| Edraitheru_Melannen |
|
gwendethAccounts Admin, Sindarin Mod & Head Stargazer of VardaPosts: 5808 Send Message |
|
| LOTR_obsessed_loony |
|
| RodwenofRohan |
|
| Edraitheru_Melannen |
|
| LOTR_obsessed_loony |
|
gwendethAccounts Admin, Sindarin Mod & Head Stargazer of VardaPosts: 5808 Send Message |
|
| RodwenofRohan |
|
| Edraitheru_Melannen |
|
gwendethAccounts Admin, Sindarin Mod & Head Stargazer of VardaPosts: 5808 Send Message |
|
| Halrohir |
|
| Edraitheru_Melannen |
|
gwendethAccounts Admin, Sindarin Mod & Head Stargazer of VardaPosts: 5808 Send Message |
|
| Halrohir |
 RE: Retaking Khazad-dûm (see OOC or PM me to join)
on: June 18, 2008 04:36
|
|
“Halloo and good day to you, good Dwarves!” Bragin called out. “Glad I am to see you. Bragin is my name, son of Borin, at your service and your family’s. I seek Frain of Erebor, and I would offer my service to him. Where might I find him?” "I am he," called out Frain. "Be you willing to travel into the depths of Moria? If so, you are most welcome to join us though I would ask what you have to offer to our group. You do not appear to me to be a warrior. We already have one scholar, but perhaps another would not be so bad? Or be ye of a different trade?" Bragin was glad of the halt, as his jog to catch up to the expedition took a little wind out of him. Regaining his composure, he tugged at Chisel’s harness, and the pair walked closer, letting the curious eyes roam over the mound of gear the mule bore without complaint. As Bragin walked, he heard Regin’s salute,
“We be of the Firebeards of Tumunzahar,” he explained. “We be few in number there now - but we’re hardy!” Regin added. and turned to Regin and Falin.
“Hardy indeed are the folk of Tumunzahar, the Hollowbold of the Blue Mountains!” He bowed, and said, “All of our strength shall be of use in the months ahead, and glad I would be to know it is at my side!” He twitched back the blanket before beginning his tale, revealing scroll cases, two odd-looking wooden cases of polished oak, and tools of the mining trade: shovel and pickax, maul and mattock, oil lamps, and what appeared to be pans and plates of tin and steel.
“Are we not all warriors at need, brother?” Bragin said with a grin. “But though all of our folk know the way of the axe and the blade, these are not the tools by which Khazad-dum was hewn from the living rock. For I am not only warrior, but I am an Architect, a hewer of stone and wood! Word of your expedition has gone far and wide among all of the children of Mahal, even to the halls of Gimli at Algarond, from whence I come.” Bragin looked around at the assembled Dwarves, seeing recognition in not a few faces at the name of the Dwarf-hero. He took this as a good sign, and led Chisel to a place near Frain in the line of march, speaking further as he walked on, confident he was now an accepted member of the company.
“I was apprenticed to Tamar of Erebor, the Master Architect for Dain Ironfoot”, Bragin continued, “and learned my craft at my master’s hammer. And when Gimli undertook the labor for the King of Men, I went south to Gondor with him, along with many of our folk. I aided in the rebuilding of the White City after the great wars, and I was working with rock and metal throughout the realm. And it is because of that labor, that I might aid you especially, good Frain…”
“You see, the gates of the White City were re-cast in steel and mithril, after the Witch-King broke them at battle’s dawn. And to acquire the mithril needed, Gimli led an expedition back to Khazad-dum, to reopen the vein of the true-silver, the one place in all the lands where it might still be found. So, not only may I serve you well with my skills and tools, but I also may serve you with my knowledge of the vein itself! You seek to re-enter Khazad-dum by the old Western Gate, or by the East-gate of Azanulbizar? I can aid you further, for I have knowledge of the conditions of both entrances!”
