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Lilypad
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Post Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 21, 2011 10:02
((ooc: Welcome anyone and everyone to this adventure. If you wish to join this RP please check out this OOC here and post a link to your character so that we can get know you and your character. Thanks!))

It was in Rohan that Leah lived, in a small rather dismal looking little home in the grassy plainlands of West Emnet. She worked as a serving girl for the vial lady Ochadria and her daughter Melui who was anything but sweet. It was her lord, Danethor who had taken pity on the poor lass and her father. Knowing the goodness of her father, Baldor, Danethor had arranged a marriage for her with a minor artisan in Minas Tirith. An obedient and placid young woman, Leah accepted such an arrangement with ease. She would do anything to please her father.

Her lord and lady lived in a home not much bigger than her own but distinctively different in the manner of appearance. For one the wood it was made from was stronger and more durable than that of their tiny home. Over the door rested a family crest that glinted in the sunlight reminding any who entered of their importance. Inside, their home was decorated with lavish trinkets which gleamed unlike the sparse dusty and battered possessions Leah and her father owned, and yet Leah had never wanted for more. It was these few worldly possessions which Leah slung over her horses back in a small weathered leather bag.

“Dearest Papa, do not miss me too much will you,” Leah said with tears in her eyes as she kissed him on the forehead and touched his coarse blonde hair. Baldor was like that of the horses he bread, strong and sturdy. He had calloused hands and kind brown eyes that crinkled around the edges when he smiled. There they stood in the threshold of her childhood home, with the door which always creaked when it opened, and moaned when it closed as if it were protesting its hard work over the long years.

“You are far too eager and curious for a girl of Rohan,” her father hummed and hawed, still not quite ready to let his daughter go, “Most unnatural,” he grumbled.

“Papa, I am a grown woman,” she corrected him in a sweet tone, “And you know you would not have me any other way,” she smiled up at him brightly, her smile as giddy and innocent as sunshine. “It will be a fine union,” she said of the marriage. Leah was not an opinionated girl, she was a shy and quite lass. The only person she spoke openly to about such matters was her father, and even then did they only speak but a few words.

Baldor pulled her to him in a final embrace and kissed her on the forehead, “That you are my child, and that it shall be for who could resist one such as good hearted as you my dear” Those had been the last words she had heard him utter in the threshold of their small home before she had left for Edoras.

Five days later she had arrived safely with the help of her escort, and trusted friend of her father’s, Felaléof, and there in Minas Tirith he would complete the arrangement and present her to the artisan. They spent a night in one of the local Inns where Leah prepared herself for the journey to Minas Tirith. Leah was eager to marry, it would make her father so proud and filled with joy she could not think of anything more pleasing.

Brimming with daydreams and thoughts of the unknown Leah set off with Felaléof. She wore a pale blue dress with a scooped neckline and leather thread laced up the sides. It was not her best dress, for she had but only three, but the fabric was of softer stuff than the green one she worked in. The white dress neatly folded into the depths of her pouch was a gift from her mother, along with a few other trinkets and jewels which she was to wear when she arrived in Minas Tirith and met her betrothed. It was not known what would meet her beyond the horizon but Leah found the sunlight a good omen for the coming days.

((ooc: I hope that was alright, I waffled yet again and my apologise that it was so long, but I wanted to set the scene for Leah’s relationship to her father and her personality, how she is accepting of her status and her fate. Let me know if I should change anything?))

[Edited on 14/12/2011 by Lilypad]
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Nínimelle
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 21, 2011 09:27
Arafi wandered through the woods near Edoras. He had left his horse to graze and let himself rest a bit. His companions Salara, Miras, Liqa and Anele were watching him. His thoughts were with his family. His parents, that had sailed many years ago. And his brothers. Ai, his brothers Roth and Ikol. They had been killed by orcs and Arafi had seen how. He sighed and leaned against one of the trees.

"My lord!" Miras called out, walking up to him. "Are we not going to continue our way?"

Arafi turned to him and his smoky-grey eyes stared at Miras. The young elf in front of him had, just like the rest, been most helpful. They were to ride with him to Edoras and then to Minas Tirith. A slight smile tucked at Arafi's lips. He often came in Edoras, for the beauty of it. But he had never really talked with a human. Now he had to.

"It will only take a few more hours. I can see Edoras from here, my friend. A few minuts of peace won't harm us. I assure you, Miras." Arafi laid a hand on Miras' shoulder and smiled.

Miras bowed his head, his silver-blonde hair covering his face. "As you wish, my lord. Your eyesight is far and we trust you."

Arafi smiled again as Miras walked to the rest. Arafi nimbly climbed into a tree and sat down on a branch. He took the bow from his shoulder and held it in his hands. From his pack, he took a book. Then, he started to read.

"Arafi?" After a few minuts, Salara's voice startled him. "Aye?" Arafi looked down and his eyes were covered by a black shower of hair. "We wondered if you would sing us the song of Lothlorien." "The song of Lothlorien? Of course."

Arafi came out of the tree and walked to the others. He sat down and looked around.

From the west she appeared,
Sunlight and stars in her hair.
In her eyes an undying memory of home,
A land that is magical and fair.

When her feet came to rest,
Deep in a canopied glade,
She lifted her face and there she danced.
The realm of Lothlórien she made.

Gaze on me lady of gold,
Reawaken my slumbering soul.
Beacon of courage summon me home,
to your haven of wonders untold.

Lóri....


Arafi stopped the song and looked up as he heard some noise.

"Mount your horses." He said, standing up. The others nodded and did as he wanted.

Arafi mounted too and they started to ride. Black shadows ran between the trees and Arafi watched them with suspicioun. He heard howling and growling.

"Lord Arafi, wolves are following us!" Liqa cried. "Ride hard, my friends. I will hold them!" Arafi replied, stopping his horse.

The other elves looked at each other, but then obeyed and rode away. Five dark, large wolves emerged from the forest. They attacked Arafi's horse.

The horse started to prance and Arafi fell. The wolves started to bite and snarl. Arafi grabbed his sword painfully and stood. He chased the wolves away, stumbled, fell on his knees and then fell to the ground.

[Edited on 22/5/2011 by Nínimelle]

[Edited on 22/5/2011 by Nínimelle]
Lilypad
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 22, 2011 07:06
Leah listened to the birds’ song as they greeted the morning. They rode in silence, as they had done most the journey to Edoras with Felaléof looking around suspiciously every so often while Leah observed the way the wind whistled through the trees. She had not notice the elegance and height of such grand trees before, but then again she had always had her father to keep her company. He took great pride in telling stories of old on such a journey, and she delighted in listening to stories of far off places.

It was then that she noticed a mass on the ground up ahead.

“Felaléof, my lord, I believe there is a man in the road?” she said her soft voice rising an octave in alarm.

Felaléof squinted into the distance, “Your eyes have always been better than mine, my dear,” he replied, his voice grating yet kind. They road ahead swiftly toward the figure in the road, Felaléof reached him first and dismounted his horse before Leah. “He is injured my dear,” Felaléof explained of the man on the ground as Leah retrieved her healing supplies from the bag upon Eria’s back.

She knelt beside the man, her long fingers stretched out to gently brush his dark hair from his face. She observed the man for a moment, it was then that she noticed his ears; he was not a man but an elf. He had a sharp featured face, handsome as she had assumed all elves should be, but tanned from the sun no doubt.

“Sir, can you hear me? My lord-?” she asked the fallen figure her golden hair falling over her shoulders and surrounding her face as she leaned over him, while Felaléof remained stoic glancing around distrustfully at the trees as if this were some sort of trap, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Felaléof was a kind and generous man, but he had seen too much of war and bloodshed. It had made him paranoid and overprotective of the things he loved, and he loved Leah like his own daughter.

((ooc: I hope that was alright, let me know if anything should be changed.))
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Nínimelle
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 22, 2011 07:29
“Sir, can you hear me? My lord-?” she asked the fallen figure her golden hair falling over her shoulders and surrounding her face as she leaned over him, while Felaléof remained stoic glancing around distrustfully at the trees as if this were some sort of trap, his hand on the hilt of his sword.


Arafi opened his eyes as he heard the voice of a young woman. His head pounded and was bleeding. He stared at the woman. She was a human, from Rohan. There was no doubt. Only the Rohan people had such golden hair.

Arafi lifted his hand and laid it against his head. "I hear you." His voice was weak, weaker than he would like to admit.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Arafi tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his back sent him to the ground within seconds. He gasped for air and tried to calm down.

"Water...., please...," He gasped, looking at the woman with begging eyes. His eyes then wandered to the man behind her. He didn't seem to trust it.

"There's.....no trap, my....lord. My companions....have fled. The wolves.....are gone, I frightened....them." He whispered weakly, trying to sound reasuring.
Lilypad
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 22, 2011 08:12
Leah gazed at the man with compassionate eyes, “You are beyond the boarders of Edoras, my lord, and I am Leah of Rohan, and this is Felaléof of Rohan,” she gestured to the sturdy man behind her and he in turn handed her the skin of water. Leah cradled the back of his head in her hand helping him gingerly as she touched the skin of water to his lips. “Shhh,” she said in a soft voice, “Do not speak,” she urged with a sweet smile, and handed the water to Felaléof once more as she fished one of her dresses, the green one from her pack and folded it gently beneath his head.

“You are wounded and bleeding my lord, it should be tended to,” she said softly her tone shy and gentle as she retrieved the necessary items from her saddlebag. “This may sting for but a minute,” she warned as she began to clean the wound on his head, her fingers moved gracefully and ever so gently. Her touch was careful as she cleaned and mended the wound with a salve she had mixed with healing herbs which she had crushed to release their healing properties. She lifted his head slowly, gently and proceeded to bandage it taking great care to keep him steady.

“We are journeying towards Minas Tirith, we can take you there where the Houses of Healing could do a much better job than I have done my lord I am sure,” she smiled, her smile was warm and sweet as she gazed upon him, her eyes trailing over his body, she noticed a scrape here and there to which she set to work on, her nimble fingers making quick work of it. Felaléof grunted but he seemed to nod in agreement with Leah.
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Nínimelle
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 22, 2011 08:36
“You are beyond the boarders of Edoras, my lord, and I am Leah of Rohan, and this is Felaléof of Rohan,” she gestured to the sturdy man behind her and he in turn handed her the skin of water. Leah cradled the back of his head in her hand helping him gingerly as she touched the skin of water to his lips. “Shhh,” she said in a soft voice, “Do not speak,” she urged with a sweet smile, and handed the water to Felaléof once more as she fished one of her dresses, the green one from her pack and folded it gently beneath his head.

“You are wounded and bleeding my lord, it should be tended to,” she said softly her tone shy and gentle as she retrieved the necessary items from her saddlebag. “This may sting for but a minute,” she warned as she began to clean the wound on his head, her fingers moved gracefully and ever so gently. Her touch was careful as she cleaned and mended the wound with a salve she had mixed with healing herbs which she had crushed to release their healing properties. She lifted his head slowly, gently and proceeded to bandage it taking great care to keep him steady.

“We are journeying towards Minas Tirith, we can take you there where the Houses of Healing could do a much better job than I have done my lord I am sure,”


Arafi sat up, ignoring his pain and bowing his head in gratitude.

"Le channon. I thank you, Leah of Rohan, for your care. I am Arafi, I live in Ithilien." He winced as he streched his hands and touched his bandage carefully.

"You are a good healer. Do not worry, within a day or two I will be healed fully. But I would like to accompany you to Minas Tirith, for that is my heading as well." Arafi coughed slightly and winced again. Then, without any help, he stood up. He stumbled, but remained standing.

"Tolo enni Nawja." He whispered. A pure white horse came running to them, she stopped right in front of Arafi. He smiled and stroke her mane.
Lilypad
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 22, 2011 11:35
“It is a pleasure meeting you lord Arafi, though it would have been pleasanter under different circumstances I am sure,” Leah said conversationally as she put the finishing touches on his wounds, her gaze flitting to his for mere seconds before she shyly looked away. His eyes were a beautiful soft grey colour; she thought they appeared tender and wise.

“Certainly,” said Leah rising swiftly as he rose to his feet without help, but as he stumbled she grabbed hold of his arm, her grip was not strong but gentle, a hand simply to stead him. She nodded politely to Arafi. Knowing men from Rohan they were stubborn, especially her father, and even when they were injured they insisted upon doing things they should not otherwise do themselves. For instance Baldor, her father would never have allowed her to help him onto his horse when he was wounded. He had too much pride. It was for this reason she was tentative, both to leave Arafi’s side but also to inquire if he needed assistance.

As his horse cantered toward them she decided upon another approach, “My lord, are you quite sure that you will be able to ride?” she asked looked concerned at his bandaged head for a moment. “Nawja, is that her name?” she asked catching the last bit of what he uttered. “It is quite pretty.” She stroked the neck of her own horse absentmindedly as Eria nudged her shoulder. “Hungry already?” she turned talking to her horse with a small smile, “We have only just left Edoras,” she gave a small laugh as Eria nudged her once more. Leah fished a piece of fruit she had picked from her home, they were Eria’s favourite, and held it out for her which she quickly devoured. Leah giggled her laughter like the tinkling of tiny bells, as the hairs on her horse’s mouth tickled the palm of her hand. “Good girl,” she patted Eria.

“Would Nawja like one?” Leah asked graciously holding out a piece of fruit, Eria snorted as if like a selfish child not wanting to share they’re toy. “There are plenty more,” she said as if Eria understood what she was saying, she couldn’t of course she was a horse, but Leah often spoke or sang to her horses, she loved them as if they were her friends.

Felaléof interrupted Leah, “Leah, we should keep moving, we have quite a journey ahead of us,” he urged in his deep gravelly voice. Leah nodded politely and refastened her saddlebag before mounting her horse. Normally she would have gladly ridden in silence but Arafi fascinated her and her curiosity got the better of her. “My lord Arafi, may I ask, where is Ithilien?” she asked her voice timid. She had studied maps of Middle-earth and scrolls which her father kept tucked neatly into a bookshelf from his travels, but it was not the same as knowing about the place itself.
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Dinenlasse
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 22, 2011 01:18
With a quick upward thrust of her sword, the young woman dispatched her opponent. He was much taller than she, with a hefty, sturdy build and muscles the size of small bread loaves, but he was no match for the agile female who bested him. Sure, he had strength and experience on his side, but his female adversary was smaller and lighter on her feet, giving her an advantage. He fell on his backside onto the ground with a deep grunt, stirring up a small cloud of dust. The man stared up at the fair maiden and chuckled, “Well done, lass! ‘Tis been a fair time since I’ve tasted dust!”

Díore sheathed her sword, reached down with a slender hand, and helped the man to his feet. “I’ve learned only from the best, Papa!” she returned with a laugh.

Her father, the Rohirric captain Hasulfen, dusted off his dark green tunic and light breeches. “Aye, I’ve taught ye well, love! But don’t think ye can accomplish that a second time!” He pulled his only daughter into an embrace and kissed her forehead.

Díore’s bright green eyes widened, and she nodded innocently. “Such a travesty should never happen again, Papa.” She remained like that for a moment, then broke out into merry laughter. Truth be told, Díore had bested her father many times, but only when he let her, and such was one of those times. For her young age of twenty years Díore was able to effectively wield a variety of weapons-whether bladed such as swords, rapiers, spears, halberds, or the long lances the Rohirrim favored to a simple bow and arrows. Not that the young woman had ever seen battle beyond a few border skirmishes with passing bands of Dunlenders (those most kept to themselves now) or occasional scouting patrols with her father.

