The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and Tolkien - The One Ring

by **SmaugsBane** » Fri Mar 22, 2002 12:46 pm

This history thread is a place to reference the information on the character, Dirk. The profile in the first post is updated periodically as the character evolves. What follows after are character-changing posts from other threads. I hope the thread is of interest to you, the reader. Please feel free to leave me comments. Thanks.

Edit: This information is a hodge-podge of nearly ten different RP's Dirk was in. Therefore, much of what is here may or may not pertain to any current stories in which he may be found. Rather than try to re-write the profile (I have come to dislike this type of D 'n' D profile and prefer now to write character descriptions in story form.) I ask that if something here seems at odds with something in another thread, please comment here. I am very particular about consistency, but am also prone to making mistakes; and as this character has grown, so have the number of details about him that I have to remember and keep straight. Thanks for reading!

Name:Dirk, the Daring. He once travelled under the pseudonym of SB, but no longer uses it.
Race:Númenoréan. His mother's side is directly descended from the line of Elros Tar-Minyatur. Though he is not of the line of Kings. He is more closely related to Valandil and his line from Andunië, the westerners of the Land of Gift, who were ever the friends of the Eldar. His mother's lineage can be traced to a cousin of Elendil the Tall, the sire of the kings of Gondor and Arnor. This cousin traveled with Elendil to Middle Earth at the time of the Downfall. His Father was the Witch-King of Angmar. Dirk carries the genes of the man that the Witch-King had been before he succumbed to Sauron. Prior to the seduction of the rings, the Witch-King had been a great king of men, also of the line of Elros, however, not directly descended in the line of Kings of Númenóre. He was of a secondary line related to Ar-Pharazon.
Age:Twenty
Height:Above average man-height (6'6")
Weight:225 lbs
Apperance: Tall, SB was once a stout boy. But now, after his trials with the evil side of his heritage, he has grown somewhat thinner, though he is still muscular, and strong than ever, both physically and mentally. He has a tattoo across his back of a black winged dragon - Ancalagon - it spans from shoulderblade to shoulderblade and extends up the back of his neck. There is a large burn/laceration scar on the left side of his neck, sustained in a fight with Murannon the Balrog (see the Lucky Fortune Inn, 22March2002) There is also a knife scar from ear to ear across SB's throat, courtesy of Anya_Skywalker. (See AMMM Fed, 4 Apr 02) Due to this SB can only speak in a whisper. Missing left index finger.
Hair Color:Black as Jet. Often pulled into a single, long, tight braid.
Eye Color:grey, the windows of his soul, they always burn with a fire, the flame's colour and intensity depend on mood
Marital Status:Single, stung by the loss of his beloved Leoba of Ithilien, it will be some time before he is interested in another lady
Occupation:"between jobs" former Handyman, Waiter, everything at his father's Inn. Failed dark lord of Angmar. Currently an adventurer, seeking redemption for some past indiscretions.
Outfit:Black. Black leather breeches from Gondor, high black leather riding boots from Rohan (very nices ones, at that). Black Cloak. He wears a well-tailored black linen shirt under his galvorn hauberk and vambraces. The armor pieces are on loan currently from the Mithril Knights' armory. Once he feels the he has earned them, he shall ask Guildmaster Elbren for them permanently. His mithril mail coat, a gift of Glorfindel, has been given to a young warrior woman in Dorwinion. Dirk relied too heavily upon the hidden armor, which gave him a feeling of invincibility; and was nearly killed because of it. To teach himself a lesson in humility, and as a remembrance of his own mortality, he decided to gift the mail to a talented, burgeoning warrior-girl for her heroism in defending her town against the onslaught of a column of Easterlings. (See the Merry Bowmen of Dale.) On his right ring finger is a plain-looking silver ring, without a stone or any mar or scratch. This is Mithcharach, the Dark Ring of the Voice. It gives SB the ability to project his voice into the minds of any sentient being in Middle Earth. It also empowers SB's voice with the ability to persuade. The weaker the mind, the more effective the ring is. The meanest creatures of Middle Earth can be wholly controlled by its power and the wisest completely immune.
Weapons: His sword, named Carch Urulóki in Quenya, Neleg Amlug in Sindarin, and Dragon's Tooth in the Common Speech of men, a razor-sharp, well-crafted blade in a sheath of black leather, bound with fine silver. The sheath was a gift from Thranduil, king of Greenwood. The blade is very powerful, old and enchanted. (See post in this thread from Sept. 8th for its full story.) The Dragon's Tooth can be attached to SB's black leather Baldric either at his hip or across his back. Also attached to the Baldric is a brace of 4 blackened steel throwing knives, they hang inverted at the small of his back, held in place by an ingenious mechanism. His bow, made in the style of Mirkwood and of wood from that forest was built for him by ereine, of the Craftmaster�s Guild. It too, is magical,it does seem to have a mind of its own. He carries a quiver of matching Mirkwood arrows, which he always seems able to recover. In his boot is a small knife. Quite an ordinary knife really � with a wooden handle and plain steel hilts in such a sheath as would be fit to conceal in a tall boot. It had no markings of any kind; neither did it sparkle with the polished finish of the elven or Númenórean master smiths. But it was a well-made, stout little knife.
Means of Travel: Endlómë (Midnight in Quenya), whose sire was a gift to King Bard II of Dale from Éomer of Rohan. Midnight is an elegant, proud and yet sturdy stallion. He was a dear-bought gift from SB's foster father, Drake of Esgaroth. (for further information on Midnight, see post from July 28, 2002 in this thread.)
Skills Include:Stealth, of a magnitude not thought possible for such a large human. Approaching Elven or Hobbit stealth. Becoming more and more reliant on his increasing skills as a swordsman, he relies on his stealth less and less in battle. A decent bowman, as any man of Laketown would be. However, because of the nature of his bow, (which seems to have a mind of its own, as well as the arrows, which seem to work in concert, sometimes against SB), he is not always deadly accurate. However, he always seems to hit the mark when it is really necessary.