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
The march of the expedition went on day by day, passing east along the Great Road and crossing the Ford of Bruinen before turning south towards the mountains of Moria. At the halt that first night, Bragin had struck up a lively conversation with the young Dwarf, Falin, who sat in rapt attention with Bragin’s tales of his adventures in Gondor and rohan, and the journey north to meet the expedition. He noted Regin’s courtesy and curiosity at his travels, and when asked about why he came to join the company, he made reply:“Seeing the Phurunargian thriving once again, my friend! The Dwarrowdelf deserves to have Dwarves living there again…” “And so it shall, good Regin, so it shall!” Bragin exclaimed. “And to make it a place of light and song once more, is my goal as well. Imagine it: the great roaring hearths warming the halls and driving the dark and gloom away; the aromas of beer and beef and woodsmoke, and the laughter and song ringing in the halls; the music of hammer and chisel and tongs filling the deep places, craft and cunning and workmanship on display for all to admire and envy once again! These are the things which will follow, once the axe and spear do their work!”
The family Stronghammer were a puzzlement, especially the presence of the Dwarf-dame, Nori. Only in great need or portent did the women of the Dwarves go abroad, but this one seemed to have no need beyond her own spirit. Bragin found that to be compelling, and appealing; but seeing how her brothers, Broc and Corin always looked askance at her, he wondered if there wasn’t some other, deeper reason for her wanderings…
But it was the case of the two humans, Jotua and Christina, which made Bragin most curious of all. The tension and conflict between them could be tasted on the air. Bragin was not surprised when Frain dismissed the contrary woman with a purse and a wave. What surprised him, was the fact he retained her for so long. He secretly admired the stoicism of the man, as well as his companionship with the bird that shadowed their march. He hoped to engage him in at least some conversation, soon.
One night in camp saw Bragin setting up camp with the rest, a small audience of Dwarves around him, who peppered him with questions about himself and his trade as he worked. Chisel was tethered nearby, all his burden spread out upon the blanket to allow him rest. Bragin’s own bedroll was next to the pile, as he kept a close watch on his tools and gear.
It was at that minute when harsh cries broke out, and the stench and odor of Orc-flesh assaulted their nostrils. Bragin looked up, making out through the press of Dwarves rushing about that there were not many of the attackers, but they could do great damage in any case. Bragin rushed over to Chisel, and began rummaging through his gear until his hands found the tool he wanted, the tool best suited for the job.
The three Stronghammers were hard at fighting the orcs that assailed them, but they were holding on. Other Orcs began approaching the baggage train, and the precious supplies and gear the expedition brought. As one Orc rushed the food cache, a loud THAAAK! slapped from its back and it arched in agony, a black dart quivering through its armor as it pitched forward, crashing to the ground and not getting up again.
Bragin nodded, satisfied of his aim, and he bent forward, his belly getting in the way of bending enough to recock the iron crossbow. Sticking his foot through the front stirrup, he straightened, drawing the wound steel cable which served as a bowstring into position; he quickly inserted the bolt he held clenched in his teeth, and stood up, scanning the fight for his next target. His eyes widened in horror as he saw an Orc with a chain in its hands, bearing down on his beloved Chisel, clearly seeking to drag off the mule! Without thought, the crossbow came up, SPANG! the mechanism let fly with the deadly bolt, and Bragin was rewarded with the sight of the orc’s head exploding under the impact of the steel bolt, as it drove pieces of the metal helmet into the dying orc’s skull.
Bragin leapt over the carcass and came up short to Chisel, whom he saw had the orc-chain wrapped around his neck, but nothing else out of place. Heedless of the sounds of battle around him, he unslung the chain and sought to calm and comfort the braying beast. As the mule’s cries stilled, Bragin then looked around him; the fight appeared to be over, and none of the expedition appeared to be seriously injured, though a number of dark bodies strewn about paid tribute to the valor of the defense. Bragin shouldered the crossbow, patted Chisel on his muzzle after feeding him a few roots, and went off in search of Frain and the others, to find out how they fared.
|
|
| Edraitheru_Melannen |
|
gwendethAccounts Admin, Sindarin Mod & Head Stargazer of VardaPosts: 5808 Send Message |
|
| Halrohir |
|
| Merides |
|
| Edraitheru_Melannen |
|
gwendethAccounts Admin, Sindarin Mod & Head Stargazer of VardaPosts: 5808 Send Message |
|
| Halrohir |
|
| Merides |
|
| Edraitheru_Melannen |
|
| Halrohir |
RE: Retaking Khazad-dûm (see OOC or PM me to join)
on: July 25, 2008 12:50
|
|
Now I suggest that you all eat before we leave. I believe that Bragin was about to make us some food." He nodded at the architect.
"I also believe there may still be old dangers lurking around Moria. We should be prepared if they are still there. I am speaking specifically of the Watcher in the Water. We will leave after eating. It is only two more days’ journey until we reach the West Gate."