Sheathing his own broadsword, Hasulfen glanced around the crowd that surrounded them. It mostly consisted of adolescent boys who appeared shocked that a woman could best a man. “Move along, lads, there’s nothing more to see here,” Hasulfen said, gesturing them away with his shield. He walked alongside his daughter as they left the grassy open square in which they had been sparring. Their boots thudded along the occasional stones in the normally dusty road as they strolled through a sidestreet in Edoras towards the market. A cacophony of noise assaulted their ears as haggardly old wives shouted out their wares at the top of their lungs and the subsequent haggling of their customers. The pair halted before a stall selling apples, nuts, and oranges. A middle-aged woman manned the stall, her dark brown hair tumbling down her back. “’Tis about time you’ve come back! I was beginning to worry!” the woman scolded good-naturedly, smiling at Díore and Hasulfen. She bustled around like a mother hen, organizing her wares, clucking with impatience every so often. “Here,” Díore’s mother Awyndel said, handing her daughter a basket of ripe red apples. “Take these back home and begin a pie.”

Without another word, Awyndel shooed her husband and daughter away. “That was quick,” Díore commented as the pair sought their horses from a nearby stable. Tucking the apples into a saddlebag, she led her black stallion Durithil out into the bright sunlight. Hasulfen merely nodded in agreement, clearly lost in his own thoughts. “Papa?” Díore asked, bewildered.

“Love, care you to go to Minas Tirith?” Hasulfen asked suddenly after he adjusted himself on his massive chestnut destrier. Díore cocked her head and glanced at her father as they rode for their home on the slopes of a large hill overlooking the city.
“For what?”

Hasulfen heaved a sigh. “The king’s sent me to find out more about Corsair activity near the coast. There have been reports of villages being burned and pillaged, obscene activities, other such deeds. He desires me to assess the situation and to see what aid we can give if needed. Purely a diplomatic mission right now, especially seeing as our Gondorian king has not sent us a plea of relief from duress.”

“Aye, I’ll come, Papa. I’ve nary seen the White City for a goodly while now.”

“Good. Your mother knows already, and as such, I’ve made the necessary preparations. We leave on the morrow.”

*~*~*~*~*

The dark-haired, blue-eyed maiden perched on the edge of a huge wooden table, her legs dangling over the edge. In her hands she held yet another book about the history of Dol Amroth. Stifling a yawn, she flipped through the pages aimlessly, knowing the volume would yield no more important information. Rhîwenil’s father surveyed her over his own book through rock crystal spectacles. “Rhen, have you found anything else?” His own tone was weary, exhausted. They had been scouring through the archives in Minas Tirith for days, searching in vain for information about Galador, the first true Lord of Dol Amroth. The archives, unfortunately, had enlightened them little.

Shutting the book with a clap, she held the volume over her head and made a halfway throwing gesture. “If only I had,” Rhîwenil sighed, gently laying the book beside her. “And you?”

“Today has been about as productive as a cat haggling with a fishwife for some scraps,” Hingel mused, placing his own book down. “Shall we call it a night? Alphros has invited us to sup with him tonight in the White Tower. It’s an offer I cannot in good heart or good stomach refuse.” Alphros was the grandson of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth in Belfalas. Through Imrahil’s eldest sister Ivriniel were Hingel and his daughter Rhîwenil related to the royal line. Scholars at heart, the pair had never quite taken to court life, much preferring their quiet life in Linhir, a prosperous port city about twenty miles from the Bay of Belfalas in Lebennin. They had recently traveled to Minas Tirith for further familial research. But as little information had made itself available, Hingel and Rhîwenil were ready to return to Linhir.

Rhîwenil cracked a wan smile. “I shan’t say no either. My cousin always knows how to put on a good spread. But why is he here in Minas Tirith of all places? Has Eldarion summoned him?”

Hingel inclined his head, anguish crossing his face. “Corsairs again. They’ve been rampant around the Mouths of the Anduin for the last fortnight.” With a sigh, he folded his glasses into a leather case, stood up, his back giving an audible crack.

“Careful there, old man, you might break something!” Rhîwenil teased her father, jumping off the table, landing with a soft thud on the ground. Hingel scowled at her but then smiled. “Make sure you dress nicely, Rhen. The prince won’t countenance anything but a proper lady in the palace,” he retorted, knowing she disliked such finery.

At this, Rhîwenil scowled and meant it. “I shall,” she replied as they began the long upward ascent to the main floor of the Tower.

(Alack, dead muse here. Definitely not my best work. But, two of the girls are introduced. Leyn will make her own appearance shortly. All will end up in Minas Tirith!)
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
Nínimelle
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 23, 2011 05:17
Arafi smiled kindly at Leah, noticing how she was interested by him. He bowed his head, feeling a bit light headed. Nawja nudged his side and Arafi looked at her with stern, but twinkling eyes.

'Aye, different circumstances would have been better. But you may call me Arafi. I am no lord and surely if I were I would dislike it. So call me Arafi. After all, we could be friends.' He turned to Leah again and his eyes twinkled kindly.

Arafi petted Nawja. 'I trust my horse not to let me fall and my stubborness is great, I must say so. So I can ride, if anything would go wrong or hurt a lot I will tell you. You should not worry for me, these things happen to me quite a lot.' His eyes were shadowed as a dark memory passed through his mind.

Swiftly, he thought of something else. Arafi petted Nawja again. 'Yes, Nawja is her name. It was the name of a flower I once found, if I remember well.' Nawja snorted softly, shaking her mane. She ate the fruit out of Leah's hand and Arafi couldn't surpress a chuckle.

'She has bad manners, forgive her.' Nawja nudged him again and snorted. Arafi chuckled more. But as Leah and her companion mounted, he followed their example and hauled himself up. He held on to Nawja's mane, having no saddle or briddle.

He looked up at Leah and thought of an answer. 'Ithilien is five or more days to the south-west. The elven part of it is well hidden between the trees. It is much like the Golden Woods of the lady Galadriel, but I do not think you have seen them. I could take you there, one day. If you wish. The elves live peacefully in Ithilien, but I do prefer Rohan.' And so, Arafi started to tell of his journeys and his family. Even, though with some pain in his heart, of the death of his brothers.
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 23, 2011 08:01
Gazing up shyly at Arafi she smiled as blood rose into her cheeks creating a soft blush. “Yes M- Arafi,” she replied in a kind tone. Leah appeared a bit astonished by his remark, “Wolves attack you often?” she asked feeling a sense of uneasiness bubbling up inside of her. Perhaps she did not want to travel outside her little home of Rohan. She noted the far away look in his eyes, but it was not pleasant or dreamy as hers usually was there was something else lying beneath the surface that she could not quite fathom. Still she did not press the matter as it was not her place.

“The Golden Wood,” she repeated thoughtfully. Her father used to sing her a song about a golden wood, every night he would sing her to sleep as a child. Baldor said it reminded him of her mother, but she still did not know what he meant by it. “I would very much like to visit the Golden Wood and Ithilien with you one day,” she said, she noticed Felaléof seemed to frown at this but said nothing. Felaléof contented himself with riding a few paces ahead of them keeping a watchful eye. “Does your family live in Ithilien?” she asked shyly once more, “What is it like living in Ithilien?” she continued her voice still soft yet innocently curious.

((ooc: Your post was beautiful Dinen, and Nín another lovely post. Hehe, I think my muse died a few posts ago but I am still writing so that has to count for something aye?))
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Nínimelle
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 23, 2011 08:26
Arafi laughed lightly. 'Not only wolves attack me, but that is because I search trouble. Do not worry though, nothing will harm you. Avo bresto Don't worry.' He smiled at her, laying a comforting hand on her own. 'You have not been much further than Rohan, have you?' He asked, curiously.

Arafi remained silent for a while as Leah asked about his family. His hand touched the pure white stone, that hang at his necklace. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind from the evil thoughts. The thoughts of his brothers' death. He missed them so much, Roth and Ikol. But before tears could fall, he blinked them away.

'I have no family left. My brother Roth and Ikol were murdered many years ago by orcs. I was forced to watch as they were killed. My parents sailed, not many months later. They couldn't pass away the death of two sons. So, I have been on my own for many years. I killed every orc that came in my way. I wanted revenge, for my brothers.' Arafi clutched his necklace and inhaled deeply.

'Ithilien is a wonderful country, the trees are green and the people are nice. But the elves sail more and more nowadays, so not many are left. Ithilien is growing empty. That is why I prefer Rohan. But Ithilien is quite marvelous. I promise to take you there, and to the Golden Wood.'
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 23, 2011 12:44
Leah nodded with a small smile wondering why he of all people would search for trouble. She had not noticed that her brow was knitted in concern until Arafi assured her that nothing would harm her. Her features relaxed and she smiled shyly once more, feeling a bit foolish for worrying so. A light blush coloured her cheeks once more, “No,” she admitted, “I have not traveled beyond Edoras, beyond the line of trees there,” she said softly, turning round and gazing in the distance at the trees she had passed, it seemed long ago now.

Leah listened intently as Arafi spoke of his family. Her blue-green eyes were touched with sadness as if one could hear a lamenting song echoing from her pools of blue. Aside from being terribly naïve and innocent, Leah was also quite a bit of an open book. She wore her heart on her sleeve. One could see her every emotion simply by gazing into her eyes. It was perhaps a flaw should she ever need to lie about something, but it was lucky she was not accustomed to such deception.

“I am sorry,” her voice was genuine and filled with sympathy. It was not pity but compassion. “I could not imagine such cruelty,” she said softly with a small shake of her head. She watched him clutch his necklace and wondered of its importance. It held memories of his family no doubt. She did not wish to invade his private thoughts and seeing that it caused him great pain she dropped the subject.

“I would very much like that,” Leah said with a sweet smile as he promised to take her to Ithilien and the Golden Wood. It was then that she remembered the purpose of her journey. She was to marry an artisan in Minas Tirith. A grain of doubt planted itself within her heart. If she was to marry she might never see Ithilien or the Golden Wood. Her rightful place was by her husband’s side in Minas Tirith. Leah inhaled deeply as she gazed at the ground in front of them. An internal battle began to surface within her, one she was not entirely aware of quite yet. It would make her father ever so happy and proud and that for her was enough to know it was a good decision. Resolved with her fate she glanced up again at Arafi with a small smile. Somehow the silence was more pleasant with Arafi riding beside her, and Eria seemed to like Nawja’s company that was as good an excuse as any for enjoying his company more than she should.
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 23, 2011 01:55
Dusk fell on the night Leah rode out of her home town. As the sun crept closer to the horizon, Aroden rolled out of the loft he had been staying in and dropped to the ground, landing lightly on his feet. He began searching through the various places he had hidden some of his equipment and secreted them all away in their respective pockets and pouches. The night had finally came where he would complete his latest job, and as always it made his heart race. No job was ever the same, and most had their own element of danger to them, but nothing was quite as exhilarating as stealing horses in Rohan. Especially if they belonged to the wealthier residents.

No one could breed those equine money bags like the people of Rohan, and they were worth every piece of silver, too. They had to be, for no one had stiffer penalties for stealing horses than the Rohirrim either. The thief went over his mental check list again, he had to have done it a dozen times already but he didn't like surprises. Aroden fingered the dagger on his belt, then went to the blackjack that hung next to it. At best he would use neither, and almost always he would rather club someone than stab. It created too many complications, killing, and the memories of the victims survivors last longer than that of the lord who loses his horse.

Aroden checked the suns position again; it was two fingers from disappearing completely. Just enough time to make sure he had gathered everything from his squat shack that he needed. After this job, he would need to disappear for a while. He had been a little sloppy lately, and people were starting to whisper about him. It was never good to gather too much of a reputation. He scribbled a note and sent a pigeon to his fence in Minas Tirith explaining that he would be there in a few weeks with a fresh haul for him to sell, all written in a cypher to ensure no eyes saw it that were not supposed to.

He was finished with preparations now, and full darkness had descended on the small village. Wrapping his dark cloak around himself Aroden went for the manor he had been mapping out for the past week and a half. It belonged to a lord Danethor, if he remembered correctly, and although he was only a minor lord, he was still a lord. Aroden hoped he had good horses. The thief made it undetected to the high wall surrounding the estate, an easy task with it not being heavily guarded, this was not the inner city after all. He uncoiled a thin rope from around his waist and tied a thick knot at the then, then tossed it over the wall. The knot caught in the wooden spikes that topped each log on the wall, and Aroen quickly scaled up and over to land on the other side. A simple flick of the rope dislodged it and he re-coiled it around his waist, making off to the stable.

In an earlier plan of the heist he had thought of breaking into the manor its self and taking some of the baubles that lords seemed to like laying around in plain sight to collect dust but in the end decided that the horse would be sufficient. Besides, all the extra weight would slow him down, and he wanted to be gone fast. As he made his way, he looked regretfully into one of the windows. It was to the dining room, he realized, and with a scoff at the extravagance of the rich he continued on his way. Why waste silver on making something to hold a candle, a wax stub always did just fine for him!

He inched open the side door to the stable and began peeking over the stall doors to examine each of the horses. Immediately he noticed that something was wrong, and then a moment later he realized what it was. A lantern hung on a peg down the way, its shutters fully open and the oil inside burning. The stable was full of dry hay, so a lantern like that would not be unattended. The thief pressed himself against the wall and held his breath, listening to the sounds inside the stable. He could hear the heavy breathing of the horses, some of them pawing at the ground and a few nickering softly.

Finally he heard it, the sound of a servant tending to the horses and giving them feed. She was late tonight; usually this would have been done an hour ago. And indeed it was a she, Aroden realized, as she started singing softly to the horses and they chomped on the grain she held out form a bucket. Aroden cursed silently and listened to see which way she was moving. She was moving in his direction, but would stop at every stall to feed each horse. If he waited, she would come upon him eventually and even though he was good at hiding, he could not turn invisible.

He fingered the small club at his waist. He had to get a solid hit for it to knock her unconscious, and he hadn't met many people willing to stand still enough for him to do that once they discovered he was around. His fingers brushed against the dagger that sat next to the club and his lips grew thin in anger. He refused to stab an unarmed woman, but if he were desperate enough...A saying about a badger backed into a corner filtered through his mind and he smiled. She grew closer, time was almost up.

He could see her now, dirty blond hair hung to her waist in a thick braid. She had nice hips, he noted with an appraising glance, and even snuck a peek at her ankles as she held her skirt up to keep it from trailing through the mud. It was now or never, he realized, and with one fluid motion he snatched the handle for his blackjack and stood to swing. He startled the horses as he did so, but the servant didn't register it before his blow fell upon the top of her head. Her knees buckled uselessly underneath her and as she crumpled to fall, Aroden caught her and held her limply. It was bad enough that he gave her a nice knot on the head, he didn't have to let her get covered in manure and mud too.

Softly, he laid her unconscious body onto a pile of hay, leaning over her and placing his ear to her lips to make sure she was still breathing. She seemed fine, though her head would ache like she was getting split in half the next morning.

Moving with speed now he quickly took a nice looking saddle from the adjacent tack room and began saddling a bay mare with white socks on her tow front forelegs. She had strong flanks, he thought as he ran a soothing hand down her side, and even better her coloring was not too abnormal, so if the description got out he would not be tracked down too soon. Certainly not fast enough to catch him before someone else had the fine animal.

He opened the main door to the stable and led the horse out, and then as a second thought went back in and blew the hanging lantern out. No sense in leaving that to chance. He certainly wouldn't be able to steal more if the whole place burned down to cinders.