Image of Dirk by Lynx the Ranger:

by **SmaugsBane** » Fri Mar 22, 2002 12:48 pm

Here follows SB's past and disposition as it was before setting out on the road. See below for later explanations of his true origin, written as he learned it himself: SB's mother's grandmother was 3rd cousin to the mother of King Brand, who fell along with Dain II in the war of the ring, who was Bain's son, who was the son of Bard, slayer of Smaug and first King of Dale after its rebuilding. (Although SB is, indeed, related to this line he always recounts it differently because the relation is so remote.) His father owns the Golden Dragon, an Inn and drinking establishment in Esgaroth, the lake-town. Always of seemingly happy disposition, SB enjoys drinking, gambling, arm-wrestling, playing practical jokes, and anything else he can think of in the pursuit of a good time. Fiercly loyal and quick to trust, SB values nothing higher than friends and family.

by **SmaugsBane** » Fri Mar 22, 2002 12:49 pm

SB introduces himself to the Merry Bowmen when he meets them on the road in the East. He has never been shy and was very proud of his heritage: "By way of introduction, I am Dirk, son of Drake, travelling under the alias SmaugsBane, named after my favorite hero, Bard, who brought down Smaug the Terrible. I am the sixth and youngest son of an innkeeper (and brewer of the best stout in all Middle Earth!). I was raised in the inn with only my father and brothers as family, as my mother died giving birth to me. My father and brothers expected me to work in the inn just like they have always done. However, I have secretly always wanted to be an adventurer. So, while my brothers were busy learning my father's business, I would think of adventures for myself. In my youth, I became a master thief. Not much to do when you have to stay within shouting distance of the inn, in case they need me to fetch some wood, or water, of tap a new barrell of my father's famous stout ale. I often found myself under the canopy of Greenwood, or Mirkwood as men called. I was eight years old when I first brought before Thranduil as trespasser. But he saw something in me that no one else did, and named me as elf-friend even at so young an age. he welcomed me to his halls many times since teaching me often the histories of Middle Earth and beyond. Now, I have learned the ways of the warrior, since I began travelling at my 18th year, and am hoping to be knighted by King Bard II."

by **SmaugsBane** » Fri Mar 22, 2002 12:49 pm

Dirk explains his weapon to Thranduil and his council: "Here follows the story of my treasure and my bane: In the second age when Mithril was discovered in the Misty Mountains, this blade was forged by the Dwarves and given in tribute to Gil-Galad, High King of the Elves. It was the first weapon ever forged of the metal and was beset with the emerald you see here. It was counted as the highest of honours to own the knife, whose original name has long since been forgotten. It has always been given from lord to lord in trbute of loyalty and friendship. Thus it came to the house of the Lord of Arnor in the early Third Age. When Arnor fell to the Witch King of Angmar, most of the hierlooms of the house of Arnor were secreted away to Imladris to the safe keeping of Elrond's house. But this the Witch King did find and keep for himself. He named it Kasak Kulkodar, in the black speech. In the high tongue of the elves it is known as Carch Urulóki. Both names mean Dragon's Fang in the Westron tongue of men. And the Witch King enchanted the dagger to possess great strength. Indeed he gave it his very spirit. The blade touches nothing. It is as if all things give way to its edge. Its wounds never heal and there is no substance it cannot penetrate. When the Witch King was defeated at Fornost by Glorfindel and Arnor retaken, the Witch King lost his weapon. It fell from his hand as he fled Glorfindel's wrath and it was taken up again by the Eldar. So it was that it came to the house of Elrond once again. But it was given to Glorfindel for his valour in retaking Arnor and so it sat in Glorfindel's house until The War of the Ring. When the Witch King fell to the blades of Eowyn and Meriadoc, the nature of the blade changed. It seemed to take on a life all its own, choosing who will and won't wield it. It now changes in size with the needs of its bearer. I have used it as dagger and as sword. It also changes with the conditions in times of threat, it is black as the void in which Eru first created everything, and in battle it is as fire. It also communicates with its bearer, in a fell whisper, to warn of impending danger. Glorfindel found that part of the very spirit of the Witch King resides in the blade, trapped since his banishement from Middle Earth. The blade came to me when I was travelling in the west. I befriended Glorfindel in his last months 'ere he sailed from the Grey Havens. It was there that we sat many evenings and he told me the histories of old. He told me that he saw in me a great destiny - and great sorrow. It was on his last day before crossing the sea that he presented me with Neleg Amlug, The Friendship Amulet of Gil-Galad, which now hangs around Leoba's neck, and my mithril shirt, forged for him by the Noldor in Eregion before they were enslaved by Sauron. He said that I, too will pass these heirlooms on to a lord in tribute. The blade cannot be held by anyone save its rightful owner. And none can win the blade, it must be given freely. If anyone touches it, save me, they shall be poisoned as if pierced with a Morgul-Knife."

by **Turelie_Lurea** » Fri Mar 22, 2002 12:50 pm

Platonic? whatever, dear SB!! you're madly in love with Leoba and she with you...just admit it!! <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0> (OOC:hi stepdaddy!) <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0> <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>

