepped to a place just inside the doors and called out, “the Lady Freawyn and her companion, Rhianna, Sire.” He stepped back as the two women entered the hall.


Rhia followed slightly behind Frea, and her eyes widened at the sheer size of the great hall. Never in her life had she seen something this magnificent before. She almost forgot herself as she stumbled into Frea who was stopped in front of a man wearing a coronet. This must be the king, the wench thought, her eyes tracing his every feature. She had seen noblemen, aye, and had even entertained them with singing and dancing, but never before had she been in the presence of royalty. Rhiannon hastily bent her knees in a clumsy curtsy and kept her eyes low.

A thought struck her. Would the king listen to her and offer aid for Fal? It was a foolish notion, stupid even. He would never help the likes of her; she was too lowly, too fleabitten, had too much of a...well...notorious reputation. With the dirt gone from her face, its thinness and gauntness shone out. Under all of the finery she wore, Rhia was still a lowborn commoner, a wench, a nobody. How could the highest man in the land even look upon someone like her. But, yet, even he eyed the two women as they showed respect before him.

[Edited on 2/17/2010 by Dinenlasse]
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
dreamdancer
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: March 20, 2010 06:37
(and here it is... the parts with Baldir in this are joint-written with Bereth )

Delagost's thoughts were elsewhere as he stepped out of the quarters, preparing to fetch his horse and head home. He had to check on things in Emyn Arnen. He had to check on his parents, his sister... and Cenewith. As bad as he felt about leaving the king, at least he knew the Lord of Gondor was well capable of defending himself. He knew what was going on and he would know to keep an eye open for any strange behavior among his subjects.

Del realized his error in being lost in thought when he heard Baldir's voice speaking his name. Raising his head, he cursed inwardly.

"Ah, Delagost. So you are finally going to head home for your time off, are you? Finished with your socializing with the King, have you?"

The Captain was standing there threateningly, his hand on his sword hilt, his expression dark. His voice, however, was smooth- it reminded Del of the purring of a cat that approached a bird it intended to kill. His eyes darted to Baldir's sword. He wondered if he dared go for his own, but then decided against it. He feared that if he gave the man any reason at all to attack, he would. Baldir was still talking...

"And who were your companions, pray tell? I recognized Admiral Berelach and Saelon but I must admit, the other two men were total strangers to Minas Tirith. I would have you give me their names so that I may list them in our visitor's book."

"If you want to know that, my Captain," Delagost growled, bristling as he remembered the bruises on Cenewith's arms, "Perhaps you should ask your king. His business is not mine to tell- not even to you."

Straightening his back, he made to move past Baldir, wanting to be gone as quickly as possible.

Baldir's arm came up and caught Del across the younger soldier's chest, shoving him back on his feet. "You dare to speak to me this way? I don't need to ask the King. He made me Captain of his Citadel guards for a reason, you arrogant pup. It is my assignment to know who comes and goes."

Del had to fight not to reach for his sword. He wanted to tell Baldir that he knew who he worked for- that he knew everything, knew the man as the traitor he was! Still, Delagost couldn't do that ... he was too close to jeopardizing his friends already. Attempting to regain his composure, and to shake off his nervousness, "My apologies," he said through clenched teeth, "I'm off duty, sir, and I don't know what to tell you. They were friends of Berelach's. I merely brought them here. Now, if you please, I'll be going home."

Baldir held his hand against Del's chest, for a long moment staring malevolently at him with his silver eyes barely more than narrowed slits. The Captain was fuming inwardly. Not only was he refusing....yes, refusing... he could not have traveled from Emyn Arnen to Minas Tirith without knowing their names...to answer his superior. Baldir could bring him before a tribunal for insubordination, wasn't the fool aware of that? And then there was the problem of the young whippet interfering with his sister. That alone was enough to make him wish to beat this man to a pulp.

But inhaling sharply, he gave Delagost another shove and finally stepped aside. "Off duty, are you? Then what are you doing here? Go home to your family. Though I should remind you to stay close to home. There is no one else you need spend time with," he finished, his voice and glance making it clear about his meaning.

Turning away, he stomped off across the ground towards the Citadel.

Delagost watched him go, and only when Baldir was out of earshot did the young man let out the breath he had been holding. He felt shaken and suddenly very weary, but he turned and headed on to the stable to fetch his horse. He feared he had mucked things up even more, now. Baldir knew something was going on, and it seemed it would only be a matter of time before things came to a head- not only with the greater situation, but between himself and the captain. Baldir was more skilled with a sword that he was, Del felt certain, and if the man was bent on killing him... well, he'd do whatever he had to in the end. He was a guard of the Citadel, a man of Gondor, and he wouldn't run away...

Even though he tried to think brave thoughts, the idea of truly fighting Baldir made Delagost's insides shake. And the man had been very clear- he didn't want Del anywhere near Cenewith....

The ride home took much longer than Del would have liked, and his thoughts were busy and his heart heavy throughout- but he was relieved when he beheld the streets of Emyn Arnen looking as peaceful as ever. He'd half expected to find the buildings in flames and the townsfolk running about in fear and confusion, or some of Baldir's 'friends' waiting to drag him from his horse and stomp him into nothing.

He was surprised to see someone standing in the middle of the street waving at him in the fading light- but as he approached he recognized Cenewith. His lips lifted into a smile despite the heaviness of his heart and he pulled the horse to a stop right there in the path. He recalled his captain's words and a shudder passed through him... but he couldn't and wouldn't abandon her.

"Cenewith!" he said, and swung down from the saddle, wrapping his arms around her before stopping to think that someone might be watching. Even when it occurred to him he didn't care, and just squeezed her a bit more tightly. For a good long moment he hugged her to his chest, then looked down at her fair face. "I've missed you," he said, his cheeks reddening at this admission, "I've been thinking about you. Are you alright, Cenewith? Tell me, is all well here at home?"

He did want to get home and see his family, but for the moment all of his attention was on the beautiful young woman before him, and how absurdly happy he was to see her....


[Edited on 21/3/2010 by dreamdancer]
BerethEdhellen
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: April 03, 2010 06:28
Baldir was puzzled and concerned. Too many things were happening around him that weren't making any sense. Falithor had returned a few days after he had left on his assignment to track the strangers, with a tale that infuriated the Citadel Captain while at the same time putting him on edge. The bumbling sailor had found out nothing which could aid him in discovering who they were and where they were going. That was bad enough but being returned to Minas Tirith blindfolded and hands tied by a Ranger then left sitting outside the gates of the white city, was definitely a message to him, but what was the message saying? And who was sending the message? Had his activities been uncovered? He had noticed Saelon traveling with the group. Had he exposed his attendance at the secret meetings, perhaps even discussing what had taken place during those meetings? He needed to find Saelon and make him talk, no matter what he had to do to make the young man tell him everything.

Then, only two weeks into his month long term of duty, the King had approached him with some incredible tale that the city was quiet so why didn't he, the Captain of the King's Guard, take a few weeks off early...go home, the King had said, and visit with your sister and aunt. He had shaken his head wondering why the King would offer him so much free time, though it did give him time to work out the deal he had been planning for some time now. Yet while he had been moving around the city making the arrangements before he headed to Emyn Arnen, he had noticed an unusual activity taking place among the King's army. There seemed to be training practices occurring on the open fields of Pelannor. The army had always been maintained as an active force, even though there had been no real need for one for over 100 years, so why were they running through these trial battles.

Baldir had not heard from the Dark One in the past two weeks either, which was troubling to him. There should be much transpiring since last they met but there had been no word, nothing. Not even in the form of demands against his time. He felt a shiver of fear run through his body, wondering if he had done something to offend the Dark One, one he certainly would not wish to cross if he wanted to go on living. However, even though his nerves felt jangled and he was edgier than normal, he completed his business and finally packed his bag, loaded it on the back of his horse, mounted and road for home.

When he arrived, he discovered Cenewith absent from the house. Upon asking...no, interrogating...his Aunt Melarin, he was told she was about the village on her daily deliveries to the poor. He left his Aunt in tears at his harshness as he tossed his belongings into his room, then he left to walk the streets in search of his sister. When he found her, she was on her way home with her empty basket. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, a smile lighting up her face....as though she had just spent time with a lover. His eyes scoured the pathways and fields quickly, hoping to catch sight of the one he was certain had put that look on her face but saw no one. He looked back at Cenewith who had finally noticed his presence. The glow on her face was gone, replaced by a look of fear and consternation.

"Baldir? Wh..what are you doing here?" Her basket was dangling from her limp hand while her other arm circled her stomach as though she were in pain.

"Surprised to see me, sister?" he asked, a cruel smile crossing his face. "I think you will find this visit to be one of great import. Shall we return home together...unless of course you have someone else to walk with you?" he asked, wondering where the young soldier was, as he was sure that Delagost had put that shining look on her face.

"No...no, Baldir. I am alone and just hoping to get home before dark. I'm..uh..I'm very hungry and looking forward to dinner." Her eyes dropped to the ground in front of her feet as she covered the short distance between the two of them. "Let's go home, brother, and eat."

As she reached the place in front of him, his hand lifted her chin. "Cenewith, you have never been able to lie well." He felt her chin tremble and released her. "However, this is a problem for which I have a solution at hand. Yes, let's go home, sit down at our table with Aunt Melarin and discuss my plans."

The brother and sister walked home side by side in silence. Aunt Melarin had layed the table in preparation for dinner and after they had washed their hands, they sat at the table, once again side by side, once again silent. At least until Baldir began to speak.....

"Cenewith. I have excellent news. You and Aunt will be coming to Minas Tirith to live, for which I can only be pleased Having ones family around one is a gift, is it not?"

"Minas Tirith? What do you mean, Baldir?" Cenewith's face had blanched and she appeared to be in a state of shock. "Where would we live? How would we live? You are busy at the Citadel and we know no one there at all. We would be alone in a strange place."

"Ahh, but dear sister. You would not be alone. You see, I have arranged a marriage for you, one of great, good fortune. You will have all your needs met, have a high position in the city, be a real lady." He smirked with pleasure.

But Cenewith felt not the same pleasure. "Baldir, you cannot be serious! You expect me to marry someone I have never met, someone I don't know? No, no...I cannot. I will not!"

"Oh but little sister, you certainly will. I have gone to great difficulty to make this arrangement and you are not going to be some silly child who moans and groans about something like, '..someone I don't know?' Many of the women of Minas Tirith expect their fathers or brothers to see that they will be properly cared for and that's exactly what I have done for you. You will find yourself accepting your good fortune before a month has passed. Alright, so he's a bit older than most but he's a widower who is very wealthy. You will live a life of luxury, my dear. And I will never have to worry about you falling into the wrong hands again." He patted her hand where it lay on the table, gripping a napkin in a hand with knuckles as white as snow. "You will see, my dear. Now after dinner, I want you and Aunt to begin packing what you need until your marriage, which should be within a few weeks at most once we have returned to the city."

A quick glance at Aunt Melarin's pale face made him chuckle. "Do not concern yourself, Auntie. He will expect you to accompany his wife and remain as her companion. Not to worry, my dear." He rose and stared down at the pair, grinning smugly. "I think I shall go to the Boar for an ale and to see what has been transpiring about town during my absence. I may be home late so don't wait up for me." With that, he left the room and the two women remained sitting in shocked silence. When the outside door slammed behind Baldir, Cenewith turned to her aunt, reaching for her hand.

"Aunt Melarin. What are we going to do? I cannot wed this...this...old man, this old widower, no matter how wealthy he is. I can't." Tears began to rain down her cheeks. "What will I do? How can I tell Delagost?"

Aunt Melarin knew that since the young guard's return from Minas Tirith on his leave, the two had been inseparable. She knew the two of them were close to falling in love, if they hadn't done so already. Her heart ached for her dear niece but she also knew her nephew. He was a hard man and one who would have his way at any cost, even the breaking of his sister's heart. Sighing, she rose and began to collect the dinner plates and carry them to the wash tub. "I'll think on it, child. There must be some way out of this but at the moment, I can't think how. Give me time to think on it," she said wearily, as she began to run the plates through soapy water.

"Aunt Melarin, I must find Delagost. I must tell him. I don't know what he can do but I know I must tell him. While Baldir is at the Boar, this may be my only chance."

Melarin nodded. "Go, child. Go quickly. But hurry. There's no knowing when your brother will return."

Cenewith slipped her cloak over her shoulders, kissed her aunt on the cheek, and ran out the door. She knew Del would be at his family's home so that's where she headed. She reached his house in a short time and knocked on the door desperately. She stood there shivering until the door opened and she was facing the one man she suddenly realized she loved.

################################################################

Saelon had watched smiling as Borlas and his son fought over the old man's safety. He didn't know how long the battle would rage but he did know one thing. Borlas, the stubborn old patriarch, would win so, delightfully amused, he simply munched on cheese and sipped ale while the father and son went at it. As he had predicted, Borlas won the argument, and the three, accompanied by two rangers, headed home to Emyn Arnen. The rangers rode along with them until they were on the outskirts of their home village, being careful to watch for any potential problems along the way, then shaking hands all around, they turned and returned to the northern forests. Borlas gazed ahead with pleasure written upon his aged face.

“Home,” he sighed. “You cannot know how I have missed it…my house, my garden, the orchard.” He sighed deeply again as they rode down the middle of the main road through the village.

Night was falling quickly as they were passing the “Boar” when Saelon reached across to grip Berelach’s arm, nodding towards the man who was just entering the inn. “Baldir?,” Saelon whispered. “What is he doing here mid-month? Should he not still be on duty?” Turning towards Borlas, he leaned closer to the old man. “Come, Borlas, let’s get you home before dark,” he said, hoping to hurry the man along and out of any sighting by the Captain, while at the same time not wishing to alarm the old gentleman.

They stopped their horses at the lower gate, the one through which Saelon usually entered the orchard for his talks with Borlas. With some difficulty, stiff and sore, the old man dismounted, tying his horse to the gate, then stood still, staring up the hill at his ancient stone house sitting snugly at the top. Reaching for the gate, he pulled the latch and began to walk through the orchard towards his beloved home, a limp which he would carry with him the rest of his life apparent in his steps. Stopping suddenly, he turned to ask his son, “Berelach, you did say that you had removed…um…the trunk, did you not?” Reassured by his son’s response, he finished the climb to the front door.

With some hesitation, he opened the door, recalling the dark that had lain before him the night he had been taken from here. But even this late in the evening, the last rays of the setting sun poured down the length of the central hallway, shimmering off the stone floor. Sighing once again, he made his way for the eating room, putting a kettle on the fireplace bar. “Berelach! Come light the fire for me, please.” When he did not hear any footsteps arriving, he bent slowly to light it himself, then sat at the table waiting for the water to boil.

Meanwhile, Saelon had stopped Berelach outside. “Berel, I don’t like the fact that Baldir is here in town. He is supposed to be on duty. Perhaps we should go find Del and tell him.” He was talking rapidly, unable to shake his misgivings about seeing the Captain here, now. “Then, maybe the three of us should head for the “Boar” and see .. and see …well, whatever we can see. Borlas will be fine. He’s right you know. Now that the…thing…is gone, no one has a need for him. Let us go find Delagost.” Glancing at the house, he mumbled, “Well, perhaps we should at least see that Borlas is settled first.”

After establishing Borlas comfortably, the two men set off for Delagost’s, only to arrive and halt their steps at what was transpiring on his doorstep. Delagost was holding a sobbing woman in his arms. “Uh oh. Somehow, I think Del is aware that Baldir is in town already. That’s Baldir’s sister, Cenewith. Wonder what’s going on.” Watching the couple, he asked, “Do you think we should just wait and see what happens? Or come back later?”

####################################################
Dorian would never have expected what was to come when he had escorted the two young women to the great hall. First, he had watched as Freawyn’s friend stood next to the King talking when she had suddenly blurted out that she had to talk to him about something private. Eldarion had taken her aside to a corner apart from the crowd where the two had talked for some time, the King’s brow furrowing with concern.

The young guard had worked his way to Freawyn’s side, where she was playing her lute to an appreciative audience. When she took a break, he drew her aside, asking, “What is your friend talking to the King about? He seems very worried.”

That evening, the King had approached him and appointed him a special task. He was relieved from his guard duty as of now and was to keep an eye on both the women, act as their personal guard. Rhiannan was going to be staying at the Citadel as Freawyn’s personal companion so they should be easy to keep an eye on as they would always be together. In particular, Dorian was to watch for a sailor who might attempt to contact Rhiannan. If this were to occur, Dorian was to report this to Edarion at once.

Dorian was standing by the wall overlooking the Pellanor Fields, watching the army doing practice battles moves while at the same time keeping an eye on the two ladies who were sitting on a bench nearby conversing. His eye caught the movement of something in the shadows. He watched closely as a man crept out, moving slowly, eyes watching everything and everyone, creeping closer and closer to the maidens. He heard a hiss and watched Rhiannan’s head turn. Without stopping to think for a second, Dorian made a mad dash for the King’s quarters, racing down the hall to the door of Eldarion’s private library. Pounding on the door, he waited impatiently until the door was opened by the King’s advisor.

“Tell the King, the man he was waiting for is now approaching Freawyn’s companion at this very moment.”

##################################################

Radagast and Idhrenion had fled Mordor and hurried back to Minas Tirith, alarmed at the massing of an army of orcs, uruk-hai, and hillmen they had seen. They rushed to the Citadel, requesting an audience with Eldarion immediately. When the King had ushered them into his library, with guards set outside the door to keep any misguided ears from hearing their discussion, Rad and Ren both quickly shared their information with the King.

“They seem to be on the verge of readiness, your Highness,” Rad said. “You must ready your army for a battle for which they are ill prepared. I will help in any way I can.” Looking a bit ashamed, he added, “I was originally sent here with that in mind, though I must admit, I wandered off course. I’d like to redeem myself, if you will allow it. Turning to Ren, he said, “Tell him what you discovered in your records about sending out the call to Rohan, Idhrenion.”

Now, weeks later, Radagast stood next to the King’s General, his staff held tightly in his grip as they reviewed the troops. “Sir, they have come far in the passing weeks. It would seem they have not forgotten how to fight, which is reassuring.”

The General smiled, though he too was feeling better about his men than he had expected. “The current Prince of Dol Amroth has been contacted and has agreed to come to us within the next few days. Is there any word from Rohan?” Dropping his head, shaking it slightly, he said, “Who would have imagined that we here in Middle Earth would ever find ourselves in this situation again? We have been too complacent.” Raising his eyes to look into Radagast’s, he asked, “How dangerous are the two Istari who lead this attack? Will you be able to defend us from the dark magic the King says they will use?”

Radagast stared out over the great plains before them for a long moment before he responded. “General, I truly cannot say. We were never trained in dark magic. Our mission was to assist the people of Middle Earth, not harm them. Pallando and Alatar disappeared in to the far east many centuries ago. No one has seen nor heard from them since. We have no idea what they may have learned or discovered during their absence.” Turning back to the General, he smiled. However, I have some power of my own which will perhaps reduce the affects of theirs. I can but try. Though do please remember, I am not the great Gandalf.”

Just then, both men noticed Idhrenion hurrying towards them, waving some documents in the air. “Oh dear, it seems our friend, the elf, has some news for us…and most likely not good news,” commented the General.
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: April 10, 2010 09:19
Berelach had not (entirely) expected to win the argument with his father, but (he felt) his ‘point’ had been made… he cared about Borlas; about his safety, and his health. Nor could the Gondorian Admiral keep from watching his one remaining parent carefully as they headed home, glad of support of two rangers sent with them to the outlying part of Emyn Arnen. Thanking them, Berelach knew his father had missed his home - even as the old man commented on it.
“Home,” he sighed. “You cannot know how I have missed it…my house, my garden, the orchard.” He sighed deeply again as they rode down the middle of the main road through the village.

Night was falling quickly as they were passing the “Boar” when Saelon reached across to grip Berelach’s arm, nodding towards the man who was just entering the inn. “Baldir?,” Saelon whispered. “What is he doing here mid-month? Should he not still be on duty?” Turning towards Borlas, he leaned closer to the old man. “Come, Borlas, let’s get you home before dark,” he said, hoping to hurry the man along and out of any sighting by the Captain, while at the same time not wishing to alarm the old gentleman.

Disconcerted to see Baldir was not in Minas Tirith, Berelach was quite eager to get his father home and out of sight of the traitorous Citadel Guard-Captain.

As one, the three men dismounted and secured their mounts and then headed for the cottage. At Borlas’ anxious question, ‘Indeed I did, father,” Berelach nodded. “It is safely hidden and under the King’s guard.

But, even as he made to follow Borlas inside, the Admiral was stopped by his friend.
“Berel, I don’t like the fact that Baldir is here in town. He is supposed to be on duty. Perhaps we should go find Del and tell him.” He was talking rapidly, unable to shake his misgivings about seeing the Captain here, now. “Then, maybe the three of us should head for the “Boar” and see .. and see …well, whatever we can see. Borlas will be fine. He’s right you know. Now that the…thing…is gone, no one has a need for him. Let us go find Delagost.” Glancing at the house, he mumbled, “Well, perhaps we should at least see that Borlas is settled first.”

Quietly agreeing with Saelon on all points, Berelach himself took a peek in all the rooms and set a teakettle on for his father. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, father,” he told the older man, and then hurried off for where Delagost was staying.
Delagost was holding a sobbing woman in his arms. “Uh oh. Somehow, I think Del is aware that Baldir is in town already. That’s Baldir’s sister, Cenewith. Wonder what’s going on.” Watching the couple, he asked, “Do you think we should just wait and see what happens? Or come back later?”

Observing the pair thoughtfully, “I say we wait,” Berelach voted. “Something is not ‘right’, I’m sure of it,” and the Admiral found himself wishing that Radagast and Idhrenion were there, too. After a few minutes, “Let’s go see,” he suggested, seeing Delagost’s shoulders tense up. And, though reluctant to interrupt the two, “Delagost?” Berelach quietly called. “What is toward?”

~@~@~@~@~@~@~


Quite happy to have left Mordor behind them, Idhrenion accompanied Radagast back to the White City - pushing their mounts to their fastest pace… though his own horse could never match the Meara’s speed.

In his turn, Idhrenion joined the Wizard in recounting what they’d found out, and what more he’d learned from his studies. It was still not ‘complete’, the elf knew, and once they’d been dismissed, then spent several weeks pouring over the two volumes intensely.

And, the more he did, the more disturbed Idhrenion became. ‘Dire’ things had been as they were, and - perhaps - there was a ‘glimmer’ of hope about something… but - but finally, the ellon could hold back no longer. Grabbing up his notes, he hurried in search of Radagast, who he found standing with the Gondorian General. Almost (for an elf) out of breath, as he neared the two, “I’ve found more!” Idhrenion proclaimed, and nodding to the man, addressed him, and the Wizard.

Solemnly, the elf then explained. “What I have discovered,” Idhrenion said, “Is that Pallando and Alatar have - in the East - learned how to combine their Istari skills. They are not,” he went on to say, “’all-powerful’, but - if I read the predictions left by Mithrandir and Hîr Elrond correctly, they have discovered a way to create illusions. - They could, for example, present the illusion that they have many more in their army than we think. - Or, perhaps, to make it seem that no enemy troops ‘exist’ so that men are sent to a seemingly clear place, only to find themselves in the midst of a fight they didn’t expect.”

Idhrenion did not - yet - mention the small glimmer of hope that he’d run across, for, as yet, he had not fully discerned it. For now, it was enough to convey what he had. Looking from the General to Radagast, he wondered what they would say…
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: May 07, 2010 02:11
(OOC: Hope this is ok! I’m posting what Dinen and I already had for our joint post in light of her absence. Bereth, I figured Cen would tell Delagost what had happened before Berelach and Saelon approached. If I need to edit anything, please let me know!)

Eldarion looked upon the young woman who had come with Freawyn, observing her with experienced eyes. He did not view her as a ‘commoner’ or someone beneath him to be scorned or ignored- he noted her attempt to follow the usual gestures of the court, and the urgency in her eyes. She was pretty, but of course that made no difference to him. Suddenly she rose from her awkward curtsey and blurted out what had obviously been troubling her.

"Milord, I am sorry for disrespecting your Lordship so, but I have to speak with you. There's a sailor friend of mine that is in danger, and I have no one to go to. Please, milord!"-Rhia staggered forward and fell to her knees, clutching the king's elegant robes.-"you must help me!"

Many of the courtiers cast Rhiannon utter looks of horror at the breach of protocol. First of all, a lowborn, common wench was admitted into the king's royal presence without so much as a patron, and then to have her address the king with no respect intended (so it seemed to them) was too much for them. They began grumbling complaints, staring at the young woman with derisive and disdainful glares.