He had chosen this manor for a reason, it had a second gate. This one was smaller, and he was sure it only existed for the lord t use as a personal gate for when he went on rides. It was right outside the stable, and very well disguised to be part of the wooden wall. Aroden knew better though, he had seen it in use multiple times. Enough times he hoped that he could open it and close it without anyone knowing he had done so. It turns out that there was an intricate locking mechanism on the gate, and after a few moments he had tapped the tumblers into place and cracked open the lock. He ran his shoulder into the gate and in crept open into the unguarded darkness. He closed the gate just as easily, but the lock wouldn’t work from his side so he left it as it was. Soon as he was clear enough, he kicked the horse into a steady pace and flew across the plains.

(Aroden’s pace is likely faster than Leah’s, especially now that she’s traveling with wounded. Seeing as he left a whole day after her it won’t be much longer that he’d probably catch up to her on the road.)
Nínimelle
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 24, 2011 05:04
Arafi let go of his necklace, a reddish color rising to his tanned cheeks. He gave Nawja a soft pet, stroking her white mane. 'No dirweg, Nawja. Avo drasto.' He whispered in elvish. He looked up at Leah, giving her a broad smile. 'She's a bit shocked of what happened.' He explained.

His eyes watered slightly as his thoughts were filled with visions of his brothers. He closed his eyes for a while, trying not to let the tears fall. With shaking hands, he took of his necklace. He stared at it, just for a while.

'My brother Roth gave it to me, once. He said that even in dark places, there could be hope. Just one, small bit of hope. In the shape of a white star. And he found a pure white stone. It resembles a star, he told me. Give it to the one you want to have it.' Arafi inhaled. 'I want to give it to you.'

He held out the necklace so Leah could take it. He noticed something was troubeling her. 'Leah, if there is something burdening you you can tell me. I will listen, perhaps I can even help.'

[Edited on 24/5/2011 by Nínimelle]
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 25, 2011 06:41
A glass bottle crashed over her head into the wooden wall behind her, shattering into numerous shards. Next a chair flew at the woman, falling to the ground with a thud. She ducked and weaved as other implements came her way, including a thick, serrated knife. Cursing and shouting filled the air in the dimly-lit tavern as bodies melded together and separated in an awkward dance. Fists flew rampant as well as kicks, and it was little the woman could do to avoid it all. What had begun as a simple dispute over misplaced bets on cards had quickly dissolved into a tavern-wide brawl. The woman maneuvered her way through the melee and pressed herself against the wall. Looking for another exit (considering a man was emptying his insides at the front), she looked wildly around. Sighting a door that led to the kitchens, she threw herself back into the fray, blackening one lad's eye and throwing another punch or two at a large lout with a barrel belly and rancid breath. She pushed open the door, rushed through the kitchen, startled the kitchen staff, and entered a back alley.

Llweryn took a momentary breather. She leaned against the grimy tavern wall and sighed heavily, inhaling the pungent smell of offal, animal and human waste, sewage, rotting food, and other miscellaneous, indescribable scents. She nearly gagged and swallowed the bile that gathered into her mouth. It didn't help that the air was muggy and promised massive storms. Ominous dark steel-colored thunderheads loomed overhead, threatening to release the heavens at a given moment. Llweryn knew, however, that she had to leave the small hamlet she'd frequented for the past fortnight. People were beginning to become suspicious of the strange vagabond that had entered their sleepy little village.

Appearance-wise, there was nothing unusual about Llweryn. She was of a medium height and build, bearing the countenance of one from Rohan. She had brown hair and eyes of a hazel hue. Her waist was narrow, but her arms, chest, and legs were muscular from a life mostly spent outdoors and in the saddle. Her olive skin tone tanned easily. But there was a certain wariness about her that reminded one of a wild horse. Her eyes and stony face spoke of hard times and deep pain. Indeed, Llweryn smiled little. Most would consider her fair, but at the present moment, she appeared unkempt and haggard.

Leyn, as she was most often known, had fallen on a low point in her life. All her life she had been a wanderer, a vagabond, whose family had originated near the Snowbourn in Rohan but chose the roving life. Stability had never been a strong force in the young woman's life and so for it she continued to search. Ambitious members of the Horse-lords had slain her family, consisting of her mother Mynethe, her father Éodath, and her brother Adarin, and the rest of her band when they were mistaken for a group of thieves and rustlers that had pillaged small villages and hamlets in Rohan. Leyn had never recovered from the wounds, and completely alone but for her mount, she had taken to wandering. She sought something, some invisible purpose of her life, but it had yet to make itself apparent to her. As such, she had recently taken to drinking heavily and keeping company with social outcasts and pariahs. Tonight was such a night. Still reeling with alcohol, Leyn sought out her horse, a massive black stallion named Verelin.

She stumbled out onto the streets of Hadlech, a tiny hamlet in Lebennin in the shadows of the Ered Nimrais. Leyn vaguely remembered she had tethered Verelin outside the tavern she had frequented, and there he still stood. Sensing his mistress' vulnerability and impairment, he strained at his reins, whickering nervously. Sloppily, Leyn untied her horse and climbed on his back. "Let's leave here," she slurred, struggling to keep a tight hold on the reins and cantle of her saddle. Verelin tossed his head anxiously and trotted off into the night.

Five miles northeast outside of Hadlech, Leyn still miraculously seated on Verelin's back, she halted her horse. Thunder rumbled and lightning streaked through the heavens, and now that she had left the smoky, dim, unappealing atmosphere, the woman could think more clearly. She needed to find shelter, but before she could even think of building a temporary shelter, the heavens opened. Rain pounded the ground, soaking Leyn to the bone within seconds. Cursing mightily, she led Verelin under a thick, spreading oak and desperately sought some form of dryness. Fortunately, a few thick roots had shot through the ground, forming a small shelter of sorts. After untacking the black stallion Leyn crawled beneath the roots, pushing aside dry leaves and sticks to lay flat on the dusty ground. She used Verelin's saddle blanket for her own and shouted at the sky for the rain to cease soon. But it continued to rain all night long, saturating the ground. And it was beneath the oak that Verelin and Leyn passed the night, sleeping little but having a less wet place to remain than out in the open.

The next morning broke sunny and warm, promising a fair day. Leyn awoke with a terrible, all-consuming headache. Having drunk half her weight in musty ale and mead the night before, it was little wonder Leyn could move at all. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, the maiden could consume much alcohol without fear of physical reprisals, but it was obvious she had pushed her limits too much the night before. She was still soaked, but at least she had managed to sleep some. Verelin was already grazing nearby on the luscious green grass that surrounded them. Something struck Leyn at that very moment. The time had come to change. It was time for her to find a purpose. Whether it be to find a man and marry, to learn a trade, something, it was time for Leyn to give up the wandering life, she decided.

She couldn't figure out why she had reached rock bottom in the first place. Leyn mostly reckoned it was loneliness. She did not dislike people, but she preferred no company save that of Verelin. But the life of a wanderer had taken its toll on her. Perhaps, she thought, Minas Tirith might provide a myriad of opportunities for a maiden of her skills. She was a talented tracker, hunter, and navigator, having gained experience from years spent in the wilderness. Leyn could hold her own in a fight and could provide an escort. She had a thirst for knowledge and a memory for stories. Surely Minas Tirith held something of value for her. Her mind made up and knowing that she was but a two days' journey from the White City, Leyn broke her fast then proceeded onwards around midmorn, bound further northeast to Minas Tirith to find a purpose and even perhaps herself.

[Edited on 5/26/2011 by Dinenlasse]

[Edited on 5/26/2011 by Dinenlasse]
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 26, 2011 09:07
Wispy clouds began to stream across the open sky as the company of three rode onwards; Leah listened intently as Arafi spoke. She stayed silent for a moment with a small kindhearted smile as he told her of his brother Roth and the white stone which hung around his neck.

“To me?” She abandoned her staring contest with the ground and looked up at him with wide eyes. Startled by his offer Leah gazed at Arafi and was speechless for a long while. She opened her mouth a few times but nothing came out. Finding her voice again, “I couldn’t,” she said earnestly, gazing upon him with compassionate eyes, “It is yours, from your brother that stone is special to you is it not? It is like a little piece your brother that you can always keep close, I could not take that away from you, not ever,” she told him sweetly still a tad bewildered by his offer, she was simultaneously filled with gratitude, surprise and flattery. It was astounding how generous others could be she thought to herself, especially Arafi, this ellon she had barely known. Were all elves this way, she wondered. In truth she had never properly met an elf before, her father had made sure of that. He never spoke ill of them, in fact he could only praise them, but he had sheltered her within the confines of Rohan.

“It is nothing,” Leah shook her head; she was not one to burden others with her troubles. She had very little in the way of troubles and did not see reason to burden others with more than they already had which usually was quite a bit more than she herself carried. Leah had always been the listener, the comforter, never the comforted. Certainly she was open with her father, but she had been taught to be reserved, proper and polite. Any misgivings or problems you had you kept to yourself. Her father had taught her as such. Polite society did not inflict their burdens on others. He was a simple horse breeder but had always wanted more for his daughter and she blindly followed any advice given to her.

“I am to marry in Minas Tirith,” she told Arafi with a bright and pleasant smile as if this were something to rejoice in, though behind the merriment in her eyes lay a shadow of uncertainty. “Prey tell what be the reason you are journeying to Minas Tirith Lo- Arafi?” she inquired easily turning the conversation back to him, nearly calling him Lord again out of habit. A light breeze wove through the trees sending a sweet aroma along the air as they road. It was gradually growing darker as the sun bowed its head above the mountains in the distance. Large thunderclouds seemed to be gathering slowly overhead, clumping together like giant bears embracing one another.

It was then that Felaléof slowed his horse and craned his head so that he could meet Leah’s gaze, “It will be dark soon, we should find a place to set up camp shortly,” he said in a gruff voice. Leah nodded entrusting Felaléof with finding a good place to stop for the night.
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 26, 2011 09:52
Aroden had ridden the horse hard his first few days, and he had to eventually slow or kill the beast he had risked his neck for. After re-supplying with good feed and making sure all the horseshoes were intact and still holding strong, he moved out, though at a more sustainable pace. He always forgot how strong of heart and body horses from Rohan were, and this one in particular could fly when she wanted. Coupled with the fact that the thief was not her normal rider, she often bucked and fought against him. He would have called her free spirited or maybe even temperamental, but he had long grown too frustrated with the mount that he resorted to more crude names.

"Move, you flea ridden sack of -" the curse was sharply cut off as the horse decided to listen to him and bolt into a fast gallop. Aroden, who was no novice to horseback riding but no expert either, struggled to hold on. This was not the first occurrence that this had happened. What infuriated him was that he was positive the horse was fully broken and taught very well how to handle a rider, she was just being stubborn. If he were willing to concede that she were a more intelligent creature, he would say that she knew that he had stolen her.

He had decided on a name for her on the fourth day after stealing her; Rose. He smiled wryly at the name, because he chose it not because it was a pretty flower and the horse was far from an ugly beast, but because the cursed things were covered with thorns. Aroden was beginning to think that the profit wasn't worth the trouble. "You know horse is a fine source of meat out in the wild." He said angrily to the mount after she slowed to a more comfortable pace, though still making good time. Rose whinnied in response and threw her head. He had seen women throw their heads before in much the same fashion; he would bet all his earnings that they did it for the same reasons.

Night began to roll in and on its heels a large storm front. The dark clouds rolled over each other as if fighting each other to be first to get to him. White-blue fingers of lightning would scratch across the clouds and pierce down into the earth every so often, and it lowered his spirits even more. There was little in the way of shelter, so he rode on, the horse for once agreeing that they should try to find a place out of the storm. He ended up finding a small cluster of wide bough trees to huddle under. He dismounted and took all the gear from the horse to wipe her down, and then hobbled her feet and placed a feed bag on her so that she could eat during the rest without running away from him.

The night held little in the form of comfort as he huddled under the trees, with thunder peeling every few minutes and rain sleeting down outside. he pitied the fool who was caught out in that. Morning brought stiffness and a hungry belly, having only a few rations left. He would need to hunt soon, hoping that he could find a few rabbit holes he could set snares around. Rose was just as cooperative as the day before, and after he saddled her and mounted he was off to his intermittently fast then paced journey. He ate some of the dried cheese and a heel of a bread loaf he had while in the saddle. Rose started to act up again as he ate, making him nip the end of his tongue. He sighed as he pulled fingers away with a blot of blood. This would be a long ride.
Nínimelle
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: May 27, 2011 04:54
Arafi shook his head lightly, trying to ignore the growing headache. 'You should take it,' He insisted. 'I promised my brother to give this to someone I cared about. And I will hold my word. Leah, we may not know each other well but you helped me. You took me with you even if you didn't know me. And I care for you, so you may take it. It would do me well and I'm sure my brother would be very happy. Please, take it.'

Arafi stared at her as she told of her reason to head for Minas Tirith. He felt his heart sink, somehow. He didn't know why. Everytime he looked at Leah, his heart warmed up. But to know she was going to marry, he wished he could stop it. But why? He liked her, but more? He had never thought of love. He had never wanted to. But know, as he looked at Leah, he knew. He was in love.

'I had to go to Minas Tirith with news from Rohan, but I guess I failed on that point. I also was to help the king and others. I hope my friends have reached Edoras by now. I told them to go and stayed myself. I'm glad for that. At least they're unharmed.' Arafi sighed and stopped his horse as they started to search for a resting place.

He dismounted and wanted to curse his legs, for they felt weak. He stumbled and closed his eyes for a while. 'Leah, I think I'm going to faint.' His voice grew weak and soft.
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: June 03, 2011 10:47
The next morning, Díore and Hasulfen appraised their supplies one last time before they began their journey to Minas Tirith. It was not a long journey, comprising five days at the most, three if they spurred their horses into the ground. Each of them carried a haversack of hardtack, cheese, dried fruit, three flasks of water, a spare change of clothing, blankets, medical supplies, plenty of rope, and other survival essentials. Hasulfen also carried a tent coated with resin to ward off the rain. It had stormed heavily the night before, and the Rohirric captain was not taking any chances. "Now, there's enough in there to last you four days plus whatever you find along the way," Awyndel said assuredly, taking charge like the mother hen she was. She faced her husband and daughter and continued to speak matter-of-factly. "I'm not expecting you back anytime soon, knowing the nature of things. Those blasted Corsairs have no business at the Mouths of the Anduin, and I've a feeling the problem might be worse than what I imagine. Only today word spread through the market that the brown-skinned louts are planning an excursion to Pelargir."

Hasulfen and Díore exchanged knowing glances. Awyndel, for as much as of a housewife she was, also had a fiery and determined spirit. She was knowledgeable in the ways of enemies, especially since her native land of Belfalas also fell under the predatory ambitions of the Corsairs from time to time. Awyndel's own father had oft fought them under the banner of the Princes of Dol Amroth. Awyndel brooked no nonsense from anyone, least of all her family. But beneath her tough exterior was a woman with a heart of gold and a strong sense of loyalty to both her native and adopted homes. Awyndel heaved a sigh and wrung her hands. "I'd assume Eldarion will be summoning a council of defense shortly as it is. Inland raiders have struck out from Osgiliath and threaten traders along the Anduin. It hasn't been enough to hinder trade, but such a threat needs to be nipped in the bud." Her demeanor turned almost ferocious at the thought.

"Why go to Minas Tirith when the market tells your lovely mother the goings-on of our southern cousin as it is?" Hasulfen stated almost matter-of-factly to Díore with a grin. He cowered slightly as Awyndel threw a dirty rag at him she had used to wipe dishes dry.