by **SmaugsBane** » Fri Mar 22, 2002 12:50 pm

The council of Thranduil (SB's private meeting): SB, sitting in the chamber of Nurvilya as she started to rouse, was heartened by the fact colour was now returning to her face. It was in fact just before she fully wakened that he was summoned to the private apartments of Thranduil. There, the King’s bodyguard showed him to a small chamber with a dining table and a few chairs. There sitting around the table was an array that boggled the mind of SB. Thranduil sat at the head of the table. On either side of the king sat the sons of Elrond, Elladan upon his right and Elrohir upon his left. To Elrohir’s left sat a tall, stately looking man in the livery of Gondor and next to him a golden-haired woman of great beauty. Next to Elladan sat his father, Drake, and his eldest brother, Derek. At the foot of the table, was an empty chair, for SB. All stood when SB entered and he embraced his father and brother, whom he’d not seen for nearly a year. They, however, did not seem as jubilant as SB at the reunion. It then became apparent that this meeting was no cordial meeting, that grave things were about to be discussed. Thranduil introduced each person, in turn, to SB. He knew Elladan and Elrohir, for he had crossed the Misty Mountains and entered Imladris a year ago, when he began his journey. The tall man was Faramir, Steward of Gondor. And his lady was Eowyn, the warrior woman of Rohan, sister to its King, and the Steward’s wife. The Steward and his wife were returning to Minas Tirith from the rebuilt Fornost in the North, when they were asked to attend to represent Gondor and Rohan. He was held in awe, for it was stories of these four people’s actions in the War of the Ring that was had heard over and over in the Inn, growing up. Upon the table before Thranduil was a large box of black granite. It was unadorned and utterly black. Thranduil bade them all sit. “I have called all of you here because it seems that some of our worst nightmares and our greatest hopes, alike, are about to come into being,” said the king. Drake, SB’s father, was the next to speak, “My son and I do not feel we belong in this counsel of great people, however I asked that I be the one to tell you what you must now learn, Dirk.” His face was grave and it looked as if he had been weeping. He continued, “You are not my son. The Rangers of the North brought you to me and they asked that I raise you as my own son. They gave me enough gold to support you. And I did as they asked and brought you up in my household.” SB’s heart stopped. Tears welled up in his eyes. It was Faramir who continued, “In the year when The King was restored and Sauron fell, it was ordained that Fornost, the city of the North be restored. A year later, the same in which the ringbearers sailed west, when the Dunedain arrived at the ruins of old Fornost, a young woman was found, apparently living among the ruins with an infant boy. She was dying of an unknown ailment. She and her boychild were taken into the care of the Dunedain, where she made an outrageous claim. That the boy was the heir to the throne of Angmar and was conceived in her in an act of necromancy by the Witch-King himself, ‘ere he perished. The woman said that she was told in her nightmares that heirs were needed in the realm that Sauron was planning. She claimed that when the boy reached manhood, he alone could open this box (he indicated the black cube on the table.) and claim his legacy. She died soon after. Her child was you.” Elladan took up the story, “The Dunedain knew not what to do, so they sought the council of my brother and me at Imladris. We agreed to take you in and hold safe your inheritance until the King of the West, Ellesar, could decide your fate.” “You lived your first three years in Rivendell, as our ward. Then, when the King traveled north to his newly-rebuilt stronghold, he came to pass judgment on the heir of his hated enemy.” Faramir said, “The elves had watched you closely and examined you. You were found to be of full Numenorean blood. Half that of the dark Numenorians, like the witch king himself, before he was fully subjugated to the power of the ring given him by Sauron. The other half is that of the line of Elendil, like Aragorn himself – the girl was thought to have been a sister of Halbarad, the captain of the Rangers who died on the pellenor fields. He had a sister who was taken as a child in a raid by wild men under the power of Sauron.” Elrohir added, “We also found that there was a latent dark power in you, which should never be allowed to awaken. The king, in his mercy decided that you shouldn’t be destroyed, but rather, you should be taken away and raised in secret, as a common man, and perhaps your heritage would never show itself. He had heard of your father’s valor in the battles of the north during the War, and there he sent you to be raised the son of an Inn-Keeper in Esgaroth.” “They hadn’t told me any of this, only that you were an orphan. I could not resist when I saw you and took you in,” said Drake. “You grew normally for most of your childhood, though you were always stronger than you should have been. Then a year ago when you began to get restless, I sent to Thranduil, who’d caught you in his forest many times, and sent you back to me, and asked if he knew what might be done with you. He must have sought the wisdom of Elrond's sons, because it was then that Elladan came to Laketown and told me the full tale of it. He said I should let you go, but to suggest that you visit Rivendell. I thought that the journey over the mountains would be more than enough adventure and you’d be back in a matter of months. However you did not return. I heard from a wood-elf that you’d journeyed all the way to the sea with Glorfindel, who knew your real father better than anyone, as his sworn enemy.” “Glorfindel took you under his tutelage, to teach you, in his last days in Middle Earth, the ways of the light. He said that he believed that the evil in you had not awakened,” continued Elrohir, “He gave you his knife, Neleg Amlug, which he believed was rightfully yours, and along with the mithril shirt which was made for him by the renowned Noldor smiths before Sauron enslaved them, and the friendship amulet given to him by Gil-Galad. He truly believed you are who your mother had portended you were. But he prophesied that you would do great deeds for the free people of Middle Earth, but only through great trials, tribulations and sorrow.” Thranduil stood and proclaimed. “Now, Dirk, elf-friend of Numenor, step forward and claim your ill legacy.” SB was heartbroken; his tears flowed freely for his father and brother. But he was also relieved, for now he understood the stirrings within him, ever since his eighteenth birthday. He stepped forward and placed his hands on the cube. Suddenly, with a sound like the last breath of a dying man, a seem became apparent. SB lifted the top off of the box and there seemed to be a pale light emanating from within.” He reached in and removed an amulet. It was wrought of fine silver and set with a large onyx. Carved into the stone was the image of a great winged dragon. The back was carved with runes he could not read. He handed it to Elladan, who read the inscription, “The eye of Ancalagon.” SB also removed a mantle of black cloth and fur. “This is the medallion and mantle of the Angmar,” Thranduil said in horror, “so it is true.” Elladan gave the necklace back to SB and bade him wear it, for it no longer carried any malice of its own. He explained that it was truly his legacy and that, however it was wrought, he should wear it with pride. “I imagine it will still protect you from harm, and it may help you to master the blade you carry,” he said. SB placed the mantle back in its box and closed it. He placed the silver chain about his neck. He found that the amulet, despite its size, bore almost no weight. The crown and the kingdom that went with these tokens is no more. It died at your hand, lady. (he bowed his head slightly to Eowyn) And I assure you all that it is not within me to resurrect it. Faramir spoke, “That will be glad tidings to his majesty, King Aragorn.” SB continued, But why has all this been revealed to me now? He sat, forlorn and seemingly fatigued; the news of the last hour bore upon him like a great weight.