Eldarion shot a hard glance to the judgmental onlookers. Perhaps this was not commonplace, but even so, he made it clear always that he cared for every one of his people. Ignoring their disapproving looks he knelt and gently took the young woman’s arm, pulling her to her feet and turning her away from the crowd.

“Come, tell me your worries where only I can hear,” he said, and nodded at Freawyn, giving her a slight smile to signal her to play her lute. A glance told the soldier to remain where he was, and he himself kept a watchful eye to make sure no one else took undue interest in his conversation with Rhiannon. Once they were safely away from the crowds, he offered her an encouraging smile.

“Now, my lady, tell me more about this matter concerning your sailor friend that troubles you so deeply.”

With everything that had been happening the king felt that perhaps the situation was more than a trifling worry about a man lost at sea or some such- and whatever it was, it had this poor woman absolutely terrified.

"Milord king, bless ye, first of all. I am nothing but a lowly wench who is barely gettin' by. To be speakin' with one of your station…" Realizing she was babbling, Rhia inhaled deeply and continued, speaking plainly and solemnly. "Your Majesty, a few days ago, I was serving at the Orc's Bane, and my soldier friend, a man named Falithor, came into the inn with a man of Rohan and what looked to be an important man of your Guard."-She repeated, almost verbatim, the conversation she had overheard. While Rhia may not have been educated, she had a knack for memorizing.-"so you see, your Majesty, he told me to keep my eyes and ears out for anything strange. I was and am afraid he was caught up in something bigger. I do not know the man he was talking to, but he always mentioned someone called the Dark One."

Rhia spoke quickly and urgently and the king caught every word, his brow furrowing as she went on. When she stopped he let out a soft breath, not revealing the dread that was touching his heart. The ‘Dark One’ he had already heard of- had his influence wormed is way so deeply into Gondor? The king could see Rhia was still upset and he waited patiently for her to continue, his eyes darting to the others in the room and making sure they weren’t too close.

Rhiannon stopped for a moment, listening to the strains of lute that were echoing around the large stone room. Her thoughts were in disarray as she fought to remember what she was going to say next. "I have heard whispers and rumors throughout the Bane about the rise of a dark power again. Please tell me plainly, milord, is it true?"

The king frowned. He didn’t know how much he should share with this girl, so he simply sighed “There have been whispers,” he said, “And there are dangerous situations arising, but nothing is certain.”

"I worry so much for him; it may sound strange, but I love Falithor and would do anything to help him. But, I'm afraid he's trapped himself. I do not know where he is or when he'll return."

She continued on with all of her information, confiding in the one man who was in a position to do something.

As the young woman continued Eldarion listened, his heart going out to her. How she must fear, how anyone must fear who had lost a loved one to the conniving web of their enemies… but when she had finished, he grasped her shoulder gently.

“You have done well by coming to me,” he said, “I will not say do not fear, for sometimes fear lends us caution and serves us- but try not to worry for your sailor. When he has returned to the city, I will speak with him myself, and I will do all that I can to keep harm from befalling him. Perhaps, if he is offered an escape from this trap he has stepped into, he will willingly take it.”



*~*~*~*~*

Later on that evening, after being dismissed by Eldarion, both women, accompanied by Dorian, talked about many things. But then, Rhiannon had a strange feeling that they were being watched. Out of the corner of her eye, Rhia saw a shadow approaching. About to cry out, she peered forward recognizing the forlorn face. She sat rigid, not sure what to do.

* *

After being left with his cousin outside Minas Tirith, Falithor had been in a horrible mood. He’d sent Kermin away from the city, instructing him not to return- for a few months at least- without any explanation, and not to tell anyone what had happened. Going into the city he’d feared every shadow, wondering if Baldir or- worse- The Dark One himself- were waiting there. He’d fled first to his brother’s home and forge… but, after standing outside and staring at the shut door for several minutes, he’d gone instead to the Orc’s Bane. He couldn’t drag Valothin into this, and besides, after what he’d done he doubted his brother would give him a place to hide…. They hadn’t spoken in years.

Rhia, much to his disappointment, was not at the inn… he could have dearly used the comfort of her warmth… but then, perhaps it’d be best if he stayed away from her for the moment. He didn’t want to get her in danger. It wasn’t long before word reached Baldir that the sailor had returned, and the meeting that Falithor had with him concerning the failure of his mission was nothing short of harrowing. The frustration and anger in the man’s eyes was obvious, but there was also something like fear- Baldir was afraid of the Dark One too, and this set back was not good for them at all. Fal wondered if the Captain would drive a dagger into his heart… but, he didn’t.

When left to his own devices, the sailor was weary and didn’t know what to do. He lay low for a good while, hoping that he wouldn’t get any more orders from Baldir, and not sure where he ought to go. Fleeing Gondor altogether sounded like a fabulous idea, but not one that he’d be able to pull off. They’d find him, wherever he went. Even going to the king for help crossed his mind, but what good could that do? He’d be labeled a traitor to Gondor and perhaps arrested for what he‘d done. And if he wasn’t, then doubtless he would be punished… ruthlessly… by Baldir, once word reached him. And always, always it seemed he was being watched… always he felt as though the Dark One’s eyes were burning into his back, reading his thoughts, amused by his fear and doubt… as he lay alone in a room at the inn Falithor became ever more fraught with worry and fear, sleeping little, unable to make any decision except to call for more ale and drown his sorrows.

He eventually became perfectly desperate for a friendly face, and went out in search of Rhia. She would welcome him, he thought, without question… perhaps she would offer him some comfort. After some snooping, he finally found (to his surprise, and a little worry) that she was staying in the Citadel and it was there he found her, sitting on a bench with another woman who was playing a lute. Keeping to the shadows, and afraid to show himself with the guard standing not far off, he swallowed. Was he a wanted man?

Carefully he moved toward the bench and finally whispered her name, softly at first and then loudly enough to catch her attention. He wasn’t prepared for her reaction at seeing him.


Like a ghost, she went to him. Her emotions boiled over. She clung to him like a wet rag, calling his name, running her hands through his long and tangled hair, and kissing his face. Then, Rhiannon proceeded to pummel him with her hands and scream at him, "You lout! How dare you?! Ye left me wondering where you were without a word? You slimy, cringing, good-for-nothing, boil-bottomed, green-skinned cur! You craven, gorbellied, half-faced, knotty-pated, mold-warp!! You rank, reeling-ripe, tardy-gaited, toad-spotted, unchin-snouted bum-bailey!" She hurled insults at Falithor.

The sailor blanched, upset that he hadn’t received the warm welcome from her he’d been hoping for- but more than that he realized that she did care for him, and he had really caused her worry. Even more than that, her hollering was causing a scene- not to mention she was whacking him with all the anger of a wild cat. Finally he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against him and holding her tightly.

“Shhhh, I’m sorry, Rhia!” he said quietly, “I’m sorry! Now stop that, will you? I’ve already had enough of a beating as it is!”

Glancing back he noticed the soldier was gone and he swallowed nervously.
“Is there a place we can talk, Rhia? Somewhere… not so out in the open?”

He had no idea that the king had wanted to be alerted when he arrived- he had no idea Rhia had spoken to anyone about him, in fact. He only knew he was anxious and dearly wanted to be comforted, if even she could do so… but the fact that the soldier had vanished made him worry.


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


Since his return to Emyn Arnen things had been- for the most part- quiet. Delagost had spent time with his family, of course, steering clear of questions from his parents about what he’d been up to. He spent much time telling his sister stories about elves as he’d always done, and assuring her that Idhrenion had every intention of coming to visit her again. As much time as he could, however, the young man spent with Cenewith. Her brother was still on duty, and so he felt free to accompany her on her daily duties in the village- despite Baldir’s clear warning. He told her nothing of her brother’s doings… how could he break her heart so? She was already troubled. The more time he spent with her, the more fond of her he became… though he was much too shy to tell her outright.

It was several days later, and he was sitting before the hearth while his family slept. The dog lay on the rug before the fire, and Del was wondering why he hadn’t gotten word from Saelon- and if his friends were alright. It was nice to have peace, but he felt that things were surely happening and he was unaware of them. That was a terrible feeling. Was there something he ought to be looking out for? Surely they would send word if there was.

The young man was considering heading to bed when there came a frantic knocking at the door. His heart leaped at the suddenness of it and he jumped to his feet. Noting his sword which was propped next to the door- just in case- he ran over and pulled it open.

“Cenewith…” he said her name softly, and he knew at once that something was wrong. Her beautiful face was pale and her eyes were wide and sunken with despair. Stepping outside he pulled her into his arms without speaking, holding her as her shoulders began to shake. She was crying- sobbing, really- and the sound of it broke his heart. His embrace tightened and his heart fell. “Cenewith, what is it? Please don‘t cry…” he said, stroking her hair, “I’m here… What’s happened, dear one?”

She choked it out in a few sobbed words- Baldir had arranged for her to marry someone in Minas Tirith. Del felt his heart fall. Of course he hadn’t thought that far in the future for himself and Cenewith- but, the prospect of her being married to another man, and against her will, made him both horribly depressed and incredibly furious. Hugging her tightly, “Do not worry,” he said, trying to think of a way he could stop it from happening.

After a few moments he saw Berelach and Saelon approaching out of the shadows.

“Delagost?” Berelach quietly called. “What is toward?”

Delagost was glad to see them but he didn’t feel safe out here in the open.
“Come inside, my dear,” he said gently to Cenewith, guiding her through the door and waving his friends over. Once they were in and the door was shut, Del pulled Cen to the hearth and sat her down. The dog was up, tail wagging at the prospect of new people. He nosed the young woman’s hands while Del explained, in hushed tones, to Berelach and Saelon what had happened.

“Baldir is here in Emyn Arnen,” he said, “In Minas Tirith he asked me about you- Saelon, please be wary of him. I think he suspects. I told him nothing, but now he is here, and he has arranged for Cenewith to marry someone in Minas Tirith.”

Turning away, he knelt on the floor before her. Delagost knew that provoking Baldir by being involved with Cen- much less getting into their personal affairs- was not in the best interests of their bigger mission… but he simply couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

“I’ll find a way to help you,” he promised her, almost ignoring Berelach and Saelon, “I will not let your brother do this to you. Perhaps we should find some place for you to hide….”


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

Eldarion had much on his mind. The fact that they knew much was some comfort, but how much was there that they didn’t know? The news Radagast and Idhrenion had brought was disturbing and dark indeed. An army was being amassed. It was also a comfort that the wizard was willing to help in any way he could- and Idhrenion’s knowledge was valuable. There was Rohan. They were not ‘alone’, but there was yet doubt as to the exact numbers they would be facing.

Still, the soldiers of Gondor- who had seen no battle in a long while- were rallied and put through drills. No specific reasons were given, but the king knew that no one could stop the rumors that were spreading. And so he sent Baldir home, telling him to take a few weeks off to spend with his family in Emyn Arnen. He wanted the man out of the city- and he knew Delagost was keeping watch in Emyn Arnen. Baldir was suspicious, of course, but there was much work to be done.

Leaving the armies in the capable hands of his general and friends, the king waited for more news. News from Idhrenion, who was ever studying his volumes; news from Dorian, who was to be watching for the sailor. As he read volumes of his own he thought of his father and mother, and the trials they had faced in the name of good and the survival of the West. Darkness had been defeated before… it would be defeated again.

While Eldarion dwelled on his thoughts, a message came to him that the sailor had arrived.

“Bring him to me,” he told his guards, “Restrain him if you must, but do not hurt him; tell Falithor that I wish to help him.”

As the men went to do this the king put away his book. Standing, he straightened his jerkin and looked out the window at the city. The city of his people. They had nearly forgotten what Gondor had been through. Sighing, he shook his head. They would soon be reminded.

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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: May 16, 2010 12:58
Dorian had raced through the hallways of the King's Palace to the door of Eldarion's study, only to be stopped by the guards. "But I have to tell him about the sailor. He told me to come to him if I saw him...and he's here! Just outside."

"Wait here, Dorian. The King asked not to be disturbed and we can't have you just dashing in upon him. We'll tell him and see what he says to do." With that, one of the guards turned and tapped lightly on the door and upon being to told to enter, held an arm out to stall Dorian. "Wait!" he repeated, then the two guards entered the study. "Dorian is in the hallway, Sire. Something about a sailor, he says." When told by Eldarion to bring him in, Dorian, listening through the crack in the slightly ajar doorway, burst into the room.

"Sire, Falithor is in the courtyard...NOW! He was trying to approach Rhianna when I left to come and tell you. We must hurry before he leaves." Dorian's face was flushed, his eyes bright with excitement.

When told by the King to .. "“Bring him to me. Restrain him if you must, but do not hurt him; tell Falithor that I wish to help him.” .. Dorian gave a quick bow and ran for the courtyard, followed by one of the guards, arriving in time to see Falithor getting a verbal beating by Rhianna. For all her fine clothes, she seemed yet to be the tavern wench she was. Dorian blushed at some of the names she was calling Falithor but he straightened his back and strode towards the pair, trying his best to appear as authoritative as a Citadel Guard should yet knowing he was failing miserably.

However, when he approached, accompanied by the second guard, even though Falithor's eyes widened, the sailor remained where he stood, apparently knowing there was no way he was going to escape from these two tall, well-armed guards. Dorian was the first to reach his side. Glancing briefly at Rhia, he looked sternly at Falithor and said as gruffly as he could manage, "The King would like a word with you, sir. If you'll come along with us," he added, acknowledging the arrival of the second guard. As the pair led the sailor, who had a hang dog look on his face at this turn of events, Dorian was feeling quite proud of himself at the way he had handled the situation. He glanced sideways to see if Freawyn had noticed how well he had behaved and how 'important' he was, indeed...truly a King's guard. Sadly, she was busy consoling Rhianna and not even looking in his direction.

They delivered Falithor to Eldarion, were thanked for doing their duty and shooed from the room. The heavy doors closed, the two guards again took their places on either side of it and Dorian dragged his feet down the length of the hallway back to the courtyard to watch over the two women, though the danger most feared was now conversing with the King. He really had little to do with his time now but stand at the wall, watching the army far below going through their practice details, wondering if he too might rather be there than wasting his time here, in charge of two young ladies who ignored him completely. He felt entirely useless.

At least that is until he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to look down at the fair Freawyn's face. "Would you care to join us for tea, Dorian," she asked. Suddenly, he lost all thought of the army below and nodded at the young women instead. "Yes, thank you, m'lady. I'd very much enjoy that." Little did he know that they only asked him to join them so that they could interrogate him about Falithor's fate, yet even had he known, the idea of having tea with Freawyn would have compensated. He strolled at her side to the small table set out in the courtyard where he enjoyed the next half hour very much indeed.

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

As the army went through its daily exercises, Radagast spent time with Idrenion, going over the the two great books left behind by his fellow Maia and Lord Elrond. The Prince of Dol Amroth had arrived with several thousand additional soldiers.... horseman, archers and yeoman. They were camped at the base of the wall just outside the White City, combining their forces with the Gondorian soldiers. Prince Adrahil and the Gondorian General, Berdagand, sat together in a great white tent, banners of both the realms flying above in the wind blowing across the flat plain, reviewing possible strategic movements of their men based on the information Radagast and Idrenion had brought back with them from Mordor. It was difficult to determine exactly what they would be confronting as it had been many weeks since the two had returned; there was no way to know what additional forces Pallando and Alatar had gathered to their sides. But Adrahil and Berdagand were seasoned officers so they felt they were as well prepared as they could be for now.

As the beacons had long been abandoned, a fast rider had been sent to Rohan as well, changing horses along the way so that his trip would not be slowed by a tiring horse. He had returned with the news that the current King of Rohan could certainly bring assistance to Gondor though he was doubtful such would be needed. War? With forces from Mordor? Was Eldarion certain of this? No one had been in Mordor for over a hundred years, so from whom was this strange information derived? Was the source reliable?

When the courier presented him with a packet containing a long letter from Eldarion himself, the King of Rohan was more than a little surprised and amazed. The world of Middle Earth had been peaceful for a century. To imagine that remnants of its evil past still existed and were once again attempting to darken the world of the west was more than anyone could take in in one sitting. Add to that the arrival from out of nowhere one like Gandalf the Great and an Elf as well. He had kept the courier waiting for two days while he gathered his nobles and cavalry officers (in name only as there had been no need really for a cavalry at all) together to discuss this incomprehensible situation. Though none could fault Eldarion's information, it was still much for them to believe and accept, and furthermore, to bring a fighting force together in such short time. However, the Rohannan King agreed to deliver what help he could as soon as was humanly possible.

Thus, Gondor and the surrounding realms were as ready as they could conceivably be to meet the unknown. Now it was simply a matter of waiting for the 'unknown' to move. Rangers from Hennoth Annun had been sent out regularly to attempt to determine what, if any, activity was occurring near the former, now repaired, Black Gate, but reports were that little was going on currently, other than groups of men and orcs entering Mordor, yet no one and nothing exiting the great gate. Radagast found this strange indeed and wished he were there himself to see with his own eyes what was taking place. Yet he could not in his heart send any Ranger up through the remains of Cirith Ungol. Shelob's children still reigned supreme and though he might transverse their cave in safety, he knew the same could not be said for any one else.

Though no formal announcement had yet been made by Eldarion to the people of Gondor, yet did they know that something was afoot. Wives and children of the army were well aware that their husbands were not merely playing 'war games', that something far more serious was behind their exercises. The women of Gondor spoke freely to their friends and relatives in the market place, at their tables, and over the back fences so all of Gondor was wondering when they would be told what all this was about. War never occurred to them. None except the very oldest of the elders had ever seen fighting of any kind, except the brawls in barrooms of course. The arrival of the army of Dol Amroth added to their concerns. It was one thing for Adrahil to visit Eldarion but quite another for him to bring thousands of armed men with him. And when rumors began to swirl that Rohan would soon be riding to Gondor, the tension thickened.

Radagast visited with Eldarion daily but one day he finally said what had been on his mind for some time now. "Eldarion, you cannot hide this much longer from your people. They need to know what they are about to face. Perhaps removing the women and children to the mountains might not be a bad idea," he suggested, knowing even as the words left his mouth that such an idea would be snorted at by the King. After all, was this not the White City, powerful and long-lasting? But then, Eldarion had not been born when Sauron's armies had breached the White City's huge gates and rampaged through several levels of Minas Tirith, leaving death and destruction along the way. Radagast could not in honesty blame the King for his faith in Minas Tirith but he must at least try to make his concerns known to Eldarion.

Then news came from the Rangers...there was activity at the Black Gate. Drums could be heard beating and the pounding of thousands of feet could be felt in the ground outside. The time had come, it seemed, for Gondor to prepare itself. Gaddon and Sellerin rode personally to Minas Tirith to meet with Radagast and give him the news. Radagast had in turn spoken with not only Idrenion but Eldarion, Adrahil, Berdagand and the King of Rohan, who had ridden to Minas Tirith himself to find out just exactly was going on.

"The time has come, my friends. Now we will see what my fellow Istari have planned for us. Hopefully, being one of them, I will be able to discern what tricks they have up their sleeves. Though I was never trained in the black arts, it might at least be possible to see when something isn't quite 'real'. Here he glanced at Idrenion, asking him to describe to the gathered men what he had read regarding the 'illusions' that the two evil ones might be capable of.

When Idrenion was finished, everyone jumped up with questions, questions that sadly had no answers. Radagast held up his hand, silencing the men. "This is what I meant about "what is real". Should our armies see an opening in the field the of battle, it may be that it is only an illusion. I am hoping I will be able to see the reality."

Adrahil then asked, "That is all well and good, Radagast. However, you can not be in all places at all times. While you are searching for the reality in an opening in the battle field here, we may be facing a far larger army attacking there. If we are to understand Idrenion's words correctly, this too may be an illusion. Who will be there to tell us not to draw all our men to fight this seeming huge opponent, thus leaving a space where the real opponent can break through?"

All heads were nodding, including Radagast's own. With a sad look in his eyes, he said, "I see your question as valid, Adrahil and all I can answer is that we will do the best we can. I will do the best that I can. But there is no way, as you pointed out, that I can be in more than one place at a time. We will, I fear lose any number of men if what Idrenion has ascertained from his readings proves so."

At the end of the meeting, when all the questions had been asked, answered, discussed and argued over, the men, the elf and the Maia all went their separate ways to prepare for the battle they now knew was imminent.

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

During this month of preparation, Baldir remained in Emyn Arnen at the King's order and thus was unaware of the coming battle. He, however, had battles of his own to confront. He had returned from the "Boar" the night he had told Cenewith of his plans to marry her to a wealthy Gondorian widower, only to find her gone. He had asked his Aunt Melarin where she had gone and received no reply, only a look of defiance.

Grabbing her arm, he shook her before slapping her face. "You WILL tell me where she has gone, woman, or I will beat it out of you." Melarin stared at him for a long moment before yanking herself from his grasp. Stepping back and putting the table between them, she reached back and grabbed a knife off the counter and then spoke to Baldir. "How dare you, nephew? How dare you assault me in such a manner? I have raised you since you were but a child, a particularly cold and aloof one, I might add, certainly not a loveable one like your sister. But I loved you none the less and raised you with kindness. I don't know what has created the monster you have become but I want you out of my house...now!" Watching him with eyes alight with anger, she added, "You are no longer alive to me. You are dead to me. Now leave at once."

His Aunt Melarin's mutinous defiance surprised Baldir. The gentle woman had become not only hostile towards him but was unafraid of him as well. There was no point in proving he could lay her out on the floor if he wanted to. Instead, he responded, "Tell me where Cenewith is and I will leave and never return."

Melarin glared at him while saying, "She is somewhere safe. Safe from your manipulation and misguided thoughts. That is all you need to know. Now, get out!"

Baldir's lip began to curl as he smirked at her. "I know what you would think of safe, dear Aunt. That wimpering excuse for a man, Delagost, right? Thank you for affirming it, Aunt Melarin. Your face was always an open book." he said, as he noted the wary surprised look on her face when he mentioned Delagost's name. "I'll just get my belongings and rid you of my company." He left the kitchen and headed for his room, where Melarin could hear cabinets being crashed about along with footsteps clumping. When he reappeared, he carried his armor, shield, sword and a duffel bag full to the brim with what was probably his clothes and personal items. Most of his belongings he kept at his room at the Citadel but his less formal attire as well as some very personal things had remained here at home. "Farewell, Auntie. You will rue this day. I could have protected you but now you are on your own. Just remember I told you so." With that, he turned, yanked open the door, slamming it against the wall, and walked out into the night.

Melarin quietly closed the door, saying a small prayer to the Valar for her niece's safety. Then she sat at the kitchen table, tears flowing down her cheeks.

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

Cenewith had finished sobbing, partly due to the fact that she was snuggled safely in Delagost's arms. And with Saelon and Berelach there, she also felt assured that Baldir would not be able to fight off three armed men and wrench her from this house against her will. She was certain that Melarin would not willingly tell her brother where she had gone but recalling the bruises on her own arms, she would not put it past Baldir to rough up her gentle aunt, forcing the words from her unbidden.

Now that the initial shock was over, she listed as Delagost promised to help, even finding her a place to hide but what stuck in mind was something he said to Saelon before. What was it? Ah yes.... “Baldir is here in Emyn Arnen,” he said, “In Minas Tirith he asked me about you- Saelon, please be wary of him. I think he suspects. I told him nothing, but now he is here, and he has arranged for Cenewith to marry someone in Minas Tirith.”

"Suspects what," she asked, puzzling them all. She explained more clearly what she had heard. "You told Saelon to be wary of him and that he suspects. Suspects what? What is my brother doing? Why are you all afraid of him .. and don't deny it. I see it written on all your faces." Turning to Delagost, who's face was happily close enough to kiss had she wanted to, she gazed into his eyes. "This has something to do with more than his arranging a marriage for me, especially since none of you knew about that until moments ago. Is my brother in trouble of some kind? I know he seems heartless to you but he is my brother and I do love him. Please, Del, tell me what's going on."

Saelon looked both the other men in the eye before saying, "I think we've proven that Cenewith is not involved in Baldir's mischief so perhaps it would be best to warn her."

Cenewith's eyes widened and she sputtered out, "....proven? not involved? Baldir's "mischief"? I'm not involved with anything. What are you talking about?"