Awyndel glared at him but then softened. "Just be careful," she returned, her concerned motherly side now showing. "There's no telling what vagabonds are out there and what they'll attempt, especially on one as pretty as you, Díore."

Díore nodded in agreement at the wisdom of her mother's words. "Aye, but they'll taste steel and blood before much else," she returned, placing her hand on the sword attached to her hip. Awyndel smiled, proud of the fact her daughter was turning into a proper warrior.

The family shared a tender moment before Hasulfen cleared his throat and noted, "We might miss the sunrise ere too long if we aren't on our way, dear." Already the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, shooting the ebony sky with radiant reds, golds, pinks, and oranges. "I figure we can make Minas Tirith in four days, weather and horses permitting. Though I'd like to see us there in three if at all possible. Prince Alphros has already taken up residence in the city, and it won't be long before Lord Elboron returns along with those of Lossarnach, Lamedon, Lebennin, Anórien, Anfalas, and elsewhere. Necessity drives our pace." He leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek, and she placed a hand on his cheek. Awyndel then turned to Díore, crushed her in a hug, and sent the pair out the door. Durithil and Hasulfen's destrier Iaur were tethered outside, tossing their heads anxiously in anticipation. Díore placed her left foot in the thick stirrup, heaved herself onto Durithil's broad back, and settled her weight evenly in the saddle seat. Hasulfen quickly followed suit. Both gave one last wave to Awyndel before turning their horses' heads eastwards and kicking them into a gallop.

The pair continued in a southeasterly direction at a rapid pace, their horses beating a steady drumming on the dirt road. Their blistering ride that first day allowed them to cover an extensive amount of ground. It was around three hundred miles to Minas Tirith, around 60 to their first stop in the old city of Aldburg. The town's chief was a Marshal of the East-march and a descendant of Elfhelm, to whom the late king Éomer gave the chieftainship after the War ended. Deorwine and Hasulfen were on good terms, and Hasulfen hoped Deorwine would provide accommodations for the night. They rode into the town just before midnight. The gatekeeper allowed them through, and immediately a messenger was sent to Deorwine. Graciously he allowed Díore and Hasulfen to spend the night in his residence, and Durithil and Iaur were stabled for the night, exhausted by the day's journey.

The next day, they set out again at a more consistent rather than tiring pace to give the horses a chance to conserve their energy. A mile to their left was the River Entwash and to their right were the Ered Nimrais. Had they not been in a hurry, the ride would have been pleasant. But as such, they needed to cover as much ground as possible. The sky above them was a clear azure with barely a wisp of cloud, nothing like the rain that had pummeled Edoras two nights past. Díore leaned back as the horses slowed to a walk to catch her breath. It was around midday, and they had already covered about twenty miles. Fortunately, Díore and Durithil were accustomed to a hard ride, and Hasulfen and Iaur were old campaigners; those two had dealt with much longer distances in harsher weather. While some horses of Rohan were built for speed and agility, Durithil and Iaur had strength and endurance in copious amounts. Speaking of copious amounts, the pair led their horses to one of the Entwash's small tributaries, and the horses gulped water, glad for a reprieve. Equally glad were Hasulfen and Díore who spread out in the sun for a half hour, drinking from their flasks and grabbing a quick bite of victuals from their stores.

Soon enough, refreshed and in better spirits, the horses picked up their blistering pace again and tore down the road, kicking up plumes of dust in their wake. Onward they galloped, mile after mile, until they crested a large hill overlooking the Great West Road. Hasulfen surveyed the river, the mountains, and the plains that lay between them. Hardly any traffic traversed this stretch of road. The tawny grass swayed in the wind as it flew across the region, creating a ripple effect. Satisfied with their progress, Hasulfen urged them on. Iaur and Durithil went slowly down the hill, and once they reached flat ground, their strides lengthened and quickened as they raced headlong down the road, their riders bowed low over their saddle pommels. Father and daughter pitched camp again that night, and they set out the next morning, determined to travel even farther. The black and chestnut seemed ready to depart again; surely the horses of Rohan were fashioned out of the wind, Díore mused, as Durithil and Iaur took to flying on the third day.

Hasulfen and Díore encountered no one for the first leg of the fourth day. But as the sun reached its zenith, a slow-moving party appeared as small dots on the horizon. The group of three shifted to the right of the road to allow the riders to pass, but Díore saw a wounded amongst their number which she mentioned to her father. The horses slackened their pace and eased into a walk. With a shock, Díore realized a visibly paled elleth halfway falling onto the ground in a faint. In a moment, she vaulted off Durithil and caught the male elleth. "Hail friends," Hasulfen greeted the man and a young woman with a slight bow of his head. "Where are you bound?"

"Can we aid your wounded? What happened?" Díore chipped in, surprised at the lightness of this strange man.

*~*~*~*~*
"Will you stop that?" Leyn remarked to Verelin as she attempted to pick his hooves. He had managed to pick up a stone between the frog and wall on the underside of foremost hoof on his near side, but the stallion stubbornly refused to allow his mistress near him. He hobbled off and pinned his ears back. They had been at this for around an hour now, and Leyn had made no progress. She stood back and considered her horse, hands akimbo. Arching an eyebrow, Leyn addressed Verelin, "Fine, have it your way, Verelin. If you want me to leave you, I shall. You never were anything better than a mangy pile of horsehair anyways." She shrugged indifferently and turned away, leaving Verelin behind. The ebony stallion whickered after her, but Leyn ignored him, persisting in her efforts to make it to the White City. Verelin neighed imploringly again, taking a step or two towards Leyn. Her head swung around, and a wry smile lifted the corner of Leyn's mouth. "Well?" she asked, holding her ground. Verelin limped on three legs to his mistress and suffered his hoof to Leyn's control. Taking a metal pick, she dug out the stone and dropped it to the ground.

Leyn glanced at the sky. The shadows were lengthening, and they had already wasted enough time. Tossing the pick back into her haversack, Leyn remounted Verelin, and without any urging, he took off. The effects of her night of revelry had finally worn off after two days, and it was with a clear mind that Leyn ventured to Minas Tirith. The flatlands in the foothills of the Ered Nimrais soon gave way to greener fields and forested cover as horse and rider reached the River Erui. The road soon reached a crossroads, and a stout little man slumped against the road marker, snoring, head on his chest and spittle dripping out of his mouth. Dismounting her horse, Leyn approached the man warily. "Excuse me, sir, could you tell me which road to take to the ford?" The man snuffled in his sleep and kept snoring. "Sir?" she asked in a louder voice. Still no response. Angrily, Leyn picked up a small stone and lobbed it at the man, striking him on the forehead.

He awoke with a start. Eyes blinking rapidly, he cursed profusely. "Blimey, why'd ye go an do 'at to me? I wuzzint 'urting anyone 'ere," he protested indignantly, scrambling to his feet. "Wut do ye want?" He wiped his arm unceremoniously against his running nose. The man struck a very comical figure with a darned and stained tan tunic, dark brown breeches, and strangely, enough, bright red boots.

Feigning courtesy, she bowed, "Where is the nearest ford?"

Still reeling from the stone blow and still intoxicated, the man hiccupped. "'At way," he responded, pointing to the northern road.

Leyn was about to thank him and be on her way when she paused, deciding to take the plunge. "Where in the world did you obtain those boots? They're…unique."

The man smiled widely, revealing yellowed and cracked teeth. "I made 'em meself, I did. Would ye like a pair? I'd make ye 'un for a mere two pieces of silver."

Leyn declined the offer while stifling a laugh with her hand. "Sir, your talents would be wasted on a vagrant like me."

He blinked even more rapidly if such a thing was possible and stared at her as if for the first time. "Ye're a pretty thing, aren't ye? Ye should come and keep me company. I'll tek ye home, and I'll mek ye all the shoes ye could want!" His lascivious glance raked her up and down.

She did not even deign to give him a response. A minute later, Verelin and Leyn left the man behind, him protesting and hurling curses behind her. Once they were out of earshot, a wave of laughter overtook her, for the first time in months. Mood uplifted, they forded the Erui and continued until Minas Tirith loomed in the distance.

*~*~*~*~*

Dressed in a cream petticoat with an overgown of navy blue, an astonishing gem of glimmering brilliance around her neck, Rhîwenil met her father, and together they walked through the lower level of the White Tower where Alphros, the Prince of Dol Amroth, resided. It was to be the three of them at dinner that night. Rhîwenil wondered why they had been summoned. Yes, they were akin to Alphros, but she suspected an underlying reason. The page sent to fetch them announced their arrival in Alphros' spacious presence chamber and bowed them in. Used to such finery by now, Rhîwenil could not help but gasp at the sheer magnitude of the Prince's lodgings. He had at least three rooms to himself, not including a privy. His retinue had their own quarters. All had numerous tapestries, woven rugs, elaborately carved furniture, large fireplaces and windows. Her cousin stood from writing a letter and welcomed them graciously. "Greetings, friends! It has been quite a span of time since we've last crossed paths," he smiled.

"The Yuletide before last, my lord," Hingel returned, bowing his head in deference to Alphros. Alphros was a handsome man with the dark hair and sea-grey eyes of his people. He was well-formed, broad-shouldered, and barrel-chested, of about a score and twelve years of age, not much older than Rhîwenil who had a score and one years under her belt.

Rhîwenil dipped a curtsy and was enveloped by Alphros in a bear-hug. "Cousin!" he cried, planting a kiss on her brow. "Please tell me that is not you! Why, I knew beautiful women came from Dol Amroth, but truly the elven beauty runs in your veins! The sea does wonders for us all, I firmly believe."

The maiden stepped back, attempting to smooth out the creases in her gown. "Little formalities with you still, my lord, is it not?" she retorted, laughing. "In that case, I cannot see why you'd think that when your nose was always plastered in front of a mirror. 'Tis heartening to see you recognize fairness beyond your own!" A passing servant glared at Rhîwenil for the breach of protocol, but Alphros shooed him away.

Alphros waved a hand dismissively. "Enough with the 'my lord' business, Hingel, Rhen. You're family after all! But please, sit." He gestured emphatically at a table laden with all kinds of foods imaginable. All kinds of seafood from prawns to mackerel and meats from venison to mutton graced the table. Between those were tankards of gravy, trays of vegetables, breads, cheeses, almost anything to satisfy the palate. Rhîwenil was the first to be waited upon. Dipping her hands in clean water, she accepted everything placed on her plate.

As they ate, Hingel inquired of Alphros, "What brings you here to Minas Tirith? I've heard King Eldarion summoned all the lords for a council of defense…"

Alphros bowed his head, sawing at a piece of mutton with a fork and knife. "Aye, you've heard rightly. Cousin, the coasts are in dire need of aid…"

(Sorry for the novel-length. If you made it to the end, congratulations!! )

[Edited on 6/3/2011 by Dinenlasse]
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
Lilypad
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: June 04, 2011 07:01
((ooc: Do I win a prize?! Hehe. Well I do apologise for my novel-length post as well, but Leah couldn’t very well leave Arafi to faint now could she. Also I tried my very best to write only what Leah did for or to Arafi but if I accidentally wrote any action for Arafi or Díore or if there is anything you would like me to change I would not mind at all. And yes you get virtual cookies if you finish reading this post.;p))

It was then that Leah smiled as she gazed at Arafi, her expression caring and understanding with a hint of something she herself could not quite fathom. “Arafi you are clearly injured and in the head no doubt, when you are properly healed and if you still feel so inclined you may ask me again and I will gladly wear your necklace,” she told him sweetly with a cheerful smile, and glanced worriedly at his bandage, she would change it when they stopped to rest. The day had been long but the weather kinder than the two days previous. The sun graced the earth with a warm glow as a light breeze swept across the tall tawny grasses the rustling song they made was a very familiar one to Leah.

“Do not worry Arafi I am sure that your friends are nearer to Minas Tirith by now, and you have not failed, you have simply not yet reached your destination,” she corrected him gently. Again Leah smiled; it was a small smile this time as she thought of the reason for her journey to Minas Tirith. “What news do you have from Rohan?” she asked Arafi curiously in an almost timid manner as her thoughts returned to her resolve. She would marry in Minas Tirith. He would no doubt be handsome enough. Perhaps he would be a scholar, or a painter, or a carpenter she mused. The promise that she might marry a knowledgeable man sparked a sense of anticipation from within, it made her heart swell with eagerness. She hoped that he was a kind man. As thoughts of her betrothed washed over her and the sun began to dip Felaléof announced somewhat regrettably that he had found a suitable spot for them to rest. He seemed resistant to stop knowing they could continue for a few more miles before darkness overtook them had they not acquired an injured elleth along the way.

Leah dismounted her horse gracefully. It was second nature to her now. Horses were the only thing she knew really, other than cooking and sewing of course. Leah had limited skills, something that mildly concerned her when wedding perhaps a more knowledgeable man from Minas Tirith. She wondered whether her betrothed would expect anything more of her. Would he require that she be an elegant musician, or an artist? Leah could sing. It was not uncommon for her to sing to the horses while she worked, but she was not gifted as some maidens of Rohan. She enjoyed painting but her artwork was drab compared to the other women in her small village. This bothered her somewhat.

These thoughts were quickly abandoned however as Arafi stumbled forward. It was then that she noticed two riders moving swiftly towards them. Leah caught Arafi by the arm to aid in steadying him as one of the riders seeing his state leapt from her horse and did the same. “Thank you,” Leah nodded to the young woman in gratitude for her help. Leah was quite a bit smaller than him and though she was not very strong (unless bailing hay or working with horses) she was the perfect height to be his resting post. Acting as a crutch she slipped one hand around Arafi’s waist and pulled his arm over her shoulders.

Leah allowed Felaléof to start the introductions. For all his blustering and paranoia he was a man who liked the pleasantries of meeting new people, especially those with horses that were recognisably from Rohan.

“My name is Felaléof, and this is Leah and Arafi,” he said shaking the other man’s hand. Felaléof was a big man and broad-shouldered, with honey blonde hair and a scraggly beard, it was very hard to mistaken him for anything other than a man of Rohan. “He was attacked by wolves,” Felaléof said glancing back at the elleth his eyes narrowed, either he remained annoyed that this wounded elleth had slowed their journey considerably or he still felt him untrustworthy. Felaléof did not like the way Arafi looked at his ward. Leah shot him a furtive glance but he paid no mind to her.

“I am Leah, and this fine gentleman is Arafi,” she bowed her head politely, “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she introduced herself and Arafi to the young woman opposite her with a generous smile, the less Arafi spoke the better she thought due to his state.

“We are bound for Minas Tirith,” she said, her voice soft and almost shy as she looked to the man in their company of two. Returning her attention to the young woman she said thankfully, “Yes, please,” and then added, “Would you mind holding him here for a moment?” she asked.

Hazy blues and violets began to split the sky as the sun dipped lower, fiery reds and oranges began to engulf the sun. Making quite certain that Arafi was not going to fall over at any given moment in the hands of Díore she left his side and removed the furs and wool blankets they would use as bedding.

“We were going to stop for the night and make supper would you care to join us?” Leah offered as she began to unravel the blankets, making something soft for Arafi to lie on while she tended to his wound.

Felaléof seemed almost reluctant but with a smile exclaimed, “I have a fine bottle of mead from Rohan and no one to drink it with,” he offered with a chuckle as he began to set up camp and start a fire.