by **SmaugsBane** » Fri Mar 22, 2002 12:52 pm

SB, after learning his true origins, joins the AMMM and begins a quest to learn more of his father and his legacy: SB took Sauron’s road from the dark tower to Morgul Vale. He passed Orodruin, the birthplace of the one ring and then crossed the lifeless plain of Gorgoroth. No creature assailed him on that road, though he was a stranger. As he passed the walls of Cirith Ungol, he was aware that he was intently watched. Still, he neither saw nor heard any man, orc, nor beast. He walked midnight slowly through Morgul Vale, keenly aware of an ancient will of great malice was bent toward him from the north. He knew of Shelob, and yet was not afraid of her now, as he might have been in days past. In fact, he felt no fear, no anxiety. His senses were sharpened, though, as if he wished to take in all of the sites and sounds of this strange new realm on his first pass through it. He was not aware, but a smile grew on his face; and the amulet about his neck was light with a deep inner fire. As he approached the gate of Minas Morgul, a company of large Uruks, the gate-guard of Minas Morgul, came to attention and made as if they would block the way and challenge the bold stranger. Who would dare ride to the gate of the Nazgul citadel alone, in the open? But then they seemed bewildered and then afraid. The gate was opened without a word. And as Midnight strode confidently, proudly, through the gate, a horn was sounded upon the battlement, which was in turn answered by a bell, ringing from up on high in the tower. Near to the front door, which was flung open, as if in welcome, SB dismounted. A man stood near, in the livery of Minas Morgul and SB Motioned him to come. The man hurried in fear, bowed low, and his eyes did not look up from the ground to meet Dirk’s. What is your name? “My number is MM3473, I have no name other than that. I am a slave to your lordship and his palace.” Well, can you take care of a horse? “Yes master.” Take my steed; his name is Midnight. See that he is given clean water and hay. I mean clean. He is to be given his own stall, free of other beasts. And see that no Orc touches him. He is worth 50 of you and 100 of Orcs and if any ill befalls him, I will exact that toll. “Yes master.” MM3473 bowed low so that his forehead touched the ground. Then he took the reigns, being careful not to touch SB’s hand, and let the beast away. The gathering orcs and men made way for him and Midnight as he passed. Then SB entered Minas Morgul for the first time. As he passed the threshold, something changed within him. His pain, his loneliness that he had carried for several weeks was lifted. The encircling mass looked upon him with fear and reverence. He felt power welling within him. He climbed a stair and walked the halls of Minas Morgul without a single misstep. He knew where he was going; but heknew not why. He entered a large room with a vaulted ceiling, held aloft be many intricately carved pillars of stone. Upon a Dais on the opposite of the room was a large chair. In it sat the shade of Wiki, Nazgûl, and appointed chief of Minas Morgul in his father’s absence. The wraith stands from the throne and steps aside. He was the only Nazgûl in the tower, as the others have been called away to Barad-Dur. Into SB’s mind come Wiki’s words. “Welcome young one, are you here to claim thy father’s legacy?” Instinctively, though he had never done it before, Dirk spoke back in like manner – with his mind. No, you may sit in that chair awhile longer. You will know if I come into my father’s inheritance, and claim his throne. I will sit beside you and hear the history of my father’s people, your people. And thus they sat for several risings and settings of the moon. Dirk eagerly asking questions and Wiki telling the history of the Numenoreans, light and Black, and of the Corsairs, and of the alliance with Saruon when he gifted the he and the other Lords of Men the 9 rings. No word was uttered. The tales were told in silence and darkness. For they did not speak and no lamp was lit during the nights. Servants silently brought SB food a drink at whiles. Harsh, dry meats and hard breads, and burning liquor, which sustained him without weariness, whilst he learned what lore the Ringwraith could teach. Finally, on the morn of the fifth day, he spoke aloud, to the nearest man-slave. (for he still could not bring himself to deal with the orcs) Bring me the slave MM3473. Then he turned to Wiki, placed his right hand on the shoulder of the cold armor under which no corporeal existence lives, and spoke in a clear voice. My friend, thank you for your teaching. Sit here now in peace and power as lord if Minas Morgul. I will not take your seat from you. If I do decide to take my father’s place, it will be to regain his realm in the North, Angmar. From there I can better reap my revenge on those who denied me my birthright. Wiki spoke, this time, though he has no lips or throat, his words reverberated form the walls of the throne room. Dark child, your coming was foretold, although thy destiny in unclear. We will meet again. But whether as ally or foe, remains to be seen. Go now and continue thy quest. It is my hope that you do claim thy right. For then our realm shall reach far to the north, and we shall constrict the land between until all followers of the light submit. And he returned to the throne and sat upon it. SB turned now to see MM3473 upon hands and knees, with head bowed, witing for SB to notice him and give him instructions. Rise, slave. Do you remember your given name before you were brought here? “No sir, I was born into the service of this tower.” Well, I shall have to think of a name for you. How is my horse? “Strong, of body and of will. He has been fed and watered and rested as you ordered.” Good, go and saddle him and make him ready for my departure. The slave ran headlong out of the room and made Midnight ready for travel. SB took his leave of the lord of Minas Morgul and strode out of the tower. In the courtyard, the slave stood beside Midnight, holding his reigns. You I shall call Bernard. And, Bernard, you shall be my groomsman, and my herald. I have obtained leave of Wiki for you. Get you a horse and some plain traveling-clothes. Can you read a map? “Yes, master.” Then get you a map to Dol Guldur. Learn the road. Then ride thither and herald my coming. Then see that arrangements are made for Midnight, as well as food and drink as is fit for a man. Not this orcish fare that I have been fed here. “Yes master, thank you master!” Bernard handed the reigns to his new lord and ran off in a cloud of dust to do Dirk’s bidding. He stepped to Midnight’s head and stroked his ears. He whispered to the horse: Shall we ride now in fairer lands awhile? The horse neighed and stamped in approval. Dirk then climbed into the saddle. Now even taller and darker than when he entered, though it was only 5 days thence and he had taken no sleep. He spurred the great black stallion and they left the courtyard and turned west. When the land opened up and SB was out of the shadow of the Vale, he turned north and trod the roads of south Ithilien. There he stopped, though he’d not yet been on the road a full day. He led the horse off of the road and into a hidden clearing. There the grass was green and the sun shone brightly. The fair fragrance of Ithilien was upon the air. As Midnight happily chewed the sweet grass, SB went to a nearby brook and bathed in its cold waters. When he was done, he dressed and went back to the clearing, bearing some of the water for his horse. He then lay in the soft grass. But as he lay there awake, he fell melancholy, for he was struck of a sudden, with thoughts of his Lady, Leoba. She hails from this fair land. He had never walked in Ithilien before and he was just now struck with its beauty. And he was reminded of the beauty of his lady. He told himself he would call for her when his business was done. But would she come? He fell asleep with her face pictured in his mind. He slept for a full day. He woke with a start, for Midnight had walked near and nuzzled him where he lay. He scratched the horse’s nose and smiled. He rose to another beautiful, sunlit day. He ate some of the berries that grew wild there and he shot him a rabbit and roasted it upon a spit. Thus he lingered in South Ithilien for nearly a week. Walking in the woods, pondering himself and his fate and his future. And all the while, Leoba never left his thoughts. Finally, he saddled Midnight, made himself ready and took once again to the road. Well, Midnight, let us play this game to its end. To Dol Guldur! And he spurred the great Stallion northwards upon the road.