Saelon smiled at Cen, saying kindly, "I'm sorry, girl. But we did have to be certain of what side you were on before we could support you." Looking directly at Delagost, he realized what a dreadful position it put his friend in but someone had to break it to this innocent woman that her brother was about as evil as evil gets. "Do you want me to tell her, Del? It might sound better coming from me since I was there on some of those meetings. I saw actual proof." At a nod from Del, who was holding Cenewith's hand tightly in his own, Saelon went about the task of telling Cen not only about Baldir but his affiliation with the Dark One. "I was surprised to see him home as he's supposed to be on duty this month but I suspect the King has relieved him of his duties temporarily to keep him away from the city. He has the capacity of causing a great deal of trouble there, especially spying for and doing the nasty tasks for the Dark One. Better to keep him out of trouble, though it looks like wherever he goes, he causes trouble," he grinned at Cen. "Look at yourself, praise the Valar. About to be carted off to Minas Tirith to marry a complete stranger when we all know you and Del love each other and should be the ones getting married." The look of surprise and instant recognition of an unknown fact registering on both their faces caused Saelon to blurt out, "Oops. Didn't you two know? Oh well, you certainly do now."

Glancing at Berelach, he began to laugh. "Imagine that, will you, Berel. How could they not have known when everyone in town knew." Soon Cenewith began to giggle with him. Eventually, all of them were laughing and the atmosphere had lightened considerably from the moment Cenewith had knocked on Del's door.

But another knock, rather a fist hammering, on the door darkened the mood instantly. Saelon waved Del to stay where he was and went to pull open the door. A very angry Baldir pushed him aside and stormed into the room. "I might have known you'd run to this wimp, Cenewith. But it will do you no good. Now get on your feet. We're leaving at once." At the smallest of signs that Delagost was about to rise to face him, Baldir drew his sword. "And you!..Stay where you are."

Saelon looked at Berelach as he stepped forward towards Baldir. "That is hardly mannerly, pulling a sword on a man in his own home. Put it away, Baldir."

Baldir glanced at Saelon before saying, "You were a spy, weren't you? You were spying on me for the King. That is why I've been relieved of my duty, because you told Eldarion about our meetings. I knew I should have tested your alliance but He....never mind. It's not important now. You will see what one with real power can do soon enough." Turning back to Cenewith, standing now at Delagost's side, he said again, "Move...to the door. We are leaving." He pointed the sword in the direction of Delagost's neck.

Saelon grabbed Del's sword from where it stood next to the door and threw it to his friend. "Don't let him do this, Del. And you! Baldir, why not take it outside and see just who is the stronger of the two of you. You may be surprised at what the one you call a wimp can do."

Cenewith clutched Del's arm, whispering to him, "Don't do this, Del, he's a mighty swordsman. You know this to be true. I don't want you to die at his hand."

However, the group moved outside and Baldir faced Delagost. "You want my sister? You'll have to beat me to have her? You can't do that and she's off to Minas Tirith to marry a man of 'worth', something you know little about, pup," he sneered at Delagost, his sword in readiness for Del's first parry.
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: May 25, 2010 05:28
(Ok... here's REALLY hoping this is ok. Please let me know if I need to edit anything! )


Falithor hadn’t gotten many words out of Rhia besides the names she had called him when he saw two guards approaching. He could have run- he might have been able to escape and slip into the shadows, or perhaps at least fight his way out- but instead he just stood there. What were the chances of his escaping unscathed? Besides that, somewhere in the depths of his mind he felt that being caught by his own people would be a far cry better than being caught by the Dark One.

Despite his own dark thoughts he thought the young guard was failing miserably at looking ‘tough’. Still, he spoke with a fair enough sternness.

"The King would like a word with you, sir. If you'll come along with us," he added

“Aye,” Falithor said quietly, and let himself be led along. He felt wretched and nervous. What would be his fate? He, the strong man who had braved the most awful of storms at sea, who had been in countless bar brawls, now felt like a lost child in trouble- only the trouble was far worse than anything he’d been into as a child.

He was delivered to the king, who stood aside and waited for the sailor to enter. Eldarion looked closely at Falithor and could discern many things at once; the sailor’s posture was slumped and his face pale. His eyes were sunken as though he had not rested in days and his expression was a myriad of emotions, guilt perhaps being among them. Although the king was angry that anyone could betray Gondor, he felt a measure of pity for the man.

The doors were shut and Falithor turned to look at the king. Eldarion stood tall and straight, his face masking his emotions. A sword was at his hip. The sailor tried to swallow as he bowed.

“My lord,” he said uncertainly, dropping his gaze to the floor. He didn’t dare act ‘proud’- there was no reason for it any more.

“Falithor is your name, is it not?” Eldarion asked, “I do not know the full extent of your treachery, but I know that you have betrayed your king and your people.”

Falithor rose slowly, “I have,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I have and I’m sorry….. I was given a choice and I chose badly. I can’t make any excuse for myself.”

The king was silent for a moment, gazing at the man, then he nodded slowly. “I believe you,” he said, “Not only because of the way you speak, but because of your friend Rhiannon. She came to me, terrified for your safety and what you had become a part of. She believes you are not a wicked man at heart. She begged me to keep you safe.”

Falithor didn’t know how to reply except a lame, “Thank you, my lord.” He felt wicked certainly… but, Rhia had been worried for him… she had told the king his business. For a split moment he was annoyed- he had believed she wouldn’t even tell one of the gossiping wenches from the tavern, much less the king! It faded quickly though and he felt even more ridiculous.

“What did he promise you in exchange for working to bring about the fall of your homeland?” Eldarion asked, “The evil One you decided to follow- it must have been something wondrous. Riches? Fame? Power?”

“All three,” Falithor responded, “It was the Captain of the Guard actually… Baldir. He came to me and promised me those things if I would work with them...”

“Did you speak to his master?” Eldarion looked hard at Falithor, “How much do you know?”

Gulping, and feeling as though a noose were tightening around his throat, he nodded. The memory of speaking to the Dark One still chilled him. “I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you everything I do know.”

“Good,” the king never flinched, “For Rhiannon’s sake I shall not harm you, Falithor, though you deserve to be punished. However, you will be kept under close guard, and if you are called to fight when war comes- and it is coming- then you will do so, and you will answer to Admiral Berelach- who you have also betrayed. You will tell my captains and I everything you know of the Dark One’s plans and Baldir’s doings.”

Falithor felt an overwhelming relief and he sank to his knees, his weariness finally becoming too much for him.
“My lord, thank you,” he said, “I’ll do everything you ask…”

“I neither pardon nor forgive you, sailor,” Eldarion looked down on him gravely, “There will be too much death ere long. I see no need to bring about any now by harming you.”

Eldarion called for his trusted guards and told them to see that Falithor was given a chance to bathe and change his clothes before being taken away. Rhiannon would be allowed to see him- and after he had eaten and rested, he would be called to speak to the king and others again about what he knew.


* * * *

Things were taken care of with Falithor and the days passed. The king appreciated Radagast’s daily visits. The wizard kept him updated on various happenings throughout Minas Tirith as they prepared for battle. Finally, one day he brought to words what Eldarion had been musing on silently for days.

"Eldarion, you cannot hide this much longer from your people. They need to know what they are about to face. Perhaps removing the women and children to the mountains might not be a bad idea,"

The king shook his head. “I agree that the people must know the danger, but moving all of the women and children of the city would be a great risk. There are many unfit to travel- the old and ill and the very young. And do not forget, Minas Tirith stood against the great assault of Sauron. She will not fall as long as there are men to protect her.”

Still, Eldarion thought much about it, and finally he made the official announcement and sent the news through the city- war was coming. New evils were rising in the East. Although he hated showing that he doubted the strength of the city, the king took Radagast’s advice and ordered the women and children to move into the mountains, with a battalion to guard and guide them.


Finally, the rangers brought news- drums of war were being pounded. The black armies were preparing to move. Sellerin rode with Gaddon to Gondor to meet with their friends in person. The ranger wondered, as he saw the beautiful walls of the White City growing ever closer, how his ancestors had felt in moments leading up to war. Would he make the spirits of his fathers proud?

They found themselves at a great council with Radagist, Idhrenion, Eldarion, Adrahil, Berdagand and the King of Rohan, who had ridden to Minas Tirith himself to find out just exactly was going on. The matters discussed were troublesome, but Eldarion felt that he could trust his friends to do their best to bring Gondor through the coming battle.

As everyone went their separate ways to make the last preparations the king went himself to speak to his men. Now was the time for courage, and who could bring courage to the protectors of Gondor if not her king?

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



Cenewith had been calmed and Delagost was sitting with her and Berelach and Saelon, waiting in the quietness of the house as they tried to decide what to do. The young man had tried to speak softly to his friends, but he soon learned that Cenewith had heard him, for she began to ask questions about his words.

"Suspects what," she suddenly asked. Delagost looked at her with a puzzled expression. She explained more clearly what she had heard. "You told Saelon to be wary of him and that he suspects. Suspects what? What is my brother doing? Why are you all afraid of him .. and don't deny it. I see it written on all your faces."

She turned to look at him and gazed into Del’s eyes, her face so near his own. He was kicking himself inwardly. How could he answer this dear, gentle soul? How could he tell her that her brother was…

"This has something to do with more than his arranging a marriage for me, especially since none of you knew about that until moments ago. Is my brother in trouble of some kind? I know he seems heartless to you but he is my brother and I do love him. Please, Del, tell me what's going on."

Saelon looked both the other men in the eye before saying, "I think we've proven that Cenewith is not involved in Baldir's mischief so perhaps it would be best to warn her."

Cenewith's eyes widened and she sputtered out, "....proven? not involved? Baldir's "mischief"? I'm not involved with anything. What are you talking about?"

Saelon smiled at Cen, saying kindly, "I'm sorry, girl. But we did have to be certain of what side you were on before we could support you."

Delagost knew that now the truth could be hidden from her no longer. How he had wanted to protect her from it! He was searching for the easiest way to explain matters when he found Saelon looking at him, his old friend recognizing the distressed look on his face at once.

"Do you want me to tell her, Del? It might sound better coming from me since I was there on some of those meetings. I saw actual proof."

Gripping the young woman’s hand in his own, Del nodded and sighed sadly. Saelon began, telling not only the facts about what Baldir had been up to, but his affiliation with the enemy they knew as the dark One. Delagost watched Cenewith’s face, his heart breaking for her as his friend spoke.

"I was surprised to see him home as he's supposed to be on duty this month but I suspect the King has relieved him of his duties temporarily to keep him away from the city. He has the capacity of causing a great deal of trouble there, especially spying for and doing the nasty tasks for the Dark One. Better to keep him out of trouble, though it looks like wherever he goes, he causes trouble," he grinned at Cen. "Look at yourself, praise the Valar. About to be carted off to Minas Tirith to marry a complete stranger when we all know you and Del love each other and should be the ones getting married."

At Saelon’s mention of marriage Delagost’s eyes widened in surprise. Him, wedding Cenewith? It was a shocking notion- but even more shocking was the sudden realization that nothing would make him happier than to take her for his bride. He blushed deeply.

"Oops. Didn't you two know?” Saelon was smiling, un-phased. “Oh well, you certainly do now."

Glancing at Berelach, Saelon began to laugh. "Imagine that, will you, Berel. How could they not have known when everyone in town knew."

Saelon’s laughter was infectious and soon Cenewith began to giggle. At hearing her soft laugh Del smiled and chuckled too, glad for the lighting of the atmosphere. Squeezing her hand he kissed it, smiling at her from where he knelt.

Suddenly, though, a loud banging at the door brought them all to instant silence. Delagost tensed but remained where he was as Saelon went to answer the door. Without a word a furious-looking Baldir shoved his way inside. In the flickering firelight with his wrathful expression he looked positively frightening.

"I might have known you'd run to this wimp, Cenewith. But it will do you no good. Now get on your feet. We're leaving at once." At the smallest of signs that Delagost was about to rise to face him, Baldir drew his sword. "And you!..Stay where you are."

Delagost frowned, angered by Baldir’s actions. He stood up anyway, putting himself slightly in front of Cenewith. The dog growled, sensing the tension of his master.

Saelon looked at Berelach as he stepped forward towards Baldir. "That is hardly mannerly, pulling a sword on a man in his own home. Put it away, Baldir."

Baldir glanced at Saelon before saying, "You were a spy, weren't you? You were spying on me for the King. That is why I've been relieved of my duty, because you told Eldarion about our meetings. I knew I should have tested your alliance but He....never mind. It's not important now. You will see what one with real power can do soon enough." Turning back to Cenewith, standing now at Delagost's side, he said again, "Move...to the door. We are leaving." He pointed the sword in the direction of Delagost's neck.

Delagost’s eyes darted to his own sword, which was still propped next to the door. Saelon suddenly grabbed it and tossed it, and Del caught it by the hilt, moving again to stand fully in front of Cenewith.

"Don't let him do this, Del.” Saelon said, “And you! Baldir, why not take it outside and see just who is the stronger of the two of you. You may be surprised at what the one you call a wimp can do."

Delagost swallowed a bit nervously, but more than nervous he was angry and determined. He felt the woman he now knew he loved gripping his arm and she whispered to him, "Don't do this, Del, he's a mighty swordsman. You know this to be true. I don't want you to die at his hand."

“Don’t worry, my dear Cenewith,” he said, glancing away from Baldir only long enough to plant a kiss on her brow, “You need not fear for me.” Turning to Baldir, “Outside,” he said curtly, “Now.”

They moved outside. Del hoped that his sister and parents hadn‘t been woken by the ruckus. The last thing he wanted was for them to see him engaged in a fight or- at the worst- witness his death. Once beneath the stars, Baldir turned to face Delagost, his face livid.

"You want my sister? You'll have to beat me to have her! You can't do that and she's off to Minas Tirith to marry a man of 'worth', something you know little about, pup," he sneered at Delagost, his sword in readiness for Del's first parry.

“I’d like to know how a traitor like you measures ‘worth’,” Delagost retorted, watching Baldir’s movements closely. There was little light- only the firelight from the house window, and the moon shining overhead. The young man knew that his opponent would kill him if given the chance. He must kill Baldir to eliminate the threat- but Cenewith stood near, watching. What would she think of him if he killed her brother?

Without warning Del lunged forward, going for Baldir’s throat with the blade. The Captain easily deflected the sword, stepping back and then counter-attacking. Delagost blocked but the sheer power behind the blow shook him and he staggered, ducking a swing at his neck. Steel kissed steel and the two men hacked at each other, parrying, thrusting, dodging, blocking, the sound of clanging metal echoing into the night. A small cut was opened across Baldir’s chest in short order but he merely cursed and didn’t slow down, returning the favor as his blade glanced off Delagost’s forearm.

They continued to battle, moving in circles. Baldir stabbed and missed, then flung aside the younger man’s blade and tried again. Delagost was quick and he turned sideways as the blade cut only air, delivering a crushing blow to Baldir’s back with the blunt edge of the sword. Almost before he could blink, his foe had recovered and he had to rush to parry, and his sword was knocked aside, allowing Baldir to deliver a painful jab to the younger man’s thigh. The guard grunted and swiped, opening a gash on Baldir’s hip- but then another blow was sailing down at Del’s skull and he had to move quickly to keep from having his head split open- but he wasn’t quite quick enough, and the blade sank into his left shoulder, cutting through flesh and glancing off bone.

Delagost cursed loudly in pain as he shoved the blade away and moved backwards to regain his composure, but Baldir gave him no quarter. The man followed like a murderous shadow, and Del knocked the traitor’s sword out of the way once again, jarring his wounded shoulder. Pain was resounding in his left arm and blood seeped into his shirt sleeve., dripping down to his hand. Still the deadly dance continued! The young man whirled and twisted, dodging the sword of his skilled enemy as his friends looked on, but feeling himself growing ever more tired and frantic. Baldir bled from several wounds but he had barely slowed- he was a powerful man fueled by hatred and he made it nearly impossible to deliver a crippling blow.

Their swords locked. Delagost’s face was inches from Baldir’s as each pushed against the other. Del could see Cenewith standing not far away with Saelon and Berelach.
“You’re a fool, Baldir,” Del grunted, his arms shaking with the effort to keep the man’s blade from crashing against his chest and throat, “For giving up the people who love you. You‘re a bloody black-hearted fool!”

He suddenly felt Baldir’s foot sweep beneath his own and he toppled backwards, landing hard on the ground. Del went to sit up but froze, feeling steel at his throat. Baldir was standing over him, preparing to end his life. In the split second that he felt defeat hovering and cold steel pressing toward his throat, Delagost thought of Cenewith. He envisioned that beautiful gentle soul, married to some cold, unfeeling man and miserable for the rest of her days- he thought of Baldir sneaking about, betraying not only his countrymen but his own flesh and blood- and he thought of all the years the man had bullied him.

His weariness was replaced by a sudden fury and determination that welled up in his breast like a wild flame. It quickly consumed any thoughts of defeat or despair, and without any more regard for himself he shoved away Baldir’s blade. Del’s left hand was cut in the process but he hardly noticed as he swung his own, scrambling to his feet while his opponent fell back to avoid being hit.

Delagost flew at Baldir with renewed fury, his main concern now bringing down his foe to protect those he held dear. The fire of battle raged in him and had he but known it, he seemed like the warriors of old faced with the dark forces of Mordor and battling to victory at the dawn.

Almost before he realized it he had stabbed Baldir deeply in the side. The man faltered at last and Del pulled his sword back out. He delivered another blow to the Captain’s sword-arm, causing him to drop his weapon. But Delagost didn’t stop there- he punched Baldir squarely in the jaw, knocking him down, and then put a foot on his chest and placed the blade at his throat.

Del’s chest heaved as he stood over the man who had caused so much grief, glaring down at him with burning eyes. He could kill him so easily! With the barest flick of his wrist he could end Baldir’s wicked life and punish him for all of the awful things he had done- but Delagost remembered Cenewith standing near (plus a few others who had wandered near at the commotion, including his father). And he was not like Baldir. He could not kill the wretch.

Delagost lowered the sword. “Someone take him to a healer,” he called, and knelt to gaze fiercely into Baldir’s drawn face “If you so much as come near her again, I will kill you.” he snarled, and then turned away. The fire that had been rushing through his veins was flickering out and he was suddenly intensely aware of how very much he hurt. Still, remaining standing and doing his best to look as though he didn‘t hurt at all, he walked toward his friends and Cenewith.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, not sure how she would react now that the battle was over…




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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: May 31, 2010 05:48
As the army went through its daily exercises, Radagast spent time with Idrenion, going over the the two great books left behind by his fellow Maia and Lord Elrond.

Idhrenion was grateful for his wizard-friend’s assistance as he continued to pour over ‘I Chen ‘Wathranen’ (The Veiled Eye) and Nae, I Chen Edra (Alas, The Eye Opens), as well as the copious (and careful!) notes he’d taken. It was, for the studious ellon, an affirmation of all he’d learned so far…

As allies began arriving, he and Radagast met with Gerdagand and Prince Adrahil, and shared what they’d learned in Mordor. Of course, who knew what more had occurred in the time that had passed since.

Word came that the King of Rohan would come as well - even if the man had been skeptical. Idhrenion had been confident that the []Éored [/i] would come… after all, long and long Rohan and Gondor had been allied, and always the Rohirrim had come when Elessar had called in the long-ago past… and, when the Great Horse Banner was seen flying in the distance by the Tower Guard, the elf knew his confidence had not been misplaced.

Though no formal announcement had yet been made by Eldarion to the people of Gondor, yet did they know that something was afoot. Wives and children of the army were well aware that their husbands were not merely playing 'war games', that something far more serious was behind their exercises.

They found themselves at a great council with Radagist, Idhrenion, Eldarion, Adrahil, Berdagand and the King of Rohan, who had ridden to Minas Tirith himself to find out just exactly was going on. The matters discussed were troublesome, but Eldarion felt that he could trust his friends to do their best to bring Gondor through the coming battle.

As everyone went their separate ways to make the last preparations the king went himself to speak to his men. Now was the time for courage, and who could bring courage to the protectors of Gondor if not her king?

Then news came from the Rangers...there was activity at the Black Gate. Drums could be heard beating and the pounding of thousands of feet could be felt in the ground outside. The time had come, it seemed, for Gondor to prepare itself. Gaddon and Sellerin rode personally to Minas Tirith to meet with Radagast and give him the news. Radagast had in turn spoken with not only Idrenion but Eldarion, Adrahil, Berdagand and the King of Rohan, who had ridden to Minas Tirith himself to find out just exactly was going on.

"The time has come, my friends. Now we will see what my fellow Istari have planned for us. Hopefully, being one of them, I will be able to discern what tricks they have up their sleeves. Though I was never trained in the black arts, it might at least be possible to see when something isn't quite 'real'. Here he glanced at Idrenion, asking him to describe to the gathered men what he had read regarding the 'illusions' that the two evil ones might be capable of.

With a solemn bow of his head, Idhrenion acknowledged Radagast’s request. “I have discerned that the Blue Wizards have the ability to combine their powers in such a way that they can make it appear that there are ‘troops’ where there are none, or that there are no troops where there *are*,” he explained. “We cannot know the full numbers because of this, or which of them are ‘real’ or not, and it is likely that your men will be drawn into traps because of this.”

When Idrenion was finished, everyone jumped up with questions, questions that sadly had no answers. Radagast held up his hand, silencing the men. "This is what I meant about "what is real". Should our armies see an opening in the field the of battle, it may be that it is only an illusion. I am hoping I will be able to see the reality."

“That may be,” Idhrenion agreed. He wished (mightily) that more of his Kind remained in Arda… elven warriors trained in such things would have been an advantage. - And, perhaps, they, too, might see through such misdirection…

Adrahil then asked, "That is all well and good, Radagast. However, you can not be in all places at all times. While you are searching for the reality in an opening in the battle field here, we may be facing a far larger army attacking there. If we are to understand Idrenion's words correctly, this too may be an illusion. Who will be there to tell us not to draw all our men to fight this seeming huge opponent, thus leaving a space where the real opponent can break through?"

All heads were nodding, including Radagast's own. With a sad look in his eyes, he said, "I see your question as valid, Adrahil and all I can answer is that we will do the best we can. I will do the best that I can. But there is no way, as you pointed out, that I can be in more than one place at a time. We will, I fear lose any number of men if what Idhrenion has ascertained from his readings proves so."

Returning to his own quarters, Idhrenion looked at the two tomes with a sigh. He’d done all he could… every page of both he’d read a dozen times and more. What more could he learn?

Still, he had not imparted (even to Radagast) that one ‘glimmer’ he’d discovered. - But, there had been no further words written that might tell him how that one hope might be accomplished…

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

Berelach was with Saelon and Delagost when a frantic Cenewith arrived. At hearing her tale, his teeth ground at hearing Baldir’s threat for her future. No one deserved such a fate!, and how any man could treat his sister so was beyond him.

As Delagost soothed his love (and joined in the laughter when Saelon spoke of it), he thought of his own sister… now gone from Middle Earth. The Admiral also thought of Freawyn… his newly-discovered niece. He trusted Eldarion - had served him faithfully since entering Gondor’s navy. - But, truly, would she be safe in the White City?

His heart went out to Cenewith, though, for it was a hard thing to learn one’s beloved brother was a traitor to his own people and family.

But then there was a banging at the door. Tensing, Berelach watched as Saelon went to answer it.

A very angry Baldir pushed him aside and stormed into the room. "I might have known you'd run to this wimp, Cenewith. But it will do you no good. Now get on your feet. We're leaving at once." At the smallest of signs that Delagost was about to rise to face him, Baldir drew his sword. "And you!..Stay where you are."

Saelon looked at Berelach as he stepped forward towards Baldir. "That is hardly mannerly, pulling a sword on a man in his own home. Put it away, Baldir."

Baldir glanced at Saelon before saying, "You were a spy, weren't you? You were spying on me for the King. That is why I've been relieved of my duty, because you told Eldarion about our meetings. I knew I should have tested your alliance but He....never mind. It's not important now. You will see what one with real power can do soon enough." Turning back to Cenewith, standing now at Delagost's side, he said again, "Move...to the door. We are leaving." He pointed the sword in the direction of Delagost's neck.

Saelon grabbed Del's sword from where it stood next to the door and threw it to his friend. "Don't let him do this, Del. And you! Baldir, why not take it outside and see just who is the stronger of the two of you. You may be surprised at what the one you call a wimp can do."

Cenewith clutched Del's arm, whispering to him, "Don't do this, Del, he's a mighty swordsman. You know this to be true. I don't want you to die at his hand."
“Don’t worry, my dear Cenewith,” he said, glancing away from Baldir only long enough to plant a kiss on her brow, “You need not fear for me.” Turning to Baldir, “Outside,” he said curtly, “Now.”

They moved outside. Del hoped that his sister and parents hadn‘t been woken by the ruckus. The last thing he wanted was for them to see him engaged in a fight or- at the worst- witness his death. Once beneath the stars, Baldir turned to face Delagost, his face livid.