“There we are,” she said rushing to Arafi’s side, thanking Díore once more and helping him to gingerly lie down upon the blanket. She covered Arafi with the warmer of the furs. “You have lost a lot of blood and are in dire need of sustenance. I shall make us some supper,” she told him her voice was soothing and her eyes kind as she smiled down at him and adding in an almost conspiratorial tone looking to both Arafi and Díore then, “If I don’t soon Felaléof will get ever so cross,” she gave a small giggle and made certain that he was comfortable before getting to work on a stew and some nice sautéed tomatoes. She had even brought along a small box of herbs and spices from Rohan to make it feel a bit more like home. Leah unfolded the cloth in which was placed her ration of the loaf of bread and cheese they carried and returned to Arafi and Díore along with her healing supplies and water skin.

“You should nibble on this and drink while we wait. It will give me ample time to rewrap that head of yours,” she told Arafi, giving the two of them the cheese and bread, as Felaléof shared his own with Hasulfen.

“Would you mind assisting me?” she asked of Díore as Leah daintily placed her hands under Arafi’s shoulders and helped to lift him into a seated position. She had rolled up one of the wool blankets against the tree trunk so that Arafi’s body could lean against it easily without the strain of staying upright if he so wished. She noticed Felaléof’s wary eyes wander over to the three of them as he took over the job of stirring the stew and pushed the tomatoes around. He was however more interesting in supper as he inhaled its savory aroma, and trading tales of old with Hasulfen.

As she knelt beside him Leah carefully unwove his bandage and proceeded to clean the wound on his forehead again, “It is not infected that is a relief,” she smiled at him and Díore shyly while she worked not quite trusting her own abilities as a healer. Her delicate fingers gently applying another salve of healing herbs, “This one I invented myself,” she said, “It will ease the pain as well as quicken the healing process.” Looking to Díore then she asked, “Pray tell m’lady what business brings you to Minas Tirith?” She spoke easily as she worked, and tenderly pressed a few leaves of a healing herb from Rohan against the wound and wrapped his head once more with a clean bandage. “It is not too tight is it?” she asked him hopefully, “I made sure to loosen it a bit more than last time, I am afraid that before I was merely trying to stop the bleeding. I do apologise if it was a bit too tightly wound,” she told him with a timid smile. Gazing down at him it was then that she realised how chatty she had become and how easily she could talk to Arafi and Díore. Leah was generally such a quiet person she did not know she was capable of such lengthy conversation. She hushed for a moment as she tidied up the supplies.

“Oh,” she started, nearly forgetting their food, “Please excuse me a moment,” she said carefully moving from beside him but made quite sure the rolled up blanket was nicely situated so that he did not come crashing to the ground should he still feel faint before she left his side.

“How are we doing?” she asked Felaléof and Hasulfen.

“Mighty fine my dear, mighty fine,” Felaléof said and she gave a small reserved smile. Felaléof did quite like his mead. After serving Felaléof and Hasulfen Leah returned once again with a small bowl of stew for both Díore and Arafi and a plate of tomatoes for them, her portion was significantly smaller but she did not mind. “I made some stew,” she said looking at them each reluctantly once more as she sat beside them, “It isn’t much but it’s hot,” she said with a shy smile.
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Nínimelle
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: June 04, 2011 10:12
Arafi quickly made his way and stood behind Leah. 'Hold still.' He put on the necklace and smiled a weak smile. 'Perfect. You look very elvish right now.' He rubbed his head a moment and tried to ignore the still growing headache.

'My lord has sent me with news for Rohan and Minas Tirith. He's searching a thief, if I remember well. Might be mistaken though, my head is a little foggy.' He gave Leah a foolish smile, feeling color rise to his cheeks.

As he stumbled, Leah started to support him. Two riders rode up to him and he noticed Leah was trying to be a cruch. He knew Felaléof was annoyed by his wounds and sighed. 'If I am a burden, than you may be better of leaving me alone.' He mumbled, looking only at Felaléof.

Arafi was laid down on the ground, but he barely noticed it. He felt numb and only his head hurt a lot. He coughed and moaned softly. He didn't feel what happened, nor did he hear or see. The pain had paralyzed him and was just too big. Tears started to fall. Until he was given a stew. Arafi could finally feel, see and hear again.

Arafi looked up at Leah and gave her a weak smile. 'Thank... you,' He whispered weakly, starting to eat the stew. His body warmed up and he had finished soon. 'That was.... delicious.' He complimented, coughing weakly. 'Leah..., I have to warn you. I suffer very much from nightmares and I surely don't want to wake any of you. So I think you should sleep somewhere else.'
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: June 04, 2011 11:30
The pre-dawn gray stretched across the horizon and slowly faded through the oranges and reds of a new day. Aroden groaned under his tree, his back was stiff from a root that had worked its way into his side during his sleep. Standing to stretch his legs, the thief knuckled his back, hoping to work the knot out. It didn't seem to work very well, and with a sigh of aggravation he took a swig of water from his water skin to wash his mouth out from last night’s sleep then scrubbed his teeth with a small rag.

Rose was still where he left her, he realized with some relief. Even though he had hobbled her, he had fears that the fiery mare would have still found a way to escape while he slept. He ran his fingers through her mane the scratched the beast between her eyes, eliciting a soft nicker. His lips slit into a sly half smile. While she was agreeable right now, he had small hopes for an hour later. He saddled his horse and climbed up to get an early start, pulling out a piece of bread and some cheese to eat while he rode.

Soon enough he was finished, and sometime after that Rose was finished with being agreeable. Between the sudden starts and change of paces though he did note that she was behaving more than she had the day before. That small flame of hope continued to burn inside that she would eventually accept him as a rider; it would make the journey so much easier. That and he would get much more for her if he could prove she wasn't a headstrong beast who won't listen to direction. The rest of the day was much of the same, and as night began to fall once more he was looking forward to just sitting still for a while. His body had a dull ache to it from the constant straining not to fall from the horse when she decided to suddenly leap into a gallop or stop from a dead run.

He started to slow the pace, and Rose began to be agreeable once more. She seemed to do just fine when they were meandering, and she was probably more tired than she would have been from so many changes in pace. Aroden began looking for places to rest when he spotted a few forms farther up the road. It was another group obviously, and they had already broken for camp. Almost immediately Aroden decided to ride past them and make camp further up the road. He had no intention on stopping to chat with a group of people when he had business to conduct.

As he rode past he quickly ran his eyes over them all, doing a quick inspection of them. A little extra work on the way could always prove valuable, if they were inexperienced to the road. The sight of a burly man with a sword on his hip and a stance that said he could use it changed his mind though. He had no intention of fighting that one. Still, the group was quite odd, and despite his reservation he found himself stopping, or Rose had decided not to walk any further for the moment. The smell of the cook fire made his belly ache; he had nothing but cheese and bread for the past few days. His eyes lingered on the fire longer than any of the people there.

The wounded one was tall and willowy; if he had been a fool, Aroden would have said the man was an elf. One of the women tending him is what really caught his attention, she seemed familiar somehow. He knew he had seen her likeness somewhere before. His mind tumbled through where she could have been from, and then he realized what he must have looked like. The one with the sword had stood and had a hand to the hilt of his blade, wary eyes peering at him up and down and then checking down the road to make sure Aroden was not just a distraction.

"My apologies," the thief said with a small bow in his saddle. He hated doing it, but he could bow and scrape when he needed to. "I was merely passing by and couldn't help but smell your cooking." He glanced at the woman again, trying vainly to put a face to location. "I shouldn't tarry here, if you'll excuse me." He took a reluctant glance at the food once more before heaving a small sigh and kicking Rose into a light trot.

"Wait, I know that horse!" he heard a woman shout, and his stomach seemed to freeze, he stopped and turned to see it was the one he recognized, but curse the world if he couldn't figure out from where. "I was a servant for the Lord Danethor back home, and I remember working with that horse." Suddenly her face fit into the puzzle perfectly, and Aroden remembered he had noted her as one of the servants at the manor. Streams of curses flowed through his mind as he stared at her, his stomach a piece of fiery ice in his gut. His face remained calm and smooth, revealing none of it. Thieves had to be able to bluff their way out of things more often than fight, you picked up the skill early if you wanted to live.

"I purchased her not three days ago from that very Lord." He said smoothly, working details into the lie in his mind as he explained it away. "I have heard wonders of the Rohirric horses and their resiliency; I had thought to test it with a long distance ride into Gondor." He turned Rose around and walked her back into the camp. His mind worked furiously to figure out what was the best plan of action.

His mind went back to earlier years, to a dark night that had been burned into his memory. The moon was just the sliver of a thumbnail and he was stalking the streets of a larger city, looking for easy pickings. Fortune must have smiled on him because a Lady had walked out from behind a corner, her man in toe. They were both young, no more than he was back then, and the swagger of the man’s step told of a false bravado, the blade on his hip nothing more than a show. The Lady wore a large necklace, the sapphire in the middle had to have been as big as two of his thumbs put together, and he wanted it desperately.

He had followed them for three different turns now, and it became increasingly aware to Aroden that the man was not only a liar about his swordsmanship skills, but he seemed to be drunk as well. Aroden rushed them both from the shadows, his dagger in hand. He quickly struck the man in the head with the hilt, dropping him to the ground. He didn't seem to be unconscious, but had enough troubles on his hands just trying to get back up. Aroden wasn't even sure he had realized they were being attacked yet. The thief brandished the thin blade at the woman, pointing at her delicate throat. "Give me the necklace; no one needs to be hurt." Her throat was thin and long, her head perched upon it with nose upturned like she had practiced the pose her whole life.

The man stumbled to his knees behind Aroden and he swiftly kicked out behind him, landing his heel into the inside of the man’s knee. There was a loud snap, and he tumbled to the ground with a wail. "I will not ask again." He said quietly, urgently as he neared. The guards would hear the commotion, he didn't have long. He lunged at the necklace with his empty hand, attempting to rip it from her neck but she struggled back with surprising strength and agility. The woman stopped struggling suddenly, and it was only then that he felt the warmth of her lifeblood flowing over his fist, the blade buried in her stomach at an upward angle, the blade had to have pierced something vital at that angle, he knew.

The body slipped back and thumped unceremoniously to the ground, blood that appeared black in the dark night oozing from the wound and running in dark beads over the blue silk dress. A thin rivulet ran from the corner of her mouth as well, the sharp contrast of black on pale white skin clear in the dead night. He felt hollow inside, like he had become an observer in his own body. He was muttering curses at her, though he was only half aware of what he was saying. It seemed almost a casual action as he ripped the necklace from her throat, a few of the gold links breaking and falling to the ground. He left them as he ran, shoving the gem into his coat. There was lots of running, he remembered, though he could not tell for how long.

He had been sick many times that night, always running. It felt as if he had ran all night, trying to get away from her body, the unseeing staring eyes that had pierced him as surely as his blade did her chest. It was weeks before he came out of hiding just to find someone to split the stone and sell the smaller pieces.

All this ran through Aroden's mind as he studied the woman, he dimly remembered her introducing everyone, her name was Leah. He couldn't remember if he had given his name, but he assumed he had when no one asked. That was his first kill, that night, and it wasn’t his last. It never got easier, but it was something that he had to do sometimes. He had to decide if he needed to clean up his mess again, he needed to know if she knew too much. "Minas Tirith? I was headed there as well, extra company couldn't hurt." He had said. He needed to keep an eye on her, to see if she knew too much. He hoped she didn't, that this simple servant was just that, a simple woman who wouldn't dig too deep, ask too many questions. He hated the killing, but he would do what he had to survive.

(I guess I could not let you two show me up with post length! )
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: June 07, 2011 07:33
This had not been the first time the passive young maiden of Rohan had acquiesced her own wishes for someone else’s, but never had the results of such an action made her heart flutter. Her skin tingled under Arafi’s touch as his fingers caressed her upper back whilst brushing her hair aside. Her locks of yellow wheat tumbled over her shoulder and she was distinctly aware of her deep, slow breath as he gently clasped the dainty chain around her neck. In that second her bluey-green eyes closed. Her eyes lifted as quickly as it had ended. She found herself facing the elleth once again and smiling, a small subtle smile, yet filled with layers of complexity.

She began to feel things one should not feel for another when one was to be married. She could not understand the aforementioned feelings that strummed at her heartstrings. “I am certain that I do not look as beautiful as to be compared to your kin,” she replied timidly with a shy smile escaping her lips as Arafi expressed his opinion that she resembled an elf. Her fingertips stroked the edges of the white stone as she held it between her fingers and gazed at it momentarily. She thought the stone remarkably beautiful, it seemed to catch the light and glow at the same time. It appeared to be a plain white stone but also magnificent somehow, almost opalescent in her eyes.

Arafi’s next words returned her attention to him immediately however, “Oh, I am sorry to hear of such news,” she said earnestly, Leah disliked hearing about such disreputable goings-on in the place she called home. She also thought it wrong a person should have to steal food and other necessities to survive, she pitied them and wished to help those less fortunate than herself.

“Do not be absurd,” she whispered to Arafi at his suggestion, “We are not leaving you anywhere,” she smiled assuredly at him and continued to aid as his crutch.

----x---x----

Once she had tended to Arafi’s wound and made supper for everyone she herself sat down and was about to tuck in when she heard Arafi speak. She smiled kindly at him, her gaze gentle. “You are quite welcome,” she answered his compliment politely as one should, she never did do very well with praise but had always decided upon being polite as the proper response, politeness was the best method of dealing with such things she reckoned.

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Leah tutted, “You are not moving an inch,” she said shaking her head at Arafi with a small smile. “I might have just the thing for you,” she told him setting down her untouched bowl of stew and rising once more to wash her hands again for it seemed the tenth time that evening. She was a very cleanly person. Healing and cooking really did not mix well together after all. She then fished into her pouch of healing supplies and dug around for a few items of importance. After a moment she produced a small blue glass bottle and opened the cork with an unsatisfied expression. There was not enough left you see, at least not more than was sufficient for one person. She thought as much and pulled out a few more pouches and small boxes of herbs. Glancing to Felaléof she judged that by the amount of mead he had consumed he would not be having any night terrors tonight. Felaléof had seen far too much of war and bloodshed, and like Leah’s childhood friend Dúnrǽd experienced nightmares which Leah had long since appeased with a sleeping draft she had accidentally come upon while trying to create a draft to ease inflammation. It had knocked her friend Dúnrǽd unconscious at the time. She had since perfected it to rid said person of night terrors.

Putting away the excess herbs once more she returned to Arafi’s side. “Here you are,” she held the bottle to his lips, “Drink this, it will help you sleep,” she assured him, “Felaléof suffers from the same affliction, but he has drank quite enough to save him from those particular disturbances tonight,” she explained, her eyes sympathetic, her heart ached at the idea that he might suffer from such an affliction because of what happened to his brother. It saddened her but not for long. As she worked she spoke with Díore, “Tell me about yourself Díore?” she began making polite conversation. As soon as she had finished administering the last drops of the elixir another horse galloping quickly down the road alerted her attention.

----x---x----

For a long while it seemed everyone stared at the man before them. It took a moment for Leah to place the horse, but there was no mistaking the bay mare she thought. She was a bit sweatier and had been given a harder ride than usual but she was still the same bay mare of her father’s.

As the man kicked her into action she found herself rising to her feet and the words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them at the realisation, “Wait I know that horse!” she cried. "I was a servant for the Lord Danethor back home, and I remember working with that horse,” she explained with a pleasant smile as if to excuse her peculiar actions.

“Nermi!” she exclaimed excitedly putting a name to the bay mare with white socks on her tow front forelegs. Leah could recognise one of her father’s horses anywhere, mostly because she insisted on naming every single one of them. This one she named ‘field spirit’ in Quenya because she loved to run through the fields of Rohan. Nermi was a sweet horse, but spirited and strong.