Bragin took this as his cue. Nodding to Frain and Edraitheru, he walked back to the food cache, motioning for two Dwarves to follow him. He and the two returned shortly with armloads of items and sacks, which they deposited at Bragin’s direction near the fire. Bragin then set the two helpers to work, throwing more wood on the fire, which blazed bright then burned down to a bed of hot coals. While the fire burned, he produced several pots to boil water, and a large flat iron pan as round and wide as a barrel lid. Setting this balanced upon stones over the blaze, Bragin began pouring on it flour mixed with water; the batter sizzled merrily, sending a teasing aroma of baking bread around the camp. To the curiosity of those watching, Bragin then filled a kettle of water with some sort of brown powder which was not tea, but smelled stronger and far more tantalizing. As the smells and sizzling rose around him, he stood up and addressed the throng.
“A hearty breakfast, my friends, fit for a lord in halls of stone”, Bragin announced smiling, his beard thrust into his belt. “Get plates and knives, and gather ‘round! Pour this honey on these cakes, and take a mug of steaming Dwarven coffee, and set to!” As an added touch, he carried two plates and mugs over to Frain and Edraitheru, handing them over with a slight bow. “For you, master Frain, and our esteemed guest. Be welcome, master Elf!”
As the expedition gathered to enjoy the honeyed cakes and coffee, Bragin sat beside Frain and talked as they ate. “You are correct, of course, to assume that dangers walk the mountains nearby”, he said. “I believe the time has come, good Frain, to fulfill my word and offer you some of what I know of the road that awaits us. As I said before, I accompanied Gimli son of Gloin on his mining expedition years past. We entered the East Gate of Azanulbizar, and were obliged to rebuild the Bridge of Khazad-dum, which spanned the abyss of the Second Hall. We built a cantilever wooden bridge, barely sufficient for the need even then. I doubt if it still survives, after all this time. We met few troubles worse than treacherous rock falls and collapsed chambers, so soon after the Fall of Sauron; the creatures of Moria fled into the deeper halls, and troubled not our company. But we knew, we were watched, every step of the way…
“But it is the Westgate you speak of, and I assume that is what you shall attempt”, Bragin went on, “and on my way to join you, I pondered the wise words of Gimli, and what might be done. Look here!” The architect stood, and picked up the axe he had brought. Using the haft and the blade, he dug into the dirt, swiftly making several piles of earth, then shaping them with the blade further. Other Dwarves, curious as to his work, stood and approached to watch, and listen. Bragin had created three sharp-sided piles of earth, with a steep-sided valley on one side, and a long winding trench on the other. He explained himself further, using the haft of the axe as a pointer.
“These are the Mountains of Moria, Baraz, Zirak, and Shathur”, Bragin said, pointing to each mountain in turn, “with the valley of Azanulbizar in the east”, pointing at the steep valley, “and the valley and bed of the Sirannon, the Gate Stream, in the west”, pointing at the long winding one. “The Sirannon ran in a swift noisy stream, in days of old. When the Nine Walkers passed through this region, the Sirannon had been dammed at the Stair Falls, here”, he said as he drew a mark across the stream close to the mountains. “The old Hollin Road ran along the riverside to this point, where it made a switchback across the face of this rise, then proceeded straight across the Hollin Glade to the gate itself.
“As the Nine Walkers discovered, the dam created a foul lake across the entrance, which became inhabited by a beastie, the Watcher. As they entered the Gate, the Watcher attacked them, and blocked the entrance with the torn-down trees and stones from the walls. The word I was told was very specific: the gates themselves were not damaged, only blocked from outside. It will take only heavy labor of debris removal to clear the way into the Mines. But of course, the Watcher may still exist, and I pondered a solution…”
Bragin then shifted around the display, placing his axe-haft upon the dammed stream. “This creature of the deeps may be strong, almost too strong and terrifying to face, but we may not have to. If this is a watery beastie, then there is a simple solution: remove the water! No water, no beastie! The dam can be broken with some labor, and Sirannon made to flow free and clean once more – thereby draining the lake, and forcing the beastie back into its lair, and clearing the main road to the Gate for our use!