"You want my sister? You'll have to beat me to have her! You can't do that and she's off to Minas Tirith to marry a man of 'worth', something you know little about, pup," he sneered at Delagost, his sword in readiness for Del's first parry.

“I’d like to know how a traitor like you measures ‘worth’,” Delagost retorted, watching Baldir’s movements closely. There was little light- only the firelight from the house window, and the moon shining overhead.

Without warning Del lunged forward, going for Baldir’s throat with the blade. The Captain easily deflected the sword, stepping back and then counter-attacking. Delagost blocked but the sheer power behind the blow shook him and he staggered, ducking a swing at his neck. Steel kissed steel and the two men hacked at each other, parrying, thrusting, dodging, blocking, the sound of clanging metal echoing into the night.

Berelach’s eyes never left the combatants as he, Saelon, and Cenewith stood to the side. He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder - knowing she was fearful for her Citadel Guard. She had good reason… it was clear that Baldir’s skills outmatched Delagost’s, and though the latter got in some good blows, the Admiral could tell he was tiring. And, he, himself was prepared to attack Baldir if the younger man failed. Baldir could not be allowed to continue his subversive actions! - his plans for Ceniweth’s ’future’ not withstanding…

He suddenly felt Baldir’s foot sweep beneath his own and he toppled backwards, landing hard on the ground. Del went to sit up but froze, feeling steel at his throat. Baldir was standing over him, preparing to end his life.

His weariness was replaced by a sudden fury and determination that welled up in his breast like a wild flame. It quickly consumed any thoughts of defeat or despair, and without any more regard for himself he shoved away Baldir’s blade. Del’s left hand was cut in the process but he hardly noticed as he swung his own, scrambling to his feet while his opponent fell back to avoid being hit.

Delagost flew at Baldir with renewed fury, his main concern now bringing down his foe to protect those he held dear.

Smiling faintly, Berelach could see that something had bolstered Delagost’s flagging energy. “He’ll do it,” he commented quietly to Saelon, though his eyes did not leave the fight.

Almost before he realized it he had stabbed Baldir deeply in the side. The man faltered at last and Del pulled his sword back out. He delivered another blow to the Captain’s sword-arm, causing him to drop his weapon. But Delagost didn’t stop there- he punched Baldir squarely in the jaw, knocking him down, and then put a foot on his chest and placed the blade at his throat.

Del’s chest heaved as he stood over the man who had caused so much grief, glaring down at him with burning eyes.

Delagost lowered the sword. “Someone take him to a healer,” he called, and knelt to gaze fiercely into Baldir’s drawn face “If you so much as come near her again, I will kill you.” he snarled, and then turned away. Still, remaining standing and doing his best to look as though he didn‘t hurt at all, he walked toward his friends and Cenewith.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, not sure how she would react now that the battle was over…

As soon as Delagost left Baldir, Berelach’s sword was out. True, the other was severely injured, but the Admiral didn’t trust him one bit. “Saelon, watch him,” he glanced at his friend. “I’ll fetch the healer - and some guards.”

With that said, Berelach hurried to do just that… and knowing Delagost had injuries as well, the Admiral went for both the village’s healers. As the group (the two healers, three guards and Berelach) headed to the Citadel Guard’s house, he the healers and the men he’d sought out to not let Baldir out of their sight. “He is dangerous beyond dangerous,” he explained. “He must *not* be allowed to leave Emyn Arnen!”

When all was taken care of, Berelach quietly pulled Saelon aside. “My friend,” he said solemnly, “It is here we part company again - hopefully for only a little while. “I’ve to check on my father and then I must rejoin the fleet. You know I sent word to my captains, and by now the ships will be arriving at Osgiliath. I won’t have my sailors fighting without me at their head. And, I‘ll tell the king about Baldir…” Grasping his old friend’s arm, he gave Saelon a wan grin. “See you on the battlefield,” Berelach said, and hurried off to his father’s cottage.

Coming in, “Father?” he called for Borlas, and whilst quickly readying his things, told the older man what had passed that night. “That is one enemy out of action,” he said, and then couldn’t help but hug his only remaining parent. “The Valar willing, I’ll see you again soon, father,” Berelach bid him farewell and then ran to fetch a horse.

In less than an hour, the Admiral was astride it and headed for Minas Tirith. Grateful of the moon above, he set the beast at the fastest pace it could manage.

By dawn, he’d arrived in the White City and the horse’s hooves were clattering on the cobblestones as he headed for the highest level. Uncaring of the early hour (running into Idhrenion in the halls), he sought out the King. Eldarion needed to know what had transpired in Emyn Arnen…

At a breakfast meeting, the Admiral was caught up on the plans - wincing inwardly at hearing of the ‘illusions’ they expected to meet from the Dark One and his partner. “We’ll just do the best we can,” he said of his own men.

Sighing, he then took care of the one other task he’d set for himself… to see his niece. Freawyn would *not* like his command to her, he’d come to know she was a very stubborn young woman. - But, Berelach was adamant - she WOULD go back to Rohan - at least for the duration. Finding a young guard, the Admiral (with the King’s permission) asked him to escort Freawyn home.

Then, grateful for Eldarion’s offer of a fresh horse, Berelach was off… crossing Pelennor Fields to once again take up his post as Admiral of Gondor’s Fleet… and to await the word to join the others in the fight against the rising Shadow of Mordor. Nearly five hundred sailors he had - perhaps not many, but still, he knew they’d not hold back…

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

In Mordor, Alatar had continued to assist his fellow Blue Wizard as their dark plans were set in motion. The Hill-Men had arrived, and many, many others to join the Dark Forces. The Time had arrived, and in Alatar’s tent he, and Rhuddulan were meeting one last time before the march on Minas Tirith. With cold, grey eyes, he gazed at Pallando, waiting for the final orders the Dark One would give…


[Edited on 1/6/2010 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: June 08, 2010 12:00
Pallando stood at the edge of the road leading to the Black Gate, watching the army gather as it began the long march to the exit of Mordor. Thousands were amassing, headed by the Zhagarene cavalry and followed by their lancers, the foot troops of the Hillmen and the orcs lead by the 500 plus Uruk-hai that he, the Dark One, had raised with the help of of his fellow Maia, Alatar. Glancing to his right, he smirked at Alatar. “Impressive, wouldn’t you say, my friend? Gondor’s army will never be able to withstand them, particularly with a bit of “creativity” added,” his smirk became an evil grin. “Do you agree?

As the weeks had passed, though everything was coming together as planned, yet there was no word nor sighting of Baldir, nor of his minion Falithor. The few other slaves that had been sent to Gondor to contact either one of them had returned empty of information. Though not totally necessary to their plan, it was still troublesome, particularly as there seemed to be no explanation for their absence. Had they been discovered? Or were they staying in the shadows? Certainly it would be helpful to have someone on the ’inside’ of the court to assist them so their absence was a nuisance to the Dark One.

Turning now to his left, he eyed Rhuddalan. “You will, of course, ride to the head of the army and lead your men. The rest will follow naturally. Alatar and I will join you shortly. Now, go!” As Rhuddalan turned to his horse, Pallando grabbed his sleeve. “One last thought. You have done well by us..you shall be rewarded well should all go as planned.” After dropping this one unexpected compliment to the Zhagarene leader, he turned away, losing interest in the man entirely. His thoughts were already on how he and Alatar would carry out their own plans.

Which immediately caused another troublesome concern to briefly cross his mind. On occasion, as he had spoken to Alatar of their joint plans, he had a feeling of a break in the connection between them. It was a discomforting thought and one that Alatar had never proven in any way. The two had been planning this for a hundred years, together in their thoughts and minds in every way. Yet of late, there were these .. ‘moments’ .. where he could not feel Alatar’s mind melding with his. He brushed the thought aside, determining that it was but a momentary problem of little merit. Alatar was with him all the way in this effort.

“Let us mount and ride for the front, my friend. I am anxious to get started.” With their packs already tied behind their saddles, they were ready to depart Mordor. Pallando mounted and kicked his steed into a canter, riding to catch up with Rhuddalan, knowing that Alatar would be right behind him.

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

Baldir lay in pain on the ground, the wound in his side gushing blood. The young guard had bested him! Even in his agony, he was still stunned by this. And the arrogant pup had snarled, “If you so much as come near her again, I will kill you.” The Citadel captain wanted to rise and slap that self-assured expression from the young guard’s face but even as he attempted to move, the pain shot through his ribs like a hot poker. The fact that Berelach stood over him with his own sword drawn mattered little as Baldir knew he could not move on his own, much as he wished to.

He could tell by the pain and the amount of the loss of blood, that this was as close to a fatal wound as could possibly be. He would be months in healing, if he could heal at all. Sighing, he fell back, knowing that whatever plans the Dark One had, he would not be a part of them. He wondered if there was any way he could get word to him, wishing that Saelon had not been a spy. ‘Perhaps the three young men I used before…’ he began to think as darkness fell over him…and he wondered no further.

Berelach glanced in Saelon’s direction, saying, “Saelon, watch him. I’ll fetch the healer - and some guards” When he had hurried off to do just that, Saelon stepped to Baldir’s side, noting the pool of blood forming on the ground on Baldir’s side, as well as from the gash in his leg. Saelon grinned. “So the bully has finally gotten what he has long deserved. I would say you have my sympathy, however I would be lying.” He laughed aloud as the Captain tried to glare evilly at him in return but could only manage a moan of pain.

Glancing towards Delagost, he called, “Are you two holding up, Del? Healers are on the way but it might help if Cenewith found some cloths to contain your wounds until they arrive.”

Cenewith lifted her head from Delagost’s shoulder, where she had buried it as soon as he had reached her side after bringing her brother down. She was too shocked to think, not only for the battle her beloved had fought on her behalf but also for her brother, lying in a pool of blood and obviously suffering great pain. She was still having great difficulty in accepting the depths of his hatred and viciousness. But Saelon’s words snapped her out of her own maundering thoughts and she began to look at Del from head to two, noting the severe wounds and gashes he had received.

“Oh Del, I’m so sorry. I should have…I didn’t think…I..I… Wait here, I’ll be right back.” She ran back to the doorway of his house and was hardly surprised to see his parents and small sister standing in the opening, seemingly as shocked as she herself had been. The battle had hardly been a silent on and must have awakened all the houses around them. Shaking Del’s mother’s arm, “Cloths, we need cloths and water. Del is hurt.” It only occurred to her when she and Del’s mother were running to the eating room to find a bowl, water and cloths that she hadn’t even thought about her brother’s wounds, far worse than Del’s, she was certain. It hardly mattered to her, she realized.

By the time she returned to Del’s side along with his mother, the healers had arrived, along with three of the local town guards. The healers began to work on Baldir’s side first, noting that Del was in good hands at the moment, and then requested that the guards carry him to their healing room in the lane behind the Wild Boar. Eventually, the area was cleared. Cenewith went into the house with Del and his family, determined to remain at his side until he was most assuredly on the road to recovery. But not before she requested that one of the healers send word to her aunt to let her know the outcome of this long evening. As horrid as her brother had been to both of them, she knew her good-hearted aunt might yet wish to be at his side to help care for him.

Saelon wished Berelach farewell when the latter man had suggested that the time had come for him to leave to rejoin his fleet. His last words, after Saelon promised to keep an eye on Borlas while Berelach was away, stopped Saelon in his place. “See you on the battlefield,” his friend had said, and for the first time, he realized how true this most likely was. The country would be at war before they met again.

Meanwhile, Borlas listened carefully to his son. He nodded understandingly and with some sense of satisfaction that Baldir was out of action for now, though he could only hope he remained disabled until the fighting was over. ‘At least‘, Borlas thought, ’he will no longer be of any aid to the Dark One.’

One thing he asked his son before Berelach left was, “What about Freawyn? Can you send her back to Rohan to her father’s family until this over?” He did not want his newly found grandaughter to leave yet he was concerned for her welfare more than his own simple pleasure at her company. When Berelach promised to do what he could, Borlas hugged his son in return. “Take care, my boy. Come home safe.” Standing at the top of his garden, he watched sadly as his son rode off towards Minas Tirith, wondering if they would ever meet again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The young guard called upon by Edarion to see to it that Freawyn was escorted to Rohan at once immediately searched out Dorian. “Dorian, how would you like an easy duty?” Dorian glared at him, knowing that his friend was inclined to try to give him the less appetizing chores, using his just-higher rank to get away with such shenanigans.

“What? Peel potatoes?” he asked grumpily.

“Nah, I have to deliver someone to Rohan and you know I hate riding. I’m a foot soldier. You’re the one who was raised with the horse riders with your cousin, weren’t you? You don’t mind riding.”

Sighing, Dorian responded. “Alright, who needs to have a guard just to ride to Rohan?” he asked, depressed at having to leave the woman whose face he searched for daily behind for such a long time.

“Freawyn, you boob. And her friend, that wench that came here from the tavern. What is her name…ah, yes, Rhianna or something. Eldarion and Freawyn’s uncle, the Admiral, want her safe with her father’s family in Rohan. You will be expected to stay there guarding her until the war is over.” Grinning at the expression that formed on Dorian’s face, he added, “But you don’t have to if you’d rather not. I’ll do it if I must.”

“Are you jesting?” Dorian’s was grinning with joy. “Of course, I’ll accompany her…and even her friend. Oh yes, I’ll do it for you. I will save your backside from all that pain,” he smirked, knowing all along that his friend had realized his affection for the girl from Rohan.

The three rode through the gates on their way towards Rohan early that afternoon, though it was obvious that Freawyn was not happy about this turn of events but apparently couldn’t refuse her powerful uncle and the king. Rhia was probably just as unhappy but someone (probably, out of his renowned kindness, Eldarion himself) had told her that Falithor would not be imprisoned or punished…but rather, he was sent to re-join the fleet where he would be under the immediate command of Aldmiral Berelach himself. Thus, there was little reason for her not to join her friend as there was nothing else to stay in the White City for, particularly with war expected at any time now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

Radagast stood on the prow of the highest level, overlooking the great expanse of the Pellenor Fields, knowing that this was where his old friend Gandalf had once stood, facing the very same fears that he himself could feel shivering in his stomach. Much as he had loved Middle-Earth, much as he had felt the peace of his travels around the world, examining the flora and befriending the fawna, he wished at this moment that he had lived up to the purpose the Valar had sent him here for in the first place.

Would he be able to dredge up the strength needed to confront two of the most powerful wizards still remaining here on Middle-Earth? Would he be able to be of aid to the men of the West, as his counterpart Gandalf had? His doubts consumed him and he closed his eyes as he bowed his head in contemplation. It was a soft touch on his shoulder that opened them. Turning, he found Idhrenion at his side.

Sighing deeply, he looked into Ren’s gentle yet intelligent eyes. “What do you think, my friend? Is there anything in those books of yours that give us hope?” Smiling ruefully, he continued, “I could use all the hope I can get about now. I am not Gandalf but only a simple Maia who has spent my centuries as far from man as I could be. Yet here I stand, readying myself to help them defend themselves from a mortal enemy. I’m not sure I can do what is asked of me.”
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
gwendeth
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: June 20, 2010 03:18
Watching the array of their army gathering to head out from blck Mordor, Alatar’s icy grey eyes echoed the glint in his old friend’s. “Indeed I do,” he agreed… they would have Gondor on its knees, he thought. With a glance at Pallando, however, the Blue Wizard knew the other was disturbed about something. Exactly what, Alatar did not know. Of late, he had felt ’disconnected’ from his old friend.

Just what *that* was, Alatar did not know, either. He fully supported Pallando - did he not? They would share the rule of Middle Earth as one by one the kingdoms fell before them… or would they?

Would this plan work?, he wondered. Yes… they knew Radagast was against them, but he was one and they two. And, as powerful any of the Maiar might be, he was no Olórin.
Turning now to his left, he eyed Rhuddalan. “You will, of course, ride to the head of the army and lead your men. The rest will follow naturally. Alatar and I will join you shortly. Now, go!” As Rhuddalan turned to his horse, Pallando grabbed his sleeve. “One last thought. You have done well by us..you shall be rewarded well should all go as planned.” After dropping this one unexpected compliment to the Zhagarene leader, he turned away, losing interest in the man entirely.

“Let us mount and ride for the front, my friend. I am anxious to get started.” With their packs already tied behind their saddles, they were ready to depart Mordor. Pallando mounted and kicked his steed into a canter, riding to catch up with Rhuddalan, knowing that Alatar would be right behind him.

Recalled by his friend’s voice, Alatar nodded and went to his mount. With a smooth motion, he was astride it, but it was with a slightly slower pace he followed after Pallando, musing as he did. Thinking of Olórin - ’Gandalf’ he’d come to be known later on, Alatar wondered would it have been like to fight against? - Or… to fight *with* him? A novel idea, he thought… and, well, was it not for such a reason that the Maiar had come to Middle Earth in the first place? To aid against the fight with Sauron?

A very long time ago that had been… and with cold grey eyes, Alatar looked at Pallando’s back.

Pallando, over these past decades, had likened himself to Sauron, and though he, himself had entered fully into his friend’s plans, Alatar wasn’t sure *he* wished to be thought of in that same, despised vein…

Ah, well, deciding to catch up, Alatar spurred his mount into a faster pace to come up beside Pallando. “They are moving well,” he commented of Rhuddalan’s men, of the Uruks and Hill-Men who followed. “It will not be long, now….”

****************************
Standing on the bow of his ship, Berelach felt that he was ‘home’. He was born for sailing… and though they were waiting, rocking at anchor in the port of Osgiliath, the Admiral of Gondor was where he wanted to be.

The sailors were ready - they would fight when the time came, and with a sharp eye, Berelach swept the deck with his gaze. Yes, they were ready! All they needed was the signal to join their compatriots and they would be marching across Pelennor to join with Radagast and King Eldarion and the other defenders of Middle Earth.

Berelach was still standing there when word was brought that a party from Minas Tirith was approaching. A chill settled in the Admiral’s gut as he acknowledged it. Was this the word he’d expected?

But, no, it was not. A small number of guards it was, and in their company was a disheveled-looking young man. A sailor, by the look of him. Given the man’s name and a message from Eldarion himself, Berelach read it and then looked hard at Falithor. A spy?, he thought, but the King’s order was clear. Nodding sharply, “Go - get freshened up,” the Admiral told the chastened turncoat, “And then return here - you will remain with me, Falithor… do you understand?”

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

Closing his books for the last time, Idhrenion sighed. He had discerned all he possibly could from the two volumes left for him… at least, he thought it was so.

With silent footsteps, the short-haired elf made his way out of the palace and walked to where Radagast was standing and looking out over Pelennor Field. An impressive sight, Idhrenion thought, but said nothing until the Wizard turned to look at him.
Sighing deeply, he looked into Ren’s gentle yet intelligent eyes. “What do you think, my friend? Is there anything in those books of yours that give us hope?” Smiling ruefully, he continued, “I could use all the hope I can get about now. I am not Gandalf but only a simple Maia who has spent my centuries as far from man as I could be. Yet here I stand, readying myself to help them defend themselves from a mortal enemy. I’m not sure I can do what is asked of me.”

Deciding then that it was ‘time’, Idhrenion was yet slow to answer. If he was wrong, it could mean disaster for them all.

“It may be I can give you some, mellon nín,” the elf told him. “And your words just now, confirm it to me - though you may not have realized it was so.”

With the bare hint of a smile, “And you have stated it. You *are* a Maia… as are Pallando and Alatar. You were - ALL of you - sent to Middle Earth for one purpose - to fight the Shadow that was Sauron. Gandalf succeeded. You will succeed… and I believe I have learned how it can be done.”

Knowing he had Radagast’s full attention, “Somehow, you must find Alatar alone, and remind him of your original purpose here. - Of his original purpose here. From what I have read, I believe that if you can do this… if you can convince Alatar that Pallando is no better than the evil the Maiar were sent here to fight, that he will turn and join us against this New Shadow.”

Gripping Radagast’s arm, “If you can convince him, Aiwendil*, then Pallando’s illusions will not work, and our men will then know who, and where to fight.” Watching the Maia carefully, Idhrenion waited for his friend to digest what he’d just said…

~@~@~@~@~@~

*Aiwendil: Radagast’s name in Quenya
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: June 25, 2010 12:31
The fight was over… Delagost had fought Baldir and had won. With the way his head swam it all felt like a dream, a dark one. He could still clearly see the wounded captain’s hatred for him, but his first concern was Cenewith. He had just beaten her brother, after all. Holding her in his arms, he wondered what the consequences would be. He heard Berelach going to fetch a healer and he was glad, for his wounds were beginning to hurt now that his adrenaline rush was gone. At hearing Saelon’s voice he looked up.

“Are you two holding up, Del? Healers are on the way but it might help if Cenewith found some cloths to contain your wounds until they arrive.”

“I think so,” The young man answered his friend’s first question, then found Cenewith looking him over and checking his hurts.

“Oh Del, I’m so sorry. I should have…I didn’t think…I..I… Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“It’s alright, I-” he began, but she was gone toward the house. Delagost sighed and sat down on the ground, keeping one eye on Baldir and the other on his home. He figured he must soon explain everything to his family. They had suspected he had been involved in something, anyway, and after this it could hardly be hidden any longer.

Inside the house Del’s mother was startled when Cenewith began shaking her arm. Her husband had watched the fight and his expression was grim, but he had made his wife and daughter keep close to the hearth, unable to see what was happening.

“Cloths, we need cloths and water. Del is hurt.”

“Come with me, dear,” the older woman said, and lead Cenewith to the dining room. Quickly she rounded up a large bowl and filled it with water, and shoved several cloths into the girl’s arms. They hurried back outside, finding that the healers had come, along with the town guards. When Cen appeared at his side Del kissed her brow and gave his mother a weak smile as she shook her head at him.

Baldir was taken away to be treated, and Delagost returned to his own home, never noticing that Berelach left them. Inside, the healer treated his wounds and left him some herbs for pain before leaving, and Del sighed as he rested in his bed. His mother and father, knowing he was in Cenewith’s caring hands, left him with her. His mother went to bed, but his father went down to the sitting room to sit and watch the door- just in case anyone tried to break in seeking revenge on Baldir’s behalf.

Propped up on pillows, Delagost smiled at Cenewith as she sat beside his bed. “I’ll be fine, my dear flower” he said, holding her hand in his own, “Thank you for your care of me… you know you are more than welcome to stay here with my family tonight.”

He looked up and saw his sister peeking in the room, her eyes wide as she looked at him.

“You can come in, Mirien,” he said, “Are you alright?”

She was fourteen and had fancied herself nearly a woman but the girl felt anything but grown-up at the moment. Indeed she felt small and afraid, and she’d been very worried about her big brother.

“I’m fine,” she said, coming into the room and standing beside Cenewith’s chair, “You are the one who is hurt.”

Anxiously glancing at the woman, she was silent for a moment, and then asked what had been bothering her.

“Something bad is going to happen, isn’t it?” she asked, “No one has told me about it, but everyone is always looking worried. You’ve been away so much, Delli, and now look at you. I don‘t want anything to happen to you.”

“Mirien, you shouldn’t worry so much,” Del said, “You’re too young for it.”

The girl frowned at him until he sighed and gave in. “Yes, things are happening, but I promise you, you needn’t worry. Not about me or anything else. Mother and Father will make sure you’re safe, and nothing will happen to me.”

Mirien looked doubtful, but she accepted his words. Looking at Cenewith, “Thank you for looking after him,” she said, “He can be as stubborn as a mule sometimes. I’ll like having you for a sister.”

Del blushed and would have glared at his sister if he’d felt up to it, but then she kissed his cheek and went off to bed. Smiling at Cenewith, “She’s a hand-full, my sister….” He said.

It wasn’t long before the young man couldn’t help it any longer… the medicine he’d taken to numb his pain soon sent him into a deep sleep. Instead of dreams of war or battle he dreamed of himself and Cenewith, in a house of their own, with a growing family. They were happy dreams, perhaps slightly fueled by a small fever, and when he woke he was disappointed to find himself in bed with a throbbing shoulder instead of playing in the grass with his non-existent children.

Opening his eyes, “Cenewith?” was the first word from his lips, for he hoped she was nearby…

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


After being questioned thoroughly about everything he had seen and heard, Falithor felt tired, exposed, and much like a scolded child. He was able to see Rhia, and he apologized for the worry he had caused her… and ere long he was sent to rejoin the fleet of the admiral. The trip was not a pleasant one- the men who guarded him obviously regarded him with disdain, and a bit of his old pride returned. This caused him to get into a scuffle when one of the men insulted him, but it was quickly stopped. He paid for it, though, having his every movement watched after.