Leah bounded to her feet and approached the rider then without a thought and greeted him with a warm smile as he turned round. Felaléof’s hand immediately went for the hilt of his sword and his eyes widened at the foolishness of his ward. He stood ready to attack if necessary. If he did not trust a wounded man he certainly did not trust a capable one.

“Felaléof it is Nermi,” she said stroking the mare’s nose affectionately; she whinnied happily at the familiar touch. “Sorry my lord, you may have chosen a stubborn horse from Lord Danethor, he tends to give his stubborn ones away,” she said taking him at his word that he had in fact bought Nermi from her master rather than stolen her. “Please excuse my manners I am Leah, Baldor’s daughter,” she introduced herself assuming that this man must know her father seeing as he was riding one of their horses. “Oh thank you, would you like some, there is a bit leftover in the pot?” she offered serving the man who claimed his name was Aroden a bowl. Not having touched her own food she spooned a bit of her ration into his when Felaléof wasn’t watching. There was not enough left for a proper meal for their guest. The portion remaining for Leah was meager at best but no matter it made her happier knowing she had pleased yet another tonight. Felaléof remained steely eyed and watchful of the man rather than paying any attention to what Leah was doing. Felaléof muttered a warning to Leah as he removed the now empty pot from the fire which she promptly ignored whispering something about being rude and returned with the bowl for their added companion. “Here you are,” she said, “It’s stew, it isn’t much but it’s hot,” she told him with a smile.

((Mine is not nearly as long this time, but I do quite like reading the long posts to be honest. ))

[Edited on 8/6/2011 by Lilypad]
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Nínimelle
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: June 07, 2011 08:09
'I hope you like the necklace.' Arafi mumbled, as he looked up at Leah. 'It fits you very well. It seems to show your inner light, your inner beauty. I am glad that I gave it to you.' Arafi smiled weakly. He coughed and his head spinned. His heart pouned wildly as he looked at Leah. He knew why, yet he was afraid Leah wouldn't feel the same.

Arafi shook his head. 'You indeed do not look like one of my kin, for you are more beautiful from the inside. The elves nowaday are very withdrawn and do not trust the other races easily. You are better than an elf. You are open and kind. You are much better than most elves.' He said, trying not to let her notice he loved her.

Without really thinking, he lifted himself up and gave Leah a hug. 'Thank you for taking care of me. I really owe you a lot. You are a great friend.' He mumbled tiredly. He then drank the bottle and fell asleep in Leah's arms.
Dinenlasse
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: June 08, 2011 07:29
“My name is Felaléof, and this is Leah and Arafi,” he said shaking the other man’s hand. Felaléof was a big man and broad-shouldered, with honey blonde hair and a scraggly beard, it was very hard to mistaken him for anything other than a man of Rohan. “He was attacked by wolves,” Felaléof said glancing back at the elleth his eyes narrowed, either he remained annoyed that this wounded elleth had slowed their journey considerably or he still felt him untrustworthy. Felaléof did not like the way Arafi looked at his ward...

“I am Leah, and this fine gentleman is Arafi,” she bowed her head politely, “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she introduced herself and Arafi to the young woman opposite her with a generous smile, the less Arafi spoke the better she thought due to his state.

“We are bound for Minas Tirith,” she said, her voice soft and almost shy as she looked to the man in their company of two.


Hasulfen introduced himself and his daughter to the company of three. “I am Hasulfen, First Marshal of the Riddermark, and this is my daughter Díore," he said, casting a glance around the odd company. He waited before continuing, weighing his next words. How much should he reveal to those who he barely knew but who openly offered hospitality, and indeed, mead? The Rohirric Marshal stroked his beard thoughtfully. "We are of Edoras but have recently been summoned to Gondor for matters of state. We shall not abide here long." In Felaléof Hasulfen found a kindred spirit so as they ate the delicious stew Leah had prepared, they traded stories of the good life in Rohan. For a moment, Hasulfen leaned back on the tawny grass, picking up a stray blade and chewing it reflectively. It was not often he could capture moments like this with being caught up in business so the Rider would savor it while he could. His gaze strayed to his daughter as she aided the young lass in propping up the he-Elf. A brief half-smile lifted the corner of his mouth; Díore had always been a ready hand to help.

Then, out of the blue, yet another rider flew toward them. Hasulfen leapt to his feet, wrapping his sword belt around his waist, and cursing under his breath that he of all Riders would be caught unawares. But Leah flew faster than him, approaching the rider as he halted with an exclamation of familiarity with the bay mare. They exchanged words about the man buying a horse off of Lord Danethor, a noble whom Hasulfen knew by name, face, and deed. Indeed, Hasulfen was acquainted with most of Rohanian nobles; his position and title required it.

He remained in the background with Díore by their horses, observing the goings-on. Hasulfen had misgivings about the lone man, however-he had yet to give his name. Felaléof must have had similar thoughts because his hand edged to the sword on his hip and watched the rider's every moment like a hawk. Hasulfen supposed Felaléof would rather have the rider decline Leah's invitation for dinner, but even to his own dismay, he accepted. Leah was either brave or stupid, but youth blinded the making of wise decisions. Had he interfered, however, Hasulfen might have only spurred on conflict. As such, the man made no sudden moves or gave any indication of violence towards Leah. He busied himself by stowing his cloak, now grass- and insect-filled, into a saddlebag.

Díore also noticed something odd about their new addition. Appearance-wise, the man could hardly have come from enough wealth to purchase as fine of an animal as the bay, especially since she was of Rohanian stock. Díore suspected something afoot but chose not to pursue. Such was not really in her nature; that, and Felaléof's reactions already demonstrated that Leah was the only person who truly believed the man's story. Durithil nudged her hair and tossed his head. His ears flickered back and forth, alert to something. "Father," she muttered, attracting her father's attention. Durithil began to dance, clearly not happy about something. "Father, can you help me?" She grabbed his reins and held him while Hasulfen began to rub his hands over the black's head, withers, back, belly, hindquarters, and finally his legs in an attempt to determine the horse's ailment. He stood perfectly still which gave Díore a chance to voice her concerns.

"That man," Díore mentioned quietly, using Durithil as a shield from the others' scrutiny; they were immersed in conversation. "His story irks me, Father."

Hasulfen nodded from below as he picked up the stallion's hoof and checked for stones. "Aye, 'tis the same to me. If he bought that mare, then I'm an orc. But who are we to say anything? Listen, if I leave off and ride hard for Minas Tirith, will you remain here and keep an eye on the Elf…and our ‘comrade’? I trust not that rascal, especially with Leah around. The lass appears to not know her way around a weapon; your sword would not go amiss, love.” Durithil remained perfectly still, then tossed his head again, continuing the ruse.

Díore kept silent and nodded as the others’ attention fell upon them. Hasulfen patted Durithil’s flank as the horse nudged the man in thanks. “All’s well now. Now, I’m not sure about you, but I wouldn’t mind a tune. Can anyone here sing?” A murmur of assent rippled through the group. “Then afterwards, I shall leave Díore behind and fly to Minas Tirith. Vagrants and horse rustlers frequent this road, but I trust you’ll be safe with capable swords amongst you.” He walked off to find what sparse firewood there existed in the area.

“Tell me about yourself Díore?” she began making polite conversation.


Díore had opened her mouth to respond, but the man who had ridden into their midst had stolen everyone’s attention. But now that they settled good-naturedly around the fire, Díore began to speak and thanked Leah for the wonderful, sustaining meal. “Well, you already know my name,” she continued with a smile that lit up her fair face. Díore had a stocky but slender build. Her hair, rather than the golden halo of the Rohirrim or the dark, raven hair of the inhabitants of Dol Amroth, favored the dark brown hair of the Northerners (remnant of her father's mother's origins near Tharbad). Her eyes matched the leaves of trees in summer, and her skin tanned easily. Díore knew her way around a weapon, but she had never truly engaged in warfare or armed conflict. Overall, her countenance pleased many an eye, but she never truly desired a husband as of yet. “Let’s see, my family hails from Edoras, always has. I have no siblings, and my favored companion is Durithil over there.” The black horse lifted his head from grazing at the sound of his name; his little charade to allow Díore some private time with her father had earned him an untethered chance to graze. “And? My favorite food is a good roasted chestnut and almond flan with a light dusting of honey.” Although relaxed, she remained alert, especially for the return of her father. Her sword lay close at hand. “Now,” she said, shifting her balance from her back to leaning on one elbow, she settled her gaze on the newcomer, “what is your story, your name? You haven’t introduced yourself, sir.”

*~*~*~*~*

Night fell, cloaking the land in darkness. An enormous silver moon hovered in the air, sending its light in all directions. Although allowing enough light to travel by, the effect was eerie. Even more so, as Leyn urged Verelin over a final hill that oversaw the Pelennor Fields, the huge White City was cast into relief against an ebony sky set with gemstone-like stars. Leyn took a moment to catch her breath, one for the site of the city but also for the sharp air. The temperature dropped considerably since midday, and she tightened her cloak in an attempt to ward off the chill. Verelin paused at the crest of the hill, his breath furling out in tendrils in front of him, mixing with his mistress’. Soon enough, Leyn rode in the middle of the main road through several small settlements in Minas Tirith’s shadow. Her stomach ached with hunger, but she persisted further. The food she had brought with had been long spent since her night of revelry left with a fierce hunger for the next day or two. What was one more night in the open fields, however? Once the sun began its ascent, Leyn would go to the weekly market and begin haggling for her breakfast. It was not a welcome prospect, but for now, it would have to do.

(I'm leaving Rhîwenil out of this for now...I'm going to bring her in when Alphros, Hingel, and the others have the counsel. Would anyone like to do a joint post for that with me? It'd be fun to have some differing opinions in this. And alack again for a dead muse. I blame the tornado warnings we had tonight. :/)

[Edited on 6/9/2011 by Dinenlasse]
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
Naucoaran
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: June 16, 2011 01:38
As Aroden sat down to relax with a bowl of stew he let out a sigh. It had been a long day in the saddle and all he wanted now was some warmth in his belly and a place to lay his head. Unfortunately, his arrival must have caused a bit of a stir, and may have ruffled some feathers. He stared at the woman, Diore, with a tilted head, silently weighing her tone and posture. She was a treat for the eyes certainly, though Aroden was no stickler for such things. Come to think of it, a majority of this strange group still held the beauty and firmness of young life, and if he were less interested in keeping his neck from the gallows he may have tried to seek some interest in one or two of them.

Diore though, he could hear the hostility in her voice weather she were doing it intentionally or not. She did not trust him, though admittedly Aroden would not trust himself either. He deliberately took another sip of his stew before answering, letting the broth linger in his mouth before swallowing it down. "I am called Aroden." he said simply, hoping that would satisfy her. In truth he had no surname, of if he did it was not known to him. Being orphaned before you could remember things tended to have that effect.

He never did like to be the center of attention, but a name alone did not seem to suffice for this inquisitive woman. "As I said, I rode that fine animal out a few days ago to test her skill. So far she has been a little troublesome, I now know why she was one of the cheaper selections." He said with a disarming smile, though Diore did not seem to noticeably change all that much. She had best get use to disappointment then, he thought wryly because my life is not an open book for her reading pleasure. He ran a piece of bread around the inside of the bowl to sop up the remains of the meal before popping it into his mouth.

"I am most grateful for the meal, dear Leah." he said with a bow of his head. Kindness often paved the way to trust, and he could use some of that now if he were to stay with these people long enough to keep an eye on Leah. She seemed to be rather innocent, and easily trusting. She was his key, if he could tie himself to her enough then she would protest to the others if they wanted to remove him. True, he would be manipulating her a trifle, but he had to look out for his own interests. "If you would like, I could stay so that you could spend some time with Nermi. You seem to care for her a great deal." The idea seemed to interest her, as Leah's face lit up at the prospect.

Thinking that he had secured himself at least for the moment he settled down into a more comfortable position. "This is certainly an odd company to keep." he mused as Diore continued to scrutinize him. He looked at her pointedly then glanced around at the others. The one was indeed an elf, he found out, and that was bizarre enough if it were alone. "What cause all of you to come together on this sad stretch of road?"

(Little smaller this time, sorry it took so long but as summer hits my internet seems to decide to go on vacation for most of the day.)
Lilypad
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: July 12, 2011 11:28
Leah smiled softly at Arafi as she bound his wound. His words touched her more than even she knew but Leah’s face did not show it. She remained reserved and quiet as she tended to him. “Are you so untrusting of others?” she spoke, her voice soothing, the question born out of curiousity rather than any sort of judgment or expectation.

--x---x--

After she had attended to everyone’s needs, giving each new arrival a bowl of stew she sat beside Arafi once more to administer the sleeping draft she normally gave to Felaléof. Leah was surprised as Arafi hugged her but smiled graciously nonetheless. “You are very welcome,” she replied quietly to the now sleeping Arafi. Leah gently lowered his head onto the soft furs, and pulled another around his shoulders making sure that he was covered and would keep warm for the night.

Felaléof answered Hasulfen’s question heartily, “Leah can sing, can’t you girl?” he suggested flashing a rare yet warm smile at the girl.

“Oh, yes, but not well I assure you,” she blushed embarrassed.

“You’re right good lass, so says yer father,” Felaléof added knowing she was far too humble to admit it or even think it. As Hasulfen went to collect firewood Felaléof stayed alert but acted casual as he finished off the remainder of his stew. He was watchful of their new arrivals, especially of the lad with the horse from Rohan.

Looking back at the others Leah observed their little camp. It was a strange grouping of people to be sure. The man called Aroden did not look like a noble, certainly he did not wear such finery she was accustomed to gazing upon or cleaning for that matter, but she did not judge others by their choices in clothing or fixtures in their homes. She felt a person should be judged by their character and their actions. She could see the weariness in his eyes as someone who had traveled, someone perhaps who bore a great cost as he sat with his stew and sighed. Leah noticed him looking at Díore.

Leah rose from her spot and came to sit beside Aroden, “I suspect she is gentler than she outwardly appears to be,” she whispered in his ear with a sweet smile as if conspiring with him upon an intimate joke no one else was privy to.

As Díore came to sit with them and she asked about her Leah smiled and listened contentedly as she took her time in slowly finishing her meager portion of stew so as to make it seem like she had more than she really did. Leah’s smile lit her fair face as she spoke of her horse being her favoured companion, “Eria is my closest companion as well, and I too have no siblings, though sometimes I do think my father would have preferred to have had a son rather than a daughter,” a small smile hinted at the edges of her mouth as her lips pressed together momentarily while much deeper thoughts swept across her bluey-green eyes. “But I know he loves me and I him very much,” she finished then glancing to Aroden she asked, “What about you, what of your family Sir if I may be so bold as to ask?” Glancing at Díore again she nodded, “That is a good favourite food to have, and you are lucky that it is also one of my specialties. When we arrive at Minas Tirith I should love to have you as a guest in my new home and make it for you,” she said with a small laugh thinking of what awaited her in Minas Tirith. Her heart swelled with excitement at the prospect of marriage. She would be dutiful and honourable, not only to her father, but to her future husband and to her King.

Leah’s nose wrinkled slightly at Aroden’s comment. It seemed rather peculiar his choice of wording ‘cheaper selection.’ Either he was hiding something or money was of no cost to him. Danethor was a somewhat greedy lord. He often swindled people out of their life savings for a horse or trinket. His horses were always overpriced, even those bred by her father who was an expert horseman. Nermi would have never been cheap.