“And what’s even better, the dam can be made into a spillway! I can contrive a water-wheel, for use as a mill or for other uses in our retaking the Mines”, Bragin went on, clearly excited to be lecturing on his areas of expertise. “Once a homestead is secured within the Mines, we shall have a source of fresh water, a source of power for engines, and the way into Moria shall be that much safer for all and future traffic. I have brought tools with me for mining and excavation, but not enough for the whole expedition, mind you – but I also have my architect’s tools, as well; for any construction or demolition, we can do these things with all the precision that good Dwarven craftsmen have used since the time of our longfathers of old!”
Bragin thumped the axe-haft on the ground like a walking stick, and smiled. “Now, there you have it, master Frain, as good a suggestion as any, and thought of in advance. I welcome what decision you might make, and any changes you wish to propose. I shall follow your lead, in all things, as is your right; but I bid you take my good advice, such as it is, and let us go forward with decision!”
|
|
gwendethAccounts Admin, Sindarin Mod & Head Stargazer of VardaPosts: 5808 Send Message |
RE: Retaking Khazad-dûm (see OOC or PM me to join)
on: July 25, 2008 03:05
|
|
Regin had been waiting for Edriatheru to respond to his greeting when he notice Frain eyeing the gathering Dwarves. It seemed their leader had something to say, so he turned to listen.
"I apologize for this form of waking you," the dwarf said. "I just wanted to see how fast all of you would respond were we really being attacked. It could have been better, but we will save that for another day. I have two things to tell you. First of all, I have decided that Edraitheru will be accompanying us."
Looking again at the elf, Regin was curious as to just what would make Edraitheru voluntarily join the group… as it seemed he had. And, Regin wondered whether the elf had expected hostility from the seven dwarves herein assembled. - Or, from some of them, anyway. But, once again, Frain was speaking.
"If any of you do not feel comfortable traveling with him, I suggest you either get over it or leave the party. Perhaps you ought to get to know him better before making a hasty decision about him. In any case, he will be accompanying us to Khazad-Dum. Now I suggest that you all eat before we leave. I believe that Bragin was about to make us some food."
He nodded at the architect.
"I also believe there may still be old dangers lurking around Moria. We should be prepared if they are still there. I am speaking specifically of the Watcher in the Water. We will leave after eating. It is only two more days journey until we reach the West Gate."
Saying this, he wrapped the horn back up and went to store it back in the saddle bag of the pack horse he had taken it from.
Uncertain what to think, Falin was (at the moment) more interested in breakfast than anything else, and when Bragin summoned help, the young Dwarf was eager to volunteer.
Before long, the aromas filling the air made his mouth water, and ignoring Regin’s thump to his back when Bragin announced all was ready, he happily plopped to the ground in front of the fire.
As the expedition gathered to enjoy the honeyed cakes and coffee, Bragin sat beside Frain and talked as they ate.
Now and then, as he listened to the Architect, Falin’s fork paused in mid-air. Oh but such careful planning and thinking Bragin had done!, he thought to himself, and found himself in awe of the older Dwarf’s wisdom. Would *he* ever become that smart, he mused, and recalled Bragin’s previous advice: ‘The question is the key that unlocks the box to the treasure of wisdom’.
The question *was* Falin thought (with a ‘flash’ of insight), was to figure out what question to ask!
Or… he hoped, that was it…
Bragin then shifted around the display, placing his axe-haft upon the dammed stream. “This creature of the deeps may be strong, almost too strong and terrifying to face, but we may not have to. If this is a watery beastie, then there is a simple solution: remove the water! No water, no beastie!
Regin, listening intently, could see the good sense of what Bragin was saying, and occasionally glanced at Frain, or Edraitheru, or the Stronghammer kin to try and discern their thoughts. If they could get past the Watcher safely, that was all to the good.
Bragin thumped the axe-haft on the ground like a walking stick, and smiled. “Now, there you have it, master Frain, as good a suggestion as any, and thought of in advance. I welcome what decision you might make, and any changes you wish to propose. I shall follow your lead, in all things, as is your right; but I bid you take my good advice, such as it is, and let us go forward with decision!”
Setting his empty plate down, “If ye’d like my opinion,” Regin offered, “I say ’tis good advice,” and watched Frain for his response, since he had called this expedition together…
~@~@~@~@~@~
After the discussion had ended and breakfast was cleaned up, the group found themselves once again plodding onward toward Moria. Two days! Falin thought, and quickened his pace to catch up with Corin, “Will you be writing a history of all this one day?” the young Dwarf inquired, and in his youth, wondered (if so) how *he* would be ‘portrayed’…
Regin, however, was much more interested in observing the various members of the group - particularly the elf. - Ah, well, perhaps later there'd be a chance to speak with Edraitheru, he thought. After all, this task would take quite some time.