He was taken to Admiral Berelach and Eldarion’s message was delivered. Fal stood waiting for an order, looking forward to keeping himself occupied with work on board the ship. He had missed the sea.

Nodding sharply, Berelach spoke. “Go - get freshened up,” the Admiral told the chastened turncoat, “And then return here - you will remain with me, Falithor… do you understand?”

“Aye, Admiral,” Falithor said with a slight bow, and hurried off to do just that. After scrubbing himself clean and straightening his hair and clothes as best he can, he returned topside.

“Put me to work, please sir,” he said to Berelach, “I want to atone for what I’ve done. And when the time comes, I’ll fight for Gondor. I swear it.”

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

Eldarion had been busy, as had everyone in Mnas Tirith. The women and children had already been moved out of the city- at least, those who would go- with men to guard and guide them. It was a troubling thing, for the king knew they would need every man to protect the city… but what would the city be without its people? He only prayed that their enemies wouldn’t send anyone in search of refugees. He hoped the Dark One would count on Eldarion’s belief in Gondor’s strength, and would not suspect an evacuation.

The days seemed both long and short at the same time, and full of tension. The air was thick with anticipation and fear. Although everything that could be done had been, Eldarion still felt miserably unprepared. He, too, had doubt weighing heavily on his heart. Would he be able to protect the city as his father had done? Would the history books of the future read of Gondor’s victory or her demise? They were heavy thoughts.

An exhausted ranger scout soon arrived with news that Mordor’s armies were indeed on the move. They had known the time was closing in, for there had been reports of activity at the Black Gate, and Eldarion had known this; but now the armies were leaving the Gate, marching with their drums of war pounding and their bloodlust burning.

Quickly, the king called for a meeting of captains, sending word for Radagast and the elf as well. When they were all assembled, “Word has come- Mordor’s armies have begun to march at last,” he said, not speaking of his doubts. His friends needed to know that he had faith they could win. “The rangers will continue to bring news, but the time of war approaches fast. Is everything in order as it should be? How long do you suppose we have before they are within attacking range?”
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: July 07, 2010 06:20
Eldarion had called a meeting of the highest members of the army, Prince Adrahil of Dol Amroth, and the king of Rohan along with Idhrenion and Radagast.

“The rangers will continue to bring news, but the time of war approaches fast. Is everything in order as it should be? How long do you suppose we have before they are within attacking range?”


Before the generals and captains could respond, Radagast quickly leaned forward and made a comment that caught everyone's breath. "Though surprising at it may seem, the Black Gate is but 75 leagues, give or take, from the gate of Minas Tirith. Even with an army the size of that which is now marching toward us, it will take no more than three weeks to a month. That may seem like a fair amount of time but think of it clearly. Our blacksmith's still must prepare thousands of swords and other weapons, our bow makers must collect from an untold number of trees the wood to make thousands of bows and arrows, our carpenters must come up with enough lumber to build the trebuchets and the catapults, as well as enough to shore up gates and archways. Three weeks is but a drop in a bucket for the needs yet to be fulfilled. I realize that these good men have already been working extremely diligently at these tasks but there is still much to be completed."

Sitting back in his chair, he waved his hand in the direction of the generals, indicating he was through with his rant. But he had felt it necessary to remind them how little time they had left before they were confronted with an army the size of which Gondor had not seen in over a hundred years. Glancing sideways at Idhrenion, he gave a the elf a bit of smile before his brow furrowed once again as he caught a snatch of conversation between Eldarion and his top general, Berdagand. The tall, muscular Berdagand was asking about Berelach and his fleet.

"Will they not be sailing the Anduin? They will be able to follow even at the distance the dust raised by an army of such size. And will our ships not be attempting to make their crossing of the river the first battle this army will encounter?"

When the meeting ended, everyone went about the business each needed to address. Radagast walked with Idrenion towards the 6th level, where the dining hall for the officers was located. Radagast had found the food there most pleasing and he teased Ren with, "Perhaps I should join the army. The food is exceptionally good." When they found a free table in a remote corner, Rad began to discuss with the elf a plan of action.

He had taken it to heart when Ren had said, “Somehow, you must find Alatar alone, and remind him of your original purpose here. - Of his original purpose here. From what I have read, I believe that if you can do this… if you can convince Alatar that Pallando is no better than the evil the Maiar were sent here to fight, that he will turn and join us against this New Shadow.”

Gripping Radagast’s arm, “If you can convince him, Aiwendil*, then Pallando’s illusions will not work, and our men will then know who, and where to fight.”

Now it was up to the pair of them to find a way for Rad to get close to Alatar without Pallando knowing or seeing. The prospect seemed dim as the pair would surely be at each other's side in order to be certain that their 'illusory' tactics worked. Having reviewed several possibilities without seeing anything that could work, Rad sighed as he pushed his plate away and rested on his elbows, his chin in his hands. Staring into the middle distance, he mumbled, "It was a wonderful idea, Ren, but I just can't see a way to make it work." Glancing sideways at Ren, he asked, "Can you think of anything we haven't already discussed?"

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

A raspy voice called out her name and Cenewith woke from her sleep in the chair next to the bed to see that Delagost's eyes were open. Sitting up straight, she reached for his hand. "I'm here, Del. Do you need anything? Let me get you some water." Rising, she went to the dry sink upon which was a pitcher of water and a glass. She poured a glassful and brought it back to Del, placing her hand behind his head, lifting it and holding the glass to his lips. When he had sipped some, she set it down on a small table next to the bed, then turned back to gaze into his eyes. "How are you feeling?" She knew he must be hurting but all she could do was check his bandages and give him some more of the herbal remedy the healer had left.

"Del, it's almost morning and I'm glad you rested but I must go home for awhile. I must see my aunt and be certain she knows about .. my brother. But my dear, please do not feel badly for what has passed. Baldir is not the brother I remember and he deserves whatever he has received." She kissed his forehead as she prepared to leave. "I'll be back later." On her way out she stopped to talk to Del's mother, and put her arm around Mirien's shoulders, telling Del's younger sister to watch over him.

On her way home, she thought of the events of the night before, stunned by the turn her brother had taken in his life, amazed by the horrifying and bloody battle between him and Del, but most of all blushing at the comments of both Saelon and Mirien, both of whom had taken it for granted that she and Del would wed. The more she thought about it though, the more natural it seemed to be. Though they had never spoken words of love to each other, she knew she loved him...and hoped he felt the same.

Arriving home, she found her aunt bustling about the kitchen. "Aunt Melarin, I came home to tell you...did you hear....about Baldir, I mean?" Melarin turned and looked at her niece. "Yes, dear, I heard the whole story. I spent most of the night with your brother. I imagine you did the same with Delagost," she added, a gentle smile on her face. At Cenewith's somewhat guilt ridden expression for having ignored her own brother, Melarin layed her hand on Cen's shoulder. "It's alright, child. Were I you, I would have made the same choice. However, I have been responsible for both you and your brother since you were children and I still feel a sense of that responsibility, no matter that he doesn't deserve it," she ended chuckling. "Go back to your Del and I'll take care of Baldir. There may be little time left for the two of you to spend in peace, as I understand war is coming," her smile fading. Giving Cenewith a hug, she shooed her out the door and on the road back to Delagost's. Watching her slim niece hurry down the road, she said a prayer that the Valar would see that the pair would be married before the war arrived. They deserved at least some time of happiness.

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

The huge army was moving south on the east side of the Anduin, the two Maia and Rhuddalan leading the way. Little was spoken as all three were tiring from the long days and nights on the road. The 'soldiers' behind them were all strong and well-trained and although the orcs had more difficulty than the Zagharene, the Hillman and the Uruk-hais during the bright light of day, they marched easily onward all night long. "It looks as though we will make the distance far more quickly than we expected," Pallando commented to Alatar. "And though I'm sure they know we are enroute, perhaps we will surprise them so greatly with our early arrival, we will find them unprepared," he laughed.

The rangers, however, kept up with them, noting their locations daily and sending one of their men on to Gondor at speed to keep the Gondorians informed. And Berdagand had been accurate in his evaluation ... Berelach's ships, cruising up and down the Anduin, had no trouble seeing the clouds of dust raised between the river and the mountains surrounding Mordor. The river was one concern Rhuddalan had mentioned. "How and where do we cross this mighty river?" Having never seen the Anduin, and realizing the massiveness of not only the army but all the equipment, horses, carts and other paraphenalia needed by this army, he was wondering what the two wizards were going to create as passage.

Pallando and Alatar had spent centuries in the far east and they too were relying on past memories to guide them to the correct point. Pallando had sent out a man or two to determine the possible fords or bridges, if any existed, and Pallando had spoken to Baldir about this as well. It was the not the first time that he rued the absence of his one, well-placed minion, wondering once again where he was. Mumbling to himself, he whispered, "I will kill him when I find him." Rhuddalan turned and asked, "What did you say, m'lord?" Pallando spoke clearly in response. "We will cross as has been done in the past...at Osgiliath. Do you not agree, Alatar?"

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

Saelon had finally sat down with his parents, in particular his father, and explained to them what was occurring in the world outside Emyn Arnen. His mother or couse could barely take it in, never having seen war in her lifetime. "War, Saelon? With whom? Why? I don't understand..." His father, however, had always been interested in the history of Middle-Earth and was more fascinated at the thought of war than worried or concerned. When Saelon finally made it clear to both of them that war was upon them and that they needed to prepare for it, half a day had passed. But once his father had grasped the fact, his first step was to claim his role in the coming events.

"An army will need weapons, will they not, son? We shall adjust the work at the shop to making them," he said of their smithy. Saelon smiled at his father's enthusiasm but he knew he had other things to do.

"Father, yes, you do what you need to do but I must go to some of my forest holdings. Minas Tirith will need lumber and I have appointments with several of the bow makers and carpenters. And then I will be heading for the city with Delagost as soon as he is well enough to return." He hesitated before adding, "Father, I will be joining the army. They will need every man they can get." He held his breath while he waited for his father's reaction, certain that the old man would explode in rage. He was surprised when his father smiled broadly and clapped him on the soldier.

"Excellent, excellent! You make me proud, son." Saelon, though astonished, breathed a sigh of relief. Though his youth was filled with lighthearted enjoyment (when he wasn't slaving at the smithy under his father's rule), drinking ale at the Wild Boar and flirting with the women around town, he thought of what Borlas had been through at the hand of the enemy; thought of Berelach, his old friend, standing up against the enemy at the prow of his ship; he thought of Delagost, more than likely facing the enemy face to face with naught but a sword separating them ... and he could not sit here in this small town playing his way through life. And the fact that his father had said for the first time in his young life that he was proud of him didn't hurt either.

Saelon smiled in reply and as soon as possible hurried to Borlas' house, hoping to talk to the old man before he left town for the woodlands.
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: August 05, 2010 12:24
Once Falithor had headed below, Berelach stayed where he was. He could see the dust of the enemy’s movements, so he knew the signal would come soon for himself and his men to move out. When the traitor returned - looking better,
“Put me to work, please sir,” he said to Berelach, “I want to atone for what I’ve done. And when the time comes, I’ll fight for Gondor. I swear it.

Nodding acceptance of Falithor’s oath, “Very well,” the Admiral agreed. After thinking a moment, “Go help the healers,” he ordered, knowing they’d need all the supplies they could to have on hand. “When we leave, you will be with my company,” Berelach added, thinking to keep the would-be traitorous sailor from further harassment. - Not, he thought, that it might not be ‘deserved’, but still…


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

Seeking to reassure Radagast, Idhrenion had urgently suggested the Ithron*
try to get Alatar away from the other Blue Wizard. If Alatar could be reminded of his true purpose in Middle Earth, perhaps…?
Now it was up to the pair of them to find a way for Rad to get close to Alatar without Pallando knowing or seeing. Rad sighed as he pushed his plate away and rested on his elbows, his chin in his hands. Staring into the middle distance, he mumbled, "It was a wonderful idea, Ren, but I just can't see a way to make it work." Glancing sideways at Ren, he asked, "Can you think of anything we haven't already discussed?"

With a sigh, for they had covered a number of ideas, the scholar-elf was thoughtful.

After a few, rather long minutes, “It may be,” he said slowly, “that we are thinking about it the wrong way.” Pausing with a furrow to his fair brow, Idhrenion went on. “We have been attempting to find a way to separate Alatar from Pallando by stealth - before the attack occurs - but that does not seem possible. - But," the short-haired ellon continued, “I would think that they will be so concentrating on their ‘illusions’, that a frontal attack on them would be unexpected. If, perhaps, you and I, in the company of one of Berdagand’s captains - or, even, one of the Rohirrim’s Eored’s, and ride straight *at* the two wizards, it would be possible to break their absorption and force them apart. If I can keep Pallando distracted, that will give you time to convince Alatar - don't you think?”

Raising an eyebrow, Idhrenion waited for Radagast’s response to his idea…

*Sindarin for ‘wizard’

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

Riding alongside Pallando and Rhuddalan, Alatar’s eyes were sharp to look for spies as they headed along the eastern bank of the Anduin. He was certain there would be, but no obvious sign of them could be seen.

That his friend thought so too, was clear, when,
"It looks as though we will make the distance far more quickly than we expected," Pallando commented to Alatar. "And though I'm sure they know we are enroute, perhaps we will surprise them so greatly with our early arrival, we will find them unprepared," he laughed.

A smile quirked at Alatar’s lips, though his icy-grey eyes remained unchanged at Pallando’s laughter. Would they, indeed? he wondered, though inwardly wasn’t so sure.

Radagast would not have been ’idle’, of that the Blue Wizard was sure as well…

When the time neared to cross the Anduin, Pallando called to the chief of the Hill-men, and bade him to send two of his soldiers to scout for a good place to cross. When they returned, he nodded curtly at their reply and then sought out his friend. At his comment about Osgiliath, Alatar shook his head and smiled grimly. “That, they would expect,” he suggested. “Instead, it seems the Gondorians have forgotten their history,” he chuckled, for the Hill-men had known of it. “They have not refortified Cair Andros!”** he said, of the small island below Rauros Falls. We can cross there with ease,” Alatar added, quite certain that even if the unseen ‘spies’ noted their direction, there was not enough time to get troops there to block the Dark One and his forces.

And so, heading slightly south-westward to reach it - the roaring of Rauros hard upon the attackers ears - it was nightfall when they arrived. Chuckling at the orcs’ glee at the freedom from sunlight, Alatar sat back whilst Rhuddalan organized the crossing. To his friend, “It will no be long now, Pallando,” he commented, sensing an evil ‘urgency’ in the other to have done with traveling, and waiting, and to take all of Middle Earth under *his* control…


**On March 10, 3019 Cair Andros fell to the forces of Sauron and was used as a crossing point to Anorien. It was these forces that stood between the Riders of Rohan and Minas Tirith at the Battle of Pelennor fields. (seemed a nice option! )

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

Word came to Admiral Berelach that the Dark One’s armies had been seen crossing the Anduin at Cair Andros. With a curse to himself, Borlach’s son fumed at forgetting about the island. He *could* have had a ship there to guard it - if he hadn’t been so ‘land-bound’ in his thinking on the battle to protect the White City.

Knowing it was time to move out, he ordered his sailors to do so, and within an hour of Berelach’s command they were marching across Pelennor Field to join the others waiting to keep Minas Tirith and - well - all of Middle Earth free…
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
dreamdancer
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: August 24, 2010 06:46
(Okaaaay I hope this is alright. I didn’t get extremely far with the battle because I didn’t know what would happen with Rad and Ren… please let me know if anything needs changing! Hope it makes sense... Hiding in a hole… )


Falithor kept busy with Berelach’s orders, waiting for the hammer to fall- so to speak. He knew that they didn’t have much of a chance against the Dark One… he couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to come face-to-face in battle against the wizard. The very thought made him shudder. But, if it happened, so it would happen… he had made too many stupid decisions already, and he wouldn’t run away from battle.

Word came that the enemy had been seen crossing at Cair Andros, and they began to move out toward the White City. Marching with Berelach’s men, he found himself wondering where his cousin was, and his brother… no doubt his brother was busy making weapons and armor. He wondered if he’d sent his wife and children off to safety, or if they were still in Minas Tirith. From what he remembered of her, his brother’s wife was a spitfire. If he survived this war, he told himself, he would go find his brother and try to make amends.

It was a tense and silent march, and they had stopped to rest for a short while when the sound of galloping hooves caught everyone’s attention. It was a single rider, a man in the colors of the woodland- Sellerin the ranger. Drawing his horse to a halt he dismounted, “Admiral!” he said, searching for Berelach, “You’re needed at Osgiliath- a portion of the army has broken off and is headed for her now, and I fear it is impossible now to seek help from Minas Tirith!”

Falithor heard the ranger’s words and he swallowed. It was really happening… he gripped his sword hilt, thinking of the coming fight. He hadn’t been in a true battle in a long time…

It wasn’t long before they set out again- only now they went with all speed toward Osgiliath. If they could help win back the city then they could attack Mordor’s army from the other side, giving an advantage to those who would be facing them at Minas Tirith… but they would first have to defend Osgiliath..


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


Waking from his happy dreams to find himself feeling quite horrible, Delagost had spoken Cenewith’s name. He turned his head and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw her sitting straight up, looking tired and disheveled. She must have fallen asleep in the chair. Cen took his hand in hers and he smiled, touched that she’d remained with him all night.

"I'm here, Del. Do you need anything? Let me get you some water." Rising, she went to the dry sink upon which was a pitcher of water and a glass. He watched as she poured a glass and brought it back, lifting his head and bringing the glass to his lips. He drank gratefully and then settled back down on the pillow. Coming back, she asked how he was feeling.

“I’ve felt better,” he commented, “But you needn’t worry. I’ll be back to normal in a few days.”

Still, she insisted on tending to his wounds and giving him some more medicine. He felt very much loved and he only wished he felt better. He sighed and thought that no man could be luckier than him, to have such a sweet and beautiful woman taking care of him. Soon, though, the sky began to grow light outside. Cenewith took notice and spoke of leaving.

"Del, it's almost morning and I'm glad you rested but I must go home for awhile. I must see my aunt and be certain she knows about .. my brother. But my dear, please do not feel badly for what has passed. Baldir is not the brother I remember and he deserves whatever he has received." She kissed his forehead as she prepared to leave. "I'll be back later."

His heart stirred when she kissed his brow and he caught her hand in his, kissing the back of her fingers. “Thank you, my flower,” he said, “Please take care. I’ll be looking forward to your return.”

She left and he lay back on the pillows again, closing his eyes. So many things were happening at once. War was approaching, he had come to blows with Baldir, and now he was more sure than ever that he loved Cenewith… perhaps he had always loved her. It was something to feel so light hearted in such a dark time. And so it was he had a huge smile on his face when his father came in the room.

“What are you grinning about?” his father asked with a chuckle, “After the beating you took maybe one too many knocks to the head.”

Slightly embarrassed, “Cenewith,” he said, “She stayed with me all night.”

“I’m not surprised,” his father said, “It’s easy to see how deeply she cares for you, and you for her. That rascal Saelon and your sister are both more observant than you.”

Del grumbled as his father insisted on helping him up, complaining that he could get up by himself. Finally the man relented and Del got up on his own, then changed into some clean clothing. It made him tired but he didn’t admit that as he gingerly settled back down.

“Satisfied?” his father said, “You’re as weak as a kitten after that. Bull-headed.”

“Father,” he sighed, “I need to ask you something.”

The silence grew as Delagost searched for the right way to word the question. It had been on his mind since the night before, and he wondered if anyone- including Cenewith- would think him crazy. However, he never got to ask.

“Yes, I think you should go ahead and ask her to marry you.”

“What?” Del flushed bright red, “I wasn’t going to ask that!”

“Yes you were,” his father grinned, “Or if you weren’t, then you should have been. You‘ll be on your feet again soon and then it will be time to go to battle. It’s a frightening thought but there is always a chance things could go ill. My boy, you love her, do you not?”

“Well… yes,” Delagost said, still quite red, “I do.”

“Then make her your wife. Love is not something to be wasted or waited on, and you may never get another chance. If ever you’ve listened to a bit of my advice, listen to this.”

Patting Del’s uninjured shoulder the man stood and left then, leaving the young soldier in quite a fog of thought and emotion. He rested his head but his mind was incredibly busy.
Father is right”, he thought, “But how can I ask Cenewith such a thing? Especially after I walloped her brother so badly? Of course I love her. That’s clear as day. I should tell her. But how do I tell her? I don’t know how to speak to a lady about love! Maybe a poem? A fool I’d look, reciting poetry while lying in bed covered in bandages. Weak as a kitten, Father said! Women love kittens but what woman would want to marry one? Now that makes no sense… I should just say it. Just say it! What if he says no? She won’t say no. Maybe she will? I hope not… I do want to marry her… I want to take care of her…

So many thoughts were going through his head that Del worked himself into a fair tizzy. When a knock came on the door, “Yes?!” he asked, his voice somewhat strained. At hearing it was her, “Cenewith!” he gasped to himself, then “Come in”!

When she stepped inside he gazed at her quietly, thinking she was the most beautiful creature ever to walk the earth. Feeling a bit shaky, “Are you alright? Is your Aunt?”

She seemed to notice something was on his mind, so he cleared his throat and took her hands, pulling her to sit on the bed beside him.

“Aam. Cenewith?” he started, “I want to tell you something… I mean, ask you something… well, both really.”

Wondering if his heart racing so quickly when he already felt so bad was healthy, he squeezed her hands and was aware of his face turning red. Looking straight at her, though, “I love you,” he said, “I do.. Very much… And I wanted… well, that is, you know soon I’ll be up and about… and- and I want to ask you… something…”

“Spit it out already!” came a voice from outside the door and Delagost’s eyes widened in shock.

“Go away, Mirien!” he cried, and heard her giggling but knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Sighing, and shaking his head, “Cenewith,” he said, “I know I must seem mad or drunk or both, but I know without a doubt that I want to spend my life with you… however long or short it is… I want you to be my wife.”


@~@~@~@~@~@~

Delagost regained his strength after a few more days, and a small wedding was held. Cenewith had accepted his proposal, much to his delight, and a simple but lovely ceremony was organized by Cenewith‘s aunt and Delagost‘s mother and sister. He had never blushed so much or felt so happy in his life, he was sure, as when he kissed his new wife and knew that they were bound together forever. There was a celebration at the inn afterward, with dancing, singing and much merriment despite the looming darkness. Everyone forgot their problems for a short while and Delagost concentrated on nothing but Cenewith, cherishing every kiss, every touch, every word, and every moment spent with her.

The time soon came, however, for those who would fight to ride to Minas Tirith. Messengers had brought word of the approach of the enemy. Delagost didn’t want to leave his bride or his family, but he had no choice. He was a Citadel Guard and his place was guarding the city. After packing his things and meeting with Saelon, he held Cenewith close in his arms and kissed her brow. “Try not to worry,” he said, “I’ll miss you so deeply, my flower, but I’ll carry you in my heart every moment, and I will come back to you.”

At the gate he bade his family goodbye, asking his sister in a whisper s he hugged her to keep Cenewith company, grasping his father’s shoulder, kissing his mother’s cheek, and then kissing his wife once more. Delagost looked at the familiar buildings and roads of Emyn Arnen as he mounted his horse. If Minas Tirith fell, the town would be destroyed. There were men here to guard the gate, but not enough to stem an army of Mordor. They couldn’t let that darkness come here… not here. With his best friend at his side, and despite a few dull aches from his earlier battle, Delagost turned his gaze and rode away from their home, headed for the White City-- and war.


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

The meeting, which the king had truly hoped would bring more answers than questions, had not resolved much. The people of Minas Tirith had done much in preparation for war, but there so much still to be done! At least those who could be evacuated had been (along with his own family members), or were going about the process. But Radagast had brought up many important points. Three weeks was not enough time to finish everything they needed to finish… their only choice was to do what they could as quickly as they could.

They spoke of strategy once again, but they still did not know their enemies full plans. At Berdagand’s question, “We do not know where they intend to cross the river,” Eldarion sighed, “Word has not come from the rangers yet. If we need them on the Anduin then I will send word for them to sail. They are still preparing their ships now.”

When the meeting ended- without bringing anyone a sense of comfort- everyone went their separate ways. Eldarion retreated into his study, where he poured himself a cup of wine and plopped, quite un-king like, in his chair. Gondor had always survived her trials and tribulations, but he was truly afraid. If the White City fell into the hands of their enemies, it would give them more strength, and then they would undoubtedly begin to expand their rule. All the lands beyond Gondor would be at risk, and would they be able to stand against such an enemy as the Dark One?”

“We are the first hope of Middle Earth against this evil,” he spoke softly to himself, “And possibly the last.”