“Perhaps it is the way in which you think of her that makes her so stubborn,” she replied kindly with a soft smile. “Horses must be treated with respect. If you treat her like she is your equal rather than as though you own her she will do what you ask. If you give them love a horse will give you that and more in return, the horse will live and die for you, all she needs is a bit of kindness,” she smiled and then quieted once more as she finished her meal hoping she had not overstepped her bounds. Her words were not harsh however or filled with judgment, they were simply meant as helpful advice nothing more.

“You are very welcome,” she bowed her head graciously to Aroden. Leah’s gaze had drifted over to Nermi more than once after the course of their arrival. “Was it my eyes that gave me away?” she smiled at Aroden, he was quite perceptive she thought. “Thank you I would like that very much,” she replied looking Aroden over, and smiled in gratitude of his kind offer. At his remark Leah glanced about the camp. “Perhaps,” she looked down at the folds of her pale blue dress for a moment a pleasant expression on her face. “I am to be married in Minas Tirith,” she said, “That is the reason for my journey. What is yours?” she asked her eyes gazing at Aroden innocently.

((ooc: sorry this took so very long for me to post and that it is really rather rubbish, but I posted so that has to be something.))
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Nínimelle
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: July 12, 2011 10:42
Dark eyes glared at Arafi and his brothers. The orcs snarled and lifted Roth up, Arafi tried to get up but the wound in his chest send him back to the ground. He gasped for air and Ikol tried to calm him down. The sky was dark and grey, rain poured down the sky. Tears dripped down Arafi’s cheek and he sniffed lightly. The ground beneath him was red, most of it was his blood. The orcs had lots of torturing methods and were not scared to use it on Arafi. Ikol was even worse. His head bled heavily, but he still managed to smile lightly at Arafi. Arafi leaned against him and they looked up at the orcs.

The orc that had lifted Roth, was grinning broadly. Roth tried to break free and gasped for air, he struggled in the tight grip. “No worry, little elf. You won’t feel the pain,” He grinned darkly. Roth’s icy-grey eyes were filled with fear and widened as a knife sliced through his arm. Arafi and Ikol looked away, not wanting to look at what the orc was doing. The screams of Roth were bad enough. Arafi and Ikol turned very pale and hid his face in Ikol’s soft blond hair. Sobs broke free from his lips and the screams continued. After a long time, what seemed like hours to Arafi, the screaming stopped and Ikol’s eyes lifted. He gasped softly. “Roth,” He breathed, fresh tears falling passed his cheeks. Arafi looked up as well and saw Roth’s dead body. Then another orc hauled Ikol up and Arafi began to shake fearfully, being only sixteen years of age. His arms hugged his knees and brought them close to his chest, an orc took Arafi’s head in his hands and forced him to look at how the others tortured Ikol.

Arafi closed his eyes and listened to the agony-filled screams of Ikol. Someone slapped his cheek and his eyes opened again, finding that he couldn’t close them anymore. His stomach churned as he saw how the orcs tortured Ikol and Arafi wished that he could faint. But somehow he couldn’t and he had to keep looking at how his brother suffered at the hands of the orcs. Only when his brother dropped dead to the ground, the orcs stopped and turned to Arafi. Arafi screamed as they started to torture him and finally, his sight turned black and he fainted.


Arafi woke with a scream, hoping he hadn’t woken anyone but then seeing almost no one was asleep. He felt Leah’s worried eyes upon him and slowly a tear made its way passed his cheek as he looked her in the eyes. He stood up and stumbled, a pain shot through his head and he hissed slightly. Then, he walked to Leah with a lot of pain and tears stained his eyes and face. “My lady, the potion didn’t work” He mumbled.

Then he turned away and walked to a tree, searching for its compassion. Arafi leaned against a tree and whispered in Elvish as more tears streamed passed his cheeks. He noticed that Leah came to him and he looked up.

“I dreamt of their death, again. But it was worse than ever before, because I could feel the pain I had felt back then. I do not belong here Leah. Not with you and your friends,” Arafi motioned to the others. “I am no human. You die and I do not. I will just have to watch how my friends turn to ashes as time claims them. Perhaps the world would have been better of without me. Perhaps you would have been better of without me,”

Arafi’s eyes looked at the sun starting to come out of the trees and sighed deeply, wishing he could tell Leah how he felt about her. His heart pounded slightly but he decided it would be better if she just knew. So he turned to her, but his words faded as he stared in her deep eyes.

He knew not what to say and just stared in her eyes, cursing mentally. The tears kept falling and his heart pounded even more as he took Leah’s hand in his own and inhaled deeply, whispering the words “I love you Leah. I do not know how and why, but I love you”

The bandage around his head had turned red and Arafi closed his eyes for a while, trying to ignore the dizziness that made him stumble slightly. He coughed weakly and groaned as another pain shot through his head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aria sat on the edge of her bed, waiting. Her fingers tapped against the bed and she looked up occasionally to see if the door opened. Waiting for her ‘brother’ Artemis turned out to be a whole lot longer then she had thought.

Artemis was not her real brother, he had found her in a river one day and had dragged her home. Slowly as she had woken up, she told him that she was an illegitimate child and that her father had left her mother after finding out Aria had been born.

Artemis’ family had kindly taken her in and now, she and Artemis were very close. He had taught her how to wield a blade, yet was always very overprotective over her. Her smile only grew as she thought of that, knowing how much Artemis loved her even though they weren’t blood relatives. She loved him too, very much, but she reminded herself every day that he was not her real brother. She didn’t miss her family in Rohan, but sometimes she missed to ride the plain fields of Rohan. Her thoughts were interrupted as Artemis finally came into the room, with a sword in hand. He had promised to help her again. His eyes scanned her dark room and a smile tucked at his lips. “Artemis, you took your time! It’s almost night,” Aria scolded him.

[Edited on 24/7/2011 by Nínimelle]
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: July 21, 2011 05:22
(Sorry for the terribly long wait for this! Here's a JP between Lilypad and myself.)

The morning dawned bright and warm with sunlight streaming through castle windows, highlighting particles of dust in its golden furls. This same morning found Rhîwenil and Hingel in the king’s council chamber with nobles from all of Gondor’s fiefs. A myriad of people from all walks of life were present, from high-ranking nobles to middle-class artisans whose expertise in judging the situation were desired. King Eldarion was not one to seek counsel only from his peers but rather his other subjects as well.

Heat began to waver on the distant horizon like steam rising from a quickly cooling blade plunged into a basin of water. It was on such a morning that Artemis, the son of the royal Blacksmith, hurriedly prepared himself for the council. He walked stiffly through the corridors, late as usual. He had been deliberating upon not attending entirely, but did not greet the wrath of his father so readily. As a result he found himself striding down the corridors which lead to the king’s council chamber. The beams of sunlight filtering through the castle windows were split into shards as his body moved through them, instead the golden light playing upon his hair, legs, and arms like the glistening of fairy dust. Artemis appeared quite noble in his fine, royal blue linen shirt, embroidered around the neck with a smocked panel at each shoulder, his dark hair made into a manageable coiffure, and his trousers tucked into boots which had been polished for such an occasion. He felt awkward and stifled in such a place. This was ironic considering he was stifled nearly every day in a forge filled with smoke, yet he felt right at home like a dragon breathed fire he supposed, content amongst the molten metal and burning embers.

Artemis entered the large circular room and tried to appear pleasant, rather unsuccessfully. A few faces turned towards him but none seemed too off-put by his presence as he went to sit beside his father- a tall gaunt looking fellow with a short beard, dark eyes which appeared much colder than his own, and black hair hung like small curtains framing the sides of his thin face- who immediately snapped his beady eyes condescendingly down at his son.

“Stop your grimacing,” Voramon hissed at his son, malice flickering in black eyes, “We don’t want our King to think we do not appreciate such a gesture of gratitude,” he whispered with a false smile as this interaction gathered a few nosey onlookers. Artemis had been pouting without even realising it. He rearranged his features quickly to a more reserved and nondescript expression, one that was not necessarily pleasant, but not necessarily standoffish either. Voramon was a rather crafty and slimy individual. He was cruel by nature but could fool even the smartest of people into thinking he was a kind and benevolent man. The only person he could never deceive was his son. Artemis knew if given the chance Voramon would probably overthrow the King and rule Gondor himself, luckily his ambitions did not stray too far from where he might find his next pint of lager and maiden he could defile. It was then that such a maiden entered the room.

Immediately, a cry arose as Rhîwenil entered the large circular room. Benches lined the walls, and upon a raised dais sat the king himself on a large, oaken throne. He had grown up well, with his dark hair and grey eyes. Eldarion had inherited the grace of his mother’s people and the sturdiness, good looks, and deliberateness of his father’s.

“A woman?! How can a woman be found among a council of peers?!” a sturdy, broad-shouldered noble cried out disapprovingly, rising from his chair, and causing all others present to cease their conversations and turn their attention to the young woman. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and not just one or two men shook their heads at the sight of a female in their midst.

She was quite beautiful Artemis thought of the woman as the others grumbled amongst themselves about the addition of a woman to their council. It was a strange thing true, but Artemis saw no harm in the intellect of a lady, he found some quite philosophical. A small smile hinted at the edges of his mouth as his thoughts drifted to the redhead he had left that morning. She had been quite philosophical. Voramon’s eyes had narrowed into slits but he had noticed. His father was not pleased by this new addition.

Alphros stood defiantly and was about to defend his cousin when the king began to speak. “Whoever so is here comes here at my request. Let it alone, Culloch,” Eldarion said lowly, deliberately softening his voice to ensure silence. “Now my friends,” he continued, “I’ve called you here to discuss an important concern. Rumors have flown that Corsairs once again pose a threat to our borders, and in addition, trade along the Anduin has come under attack. What know you all of it?”

Culloch of Osgiliath pounded a clenched fist on his chair arm and growled at Eldarion, "Vagabonds, vile heathens no less, have stolen at least three shipments of lumber from my lands. My steward in South Ithilien has reported a net loss of at least an eighth percentage of what we were harvesting last year! Added to that has been the disappearance of several of my emissaries to Pelargir along the great road. What say you to that, my King?" Culloch threw his chest out challengingly and directed his sharp gaze to his monarch.

Rhîwenil took an immediate disliking to the man. Nudging her father in his ribs, she whispered in his ear, "Methinks yon Culloch's a bit hasty today."

"Hot-blooded fool," Hingel returned, catching the sidelong glance of his cousin. Neither man from Belfalas had ever had positive dealings with the lord from Osgiliath. Alphros quickly raised his voice in addition to Culloch's. "I've also heard word from my tenants that they've sighted dark ships with black sails off the southernmost coast of Belfalas. I've thought that Umbar had ceased its piracy and privateering, but perhaps they've taken to sea again." His reasonable, calm tone masked an increasing concern for his people.

Members of the council began to witter and gossip angrily amongst themselves about the goings on of the prevailing threat to their livelihood. Voramon rose slowly from his seat and with measured steps addressed the council. All fell silent as they looked upon the lofty man, his dark eyes piercing uneasily into the hearts of every person as his robes of midnight billowed ominously with the light breeze wafting through an open window.

“My King,” he bowed deeply from the hip and then, “And fellow council members,” he nodded graciously around the room his gestures directed at a select few members of the council, those well respected amongst royalty but most importantly there were those with a lot of wealth which Voramon deemed most worthy of his extra attention. “It is true of what Lord Culloch and Alphros speak of,” a wave of shock filtered through the crowd and voices rose once more before Voramon quickly silenced them, “I have witnessed such an assault on our good countrymen whilst delivering weapons to port,” the look of horror on everyone’s faces was enough for Voramon to know he had them in his grasp. A small smile, ever so slight, hinted at one side of his thin mouth. Only Artemis knew well of such an expression. “I lost a load while trying to aid and escape these vile heathens,” Voramon hissed like a snake ready to pounce upon its prey. This was the one area where Artemis agreed with his father. He disliked the Corsairs to the depths of his being. They had taken enough from him as far as he was concerned and it was time to fight back.

Eldarion considered the increasingly grave reports, and he sighed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "My lords, I hear your concerns with foreboding. I trust not our enemies' motives, but I cannot assemble and dispatch an army until we know more. Therefore, I suggest this: I will gather more information, intelligence before deciding on a plan of action. In the meantime, increase your border defenses and lookouts on the coasts. 'Tis time we become ever more vigilant."

Culloch refrained from arguing, not wanting to disrespect Eldarion, but the king's suggestions left a sour taste of disappointment and bitterness in his mouth. A loss to his own livelihood meant losses to his tenants. Despite his gruff demeanor and appearance, Culloch cared deeply for his people. He stoically maintained his silence, and upon Eldarion's dismissal of the council, stalked out of the room like a tomcat.

Rhîwenil caught the king's glance and inclined her head in thanks for his chivalric defense of her. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth in return, then his back was to her. His retinue following immediately behind, Eldarion proceeded out of the chamber, leaving the rest of the lords and nobles behind. The lone maiden took her cousin's arm and muttered as they stepped out behind the king, "What can I do to help you, cousin?"

Alphros leaned his head close to her like a lover, "We shall discuss this later, Rhen. Right here is not the best place for such matters."

Hingel strode along at his daughter's other side. "Aye, child," he agreed, keeping his voice low. "But it might turn out we haste back to Linhir to ensure the safety of our own town." With a sinking feeling in her gut, Rhîwenil fell silent. The other nobles still passed her glares, but she chose to ignore them. She would talk to her father about the king's blacksmith later, Rhîwenil decided; out of all the men there, he seemed the most able to aid her cousin should it come to defense of Gondor's southern borders. Armaments and metal supplies were never not needed when it came to military usage.

(I will get another post for Di and Leyn soon. Again, I apologize about the wait!)

[Edited on 8/6/2011 by Dinenlasse]
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: November 30, 2011 12:52
“Friends?” Leah questioned with a soft gaze as she sat beside him. Looking back at their rather odd little company she continued in a gentle tone, “Many of these people save for Felaléof are strangers to me, and yet you are the first of them I have met on this journey so if I were to call them friends then I would surely say that you are the closest of these friends that I do have, so it would be most reasonable to say that you perhaps are the one who should be with us on this journey,” she told him earnestly.

“That was quite a scream I must say, very high pitched, you must have a great singing voice,” she teased lightly trying to pull his mind from such dark thoughts and make him smile. Leah hoped dearly that she had not offended him by such playfulness. It was unlike her to be so open with people, but with Arafi she felt that she could voice her opinions. She was comfortable enough to joke and converse at length. It had helped when the others arrived; she felt more at ease talking to Díore and Aroden than she might have otherwise been. “And it is not true, you will die, everything dies, it is the way of the world, but luckily not quite as soon as I,” she reassured him. She had read many books on elves and other cultures and lands she had never seen only heard about in her father’s tales and stories. Her father used to tell her the tale of the elven Princess Arwen and the Prince of Gondor Aragorn before bed when she was a wee girl which had always been her favourite story.

Leah looked thoughtfully at Arafi, “Perhaps,” she nodded in agreement, still pondering over his words and choosing hers carefully as she leant her head back against the large old tree with a small sigh. “My father used to tell me a great wizard once said that, all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given, or something like that,” a warmth entered her eyes as she thought of her father and of home, his blonde mustache and beard twitching with his words. “My father used to say how long we spend on this earth is not really as important as what we do with our time on it, wouldn’t you agree?,” she asked then laughed at the thought, “Though to be honest he may have told me this in an effort to quicken my work, I tended to daydream,” she admitted

Leah gazed at Arafi, an expression of confusion and curiousity mingled on her features. “Is there something on my face?” she asked finally touching her cheek. She had always been so careful to eat properly and not make a mess of things. As he grabbed her hand however concern entered her eyes. Then his words shocked her. Her eyes grew wide and she tore her hand from his.