by **SmaugsBane** » Fri Mar 22, 2002 12:54 pm

Thanks for checking out my little thread, Turie. Yeah things have changed a little since that was first written. <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>

by **Turelie_Lurea** » Fri Mar 22, 2002 12:58 pm

Wow, I like your story so far...my tale is long from being done, as Nenya and I have an RP about it...will have to wait until it's complete... Good luck with the rest, i'll check back another time to see how it's going...

by **SmaugsBane** » Fri Mar 22, 2002 1:01 pm

Yeah, I was inthe character archives, but since he keeps changing and evolving, and the tale keeps getting longer, I thought he'd get his own thread.

by **Leoba** » Sat Mar 23, 2002 3:04 am

Great as ever SB.<img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0> An excellent idea. One comment, which you can ignore and I promise not to take offence(<img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0>): SB hasn’t been showing much sign of being single in recent weeks, unless there is something he’s not telling his lady and he doesn‘t love her after all. So it’s cool with me if you wish to amend that line in the first post? If so, I’ll fix my post in the character archives as well.

by **SmaugsBane** » Tue Mar 26, 2002 10:40 am

I will edit, Leoba. Tell me what you think. ___ SmaugsBane approaches Dol Guldur: The boles of the trees flew past as Midnight galloped along the long-forgotten trail. Even though the forest had reclaimed the track, and neither the horse nor the rider had trodden the way before, they held a steady course through the southern reaches of Mirkwood. As they steadily traveled northward, the shadows grew in about them and the feeling of watchful eyes came upon Dirk. “We are definitely on the right track, my friend.” SB whispered into the horse’s ear. The horse had grown bold and strong and willful in the weeks since he was given to Dirk, by Drake his foster father. SB knew now that Midnight would no longer suffer anyone save himself to ride him. And would only be led by another if he wished to go also where the groomsman led him. The horse was tall and strong and sleek and black as jet. Presently, they burst forth through the ever-thickening underbrush and into a clearing. There set amid the impenetrable dark of Mirkwood’s trees, stood Dol Guldur, the tower of the necromancer of old and now home to Khamul’s Shadow. It was black and smooth and no windows were visible from without. However, none entered the hollow in which the hill of Dol Guldur stood without unblinking eyes upon him. As SB approached, he noticed a small door had been opened in the rock and there, prostrate upon the ground before the black threshold was Bernard, his servant. SB rode up to him and dismounted. “Get up. Have arrangements been made for Midnight?” “Yes master, there are no stables here, only the tower, but I have made shelter and filled a trough with clean water under yonder leaves,” Bernard indicated an area opposite the door under the eaves of the forest. “The grass is good here for him and I think he shall be very happy.” “I hope so, for your part. Is the master of the tower aware of my arrival?” “Yes master, ‘twas he who told me you were here. Indeed, he knew your presence at the very moment you entered the forest.” “Good, see to the horse, then bring me food and drink. I shall greet the great Nazgûl straight-away.”

by **SmaugsBane** » Tue Mar 26, 2002 10:42 am

SB at Dol Guldur, part 2: As he crossed the threshold, it became immediately dark as pitch, even though the door stood open, no light from without lit the halls of Dol Guldur. SB took a torch from the wall near the entrance an lit it. But the torch did little to chase the shadows away. As he felt his way, he became aware that a dark figure stood now before him. It was, to SB’s eyes, only a deepening of the shadow in the shape of a man. There was a pale light where a face should be, but none was visible. A voice came into his head. “Follow me.” And SB followed the light of the man-shade. Up many stairs and through many halls he walked in darkness, until at last, the walls opened out into a wide lamp lit chamber. It was completely unadorned. It’s walls were the smooth black granite of the exterior of the tower. There were no windows, and only two exits, the way which he came and at the opposite end, a wide stair leading up. But a large chair blocked that way. And upon the seat was Khamul’s Shadow, the ringwraith. “It leads to Sauron’s chambers above, where none now may tread,” said the voice of Khamul, “I have lit the chamber since your eyes are not yet able to see in utter darkness. You servant, too is unable to walk my halls without aid.” SB looked about as his eyes became used to the low lamplight. He saw that many of the shade-servants were lurking at the light’s edge. Perceiving Dirk’s unease, Khamul says, “These shade of men are but a small part of my host of servants here. They are very effective scouts in the forest. They are nearly undetectable by followers of the light, especially effective in tracking the elves in the forest. You felt them though, didn’t you?” SB answered, “Yes, I did. I felt their watchful eyes upon me on the road. But I did not see them.” Bernard entered then, carrying a torch and a tray. He cast his eyes to the floor, looking neither at Dirk or Khamul. Without a word, he set the tray before SB and returned to the little shelter where Midnight stood. There he awaited Dirk’s call. He was desperately afraid and wished to leave this place. He had never been outside the confines of Minas Morgul, which was much larger and filled with orcs and other men of the Dark Lord’s army. But this place was dark and quiet and filled with unseen evil things. Also, his new master had allowed him to travel alone – which the richest reward he’d ever been given. He’d seen places he never knew about upon his speedy trip. In fact, the horse and Bernard were near death when they reached the hollow of Dol Guldur. He had taken neither food nor rest, beyond short stops to water the horse, in order to see his new master’s will be done. His new master was merciful and made Bernard feel important, indeed he had even given him a name – a real man’s name. Bernard would serve his master until he died, not out of fear but out of love and gratitude – feelings previously unknown to Bernard, or any of the slaves of Mordor. Presently, Khamul gave Dirk leave to eat and rest, that he should return at sunset to learn what he’d come there to learn of his father’s legacy. SB took up the tray, which ws filled with meats and cheeses, as good as could be found in this place where no men dwelled and a wineskin. He left the tower and sat upon the grass in the hollow, eating and contemplating the great tower. But he did not sleep.