His thoughts went again, as they did so often these past weeks, to his father, and how Aragorn had stood in the face of certain destruction. His brow furrowed and he sat up and then stood, setting aside the wine. If this was to be the end of Gondor, he thought, then he would not let her fall without a fight the likes of which their enemies would never forget. The soldiers had never seen true war, but they were not soft- the blood of great warriors flowed in their veins!

With a fire of determination burning in his heart the king left his study and headed to see to having his armor and weapons prepared. In less than a month he would lead his men to war, and they would be ready for whatever came!

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

The next three weeks passed far too quickly. The people of Minas Tirith worked day and night in preparation for the coming onslaught, and every day word came that the enemy drew ever nearer. Sellerin the ranger lost two of his men to an enemy scout, and it seemed after this that the dark army moved even faster. Eldarion oversaw everything as well as he could, entrusting matters to Radagast an Idhrenion as well. He practiced with his own sword, for he had no intention of hiding himself away in the safely of his halls while his people shed their blood for Gondor.

Every hour the tension in the air grew sharper. Eldarion and Radagast sought to encourage the Captains, and the captains sought to encourage the soldiers, but there was no denying the fear in the air. Minas Tirith had not faced an attack in ages, and the rumor of the coming army had grown to something horrible. There were trolls, they said; trolls and orcs and Uruk-hai, wicked men and worse things besides.

Finally, the drums of war could be heard pounding, the footsteps of a thousand dark warriors could be felt and their chanting came into the air like a foul stench.. Those who went to the wall could see the approaching hordes; it seemed to their eyes there were hundreds of thousands, coming over the fields like crawling ants. Even though they had been told they may not be seeing the truth, hearts went cold with fear and doubt.


Archers waited on the walls, and the catapults of Minas Tirith were prepared; they could have fought from within the walls for days but even so, the wizard and the elf needed to face their enemies head-on to try and break the Dark One’s illusions.


The gates were opened before the enemy drew too near, and those who would fight- both men of Gondor and of Rohan- assembled. In front were the horsemen and behind, the foot soldiers. It was a great force, and though they were brave warriors, many were now afraid at the sight of the army looming before them. Eldarion himself felt a stab of fear, but his brow furrowed and he pushed it away. He urged his horse forward and turned before the soldiers.

“Sons of Gondor!” the king cried, “Sons of Rohan- the time has come! Long have we lived in peace, without the need for battle, but now the test stands before us! There- servants of darkness, who seek to destroy everything we know and love! My brothers, do not tremble in fear! Peace has not made us weak- we are strong! The blood of heroes flows in our veins, the blood of Gondor and of Rohan! Our forefathers fought this evil- they defeated it- and so shall we! To victory!”

Eldarion raised his sword, eliciting cheers and shouts from the men, his words setting their hearts aflame. Horns began to blow, and the king shared a knowing glance with Radagast and Idhrenion, and with Delagost and Saelon, who were not far away. The time had come at last…

The horsemen rode out first, charging into the enemy ranks with a ferocity to chill any onlooker. Swords clashed, spears soared, horses heave, and the shouts and sounds of battle erupted! Catapults began to fire from the walls, the debris crashing down and flattening whoever was in its path. The enemy catapults began to fire as well, hurling stones toward the walls of the White City.

It was then that the wizard and elf began searching for the leader of this dark army. Eldarion hung back, commanding his troops but wielding his sword whenever an orc came too close. Despite he had not seen battle himself he showed expert swordsmanship, and several lay dead at his feet before long, the banner of Gondor still waving strong.

Delagost remained near the king, feeling it was his duty to defend Eldarion. He kept one eye on Saelon as well, his heart thumping wildly amidst the madness of battle. He could scarcely tell what was going on, except that he continued to fight any enemy that dared to attack, almost as though something else were controlling his movements. It was clear their enemies hadn’t expected them to come out and fight face-to-face, but Delagost feared they would be forced back toward the wall as the army tried to move forward with their siege towers…


BerethEdhellen
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: September 12, 2010 09:25
Saelon packed his bag before finding his way to the eating room to offer his farewells to his parents. "Father, be sure that your weapons are distributed to the men of the village for who knows but that they may need them before this is over. If there appears to be any attack likely, be certain that the women and children reach the forests and the caves along the river. You may be able to defend them if the enemy has only the small opening at the mouth of a cave to pass through." Kissing his mother on the cheek, he spoke these words over her shoulder to his father, hoping he would take seriously what he was saying. Somehow, he feared his father might yet think this an exciting adventure rather than something of dire reality.

On his way from town, he checked on the welfare of Delagost first, chuckling at the news that his long time friend had finally asked Cenewith to be his wife. "I shall return in time for the wedding, my friend," he said, grinning from ear to ear before his expression changed. "You will have little time, though, to share. We must soon leave for Minas Tirith," he added, noting the understanding on Delagost's face. Patting him on the shoulder, he smiled again reassuringly. "I'll be back in a few days. Until then, rest and heal yourself." Leaving Del's house after chatting for a few moments with his proud parents and young sister, he bumped into Cenewith on the path.

"Ahh, fair maiden, so you managed to capture him after all," he teased, watching Cenewith's cheeks turn pink.

"You make it sound as if I...as if he..." she began, stuttering with anguish that Saelon would think she intentionally had set out to trap Delagost into marriage and was feeling rather angry that anyone could have such a thought.

Reaching out, he took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips. "Nay, my lady, I know the truth. If anyone did the capturing, it was my friend. Know that I was merely jesting with you. Truth be known, I have never been so happy for a pair of lovers. You will make him very happy, and if he doesn't return the favor, you come to me. I will straighten him out at once," he told her, laughing as he saw the smile begin to curl the corners of her mouth. "I will return in time for your wedding so make sure he is healed by then," he said, bending down to kiss her cheek.

Cenewith smiled as she watched him stride away northward towards the woodlands, guessing he would more than likely stop to see Borlas along his way. As indeed he did. "Borlas! Are you in?" Saelon called out to the elderly man from the doorway, happy to see him when he opened the door.

"Ah, Saelon, 'tis good to see you for I have longed for someone to speak with. What news have you from Minas Tirith...and of my son?"

"Little of either, Borlas. Berelach has gone to see to his ships and the city is preparing for war. Within the month, they expect to see battle," Saelon said. "Borlas, please, if you will, take time to speak with my father and be sure he is aware of the seriousness of the situation. I fear he takes it all much too lightly from me. Meanwhile, is there anything I can do for you before I leave the village. I must meet with weapon makers and carpenters from the city on my lands in the forest to determine what trees will be of use to them, however, I will return here for Delagost's and Cenewith's wedding before I return to the city." At the look of surprise on the old man's face, he laughed aloud. "Ah, you haven't heard then? Yes, they will be wed in a few days. I'm sure you will be invited as will almost everyone in the village. How long has it been since we've had a wedding here?"

"Much too long, son, much too long. And it is good to hear such news in such dark times." Patting Saelon's shoulder, he finished with, "Go, lad. I will see you upon your return." Smiling, Saelon spoke his farewells and hurried to the smithy's storage shed, where he saddled his father's horse and rode north to the woodlands, where he spent the next few days sorting timbers with the men of Minas Tirith. He returned Emyn Arnen, as promised, in time for his friend's wedding. Also, as he had predicted, the entire village was in attendance, with a party served by the owner of the Wild Boar. Although it was a day of festivity, it was shadowed by what was yet to come. Saelon spent the next few days after the wedding with his parents until news arrived from Del that he was ready to leave for Minas Tirith. He met Del at his home, and said goodbye to Del's family and Cenewith's Aunt Melarin as Del spent his final moments with his wife.

"Del, promise me you will return," Cenewith pleaded, her head against his shoulder, her arms around his waist. She had never been happier in her life but it was all too short. Sighing deeply, she kissed her new husband one last time then stood beside young Mirien, holding her hand as she watched the two men ride off to war...and possible death.

#####################################

Baldir had indeed healed under the care of his aunt and the healers of the village. His stitches would certainly tear open were he in any kind of combat but he could at least ride. And ride he knew he must. He had to reach the Dark One as quickly as possible as he knew what the other would think of his absence. If he had to die, he wanted it to be in battle, not at the end of dagger wielded by the evil creature. He also had a vengeance to settle. He had heard of his sister's marriage to the scrawny pup who had..with a stroke of pure luck, to be sure..bested him in their fight. His sister would be a widow by the time he was finished with the worthless bit of trash.

He had drawn from his aunt the location of his horse, armor and sword, all stored at his house. Late on the night after Del left, Baldir crept out of the room where he had been recovering all these weeks under the watchful eye of the healer. He had slipped some of his own sleeping potion into the healer's tea earlier and now saw that the man had fallen face down on his kitchen table, snoring heavily. Baldir smirked as he walked past on his way to the door, slipping out into the darkened street and heading for home through the shadows. When he had sneaked into the house and recovered his armor and sword, he made his way to the barn in the back, saddling his steed. Tying the horse to a post, he crept back into the house, making his way to Cenewith's room. Oh yes, he knew from his aunt that his sister was staying with her while Delagost was away at war. His hand twisted the door knob, pushing slowly against the door until the space was wide enough for him to enter the dark room. He approached Cenewith's bed, bending over her and shaking her shoulder lightly. Her eyes fluttered, opening in shock at seeing him.

"Baldir!" She was ready to scream for Aunt Melarin when his hand covered her mouth, choking off anything she might have said or done.

"Little sister, hear me and hear me well. You have betrayed me and you shall pay the price. I will hunt down your insipid husband and this time it is I who will kill him. I am leaving now but if I hear a squeak from you before I clear this area, I would just as happily slay you too. Enjoy yourself for now, for your time of pain will soon come." Releasing his gloved hand from her face, he stood, sneering at the look of terror on her face. Pivoting around he left the room, stamping his way through the house and letting himself out the back door, unconcerned any longer at sneaking about. After all, he was the Captain of the Citadel Guards, and also had the support of a great one who would give him even more power than ever. All he needed now was to find him. Turning his horse toward the north, he headed in the direction of Mordor, rightly assuming that that's where he'd find the Dark One.

#########################################

Radagast kept himself abreast of the city's preparations, having meetings with Eldarion, Idhrenion, the King's generals, Prince Aldrahil and King Elomar of Rohan daily. One thing had puzzled him in the daily reports. It appeared that Berelach and a squadron of sailors were making their way towards the city. He wondered why. It seemed to him that the Admiral of the King's Navy would better serve the cause sailing up and down the Anduin, watching for the potential crossing place of the army. But another report stated he was on his way to Osgiliath, which certainly made more sense to Radagast.

Especially when a report came that the army of the two wizards had crossed at Cair Andros and were quickly making their way south along the western banks of the great river, while an additional flank was moving down the eastern shore towards Osgiliath. It would not be long now, he thought, no more than a week he estimated. Standing and looking out over the fields of Pelennor between the Citadel and Rammas Echor, the great wall surrounding the area which would of a certainty not hold back an army such as that on its march now, he thought once again of Ren's idea, mulling over the possibilities.

“I would think that they will be so concentrating on their ‘illusions’, that a frontal attack on them would be unexpected. If, perhaps, you and I, in the company of one of Berdagand’s captains - or, even, one of the Rohirrim’s Eored’s, and ride straight *at* the two wizards, it would be possible to break their absorption and force them apart. If I can keep Pallando distracted, that will give you time to convince Alatar - don't you think?”


Suddenly, he made a decision. Without a word to anyone, he made his way down to the level of the Guards, knowing that there would horses stabled there. Pointing to a large bay, he had the stable boy bridle it, then mounted and rode from the stable and down the many levels to the gate of the city. Riding through, he turned for a last look upward at the highest leve before taking the horse towards the Great West Road.

Without the weight of one of the heavy Gondorian saddles, he made a fast pace of his ride until he reached the ancient site of Amon Din on the hill to his left. Here he turned off the road and rode deep into the Druadan Forest. He reached a clearing, small but with a small steam that poured into a round pool. Throughout the clearing there were many beasts and birds sipping the water. Dismounting, he walked to the edge of the pond, where the animals gathered around him. He spent two days in this place, holding discourse with the creatures, communing with them about many things. Questions he asked, and questions were answered. Favors he also requested and favors he was promised would be met. He thanked his friends...as they were friends. Smiling, he bowed his head slightly, sending a message in the direction of Valinor to Yavanna Kementari, Orome and his spouse, Vana. "All that you wished of me has been done. Now I will use all that I have learned in the aid of Middle-Earth...and hopefully recover two of our own. Well, perhaps only one but one is better than what each has become."

He sighed and rose to his feet, whistling softly to the great bay, who was grazing next to the stream. The horse lifted his head, whinnied and slowly walked over to Radagast, nuzzling his shoulder. Radagast stroked his neck and then mounted, saying quietly, "Let's go home, boy." The bay whickered and trotted back through the forest to the road, turning east automatically towards Gondor. Radagast slumped, the reins hanging loosely in his hand as he rode along deep in thought. It never occurred to him to think about what he would meet when he reached the city. He had left several days ago without telling one person that he was going and didn't realize what a fuss his disappearance might have caused. All he knew or cared about was that he had resolved two problems.

He came out of his fugue as he neared the city and was actually excited when he finally entered through the great gates. He had much to share with the King and Idhrenion. Riding quickly up to the sixth level, he returned the bay to the stable, patting his muzzle and thanking him for the excellent ride before hurrying to the Citadel. He was met by four guards, one of whom ran off at top speed to inform everyone that Radagast had returned, the other three accompanying him to the King's quarters, checking him as discreetly as possible from top to bottom for wounds and injuries. By the time they reached the door of the King's library, he had assured them that he was fine and in one piece. They opened the door and he entered, to be faced by a stunned group of faces. "Greetings, all. How are the preparations going?" he asked, an amused smile touching his lips.

######################################

Pallando rode at the head of the army and thus was one of the first to see the White City as they approached it, his excitement and ambition driving him forward. He no longer had a single doubt about the success of 'his' attack on the city of men. It was an annoyance when someone rode up along his side and interrupted his thoughts. Turning, he saw Alatar next to him, reminding him that there was another expecting to share 'his' achievement. A low growl issued from deep within his throat before he gained control of the fury that rose in his heart. Why should he share his glory with anyone, even Alatar. Yes, he had been of some use but Pallando knew that the success of this plan belonged to him, and him alone. Ah well, he would take care of the other afterwards. He had other things more important to consider at the moment. Besides, he yet had need of Alatar if the illusions were going to work.

"Alatar, is Rhuddalan at the ready? We will soon need him to lead his men against the Gondorians. You will need to take the lead of the Hillmen and I shall lead the Uruk-hai and the orcs, as well as the Haradrim who have joined us in our endeavour, hoping, I'm sure, to gain back some of the land they lost in the last great war." He smirked as he thought of their fruitless wishes. He would not only gain control of Gondor, Rohan and the rest of the northern lands but also the land to the south as well. He would be invincible. His smirk broadened to an evil grin as he rose in his stirrups to look back over his shoulder at the massive force behind him. Settling once again in the saddle, he raised his hand to halt the army.

"We shall camp here for the night. Let their fear mount before the morrow when we shall bring our entire army down upon them."

#######################################

Radagast awaited the morning with some of the fear that Pallando had wished upon the Gondorians, yet he faced the coming day with courage he had not known he possessed. His strength and assurance had been growing steadily and now that the two problems that mattered most to him and Idhrenion had been (at least he hoped it had) resolved, he left his quarters to join the King.

Unlike the tattered, mud-spattered robes he had worn for centuries, he was garbed in the palest of green robes, embroidered with exquisitely designed vines and leaves that so met his past appointment here on Middle-earth, along with a brooch of the finest gold and silver of a design that entwined acorns and pine cones made of emeralds and topazes among leaves made of gold and green enamel. His worn staff seemed to have been polished until the wood gleamed and the stone embedded in the tip shone brightly in the morning sun. His beard and long hair had been trimmed, brushed and his hair was tied back with a green leather strap. The worn, ancient wanderer held suddenly much of the glorious beauty and strength of those from Valinor.

The great bay horse was waiting for him as he joined Eldarion, Adrahil, Elomar, Berdagand and Idhrenion. Eldarion led them all to the gates of the City, opened now in this early morning. Outside the city in the great Pelennor Fields, facing the massive army across the way, were the horsemen of the Rohirrim as well as Dol Amroth's fine cavalry, ahead of the foot soldiers, their pikes and swords at readiness. Lining the walls of the city behind them were the archers, with the young boys whose job it was to supply them with the arrows they needed from massive barrels full of newly made arrows. Delagost sat astride his horse along with the Citadel Guards whose job it was to protect their King. Saelon, armored in Gondorian guard's armor, sat aside his friend, wondering if the sword fighting he had played at in games would suffice to carry him through this day.

When Eldarion rode to the head of the amassed troops, the clank of chains and swords, and creaking of saddles ceased as all awaited the King's words. His cry for the men before him to rise to the test, to honor the blood of their forefathers, was just what was needed to rouse the soldiers and riders to overcome whatever fear they might have had...and seeing the vast army they were facing had certainly struck fear in all of them.

The order came and the horsemen charged headlong into what seemed to be an unending mass of orcs, Uruk-hai, Haradrim, Hill men and a cavalry unit none had ever seen before, with their gold turbans, their yellow skin and their slanted eyes. Little were they aware that the Zagherene riders were even better than those from Rohan, though they learned it quickly as they watched the foreign riders' ability to shoot deathly arrows while riding at top speed across the fields.
The roar of the combined armies, the clashing of swords, spears and pikes, the hammering of hooves on the ground all created a noise so deafening that even the Generals' commands on both sides were lost to the winds.

Radagast rode into the fray, his staff knocking riders to the ground, a short dagger slicing their throats. But his attention was on the skies. He pulled up the bay as he saw that which he was searching for...a flock of birds flying over the opposing army. Two of the birds flew to Radagast, chirping frantically. He nodded and rode to Eldarion's side, fighting his way through four orcs along the way. Reaching the King he shouted to him.

"We are seeing four times the actual number coming at us on our left flank...have the men attack with force and they will finish them off quickly." Saelon and Delagost were both close to the King and heard the Wizard's words. Both looked to their left and saw an unbeatable number of enemies. Saelon, whose sword fighting ability was going far better than he had feared, raised his eyebrow, questioning Radagast. "How do you know this?"

Radagast smiled. "Trust me. I have my spies. There are far more of us then there are of them, at least to the left of us. I have not heard yet the reckoning from the river side. I will let you know when I do." An Uruk-hai slashed at Radagast's leg but the bay, a well trained war horse, side stepped out of the Uruk-hai's range, allowing Rad to bring him down with a swing of his staff. Turning again, he found himself at Idhrenion's side, the ellon astride his own horse and fighting as well as any of the trained soldiers around them. Rad winked at Idhrenion, then leaned closer to the elf. "Keep an eye out for Pallando and Alatar. As soon as we spot them, I have a plan in readiness to separate them. My time spent in the woods was not without use or meaning," he added, grinning like a boy up to mischief.
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: October 09, 2010 05:24
Unlike others, Idhrenion had not been concerned when Radagast disappeared for several days. He was certain the old Wizard had his reasons, and that - if the need be - he would share them when the time was right.

When he did return, entering into the king’s chambers with an amused smile, the elf had a silent laugh at the stunned expressions on the others faces. The time for battle was approaching, however, and the White City’s defenders were as ready as they ever would be with the Dark One’s forces on their doorstep.

When the time came, Idhrenion sat astride his horse at Radagast’s side, and watched, and listened as Eldarion addressed them all. - And, the scholar elf found himself impressed. For, so, perhaps, had his father looked: proud, and strong, as he rallied the men of Gondor and Dol Amroth and Rohan before the Black Gates of Mordor.
“Sons of Gondor!” the king cried, “Sons of Rohan- the time has come! Long have we lived in peace, without the need for battle, but now the test stands before us! There- servants of darkness, who seek to destroy everything we know and love! My brothers, do not tremble in fear! Peace has not made us weak- we are strong! The blood of heroes flows in our veins, the blood of Gondor and of Rohan! Our forefathers fought this evil- they defeated it- and so shall we! To victory!”

Eldarion raised his sword, eliciting cheers and shouts from the men, his words setting their hearts aflame. Horns began to blow, and the king shared a knowing glance with Radagast and Idhrenion, and with Delagost and Saelon, who were not far away. The time had come at last…

Surging forward, Idhrenion knew the chances were against them… all his studies had shown him that plainly. Still - like the others - he would fight to the death against this new rise of Evil…


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

Discovering that enemy soldiers were crossing at Cair Andros, Admiral Berelach found himself in only a moment’s quandary. The sailors were expected at Pellenor, to attack the Blue Wizards’ forces from the rear. - But, quickly, he knew they’d find themselves crushed from that same direction themselves, if Osgiliath was overrun.

Nodding, he looked at Sellerin, the ranger who’d brought the information. “Sellerin,” he said, “Ride hard for the King… or for General Berdagand, if you find him first. Tell him we’ll be delayed, and why!”

With that done, the Admiral glanced at his men, and then (more intently) at Falithor. “It’s time to keep your promise, young man,” he growled, and ordered the sailors to change direction. They would be vastly outnumbered, Berelach knew, but the fewer of the enemy who got through, the fewer the defenders would have to deal with…



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

"Alatar, is Rhuddalan at the ready? We will soon need him to lead his men against the Gondorians. You will need to take the lead of the Hillmen and I shall lead the Uruk-hai and the orcs, as well as the Haradrim who have joined us in our endeavor, hoping, I'm sure, to gain back some of the land they lost in the last great war." He smirked as he thought of their fruitless wishes. He would not only gain control of Gondor, Rohan and the rest of the northern lands but also the land to the south as well. He would be invincible. His smirk broadened to an evil grin as he rose in his stirrups to look back over his shoulder at the massive force behind him. Settling once again in the saddle, he raised his hand to halt the army.

"We shall camp here for the night. Let their fear mount before the morrow when we shall bring our entire army down upon them."

Lost in his own thoughts, Alatar almost jumped when Pallando spoke, but agreed that Rhuddalan had everything in readiness for the attack.

He nodded at the Dark One’s orders, but knew he’d need to stay within a certain distance of his old friend so the illusions would work…

After a night in solitude, Alatar joined his friend, and with the echo of defiant trumpets in his ears, rode forth next to Pallando and the attack had begun.

With his sword in one hand, his staff in the other, the Blue Wizard tore into the White City’s defenders. Though it seemed all confusion, Alatar cared not at all. And then, his attention was drawn skyward; to a number of birds circling above.

Yes, he knew it reasonable that they, and the animal had been flushed from their nests and dens by the advancing army, but as he observed them, beneath his hood, Alatar’s lips twitched with an amusement he’d not known in many a decade. For, he had suddenly realized the birds’ actions had a purpose. - And, in that realization, the Blue Wizard was hard put not to laugh out loud.

Clever of Radagast, he thought, and glanced to where Pallando was fighting mercilessly against the enemy. Had he noticed?, Alatar wondered, but suspected not. Pallando’s attention was on fighting… upon keeping the illusions in full force… upon his ultimate goal of conquest with a single-mindedness that…

It was then that Alatar knew he could follow his friend no longer. It burst upon him like a blind man suddenly seeing full sunlight for the first time in his life. Like Sauron before him, Pallando would destroy everything… including (he was sure) his own self.

With a grimness of his own purpose, slowly… surreptitiously… almost imperceptibly, Alatar allowed his horse to be forced away from the Dark One’s, for Pallando *must* not suspect it was being done on purpose.

Really, though, it wasn’t that difficult, now seeing an eored of Rohirrim surging toward them. With the onrushing attackers, Alatar had to turn his mount to the side, and rode further away. And then, he ‘felt’ it. The ‘connection’ to the Dark One was broken. It remained now for him to find Radagast.

Forcing his way forward, Alatar used his staff to block such attacks that came his way… but without causing injury in return. A hard task, but he managed it, and then broke away into the clear. Peering intently into the distance, he spotted the Istari, clad in green and holding his own against several of the Uruk-hai. Urging his horse forward, Alatar was certain he’d surprised the other Wizard by felling one of the creatures from behind as he then drew his mount to a halt.

Lowering his hood, Alatar met Radagast’s eyes, a guile-less smile touching his lips. Bowing his head slightly, in the Language of Valinor, the Blue Wizard spoke. “Tell me, my friend,” he said, “Will you forgive an old fool and allow me to join my skills to yours? I think it is time we sent Pallando to join Sauron in defeat.”

Beside Radagast, Alatar noted an elf. He sensed the elf was both shocked, and pleased, but it was to the Istari his attention remained.