“You cannot say such things to me,” her eyes narrowed, and the corners of her mouth dropped. She was angry. “I am getting married; you have no right to…” She stopped herself. She had never had such an outburst or felt this way, frustrated. He had betrayed her confidence. As he groaned again her jaw softened. Her gaze flew to his head which was bleeding again. “You are injured and becoming delusional from the blood loss I am sure,” she told him her lips still clenched in a hard line. “I will bandage it again,” she told him curtly rising to fetch more strips of what had previously been one of her only dresses. She returned and quickly bandaged his head, trying to clean the wound as best she could. He needed a proper healer. She finished her work silently. “There, it will do until we reach Minas Tirith.” She told him before wordlessly returning to the others.

“So,” she started with a sigh as she sat between Díore and Aroden. “What was the reason for your journey did you say?” she asked again.

((ooc: sorry this took forever! Think we should get them to Minas Tirith in the next posts? And I will post with Artemis later))
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Dinenlasse
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: December 15, 2011 07:39
Thinking that he [Aroden] had secured himself at least for the moment he settled down into a more comfortable position. "This is certainly an odd company to keep." he mused as Diore continued to scrutinize him. He looked at her pointedly then glanced around at the others. The one was indeed an elf, he found out, and that was bizarre enough if it were alone. "What cause all of you to come together on this sad stretch of road?"


“So,” she [Leah] started with a sigh as she sat between Díore and Aroden. “What was the reason for your journey did you say?” she asked again.


Díore heard both Leah’s and Aroden’s inquiries but hesitated to answer them until her father left them. He took leave of them graciously, mentioning that he would see them in the White City. With a final wave at his daughter, he mounted Iaur and spurred the horse eastward, the destrier’s hooves coughing up spumes of dust in his wake. Knowing now that she and Felaléof held the majority of the strength and authority in the party, Díore weighed the odds of shifting the group after her father. Gravely, she returned her gaze to her fellow party members and finally responded to their questions. “My father and I are bound for Minas Tirith for word has reached the ears of Edoras of Corsair activity along the coast and inland raiders attacking merchants and traders along the River Anduin. My king has sent my father to Minas Tirith to find out the veracity of these rumors. ‘Tis all.” She did not let on that a score of Riders had left a day behind Hasulfen and her, to ensure that nothing ill befell the pair. The king of Rohan always erred on the side of caution, and surely, if the small company continued on their gradual approach, the Riders would overtake them.

Deciding they had wasted enough time around the fire, Díore stumbled to her feet and brushed the tawny grass off of her tunic and cloak. “Friends, I hate to end this conversation short, but we need to be along. We can continue to discuss our lives along the road. We cannot hope to travel quickly with Sir Arafi injured as he is. Can he ride with one of you? Durithil hardly suffers me to ride him much less anyone else.” As if to agree, the dark stallion tossed his head and whickered. Grasping his reins, Díore heaved herself into the saddle and prayed the others would follow suit. “I mean not to hurry us, but night will be upon us soon.”

Eventually the group broke camp and began to move at a quicker pace, greatly pleasing Díore. “Now,” she commented as the horses loped along the road, the open sky above them slowly streaking with swathes of amber, cinnabar, and sienna, “what purpose have all of you towards Minas Tirith? Is there a festival of some sort I should know about?” she asked with a chuckle. As they rode, Díore stole a glance at Aroden. He was handsome in a roguish way, but his arrogant confidence and equally unsettling gaze outweighed any attraction she had for him. He clearly disliked her in the same way, given the pointed gaze he shot her just fifteen minutes previously. But she’d goad him anyways to see what she could learn; as Hasulfen said, Díore had to keep alert. “Aroden, what is your story?” she asked congenially.

Durithil took the bit in his mouth and lounged forward, disliking the crippled pace they had taken when compared with his last three days of plunging headlong into the wind. Díore steadied him with a firm hand and word and kept her eyes on the road. They had made it a few miles down the road when Díore looked to Felaléof to make the decision as to when and where they camped for the night. “I should not think we light a fire, eh, sir Felaléof?” she asked, seeking his wisdom. “’Tis too open a place for us to chance one. Unless you disagree?”

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning after fording the River Erui, Leyn watched the sun break over the horizon from her hill, casting the mountains into relief behind her. Minas Tirith was directly in her sight, and it never failed to steal her breath. The seven-ringed city stood out brilliantly against the lightening sky like a gem. Here represented opportunities for the maiden. Certainly here would be her change of fortune! Verelin grazed near her, his contented munching reaching her ears. Leyn savored this moment for only a while more before the morning began to wear on. Soon enough, Verelin loped along the road at a steady pace, passing several market-goers, their carts full of wares.

As they came within the proximity of the great city, Leyn’s innards decided enough was enough. She needed nourishment, and she needed it now. Mentally willing her hunger pangs away, Llweryn dismounted her horse, and leading him by the reins, decided to see what could be had in the way of a repast. The small dirt road that served as an unmarked highway to Minas Tirith (not being the South Road most travelers embarked upon on their travels to the Gondorian capital) wound its way through small hamlets which provided livestock, fruits, and vegetables to the Citadel. Leyn sought to not attract attention to herself, but soon enough, a woman hailed her. “Ye aren’t from around ‘ere, are ye miss?”

Leyn halted in her steps and sought the voice which spoke. Her eyes met those of a stout housewife wringing out linens and draping them over a line. “Nay indeed, mistress. I hail from Rohan,” she replied courteously, bowing her head.

“Ye seem fair famished, my lady. Can I provide ye some brekkist?” the woman went straight to the heart of the matter. She tossed the last cotton linen over the line and beckoned Leyn to her straw-thatched hut. Leyn, not remotely thinking of declining the generous offer, tied Verelin to the fence, and followed the woman inside her quaint structure. But almost as soon as the pair sat down to almond scones and butter, a howling rent the air outside. Hooves thundered all around, and screams escalated louder and louder. Verelin was frantically yanking at his reins, rearing and tossing his head. Leyn raced outside and untied him just as a score of ragged horsemen galloped through the small hamlet carrying torches and throwing them at the houses. Soon enough, smoke began smoldering in the woman’s house and others, and Leyn’s benefactor immediately started panicking. “Bandits, thieves, heathens!” she screeched, running back into her house.

“Lady, no!” Leyn shouted as a man galloped past her. Fires slowly started to spread throughout the town. “Lady, NO!” She grabbed the woman’s shoulder and shoved her roughly, explaining her scheme. “The king’s men cannot be far behind them, not with you being so close to the city. Take your fellow kinsman and put out the fires with water from your wells. Go!”

Leyn’s assumption proved to be right. The King’s Guard flew through along the main road, scattering the bandits. But, the thieves refused to relent on their streak of terror. They thrust their torches at the king’s soldiers but to no avail. Leyn, desiring to help them, climbed back on Verelin’s back, and withdrew her sword. A brawny man on a blue roan caught sight of her and charged, an evil glint in his eye. Verelin easily side-steppe the charge, and Leyn knocked the man off his horse’s back where an arrow from a guard pierced his shoulder.

The skirmish continued. Leyn aided where she could but sustained a nasty cut from a rusted blade to her hand that sliced open the skin to the bone. The King’s Guard ultimately won though the village was a complete loss. The fire had spread quickly throughout the thatched roofs, decimating the few houses that had existed for years. It had happened rather quickly, over the course of an hour or two. After the surviving bandits were rounded off to be led to Minas Tirith, the guard set off back towards the capital. Suddenly, the column halted, and a large, broad-chested man rode up to her as Leyn nursed her wound. “You there!” he cried officially. “Follow us to the capital.”

Leyn held back, shooting the man a glare. “What for? I am no bandit.”

The man, called Glaedin, smiled briefly. “My lady, I beg pardon for my brusqueness. I commend you for your help and ask that you accompany us to Minas Tirith to share your story. I know not from whence you come, but your aid was very much welcomed. Please follow, and your wound shall be attended to.”

The Rohanian maid shook her head and backed Verelin. “My lord, I hardly helped. You needn’t concern yourself with me.”

“Lady, it is my honor to accompany you. Please,” Glaedin continued earnestly. “You have the look of a warrior about you, and I’m sure you have a story to tell.”

Reluctantly, Llweryn urged Verelin alongside the Captain of the Guard, and the column made for Minas Tirith, four prisoners in tow. Leyn allowed herself a small smile. Perhaps her luck was changing already!


[Edited on 12/16/2011 by Dinenlasse]
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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Post RE: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: January 14, 2012 06:30
He clearly disliked her in the same way, given the pointed gaze he shot her just fifteen minutes previously. But she’d goad him anyways to see what she could learn; as Hasulfen said, Díore had to keep alert. “Aroden, what is your story?” she asked congenially.


Aroden had been riding on the edge of the group, enjoying his privacy and idle thoughts. It seemed that he would not be granted solitude however, as he heard the woman next to him speak. The horse-thief sneered out into the plains at having been bothered then turned a roguish smile to his questioner. "As I said, I had acquired this fine mare and in an effort to test her skill am out on an extended ride. Tales of the Rohirric horses and their stamina have spread far, and I had to get one my self after I found that they were no exaggeration." His attempt to remain aloof must have not made an impression he realized, as he glanced over at the woman to see a flat stare.

Somewhat upset by this, Aroden fidgeted in his seat and ended up returning the flat stare to Díore. How the woman irked him, and he had only been in her presence for a few hours! If anyone in this group were to be the death of him, the thief was sure it would be her. She would be a burr in his boot, and he doubted there would be a chance to get rid of it any time soon. "Corsairs you say? I wonder why they would bother coming inland. I am sure it is nothing to worry about, just late night fancies to pass around the table with the wine." He waved a dismissive hand in her general direction, and gained a satisfying smile as she puffed up at his dismissive tone. Clearly, she took her job seriously, and his dismissive tone of her being a messenger girl did not sit well with the woman.

Night had begun to fall soon after their conversation, and the idea of breaking to set up camp began to circulate. Aroden wouldn't mind stopping for a rest himself, and agreed with the plan. Somewhere in his mind the thief knew that if he were to make it through this journey, he could not give his companions too many reasons to hate him, so as they began to tether the horses Aroden busied himself with studying Díore. If there was a way for him to get on her good side, he had to find it fast. This first night would be vital in gaining trust, at least he hoped. If he could prove that there would be nothing to worry about from him while they all slept, then he could work his way into their good sides.

"I am sure we are in capable enough hands to have a fire, I see plenty of able bodies swordsmen here to protect us." He made sure to catch Díore's eye before continuing, "And swords-women, of course," he said with a slight bow, sweeping a hand to the side. In hindsight, he thought, the bow might have been a little excessive and come off as mocking. Blasted woman would be the death of him for sure!

(I apologize if this isn't very inspiring to read, it's been a while since I've played a character-type like Aroden and am thus a little rusty with him. But hey, I got a post up!)
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Post Re: Beyond the Horizon (KEEP)
on: March 07, 2012 05:11
They were riding faster now; Leah felt nothing but relief at the wind sweeping through her hair which was now free of its bonds. It was no use trying to keep herself looking tidy on this long trek. If nothing else the skirt of her blue dress was evidence of that with mud crusted at the hem. She didn’t want to try and decipher which spot flattered across her front was made from the earth or blood from Arafi’s wound. This journey had already turned out quite differently than she had expected. She glanced over at the new friends she had made along the way, Díore who road alongside her, Aroden on the edge of their strange amalgamation of people and Arafi trailed behind. Felaléof decidedly took up the rear, pushing them forward their pace quickening with each passing field and tree. She urged Eria her sturdy white horse over the uneven earth.

It was then that she watched as Aroden and Díore spoke. She had seen that flat look cross between many pairs, in her experience, which had been very little mind you, it had always ended in one of them kissing the other. At least that is what happened with her best friend Glawen and Randir. She sighed slightly at the thought of them. Randir was perhaps the only man she had ever truly liked as a friend and more… perhaps. She would never know for Glawen and Randir had been married two years this coming spring and already had a wee baby girl named Fedra.

“Corsairs you say?” Leah asked. She could see Felaléof in the background eyeing their surroundings carefully as if expecting a Corsair might jump from one of the shrubs and attack them. She found this thought rather amusing. Perhaps it was lack of food that day; they had been running low on supplies with all the additions to their two person entourage. Leah still had a bit of dried fruit left. As they dismounted to camp for the night she offered it to Aroden, Díore and Arafi.

“No I dare say we shan’t,” Felaléof glanced dismissively at Aroden as he said it, his usually warm brown eyes hard. He didn’t trust Aroden that much was obvious. Seeing the tension Leah piped in, “Perhaps then Aroden you could help me with these furs, we will need as much warmth as we can tonight,” she said with a small tight smile, but was friendly toward Aroden. It was the fighting and disconcerting looks she didn’t approve of. She unloaded the blankets they had used from the previous night. Taking one end of the bedroll she unraveled it and helped everyone set up camp for the night.

It was early when Felaléof woke her the next morning. The sun had not yet risen over the hills. “Come on lass, time to go,” Felaléof said. Leah rolled over and opened her eyes blinking a few times at the hard earth and the plains which seemed to stretch on for miles. Wordlessly she packed up her things, helped everyone else with their bedding before mounting Eria and setting off at a quickened pace. They went faster this time. The anticipation as they were nearing their destination made Leah’s heart fly. As if Eria could read her mind she too galloped faster coming to the head of their group.

It seemed to take forever; perhaps it was Leah’s anxious heart that continued to beat out an enthusiastic rhythm in her chest. Her eagerness was overflowing as she saw the outskirts of Minas Tirith in the distance. “We are nearly there,” she breathed in relief looking to the others.

~~~x~~x~~~

Artemis left the council and headed back home. His mind drifted back to the words which had been exchanged as he slowed when he neared the door to his room. Artemis lived in the back room of the house, his door lead to the outside and just beyond that was the forge where he worked. He wondered if war was upon them and worried about its outcome. He thought of his best friend Thanden fighting and the idea of it made him laugh to himself. It would be humorous to see that man fight; he could kill his foes with words perhaps. Then he thought of his best friend Faenon and smiled. At least Faenon seemed quite capable with a bow.

Artemis on the other hand was good with a sword. He was a rather terrible shot with a bow and arrow, but a piece of steel he could handle quite well. He sighed as he thought of this and opened the door to find his adopted sister sat on the bed waiting for him most impatiently.

“Aria, what are you-” he nodded, “Ah, right, yes, well you are too young to be playing with swords. Shouldn’t you go out and play with Sam, or Baina?” he added picking her up off his bed and leading her outdoors, “Go on get, and don’t let me catch you in my forge again, you hear me?” he called as she scampered off with her group of friends. A smile parted his lips as he watched them before he grabbed his coat and headed to the Inn where he was sure to find Thanden who seemed forever sat in pubs, brothels, and Inns drinking beer and writing poetry, and perhaps there he would find Faenon and tell him of what he had heard at the council.

Arriving at the Inn Artemis sat down upon on one of the open stools at the bar and ordered a pint from the kind eyed waitress while he glanced about for his friends.

((ooc: Woohoo the new site is so pretty! I hope it’s alright that I moved it along and I edited Leah's part because it was very out of character for her. Hope you don’t mind that bit about Faenon with the bow, Eruceninde, you mentioned in his profile that his weapon was a bow, so I figured he must be good with it? If not I can change it.))
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