Instead, looking at Bragin, "Tell me more o' this water-wheel," Regin said. "What kind o' wood will ye be wantin' for it? Just what's available?, or will we need to search for a particular kind?"
Stone and rock Regin knew, but trees were something else entirely...
***********************************
As the sun began setting on another day of easy travel, Aervon drew his mount to a halt, and began setting up his usual small camp. He’d been following the foothills on the western side of the Misty Mountains, and glanced often into their heights - thinking of the Hithaeglir’s part in Middle Earth’s history.
After catching a rabbit which he set to roasting, his soldier-trained ears caught the sounds of someone coming through the woodland brush. Many some ones, actually, if he heard aright, and though not suspecting anything untoward, Aervon yet rose and fetched his sword from Alfar’s pack, for one could not be too careful out in the Wilds…
To his surprise, however, Aervon saw the strangest company he’d ever seen in his life: dwarves, a man, and an elf coming into the small clearing. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, “Good evening, Stone-lords,” the Gondorian nodded cautiously at the group, for it appeared (to his experienced eye) that one of the Dwarves seemed to be in charge. “I am Aervon, ex-captain in the Gondorian Guard. It’s not often I’ve heard of any Hadhodrim roaming outside their mountains,” he commented, using the Elven name for their Kind…
[Edited on 26/7/2008 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru"
"Come now, and see the works of God"
|
|
| Merides |
|
| Edraitheru_Melannen |
|
| Halrohir |
|
gwendethAccounts Admin, Sindarin Mod & Head Stargazer of VardaPosts: 5808 Send Message |
|
| Merides |
|
| Edraitheru_Melannen |
|
| Halrohir |
|
gwendethAccounts Admin, Sindarin Mod & Head Stargazer of VardaPosts: 5808 Send Message |
RE: Retaking Khazad-dûm (see OOC or PM me to join)
on: November 23, 2008 01:23
|
|
In deference to the unmounted dwarves, Aervon was content to lead his stallion as the group plodded onward. Curious creatures, he thought them, though was well-aware of their abilities.
Corin and Broc approached the newcomer later the next day, as they traveled further. Both were interested in Aervon, but for different reasons. Broc spoke first.
"We dinnae get a good chance tae speak wi' ye yesterday, friend. I'm Broc Stronghammer, oldest of the Stronghammers." He held out his hammer to accentuate the point.
Bowing his head politely, “I’m Aervon,” the Gondorian ex-soldier replied, “From Minas Tirith.”
"Aervon, was it? Dinnae tell me ye came all the way from Gondor tae meet with a group of Dwarves?"
Smiling then, “No, that wasn’t my purpose,” Aervon replied, “But I’m quite satisfied to have done so. Tell me, what decided you on this quest?” the man then inquired.
Corin waited until he was finished speaking with Broc, then approached the man who towered over him. His polished tone and proper speech were in sharp contrast with his brother's dwarven brogue. "And I am his brother, Corin, Scholar and Self-Proclaimed Recorder of this mission... quest... journey.... whatever you would call it. I would be interested in hearing of your history, or travels, if you would be willing to tell them to me. I would like to add them to my record, as a background of our group. Would you mind, Captain?" He smiled, parting his neatly groomed beard with a row of equally neat teeth.
He held his quill over a scroll, poised to write. "So," he asked again, "where specifically did you come from?" He waited, eagerly listening for Aervon's answer.
With another smile at Corin’s eagerness, “’Specifically’, my friend, I am from a small village on the border between Rohan and Gondor. My mother was from the former, though I consider myself of the latter. From the time I was young I wanted to be in the King’s army, and on the day I became old enough, I left home and went to Minas Tirith. I have lived there ever since. - There, or wherever I was ordered in my duties. I was… fortunate in my superiors, and managed to impress them enough to rise through the ranks to that of captain, until a short time ago when I retired. Will that ‘do’, sir Stronghammer?”