~@~@~@~

Idhrenion, staying close to Radagast, had been doing as requested - as he could in the fighting. Of the two evil Blue Wizards he’d seen nothing, though… at least until Alatar himself appeared directly in front of them in the fray.

A wave of relief went through him… and hope. How it had happened he couldn’t discern, but *somehow* Alatar had come to his senses. With an eagerness inside he usually felt only at discovering an unread book, Idhrenion waited for Radagast’s reply…
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
dreamdancer
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: October 21, 2010 05:31
(OOC- Here's really hoping this is ok! I didn't exactly wrap things up, but almost! Let me know if anything needs changing! )




Falithor marched with Berelach’s men at all speed toward Osgiliath- and before they reached it they saw smoke rising and knew the battle was at hand. Fal felt grim but he sped up at the Admiral’s command… and ere they made it to the city they met a band of enemies. They fought their way through and hurried on, finding madness in the streets of Osgiliath. Without much hope for victory they dove into the fight- and Falithor threw himself at their adversaries fearsomely, angry at himself that his actions had lead him here, to war, and possibly death.

Brutally the men of Gondor fought, Falithor taking several blows but nothing deadly. As he locked blades with one of those seeking to end his life he caught sight of Admiral Berelach in dire straights, his back to a wall as two orcs attacked him. He fought against them with expert skill, but he was overwhelmed. Suddenly the man’s sword was knocked from his grasp and one of the creatures wrapped its hands around his throat while the other prepared to run the blade through his gut.

Falithor didn’t think twice- he shoved aside his current enemy and ran forward, managing to barrel into the one with the sword, sending it crashing into the wall beside Berelach. Pulling the creature back he shoved his sword into its back, and then turned and helped the Admiral dispatch the other.

“Are you alright?” he asked, reclaiming Berelach’s sword and giving it to him. He turned to survey the carnage around them, “I don’t know if we can win this fight, sir!”

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

The battle raged on upon the fields of Pellanor. The clashing of steal and the shouting of men rang through the air; the stench of blood and sweat was heavy, and the noise was deafening. Delagost fought to protect the king, alongside Saelon. The young man parried a blow from an orc and lopped off the creature’s head, only to find another jumping on him from behind. Saelon yanked the attacker away and they slew it together before diving back into the fray. His thoughts went often to Cenewith- and with every enemy he felled he swore to himself that he would live to return to her side. And yet, there were so many- so many!

Eldarion shouted encouragements to his men, fighting alongside them, and taking in the sights of battle grimly. Their enemies were well trained and it burned his heart to see the number of good men lying dead. Did they have any chance to win, he wondered? The king fought with the fluidity of his forefathers and a determination born of his love for Gondor- and the men of Gondor would keep fighting. Suddenly, he saw Radagast plowing through the thickets of swords and spears toward him.

"We are seeing four times the actual number coming at us on our left flank,” the wizard said, “Have the men attack with force and they will finish them off quickly."

Delagost heard Radagast’s words and he glanced at Saelon then looked to the left. The force there was incredible- too many to warrant a guess at the number- and he gulped nervously. What if the istari was wrong?

"How do you know this?" Saelon asked.

Radagast smiled. "Trust me. I have my spies. There are far more of us then there are of them, at least to the left of us. I have not heard yet the reckoning from the river side. I will let you know when I do."

Radagast turned away then to ward off an Uruk-Hai attack and Delagost looked at the king, waiting. Eldarion was anxious, but he knew he could trust his friend.
What other choice was there? “Soldiers, to the king’s banner!” he cried, “Rally to me!!”

Those who came he ordered into formation and set them onto the enemies to the left. Delagost and Saelon were with the line that rode into the huge force. The young Citadel Guard’s heart pounded and he shouted his newly wedded wife’s name to give him courage as he charged forward, bringing his sword down and cleaving the head of an attacker. He turned to fight another, felling it, and then a third. His blade swiped right through it, but made no mark. Del was confused and frightened, until the illusion wavered and vanished into mist. So some of these soldiers weren’t real after all! He felt hope rekindled in his heart.

“Keep fighting!” he shouted to Saelon, and side-by-side they did. Eventually Del found himself dragged from his horse’s back and the frightened animal galloped off. Already aching (the old wounds from his fight with Baldir), he yet gritted his teeth and forced his limbs to keep moving. He was soon joined on foot by several others, including his best friend, and after a grueling fight they had more or less won against the seemingly unbeatable force. There would be no rest for the weary, however, for the king called another rally, as a band of Easterlings approached at top speed.

Eldarion himself was growing weary, as the fight went on. The dead were piling up- bodies of both allies and enemies, with crows circling overhead- and he wondered how many more of the enemies were really there, and how much longer they had to hold out. Their forces had not been pushed back yet, but the walls of Minas Tirith were being broken, and one siege tower had made it to the first level wall. The archers and soldiers still within the city were left to take care of the intruders- more than one unfortunate soul was hurled screaming from the wall and to their deaths. Afterward those men on the ground focused their energy on bringing down the towers before they could make it so far.

Now the king saw the red and gold of Easterling soldiers, their armor glinting in the sun and their wicked spears stained with blood. He searched for sight of Radagast or Idhrenion, but at present he couldn’t see them.

Delagost stood at Saelon’s side, chest heaving. They- the king- and the other men fighting with them were all tired, and bloodied, and now stood watching yet more enemies approach. Even without the Dark One’s illusions they seemed to be an endless tide. Del took a moment to grip his best friend’s shoulder. “We will get through this!” he said, as much to encourage himself as Saelon, “We’ll be having drinks in the Boar to celebrate our victory in a few days, just you wait and see!”

Battle was met again- Delagost raising his sword and fighting hard. He found the Easterlings’ armor tough to penetrate, and finally fell to cutting at his opponent’s legs, cursing with a gauntleted arm caught him in the head. Finally he buried his sword in the armpit of his attacker, and then turned to the next. He kept one eye on Saelon and he felt a chill sweep through him when he saw his dear friend shoved to the ground- but Saelon was on his feet again in a moment, warding off his adversary.

Del had never fought so hard in his life, and when he saw Baldir storming at him in the midst of the bloodshed he thought perhaps he was exhausted and hallucinating- but then the man was right before him, his face a mask of hatred, and the sword that nearly caught his nose was no illusion. Del jumped back, wondering how his so-called ‘brother-in-law’ had managed to make it out of Emyn Arnen, and to the fight- but there was little time to wonder, as Badir was swinging at him with a vengeance. He was forced back, away from the king, having to move quickly just to keep from being gutted by Baldir‘s sword.

“Why are you fighting your own people?!” Delagost demanded to know angrily, “You are a disgrace, Baldir, a disgrace to your country and your family!”

Baldir only attacked more ferociously, and when another enemy bumped into Delagost from behind, he was distracted- and a light snapped before his eyes as the hilt of Baldir’s sword bashed into his skull. Stunned, the young man fell in a heap on the trampled and bloodstained ground, and knew nothing more for a short while.

When he came to with a groan, his ears were throbbing and his head ached awfully- blood was matted in his hair, but he wasn’t dead. Opening his eyes he blinked rapidly, and from his place on the ground beside a dead Easterling he caught sight of Baldir engaged in battle with a battered Saelon. His heart chilled- Saelon was skilled with a sword but he wasn't really a soldier, and he was already hurt. Even as Delagost struggled to his feet he saw Baldir’s sword deliver a wound, and as Saelon doubled over his attacker moved in for the kill.

“NO!” Delagost cried, more-or-less falling forward and grabbing Baldir’s arms from behind, yanking him back and away from his best friend. His heart was in his throat and for a moment there was a mad struggle, as Del tried to avoid being stabbed while attempting to spot his own sword. The former Captain turned and Delagost fell back to avoid the swinging blade, finally catching his opponent's arm in his grasp again. Baldir punched his jaw and sent him sprawling, and by some stroke of luck he landed right in front of his own dropped weapon. The young guard took the chance- he grabbed up his sword and as he came up from the ground he shoved it into his adversary’s heart, wincing at the sickening sound as the blade crashed all the way through. His own eyes pained as he met Baldir's shocked gaze, he gave the sword a twist and then yanked it out, sending his former Captain to the ground. Chest heaving, head throbbing, he turned away- he had no desire to watch Baldir die- and warded off another Easterling attack. Cursing at the interruption he yanked off the man's helmet and then relieved him of his head, before hurrying to Saelon’s side. Kneeling beside his injured friend, “Saelon!” he said, determined to get his friend out of harm’s way…


* * *

Eldarion himself was now drawn fully into battle. Those who had been working to protect him had been separated from him or killed. His wounds throbbed but he had few, and his armor protected him well. He drew on the strength of his father’s memory as he brought down enemy after enemy. The king fought as hard as his men and was trying his best to keep track of everything happening around him, but all was chaos, and he was growing weary. Still, it seemed that their advantage was growing, and he continued to shout to those who could hear, “Take heart! Gondor will not fall this day!”

Eldarion had just beheaded an Uruk when he felt eyes on his back and a deep sense of dread touch his heart- his very blood seemed to run cold, despite the sweat streaking his body. Turning slowly, he beheld a figure a short distance away on horseback. He had never seen Pallando before but he recognized at once that this was the source of his dread, the Dark One of whom they had been speaking for the past weeks with such fear. He looked like an old man, but Eldarion was no fool- he knew he had no powers to match those of the one he faced. Even so, he was the king of Gondor, and he wouldn’t turn his back and run away. Moving into a defensive position, he hefted his sword and shield, and waited.

When the Dark One struck, it was with far more power than Eldarion had expected, or even imagined. The king fought back with more determination and bravery than many others could have, and yet it was not enough. He soon found himself on the ground, in pain and at the Dark One’s mercy… and he expected to receive no mercy.


BerethEdhellen
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: October 26, 2010 10:20
The battle raged on around them but Radagast had been right. When the king, his guards, the Prince of Dol Amroth, Idhrenion and he had surged toward the overwhelming line to their left, they rode through the mass as a hot knife through butter. Swords slashed toward an oncoming enemy only to slide through smoke as the illusion disappeared before their eyes. The line had indeed been less than a quarter of what was seen to them. Towards the river, another mass approached, the unknown enemy with the slanted eyes and the amazing ability to fire arrows accurately while riding at full speed.

Radagast searched the skies again, noting the arrow formed by the birds over the turbaned riders, then the sudden dip in their formation. Reading the message carefully, Rad waved to Eldarion, catching his attention and then pointing toward the oncoming riders. Turning his bay, he waved them directly into to the line of riders. Their arrows whizzed past Radagast’s ears and one would have cut through his throat if he hadn’t lifted his staff in time to deflect it, where it fell uselessly to the ground. One had to admire their ability, though the Istari. Never had he seen any army that could do what this strange legion of men could do. He wondered where they had come from, thinking probably some race from the far east where the two Istari had spent so many centuries. Yet, blessedly, once again the birds were right, and although the unknown riders were thick on the ground and many lines deep, the riders of Gondor, Rohan and Dol Amroth were able to slash their way through inch by inch.

Hour after hour the swords clashed, the arrows flew, the pikes ran through orcs and men, This, along with the heat and the noise were wearing the fighters down. However, without the aid of the birds, the Gondorian army would have been slaughtered totally already. Rad was still trying to find the two Istari though, and having little success. Nor were the birds and beasts he had asked for aid having any success either. He needed to find them if his own scheme blended with Ren’s plan to separate them was to work.

As the bay tried to out step an orc, a Uruk-hai stabbed the horse from behind with a sword. The steed lost his footing, sliding in the pools of blood around him, As he fell Radagast was thrown to the ground, where he was attacked immediately by three orcs. Swinging his staff with one hand and slashing with his dagger from the other, he managed to fight them back. As he tried to rise to his feet, he felt a hand lock onto his arm and pull him up. Turning his head, he saw it was Idhrenion, and he smiled as he swung his staff at the orc about to stab Ren in the back, throwing him down unconscious.

“Thank you, my friend,” he offered as he turned back to face the mass of enemies surrounding them. As he faced them, he sensed that the illusory connection had not only weakened but might actually have broken. His eyes searched the field of enemies, where he spotted Pallando upon a horse, slashing at a Gondorian soldier. But he couldn’t spot Alatar and then he had to attend to orcs and Uruk-hai surrounding them.

He had just brought down one huge Uruk-hai and was facing another when he saw a hooded person approaching from behind the beast, bringing it down before stepping over it to stand in front of Radagast. It wasn’t until he lowered the hood that Rad realized it was Alatar standing before him, a slight smile touching his lips.

Bowing his head slightly, in the Language of Valinor, the Blue Wizard spoke. “Tell me, my friend,” he said, “Will you forgive an old fool and allow me to join my skills to yours? I think it is time we sent Pallando to join Sauron in defeat.”

Glancing for a moment at Idhrenion with a sudden twinkle in his gray eyes, he looked back at Alatar, a stern frown covering his brow. In an instant, though, a smile lit his face like the sun. “A fool you have been indeed but, given your skills, we will be happy to accept even fools if it will end this evil.” His eyes once again searching for the Dark One, he asked, “But won’t he know? Surely he must realize that he is now alone out there. Well, never mind now…we must find Eldarion. Ren, let us move to his side,” he said to the elf, grabbing Alatar’s arm and pulling him along towards where he had last seen the King.

######################################################

Pallando rode into the fray gleefully, surrounded by the mighty army he had put together. He slashed and struck the men of the west with his sword and his staff, all the while watching as his warriors tore the Gondorians apart. Sending a signal to Alatar, they began the process of illusions, increasing the known army to many times its size. “They will surrender soon, knowing they cannot possibly overcome such a massive enemy,” he thought to himself. A Rohirrim eored crashed between him and his fellow Istar and he lost sight of Alatar yet the illusions were working better than he could have imagined.

As the Zhagarene moved forward to join the battle, he found himself surrounded by the defense of the Dol Amroth cavalry, at its head the Prince Adrahil himself. Working his horse toward the Prince, he swung his staff, catching Adrahil across his shoulder , knocking him to the ground. His sword followed the swing of his staff as he attempted to finish off Adrahil. The young Prince spun to his feet and almost made it beyond the reach of the blade but Pallando was successful in slicing deeply into Adrahil’s shoulder. Pallando urged his horse closer but found himself blocked by two of the Prince’s guards and Adrahil was able to mount his horse again, his sword in hand, ready to fight the Istar.

But at that moment, Pallando froze before turning his horse away and abandoning the fight. Slashing his way through the array of horsemen from both sides, he searched for Alatar frantically. He had felt the tie between them break so he was certain Alatar had been slain. What else could account for the loss of their connection? But the horde of men, orcs, Uruk-hai, Hillman, Easterlings and Haradrim fighting the men of the west around him forced his movements to slow as he fought his way through the enemies, searching for Alatar.

#################################################

Baldir had hidden as he heard someone behind him and as a result, had captured a hurrying ranger. Having beaten him until he was barely breathing, the only information he was able to pry from the dying man was all he cared about…where Pallando and his army were at this time. Slitting the ranger’s throat, he mounted his horse and headed south west on the heels of the army, riding at top speed on his fatigued horse for hours until he heard the noise ahead of him and smelled the blood of war on the air.

His only mission was to find the Dark One and assure him that he was still on his side. He feared his life depended on it. As he drew closer, he found himself in the midst of a battle such as he had never seen in his lifetime. Fortunately, he recognized Rhuddalan based on his description by Pallando and he rode to his side. As the Easterling raised his sword, Baldir held up his own, saying, “I am the Dark One’s inside man from Gondor, but we have been separated. Where is he now?” When Rhuddalan pointed in the direction he had last seen Pallando, he called over the din of the battle, “He was heading towards the King near the gates.” The Easterling turned back to fighting off two men on horseback and Baldir headed for the city gates. His armor was covered with blood by the time he fought his way across the battlefield, and though he had yet to see the Dark One, he finally espied the King, and near his side….Delagost. This was an opportunity too good to waste. He would find the Dark One in good time but he would kill this worthless being first.

Saelon had been battling since early in the morning. It was now late in the afternoon and he, along with everyone from the King on down to the lowliest soldier, was thirsty, sweaty, blood-covered and exhausted. He had used what few skills he had with a sword and had managed to keep himself alive, though he had suffered a gash on his thigh, a deep cut in his shoulder and a slash across his back. He lifted his sword to slash at an orc, but his arm was sore and the sword a tremendous weight to lift. As he brought the orc down, he glanced around to see where Del was and saw a sight that horrified him, giving a breath of new energy.

Baldir’s sword had just barely missed slicing Del’s face in half and the traitor was lifting his arm to attack again. Saelon saw the orc and the Gondorian fighting just behind Del, saw the orc bump into Del which knocked him right into the hilt of Baldir’s sword. Del fell to the ground , his eyes closed, his sword dropped lifeless at his side. Baldir straddled Del, his sword held in both hands and lifted above Del’s chest. Saelon knew he would kill his friend if he didn’t get to him in time. Racing across the bloody and muddied turf, screaming out some sort of incoherent battle cry, he slammed into Baldir, knocking him off balance and away from Del. The former Citadel Captain was quick to recover his footing as he swung around to face Saelon, his sword following in a sweeping curve. The blade scratched Saelon’s hip, causing him to fall back, tripping over a dead body of an Uruk-hai and falling to his knee. He brought up his sword just in time to stop Baldir’s blade from slicing his head off. Saelon had been rather proud of his ability to survive this long and bloody day but he knew his time was over. There was no way he could win a battle against the best sword fighter in Gondor. He wasn’t even sure he could hold him back until help arrived, though who was left to help remained a question. Nevertheless, he forced himself to rise to his feet, blocking yet another blow from Baldir as he did so. Swing after swing he either blocked or dodged but the power behind each blow was tiring his already wounded and exhausted body quickly. He had no idea how long this battle had gone on though it felt like hours, so tired was he. So tired that his reaction to Baldir’s next strike was too slow and the blade sliced across his stomach under the bottom edge of his armored vest. He doubled over, his hand across the wound that was gushing blood, his sword falling from his hand. He wished he had told his mother he loved her, he thought, knowing this was his end. He barely heard the cry……

“NO!” He recognized his friend’s voice and lifted his head in time to see Del grab at Baldir’s sword arm. Reaching up with his arm, he wiped the sweat from his eyes so he could find his sword then bent and picked it up, turning to see how he could help Del. He saw that the two were fighting hand to hand, punches flying until Del went flying back across another body. Saelon struggled against his pain to lift his sword, taking a few slow steps towards Baldir before groaning and doubling over again. He lifted his head once again in time to see Del rising from the ground led by his sword which found its mark in Baldir’s heart, the tip of the sword slipping all the way through his back. His eyes opened in shock for a brief moment before the pain felled him to the ground. He felt Del’s arm lifting him, heard his voice call his name, but couldn’t bring himself to respond. He knew he was on his feet, barely, with Del’s arm around his waist, and he was staggering towards a fallen cart near the wall of the city. Soon they were both sitting on the ground behind the cart, out of the fighting. He patted Del on the arm, whispering, “Thank you, friend. Just let me sit for a moment. Then we’ll go back….” he couldn’t finish the sentence as the world went dark around him.

################################################

Pallando found him, found the young King, Elessar’s heir. Sauron had been unable to slay the father but he was determined to slay the son. He saw Eldarion turn to look over his shoulder, their eyes met. An evil smile covered Pallando’s face as he knew that the King recognized him, knew who he was facing. He dismounted slowly, strolling across the open ground, his staff in his hand, the gem at the top glowing, the smirk on his face broadening. He watched as Eldarion drew his strength together, knowing it was futile but enjoying what was about to happen.

As the King stood before him, his shield raised before him, his sword at the ready to strike, calmly Pallando lifted his staff and struck. He could feel through his fingers the strength of the strike as it smashed the shield from Eldarion’s hand, knocking him back several steps. Even then the King parried with his sword. Pallando struck again…and again…until the young king lay on the ground before him. With an amused smile on his thin lips, he raised his staff to bring the killing blow. As it dropped towards Eldarion’s head, it was blocked by something as strong as his own arm. He followed the staff below his own to the face of Radagast, smiling at him.

Speaking in the ancient language of Valinor, Radagast said quietly and calmly, “Greetings, Pallando. It’s been many a year since we have spoken together, has it not? Yet here we are, meeting again.” Radagast’s staff pushed upwards suddenly, the power behind it almost loosening Pallando’s own staff from his hand. Pallando felt a moment of shock, wondering how the ‘least’ important of the five Istari sent to Middle Earth had become so .. so .. strong. He had last seen Radagast millenia ago in his ragged brown robes, sitting in the middle of a patch of wildflowers with a bird on his shoulder and a rabbit in his lap. He hardly recognized this tall, stately, luminous person before him, even with his once elegant green robes bloodied and muddy. He also noticed the glow of the gem at the head of his staff, a sure sign of power from within.

Yet Pallando had been practicing his skills for centuries. He knew he was stronger than Radagast, the youngest and least skilled of the Istari. Nodding, he replied, “Indeed, it has been many a century. Yet here we are.” Glancing down at Eldarion lying immobile at his feet, reaching out to nudge him with the two of his boot. “With you pretending to play at Gandalf’s game. Do you really think you can save the men of the west on your own? Against me? If so, you are a fool. I have spent my life working on my skills while you have been picking flowers and playing with puppies.” He snorted and toed the recumbent king again.

Radagast placed his staff against Pallando’s leg, with just enough pressure to force it away from the supine Eldarion. “I have spent many years learning about the flora and fauna of Middle Earth, you are right. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t used that which was given me by the Valar.” Here the Istar chuckled and added, “If that should not be sufficient, however, I have an ally who may be able to assist such a weak Maia as myself.” Reaching out his arm, he wiggled his finger in the direction of a hooded man with his face hidden from the pair. When he pulled his hood back, Pallando’s eyes filled with fury.

“You?!? You traitor! This was to be ours and you have betrayed me??? You would dare to give our rightful victory to the enemy?”

Radagast laughed uproariously. “I think perhaps Alatar knew the truth you failed to tell him. This was not to be a joint victory, was it, Pallando? Why don’t you tell Alatar what your plans were for him when you had won ‘your’ victory?” Turning to Alatar he asked, “What was it you suggested? Send this evil being to join his mentor…to Sauron?”

The three Istari had spoken in a language unknown to any around them so none knew of what they spoke. But all understood the battle that followed. Even the opposing enemies ceased their fighting to watch this awesome battle. The staffs moved faster than eyes could see as they battered each other, light flashed and spat from the stones, bruises and wounds grew on the skin of all three, but in the end, Pallando lay wounded mortally on the ground. Radagast, breathing heavily and holding a particularly painful wound in his side smiled beatifically at Alatar, asking, “So, my friend, what do you think? Is it time to return home? Perhaps we should see to the King before we do though,” he said, turning to find his friend, Idhrenion. “Was this the outcome your prophesies predicted?" he asked, chuckling contentedly.
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: November 28, 2010 01:20
The Admiral of Gondor’s fleet had had no compunctions about changing course to face the horde of enemies flowing into Osgiliath from Cair Andros, but Berelach was startled by the ferocity of the attack. He’d not enough men, but allowed himself a brief moment of pride for the way they responded. They might lose here, but at the very least, they’d buy time for Radagast and Eldarion.

He was vaguely aware that the former traitor, Falithor, was fighting as hard as anyone, but Berelach had no time to keep an eye on the other man - not when he found himself battling for his own life.

Driven back against a wall, the Admiral faced two orcs… his blade flying at them with all his skill, but then Berelach suddenly found himself disarmed and an orc’s hands swiftly closed around his throat. Growling his own defiance, he tried to get free…
Falithor didn’t think twice- he shoved aside his current enemy and ran forward, managing to barrel into the one with the sword, sending it crashing into the wall beside Berelach. Pulling the creature back he shoved his sword into its back, and then turned and helped the Admiral dispatch the other.

“Are you alright?” he asked, reclaiming Berelach’s sword and giving it to him. He turned to survey the carnage around them, “I don’t know if we can win this fight, sir!”

Startled (and relieved) that Falithor had come to his defense, “It doesn’t matter,” the Admiral replied heavily. “As many as we can cut down, will be fewer the King must face.” With a wry twist to his lips, Berelach gripped he other man’s shoulder. “But, whatever the outcome, know that - in my eyes - you have ‘redeemed’ yourself, Falithor.”

With that said, and with more of the enemy surging forward, the Admiral was then once again caught up in the battle at hand…

After a number of hours (or could it have been minutes?, Berelach couldn’t tell), he became vaguely aware that the orcs and Hill-men facing the remaining sailors were beginning to falter. He couldn’t explain it; they still outnumbered the defenders. Looking wearily around and brushing blood from where a shield had slammed into the side of his head, the Admiral searched for a spare ‘someone’ who he could send to see how it fared outside of Minas Tirith. Spotting the Ranger, Sellerin, just killing his current opponent, Berelach beckoned to him. “I think we’re gaining the advantage,” he said, “But why, I can’t be sure. Go and check on the King, will you? - And find Radagast… he’ll know what’s going on, I’m sure.”