by **SmaugsBane** » Tue Mar 26, 2002 1:01 pm

Conclusion of SB at Dol Guldur: As the sky grew ruddy then purple at the setting of the sun Dirk, again aided by the shade-servants, climbed to Khamul’s chamber. There, just as with Wiki at Minas Morgul, he was wordlessly told the history of the place as it relates to his father. Khamul’s mind was much stronger than Wiki’s and fear was instilled in Dirk as he sat enthralled at Khamul’s side. When the sun had already risen 2 hours hence outside the tower (which would not be visible in the windowless room) the tale was trough. Khamul asked naught of Dirk with regards to his plans, for these he divined already from his mind. Then speaking aloud, Khamul said his farewell. “When next we meet Dirk, it will not be so easy for me to enter your mind without your leave. As you travel north, the power within you will awaken. Whether you choose to embrace that power or fight it, will determine the nature of our next meeting. A gift I have delivered to your esquire for you. Wear it well. And when next we meet, I pray that thou hast chosen wisely and we shall be allied under the Lidless Eye.” SB then took his leave of Khamul, and went to Bernard. There he found that Khamul had given him a jerkin of stout black leather. He had Bernard fix the insignia of Dale over the left breast: a shield of blue with the gold bow and arrow. He then discarded his blue tunic and went forth from the hollow of Dol Guldur, thus arrayed all in black leather, with the white linen sleeves of his shirt protruding through the arm holes of the jerkin, and concealing his mithril shirt beneath, and his stealthy grey cloak over all. SB and Bernard then mounted and headed East out of Mirkwood, whereupon their exit a shadow was lifted and the glory of the light of day restored to their road. At Anduin, they stopped and rested. And SB’s thoughts once again turned to Leoba. Soon they shall be together again. But under what circumstances?

by **Leoba** » Tue Mar 26, 2002 3:25 pm

Leoba blushed with pleasure. Perfect <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>

by **Lord_Tarquin** » Wed Mar 27, 2002 1:34 pm

A pretty shocking history. I can't say I totally agree with your reasons, but I have a greater respect for you, SB. Would you mind doing me a favor? I have my stats on the Character Archives page (there's not much) Would you mind reading and critiqing? My email is in my profile.

by **SmaugsBane** » Wed Mar 27, 2002 1:57 pm

Thanks for reading these long-winded posts, LT. As far as the reasoning. I'll just say - stay tuned. I'd be honored to read your profile, I love to read people's stuff.