After waiting to see if the scholar-Dwarf had any other questions, Aervon sent an amused glance toward Falin, who’d been hanging on every word. A strange young one, he thought, but then made his way to walk by the elf. “You are curious that I speak your tongue, hîr Edraitheru,” he inquired, bowing his head slightly to the other. - And, in the elven speech, went on to explain how, and from whom he’d learned it… an elven scholar who’d been visiting the White City when the soldier was much, much younger. “’Twill be a shame when no one in Middle Earth knows it any longer,” Aervon commented. “A beautiful language,” he added, rather amused at himself that a rough-and-ready soldier could appreciate it as such…
As the sun set behind them, Edraitheru noticed a short figure in the distance. It appeared to be carrying a crossbow, though he could barely make it out from this distance.
"Frain," he called out their leader, "someone ahead. Perhaps an enemy. I can not make him out in this light. He is armed though."
The dwarf nodded and replied, "I believe you are the best choice of scout among us. Find out whether he be friend or foe and report back to me."
Having said this, Frain brought the group to a halt while the elf moved forward slowly.
Anxiously, Falin fingered the axe hanging at his side. More orcs?, he wondered, but Regin clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “Too much light, yet,” the Dwarf reassured him, and as both Falin and Aervon, watched the elf disappear into the trees… and waited patiently till the Edraitheru reappeared.
he quickly made his way back to the group and explained the situation to Frain.
“Very well,” said Frain. “We move ahead. Light some torches so they can see we are not enemies.”
Having lit torches, the group moved on up the road and was soon accosted by a voice from out of the darkness that had fallen while Edraitheru was away.
“Stop right there unless you wish to be filled with arrows!” a gruff voice yelled out of the darkness.
“I’d know that voice anywhere,” Frain shouted back smiling.
“Greetings Norin! I have arrived at last with some aid from the west.”
A rather short figure, even so for a dwarf stepped out from ahead of them carrying a crossbow with an axe strapped to his back. The muscles rippling beneath his clothes made it obvious he would not be an easy dwarf to take down.
“Frain! At last, we may begin. It has been all that I could do to keep the rest of these battle crazed warriors from running straight into the caves!” Norin replied.
“That eager are they? I hope that they will still be so after what may lie ahead. Have you gone near the entrance yet?”
“No, I have ordered everyone to stay clear of the gate until you arrived,” came the reply from the eager dwarf. “I can send scouts now if you wish.”
“Please do… and tell them to be alert. We do not know if that foul creature is still alive. If it is, we may have a plan to rid ourselves of it for the time being thanks to Bragin here,” said Frain motioning for Bragin to come forwards.
Norin nodded and yelled to the two dwarves who had appeared from beneath the trees, “Furi! Glin! See to it that several scouts are sent to the gate at once. Perhaps we may even move as early as tomorrow morning.”
The two dwarves hollered out an affirmative reply and began jogging along up the road.
“Now, we have food and beer aplenty at the camp,” Norin replied indicating the glimmer of many campfires up the road. “That is, if the whole lot of them hasn’t consumed it all already.” He smiled at the thought of that.
Bragin stepped forward and presented himself with a bow. “Greetings, master Norin! Bragin son of Borin, at your service. As you like, we can discuss any plans of mine over food and fire, which I see is quite close by! Wonderful news for weary travelers, all!”
Frain motioned to the rest of the group, “It looks like a good night’s rest for all of us. Let’s join them.” Upon entering the camp Frain indicated an open space of ground, “My tent will be here. Those of you who wish can camp here or you are free to camp with the others. We will meet back here tomorrow morning.”
Falin was almost in awe of the number of dwarves that had joined them… Regin was glad to see them, as he suspected it would be no easy task to retake Khazad-Dum and get back to mining the depths of it. Stepping forward, “I’ll camp with them,” he stated, and went to join the newcomers, cheerfully introducing himself and inquiring about their journey...
Aervon elected to stay with the small group - though he was enjoying the company of these Dwarves, he did feel a bit out of place. After taking care of his mount, he went to join the elf. “It’s a strange feeling for me,” he said, “to be a ‘follower’ again. I’d forgotten what it felt like. Tell me, Edraitheru, what battles have you seen?”
Falin, watching his uncle head off, turned to Bragin. "I think we be in good shape now, don't you?" he asked. "Plenty of hands for building..."
[Edited on 23/11/2008 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru"
"Come now, and see the works of God"
|
|
| Merides |
|
| Edraitheru_Melannen |
|
Author
))
If I need to edit anything, just let me know...))