Turning back, he saw Falithor nearby. The redeemed sailor was as weary as all of them, but Berelach saw the look of determination undimmed on his face. “To the western wall!” he called, thinking now to force the enemy back even further…

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


Idhrenion had managed to keep Radagast from being slain by one of the Uruk-hai, and then - barely on the heels of that, the elf became aware of a hooded figure… and then the words he spoke filled Idhrenion with hope.

Steadily, Alatar regarded Radagast. If he was denied giving assistance, so be it, but he was determined to no longer range himself with the Dark One. Pallando had turned far from the person he’d been, and even an Istari with such evil within was a truly dangerous thing…
Glancing for a moment at Idhrenion with a sudden twinkle in his gray eyes, he looked back at Alatar, a stern frown covering his brow. In an instant, though, a smile lit his face like the sun. “A fool you have been indeed but, given your skills, we will be happy to accept even fools if it will end this evil.” His eyes once again searching for the Dark One, he asked, “But won’t he know? Surely he must realize that he is now alone out there. Well, never mind now…we must find Eldarion. Ren, let us move to his side,” he said to the elf, grabbing Alatar’s arm and pulling him along towards where he had last seen the King.

Pallando would know… by now he *did* know that Alatar was no longer on his side, but the Blue Wizard knew what he must do, and along with the short-haired elf, accompanied Radagast to find King Eldarion.

It was not difficult to find the Gondorian ruler, but to Alatar’s grimness, Eldarion was facing Pallando himself… and the man was not faring well against the Dark Istari.
As the King stood before him, his shield raised before him, his sword at the ready to strike, calmly Pallando lifted his staff and struck the strength of the strike as it smashed the shield from Eldarion’s hand, knocking him back several steps. Even then the King parried with his sword. Pallando struck again…and again…until the young king lay on the ground before him. With an amused smile on his thin lips, he raised his staff to bring the killing blow. As it dropped towards Eldarion’s head, it was blocked by something as strong as his own arm. He followed the staff below his own to the face of Radagast, smiling at him.

Speaking in the ancient language of Valinor, Radagast said quietly and calmly, “Greetings, Pallando. It’s been many a year since we have spoken together, has it not? Yet here we are, meeting again.” Radagast’s staff pushed upwards suddenly, the power behind it almost loosening Pallando’s own staff from his hand.

Smiling grimly at the shock on Pallando’s face, Alatar remained unmoved - and cloaked. He was now supporting Radagast, and would no longer be swayed by his old friend’s evil. He was now just ‘waiting’ for Radagast to call upon him…
Nodding, he replied, “Indeed, it has been many a century. Yet here we are.” Glancing down at Eldarion lying immobile at his feet, reaching out to nudge him with the two of his boot. “With you pretending to play at Gandalf’s game. Do you really think you can save the men of the west on your own? Against me? If so, you are a fool. I have spent my life working on my skills while you have been picking flowers and playing with puppies.” He snorted and toed the recumbent king again.

Radagast placed his staff against Pallando’s leg, with just enough pressure to force it away from the supine Eldarion. “I have spent many years learning about the flora and fauna of Middle Earth, you are right. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t used that which was given me by the Valar.” Here the Istar chuckled and added, “If that should not be sufficient, however, I have an ally who may be able to assist such a weak Maia as myself.” Reaching out his arm, he wiggled his finger in the direction of a hooded man with his face hidden from the pair.

Standing tall, Alatar lowered his hood, and met Pallando’s angry eyes without wavering - even under the storm of fury that spilled from the other Istari’s lips.
Radagast laughed uproariously. “I think perhaps Alatar knew the truth you failed to tell him. This was not to be a joint victory, was it, Pallando? Why don’t you tell Alatar what your plans were for him when you had won ‘your’ victory?” Turning to Alatar he asked, “What was it you suggested? Send this evil being to join his mentor…to Sauron?”

From the ‘look’ in Pallando’s eyes, Alatar knew that Radagast had struck a chord… his own discernment of the Dark One’s ‘plans’ had been correct. As his former friend struck out, though, Alatar responded in concert with Radagast…

Idhrenion had bent to aid the King, lifting him in elven-strong arms back and out of the way of the Wizard’s fight. Calling for a healer, the ellon’s eyes then watched the three Istari. But, even to his ken, they moved more swiftly and viciously than could be imagined.
The staffs moved faster than eyes could see as they battered each other, light flashed and spat from the stones, bruises and wounds grew on the skin of all three, but in the end, Pallando lay wounded mortally on the ground. Radagast, breathing heavily and holding a particularly painful wound in his side smiled beatifically at Alatar, asking, “So, my friend, what do you think? Is it time to return home? Perhaps we should see to the King before we do though,” he said, turning to find his friend, Idhrenion. “Was this the outcome your prophesies predicted?" he asked, chuckling contentedly.

Himself winded, and battered and limping from a particularly painful blow to his right leg, Alatar returned Radagast’s grin. “Indeed I am,” he replied, but then turned his attention to the elf.

Idhrenion, noting Pallando’s dying glare at the other two Wizards, laid a hand on Radagast’s arm. “I have already called for a healer,” he said, and then his own lips twisted in a smile. “It is the outcome hoped for,” the ellon replied. Surveying the expanse of Pelennor Field, he thought it ‘fitting’ that this once again be a defeat for Dark Forces… and this time there was no need to continue it at the Morannen. It was, however, Radagast’s speaking of ‘home’ that Idhrenion mused on. Perhaps, he thought, it was ‘time’ for him to turn Westward as well…

Seeing then the Ranger, Sellerin picking his way through the dead, dying, and wounded, the elf hailed him. “How fares the Admiral?” he called, and now began wondering where Saelon and Delagost had gotten to as well. Were they still alive? Dearly, Idhrenion hoped that they were…
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: December 03, 2010 11:57
(My last post! I'll miss these characters!! Hope this is ok )

Falithor fought on alongside his countrymen in Osgiliath, all of them growing wearier by the moment. He was fairly banged up and wondered how much longer they could hold out… but the number of enemies seemed to be lessening somewhat (though the men of Gondor were still far outnumbered). In fact, it seemed to Falithor that the men were gaining the advantage. It was heartening… he thought that maybe, just maybe, he would survive this, Gondor would survive, and he could find Rhia, and they could pursue a life together…

His mind was on that when he felt a club smash into his back and he toppled forward, rolling over just in time to dodge a spear that slammed into the ground next to his head. The sailor scrambled to his feet and dispatched his attacker…

He saw Berelach talking to the ranger (who he remembered had captured himself and his cousin before) and hurried over in time to hear him asking Sellerin to go to Minas Tirith and find out what was happening there.
Could the White City possibly be overcoming the Dark One?

“To the western wall!” Berelach called, and Falithor dove back into the fight with a vengeance. Whatever the reason was, he didn’t know… but after more fighting, the enemy began to flee. The warriors chased them out of the city, killing as many as they could… but they didn’t celebrate yet. They could see smoke in the distance that told of Minias Tirith’s peril, and they waited to see what was toward there. As the wounded were gathered, the dead moved, and the city scoured for any more enemies, Falithor sought out the Admiral.

“What do you suppose drove them off?” he asked, smart enough to know their small force couldn’t have done it. “Do you think things go well in the White City?”

Grimacing, he twisted to try and alleviate the pain in his back. “What should I do now, sir?” he asked, not sure where to put himself to use.


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

Delagost had woken back up in the midst of battle to see Saelon being badly wounded by Baldir. In only a few harried moments, his brother in law lay dead, but Del was more concerned with helping his best friend than anything. “Saelon!” he called his friend, his own voice hoarse and agonized. He pressed his hand over the bleeding wound and hoisted the wounded man to his feet. It felt as though it took the last of his strength, but he managed to get Saelon to a fallen cart near the wall- the only shelter he could spot.

Getting around behind it, he lowered Saelon to sit with his back against the cart. His friend patted Del’s arm, whispering, “Thank you, friend. Just let me sit for a moment. Then we’ll go back….” but his eyes had closed and he’d slumped back against the cart before he finished.

“Oh, no, Saelon,” Delagost pleaded, “Don’t die on me…”

He hurriedly removed his friend’s armor and lay him gently down. Trying to keep himself from shaking he ran back out into the fighting for a moment, taking the cloak of a fallen soldier and a dropped Easterling’s banner. Once back behind the cart he ripped the banner apart and pressed one section of it firmly against Saelon’s wound. There was so much blood, and Del felt his heart falling. War was nothing like the glamorous stories he’d soaked up as a younger man- it was grim, confusing, bloody and frightening, and he now feared he would lose his best friend.

He himself was too battered and weary to stand, and his heart burned as he wondered if Eldarion, Idhrenion, Radagast, and Berelach were alright. He thought of Cenewith and his sister and parents…. The sacrifices being made on the field of battle were for them, to make sure they, and the people like them, could go on living in peace. Still, it was a grim thing. Delagost remained there, taking care of Saelon as well as he could manage, waiting for a chance to get him back inside the city to a healer….

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

Eldarion had fallen before Pallando. He’d fought valiantly and had, perhaps, lasted longer than any other man might have- but it simply wasn’t enough. Not only had the Dark One sought to break his body, but also his spirit, maybe his very soul, and the young king hadn’t been able to stand before such an onslaught.

When he lay on the ground reeling, in pain and feeling utterly defeated, he expected death. Unable to will his aching body to stand, he could only close his eyes and wait for the final blow. When it didn’t come he dimly wondered why, and caught a glimpse of Radagast before his world spun into darkness.

He came to again when Idhrenion took him out of harm’s way, his muscles protesting the movement vehemently. Everything afterward was a blur of sinking in and out of consciousness, of pain, and of trying to figure out what had happened. When a healer was called though, the king was given a draught of something that eased his pain, and after that he was able to remain more or less awake. Idhrenion told him that they had claimed victory, and relief flooded his body. “Osgiliath?” he asked, and he elf assured him that Sellerin the ranger had brought news of what happened there, and another report would be coming soon.

The remaining enemies were subdued, and those who managed to escape were followed to at the very least make sure they didn’t come back. The shouts of victory rang through the city and across the fields. The task came then to get the wounded cared for… and what a task it was, for there were many. Despite his injuries and weariness Eldarion was determined to ride into the city unaided. The damage done to himself by Pallando would take some time to repair, but he wanted his men to see that he was alive; the king of Gondor had survived, just as Gondor had.

Delagost had done all he knew to keep Saelon alive and comfortable, calling upon the medical training which all guards and soldiers were required to undergo. The fact that he knew what to do didn’t make him feel any better, though. Seeing his friend looking so terrible was frightening. However, he rejoiced inwardly when victory was proclaimed, knowing that soon he would be able to get the wounded man into the city. “Just hang on a little longer, Saelon,” he begged as he heard the gates opening, “I’m going to get you someplace more comfortable and get you taken care of.”

Everything was busy and chaotic in the aftermath of battle, but Del finally managed to get Saelon to the Houses of Healing- it was a weary and worried trek for them both. He himself was exhausted and in pain, but only after Saelon was being tended did he let himself be looked over. He took some short rest (glad when news came that Osgiliath still stood, and Berelach was alive). There was much work to do, and no matter how badly he longed to return home, Delagost knew that he was needed in the City- his task was to aid the king. Messengers were sent to Emyn Arnen and all outlying villagers, however, to take news. The Citadel guard sent assurances of his safety to his family and wife, and news about Berelach and Saelon to their own families. He promised that he himself would be home, with Saelon and Berelach, as soon as possible. In a letter meant only for Cenewith he explained that her brother had fallen in battle by his own hand, and that he was deeply sorry for it. He told her several times in writing how dearly he loved her and how deeply he missed her, and promised to return to her a soon as possible.
Del hated not to be there to comfort her, and no matter how badly Baldir had treated her, he had still been her brother; Delagost was deeply sorry that the man had chosen the path he had.

It would take many weeks for the White City to fully recover, but the knowledge that they had beaten back a great evil was not lost on anyone. Time passed; in a week’s time things were already looking better. The wounded were recovering, including Eldarion, who had refused to be hidden away to heal. Delagost- much to his humble surprise- was promoted to Captain of the Citadel Guards, the position which had previously belonged to Baldir. It was a great honor, but a sobering thing.

By the time the second week was over, the king had arranged a feast to -at last- truly celebrate their victory. He invited (along with his captains) Radagast and Idhrenion, as well as Delagost, Berelach and Saelon- for all of them had had a great hand in their victory. Without them, the White City may have never truly known what was coming until it had been too late.
The darkness that had hung over them was gone, and for the first time in what seemed ages Delagost was able to truly relax and enjoy himself with his friends. He was very glad to see Saelon and Eldarion both doing better, and happy to hear Radagast sharing tales of the past. They drank the finest ales and wines, and sang and laughed until late into the night.


The next morning, the time came for them to return to Emyn Arnen, Delagost was beyond excited. He had longed so dearly to see Cenewith again and take her into his arms- he was so eager to see her, to hold her, to explain further what had happened with her brother, and to share with her that he had been promoted. He had missed her more deeply than he thought it was possible to miss someone.

Before their party set out, they bade farewell to the king, Radagast, and Idhrenion. Delagost remembered how much his sister had been fascinated by the elf. As they gripped wrists in parting, "I hope you'll make it to Emyn Arnen," he said, "Mirien would love to see you again, and hear more of your stories and elven words."

Turning to Radagast, who was standing next to Eldarion, he bowed slightly. “I’m honored that I was able to fight beside you,” he said, “Do you suppose we’ll see you in Emyn Arnen again?”

After The Admiral and Saelon and said their farewells, the party for Emyn Arnen set out. Their going was easy, and when they arrived they found their family friends standing outside waiting for them with merry greetings, and a few tears. Delagost nearly fell from his horse, and immediately took Cenewith into his arms. Holding her tightly, he kissed her deeply, and buried his nose in her hair. “I’ve missed you so!” he said, and was hard put to let go of her, even to greet his parents and sister. But, giving Mirien a grin, “Have you taken care of everyone here, sister?” he asked, “I knew you would.”

Turning back to Cenewith, Delagost drank in the sight of her face. Stroking her cheeks with his hands he kissed her again. “I never stopped thinking of you, my flower,” he said, “I carried you in my heart and knew I had to come back to you. I love you!”


* * * * * * * *

Falithor, before Berelach had left, had had a long talk with the Admiral. His debt was considered paid; the Admiral had spoken to the king about it, and Fal was free to go where he wanted. Although he knew his rightful place was on a ship, the sailor hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Rhia, and his own estranged family. After all that had happened he was a changed man- at least, he thought he was. Thanking the admiral he gathered up his few belongings and with what money he had, bought a horse.

Before he left Minas Tirith he found himself standing in front of a building on the third level that he had not even glanced at in years. It was his brother’s blacksmith shop. He would never have cared to come here before, but what he had seen… families rejoicing at being reunited after the battle was over, widows and children weeping over their lost fathers an husbands…

Yes, he intended to go to Rohan and find Rhia- but before he left Gondor, he needed to speak to his brother. Taking a deep breath, he climbed the stairs and knocked on the wooden door. When it opened a little boy was looking up at him- a nephew who he had never met. Falithor saw his brother in the boy’s face. His brother’s wife walked up then. A light of recognition flashed in her eyes. Falithor felt guilty for the first time in years for how much grief he had caused her, and his brother. Because of him, their engagement had been broken and marriage had been put off for nearly a year.

“Ah.. I’m here to see Valothin,” Falithor said, “Is he in?”

“Yes,” she said, stepping back and giving him a friendly smile, “Please, come in, Falithor. He’ll be so very glad to see you.”


* * * * * * * * * *

Beyond the White City, the ranger Sellerin rode across the wilderness of Gondor. He was satisfied that darkness had been beaten back again, and was glad to know that he had helped in some ways. His forefathers had been doing the same for countless years. His mind wandered to a small settlement and a young woman who held his heart, and who would soon be giving birth. He smiled to himself as he set out on a scout of the wild. When his child was born, he -or she- would learn, as he had, the stories of the people who had put themselves in danger for the sake of Gondor. The names of Radagast the Brown, of Lord Eldarion, Admiral Berelach, Saelon and Delagost, would join the names of Gandalf and the Fellowship in the tales he would tell his little one. Peace would reign now, he felt sure… and the smile didn’t leave his face as he vanished into the green shadows of the woodland.
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Post RE: A Shadow Rising.. (semi-scripted/players limited/pm to join) KEEP
on: December 06, 2010 05:51
Saelon was returning to Emyn Arnen with Berelach and Delagost, as well as several of the town‘s men folk that had joined in the fight for Gondor (and all of Middle-Earth had they but known, though the simple folk were more than likely unaware of how urgent the battle had been). It was a slow journey, with several stops for resting, as all of their multiple wounds were still healing. But the journey gave the young man, once a light hearted, playful, ladies’ man, now aged beyond his years, time to remember the days recently past.

The battle had been one of the worst sights he had ever seen or even imagined. The games they played as children as men of Gondor fighting Orcs came not near the blood and death, the mud and dirt, the violence and horror, and the pain, watching one’s fellow country men dying around him. He was grateful that he and Del had practiced sword fighting so often, seemingly for fun, or he doubted he would be alive for this ride home. As it was, his body still ached and hurt in many places, especially the newly forming scar across his stomach where Baldir had sliced him. He would owe his gratitude to Delagost forever for his own life, though he wished it had been him that had given the final blow to the traitor. Del and possibly his new wife would both carry forever the knowledge that he had slain her brother, though Saelon was sure that they would overcome it, so great was their love for each other. And Baldir had betrayed them all, after all.

Leaning against a tree, he sipped some water from his canteen, a gift from the Citadel guards that he carried with pride, and thought back. Eldarion had almost been slain by the Istar, Pallando, who had returned from his long absence in the far east with a new name, Herumor, but better known to all as the Dark One, as evil as anyone had ever known. He, along with his one time partner, Alatar, had gathered together an amazingly impressive army, resurrecting Uruk-Hai, rounding up wandering Orcs and Hillmen and importing one of the most awesome armies Saelon had ever seen or dreamed of. He recalled that when Pallando was himself slain by Radagast and the reformed Alatar, in a wizard’s battle of awesome power, the leader of that foreign army had sat upon his horse for a long moment before turning his horse to face his army and giving a single order…”To home! Without another word, they had turned eastward and were soon out of sight. He wondered if he’d ever see their kind again in his lifetime.

Baldir’s body had been recovered from the bloody field and sent home to his sister and aunt, were he would have been interred with little or no ceremony by the time the group reached home. He had been stripped of his rank in death, his name forever infamous in the records of the Guard, all proud of their loyalty and honor to the King. Saelon wondered how Cenewith had dealt with all this but knew she would have Del’s love and support to carry her forward. Surprisingly to Del, though perhaps not so to all who knew him, he had himself been appointed to the post that Baldir had so besmirched. A more worthy, honorable and brave recipient of the high rank there could not have been. Delagost entirely deserved it, Saelon thought, proud of his friend’s achievement.

When the mass of bodies had been cleared from the huge field that spread out before the White City and tiny blades of new grass had once more begun to poke their heads above the mud and blood, beginning the process of covering the memory of death on that field, Eldarion, himself still wincing occasionally in pain from his healing wounds, held a feast of celebration. The Gondorian citizens were given a holiday and the major participants among the King’s loyal followers, were feted at the Citadel itself as guests of the brave King. It was agreed by anyone Saelon spoke to during those days that Eldarion had lived up to his royal father’s name, becoming regal in his own right. Saelon had enjoyed the gathering, even if feeling very unworthy of being in such high company. But he had been accepted by everyone as one who had aided the King and fought loyally for Gondor. He had partaken of the wonderful food and had listened to and laughed at Radagast’s, and even the reserved and quiet Idhrenion’s, tales of the past…stories that had so much more meaning now. Saelon sat next to Adrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth, a young man not much older than Saelon himself, and the two had found much in common, enjoying the wine, food and each other’s company. He had even received an invitation from Adrahil to come on a hunt with the Prince and his courtiers should Saelon ever find himself in Dol Amroth.

Berelach had shared with the King and those at the table the transition of the unwitting traitor, Falithor. He had redeemed himself with his indefatigable fighting against the enemy, not to mention saving the Admiral’s life. Saelon, now chewing on a blade of grass, wondered if he would remain a sailor or find some other occupation in his newly found freedom from punishment for his misdeeds, though thinking of Berelach, Saelon was willing to gamble he’d return to the navy once he got his feet under him again. Berelach, he knew, would never be far from his ships. Once a sailor, always a sailor, Saelon chuckled to himself, thinking how his own stomach churned the one time he had spent on Berelach’s ship.

He knew Berelach was coming home with them to spend time with his ever-aging father, who had now memories of two major battles by the men of Middle-Earth. His own father, Beregond, had himself fought with Elessar, sharing the stories of those valiant days with his son, young Borlas. Now that same Borlas would hear the same tales from his son. But Saelon knew the visit would be shorter than Borlas, and Berelach as well, would like, as the Admiral had a navy to lead…and there were still the persistent incursions from the southern corsairs to address.

As they had all said their farewells before leaving to make their way down to the main gate of the city, Saelon had overheard Del tell Idhrenion that Mirien would be looking forward to seeing him again and then asking if Radagast would be coming through Emyn Arnen again. Radagast had looked at both Idhrenion and Alatar, looks passing between them, before answering Del.

“We three are going to head for Imladris. Alatar and I are going to make that our last stop before heading for the Grey Havens .. and home. At long last, home,” he whispered, a distant look in his eyes. “But we have no need to hurry. Who knows after all how long we will have to remain in Rivendell before we can persuade Idhrenion to join us,” he said with a chuckle. “Thus, I can see no valid reason why the three of us could not head north after a visit to your village, a lovely one, if I might add.”

Sharing another look with the Istar and the ellon, he asked, “What think you, sirs? Should we not visit Emyn Arnen one last time?” knowing already that the three were already in agreement. “We will come when we have finished our business here with the King if that would suit.”

The rest time was over and the companions were once again slowly mounting their horses to continue their journey home. Saelon lifted his head toward the sky, placing the sun and fixing their time of arrival just before sunset. He realized suddenly how much he had worried about his mother and even more strange, how much he had missed his father. He moved as quickly as he could to climb into the saddle, anxious now to be home as soon as possible.

Entering the village, the group split off onto various side roads, even Berelach breaking off to head for his home and his father, while Saelon and Del continued on into the village. Del had already spied his wife, the gentle Cenewith, and urged his horse forward, while Saelon plodded along more slowly behind him. He watched as Del, ignoring his still painful wounds, slipped from his horse and wrapped Cenewith in his arms in one flowing movement. Saelon caught Mirien’s eye and winked at the young lass, pointing towards the lane he would be turning down to home, calling to her to tell Del, who it was obvious could see and hear no one but Cenewith, that he’d see him later.

Smiling as he thought of Del and Cen, he led his horse down the path toward his own parents, both waiting on their doorstep. His mother ran to his side before his feet had barely touched the ground, hugging him tightly. Groaning as her tight grip pressed against the stitches in his middle, he bent his head to kiss the top of her head while loosening her arms. Over her head, he watched his father approach, a smile beaming on his face. The pride in that smile was something Saelon had waited a lifetime to see from his father and he released his mother to shake his father’s hand. “I’m proud of you, son,” said the older man. Saelon grinned, bringing his irascible father closer and wrapping his arms around the older man‘s shoulders.

"It's good to be home, father."

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

On a late afternoon, Saelon was spending time with Borlas, the aged father of his life-long friend, Berelach, the commander of Gondor's fleet of ships, who was once more away at sea. They were once again sitting in the arbor at the bottom of the garden, as they had in the weeks before the war.

“So, old man, do the roots of evil still run deep?” Saelon asked Borlas, remembering a conversation that now seemed like an age ago. Yet Borlas’ reply chilled him.

“That tree will never be slain. Let men hew it as often as they may, it will thrust up shoots again as soon as they turn aside."

Shivering in the bright sunlight, Saelon said softly, “You have spoken those very words before, Borlas, and following on the heels of those words came war. Surely you cannot mean you are sensing the same evil as you did then.”

Borlas glanced up at Saelon, searching the younger man’s eyes for a long moment. Smiling suddenly, he replied.

“No, not in my garden. Not in my garden. Not on this fine day.” But his smile dimmed as he added, “But never turn your back. Watch always, for the roots run deep, and there is no telling when they may send up shoots again.”

FINI
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
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