by **SmaugsBane** » Sat Mar 30, 2002 1:39 pm

Originally a series of 3 posts in the AMMM Fed. 29th March 2002: SmaugsBane reaches Angmar and claims his inheritance: At Tharbad, Dirk had dispatched Bernard once more to do his bidding. This time it was to gather such men as he could find and bring them to Carn-Dûm. His plan was to join these men with the last remnants of orcs that lived in the north of the Hithaeglir, and thus build an Army. Dirk had already ensconced a darkly-enchanted Dwarf, ironically of the line of Durin, as a puppet Lord in Moria. (see the rescue in Moria rp) These two forces, once fully arrayed, could be called upon to crush the newly-rebuilt Fornost in the north, as well as Dale, and any other stronghold of men and elves in the north. (OOC: I know the timelines are all messed up. Many of my postings occur in early forth age, after the War of the Ring. Yet in AMMM, Sauron, and BD and MM et al. are all still in existence. Reader, please suspend disbelief for a short while, for the story's sake) After several anonymous nights at an Inn in Tharbad, Dirk again took the way north. He crossed the East road within sight of Amon-Sûl, which men were rebuilding, without being seen. At last he came upon Mount Gram, a peak jutting out of Hithaeglir. He climbed upon a tall hill at the foot of the mountain and made camp. He was within a day?s ride of Carn-Dûm and needed to prepare to fulfill his destiny. It was there, in solitude, that he rejected the name given to him by the deceitful foster father. He decided to shorten his traveling name to Bane. Thus he announced himself at the gates of Carn-Dûm seven days later. It seemed that masonry had begun in the rebuilding of the stronghold of Angmar, and Bane intended to find out by whom. Bane blew upon a gilded horn and announced his presence. I am Bane, son of Angmar and I am here to claim my seat! There issued forth from deep within the stone fortress a great shadow. Though it was mid-day, as the shadow crept up, the sun itself was powerless to break it. Presently orcs, thousands of them, with many breeds Bane had not yet seen poured from the dark maw of the open gates. There were large Uruks, but different than those in the south, these seemed able to withstand the cold better than their smaller brethren. And there were orc/dwarf hybrids, twisted and foul. It must have been these who labored in the rebuilding of the walls of Carn-Dûm. They massed together as ants whose mound has been disturbed. Then, as suddenly as they?d appeared, they slunk back into the depths in fear. The cause of their fear was soon apparent as, with the smell of burning sulphur and the sound of a forest fire, a Balrog, fire demon of the realm of Andband of old, strode to the threshold of the gates and there, as he stood, grew in stature and in malice. "I am Murannon, the Flame of Carn-Dûm. This is my house and these are my minions. Who dares make so bold a claim?" Hail noble servant of Melkor, son of Gothmog! I am Bane, son of the Sorceror King of Angmar. I would enter this house and sit upon my father's throne. But I do not ask you to abdicate completely. To you, I would give dominion over all the deep places in the Misty Mountains north of Imladris. You shall be king of the underworld in which you live, and lord of those which you already hold as thralls ? the orcs of the mountains. This I would also ask: Once you were second battle commander to Sauron the Great. He granted you reprieve from death for your valiance upon the battlefield of Pellenor. I would also ask that you take that post again - instead as High Battle Commander of the armies of the north, answerable only to our lords. Would you gather, train and lead Melkor's, and his Lieutenant Sauron's, armies from this fortress? Let us rebuild the might of our lords in the north together as kings - you of the world below Hithaeglir and me of Angmar in the north. What say you? "Yeah, verily, I know thee, son of Angmar. Indeed, your coming was foretold to me by the Dark Lord, Sauron. It was for your coming that I have created these half-orcs. The dwarven spirit is hard to break, but once broken they serve well as masons and smiths. And their work is much greater than that of orcs alone." He continued, "Also was I told about the gathering of the northern army. To that end I have brought forth a north-hearty breed of Uruk-Hai. Enter, brother, let us begin a new age in the north of Middle-Earth! Take thy father's seat!" The Balrog withdrew inside and disappeared deep within the bowels of the mountain. A half orc, bearing a brace of steel upon his upper arm signifying rank, stepped forward to lead him to the throne. Bane whispered to Midnight: Go forth and graze wild, only hearken for my call. And look out for your groom Bernard should be along shortly. Go to him when he arrives for only he shall tend to you. With that, the mighty steed bolted into the wilderland. Bane followed the half-orc into the lamp-lit interior of the fortress. It was built of granite hewn from the mountain upon which it stood. Though the ramparts above were great, greater still were the halls below the mountain. Inferior only to the dwarven halls of Erebor and Moria in this age, and to Belegost, Norgrod, Nargothrond, and Thangorodrim of old; Carn-Dûm was a magnificent underground city. Many pillared halls and stairs and avenues there were. At last, the half-orc stepped aside and beckoned Bane to enter a large hall, lit with torches. In the hall were hundreds of orcs and half-orcs, all bowed low, so that their heads touched the polished stone floor. At the opposite end was a dais of many steps, and upon the dais, a mighty throne of iron and granite. Bane crossed the floor, mounted the dais, and approached the throne. There, upon the velvet cushion, was a small black leather purse. Bane took and opened it, pouring its contents into his palm. It was a ring - a simple, heavy gold ring, set with a single large Garnet. It's the ring Sauron gave to my father - one of the nine rings for mankind! (OOC:Again, bear with me on the timeline, I know that I have many events crossed here in Tolkien's world that can't have happened simultaneously.) Bane slowly slipped the ring onto his left index finger. Suddenly the world changed to dark, no longer visible were the orcs, or the torches in his throneroom. His body convulsed, for in his heart, the last vestiges of mercy and goodwill were decimated by the shadow that had been growing there. He heard the distant peal of hideous laughter. Slowly, he regained awareness of himself. He realized that it himself that was laughing. His senses suddenly became ultra-sharp. He could see as the eagle, and hear everything within his halls. A new sense he gained, as well - the ability to look into one's heart and search out the truths there. He laughed still, the laugh of one drunk with power. Bane was brought out of this trance-like state with a start. He saw now that the orcs were scattering and hiding. He strode from the throne room in the direction of the disturbance, for he could hear it. As he calmly paced the halls of his new home, orcs ran past, screaming. "Dragon!" He reached the highest battlement upon the tallest tower. (He made a note to himself: have Bernard set up his private apartments in that tower, it has an incredible view! ) There, perched upon the wall, was a magnificent winged beast. Indeed, it was the spawn of the very beast his father was given to ride into battle by Sauron. Bane knew why it had come - He'd been summoned. And of course, he would follow. He grabbed the nearest half-orc, held him by the shoulders and used the powers of his mind to calm him. What is your name? "I am Gnazsh - of the mason's company." Gnazsh, take this message to Lord Murannon, and give it to my esquire, Bernard when he arrives: I have been summoned back to Barad-Dûr. Continue to make preparations. I will return as soon as I can. He then climbed into the saddle of the great beast. The beating of its wings was strong enough to knock Gnazsh to the floor. Bane, astride the winged beast of the Nazgûl, now sped south-east, back to Mordor. He'd left an unsure minion, and now returns as the Lord of Melkor's northern kingdom.

by **Friend** » Sat Mar 30, 2002 6:11 pm

Ohhh, very nice SB!<img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0> Now your character makes a bit more sense to me... ~Friend<img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0>

by **JrrT** » Sun Mar 31, 2002 6:44 am

Looking good SB my Lord and Master!!!

by **Friend** » Sun Mar 31, 2002 6:56 am

*Smacks Darin Upside The Head* Lord and Master indeed! Don't you say that!<img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-tongue.gif"border=0> ~Friend<img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0>

by **JrrT** » Sun Mar 31, 2002 7:12 am

Well he is! You have said it in your own words in the RP! <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-tongue.gif"border=0>

by **Friend** » Sun Mar 31, 2002 7:38 am

Yes, but I just enjoy smacking you upside the head!<img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0> *Smacks Darin Upside The Head* <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-tongue.gif"border=0><img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0> ~Friend<img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0>

by **Leoba** » Sun Mar 31, 2002 9:24 am

I vanish for four days and it’s all change! Excellent<img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0>

by **TheLastAlliance** » Tue Apr 02, 2002 10:58 am

Hey buddy.....nice job here!! <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>

by **SmaugsBane** » Tue Apr 02, 2002 11:26 am

Thanks, I am glad you could follow the ramblings. Coming soon - a childhood story from SB's past.

by **SmaugsBane** » Wed Apr 03, 2002 11:17 am

Flashback a little over ten years........ _________________________________________ A large, dark-haired man, at the reigns of a 4-horse team pulled a wooden wagon to within sight of the gate to King Thranduil’s halls. There were twenty barrels of Laketown wine on the wagon, and eight-year-old Dirk was starting to get cramps in his legs from hiding between the barrels. He heard his brother, Derek, hail the elven guard: “Hail, elf. I come bearing wine for his majesty – twenty kegs was the order! May I unload them?” The elf answered in the affirmative and Dirk decided to leave this hiding place behind, else he’d be discovered. Peaking over the oaken cask, he saw Derek and the fair elf striding towards the wagon. He noiselessly slunk down and out of the wagon onto the ground on the opposite side. Then, suddenly, other elves appeared out of the woods and looked as if they’ll join Derek and the guard in the unloading. Dirk made a mental note: many elves guard the front gate, but only one is visible. He took refuge in the highest branches of the nearest tree and waited for his brother to finish and leave. Then he’d do more exploring. After some hours, Dirk heard a voice, fair and clear that woke him from his nap. Mustn’t fall asleep, that won’t do for an adventurer. He rebuffed himself quietly. Then the voice called out again. “A Legolas, Mae Govannen!” A tall, blue clad elf had ridden from the east with a company of about ten armed elves. He was calling to a golden-haired elf that had just emerged from the gates to the caverns of Thranduil. And, to Dirk’s surprise, a Dwarf followed him out of the elven home. “Mae Govannen, Glorfindel!” The green clad elf answered back. The elf-rider in blue dismounted and bowed low. “Gimli, Gloin’s son, what brings you to Greenwood?” The dwarf answered, “Legolas and I are guests of his father, which I am enjoying very much. Here I have found an elven people fond of stone and of wine. We have been getting along wonderfully.” Legolas added, “We shall leave soon to visit the halls of Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. My friend and I have been sharing the wonders of each other’s worlds since the war ended.” Dirk suddenly recognized the famous elf and dwarf. They were the ones who set out as part of the Fellowship of the Ring, which threw down Sauron. He’d heard the songs and tales many times in the Golden Dragon, his father’s inn. Dirk, in his excitement, got careless and climbed out too far onto the limb. Snap! The branch broke and Dirk was thrown to the ground just in front of the Dwarf, who reached down and lifted him up by the back of his tunic. Dirk’s bare feet dangled a few inches above the ground. He fought the dwarf desperately, but he was no match for the warrior of Durin’s Folk. “What have you caught there, Gimli?” laughed Glorfindel. “It appears to be a man-child. Legolas, do the children of men run wild in the woods of Thranduil?” asked Gimli. Legolas stepped forward, trying to stifle his laugh, and looked very sternly into the frightened eyes of Dirk. “Who are you and why were you spying on the Prince of Greenwood and his friends? Tell me or I’ll have you thrown into the dungeons!” Dirk began squirming and wrestling with the mighty hands of Gimli to get free. Finally, he was able to bite into the dwarf’s arm, which then dropped him unceremoniously to the ground. Dirk drew his wooden sword and took his best fencing stance. I am SmaugsBane, Dirk the Daring, warrior and adventurer. I am not spying on you, elf, or any of you. I am only beginning my trek to win riches and renown. Dirk didn’t see that Glorfindel had snuck up behind him. Before he knew it, Glorfindel had taken his wooden sword from him. “Well daring warrior, you’ll need more than this if you wish to win riches and renown in adventures upon the road.” Glorfindel said as he amusingly poked at Gimli with the wooden sword. They all laughed heartily. Then, the guards began to show themselves, stepping out into the light. The Leader of the Guard spoke to Glorfindel. “This child is known to us. He is Dirk, son of Drake, of Esgaroth, who often hides in the deliveries of his father’s fine wine and ale. Drake owns the Golden Dragon, a cozy inn in Laketown.” He turns and looks at Dirk. “But we usually find him and send him back with his brother when the delivery wagon heads back north. That was almost half a day ago, but we only found him sleeping in the elm an hour ago. You’ve learned stealth, haven’t you? It isn’t easy to hide from elves, Dirk. Very impressive.” Glorfindel added, “Well it is near sundown, lets all go in and have a meal and rest. The boy shall sit with us.” “In the morning, as we were going north anyway, we can bring the boy to his father.” Said Legolas. Dirk was given back his wooden sword and ushered into the elven halls. He was completely silent as he walked in awe among the elven lords and the mighty famous dwarf. Gimli caught Dirk staring at him a time or two as they walked and made funny faces at him, causing Dirk to laugh. At last, one of the guards took Dirk away from the rest of the group. “You, young man, will need to get cleaned up if you are to dine with the king tonight.” Said the elf. K… K… King? I am going to have dinner with King Thranduil? “Yes, and his son, prince Legolas, and Gimli the dwarf and the lord Glorfindel from Imladris.” He’s from Rivendell? “Yes, he’s from Imladris.” Im-la-dris? “That is our word for Rivendell. You are among the elves now, so you should speak the correct names for our homes.” Oh… Im-lad-ris. How’s that? Dirk said with a grin. “That’s right, now lets get you cleaned up.” Dirk was taken to a bathing-room where a hot bath was made for him and he was forced to submerge himself in it many times – much to his dislike. But in the end, he was made clean and given new clothes to wear – a linen tunic of white and a pair of soft leather breeches. He was also given a pair of shoes, made after the elven fashion, soft leather moccasins. He put up a fight, as he was loath to go shod. But in the end they said he must wear them to meet the King. Finally the call came for dinner and the guard came for him again. Dirk was taken to a wide hall and seated three chairs down from the great seat of the King. He had no idea how high an honor this was, being so young. But he was very excited. He was the first to be seated, and then the elves began to file in. Next to Dirk sat Gimli, then Legolas, at his father’s right hand. On the left, Glorfindel sat, the King’s honoured guest. Gimli, seeing that he’d been bathed and dressed in elven clothes comment to Dirk, “I’ll warrant you liked it better to be dirty and barefooted. Me too. These formal affairs are no place for warriors like us.” And he winked at the child. Dirk’s chest swelled with pride for the mighty Gimli had called him a warrior, like himself. Then, with the clear call of silver trumpets, the King entered the hall. He was tall and regal and had clear-blue eyes. His age and wisdom were in his eyes, Dirk thought. The dinner went on for some hours, and during most of that time, Dirk was ignored. Which was to his liking. He ate to near-glutton fullness and listened to the conversation of the great elves and the dwarf. They had talked of the news of the land, of the pending harvest and of the travels of Legolas and Gimli. Then suddenly someone brought Dirk into the conversation and he was startled to hear his name spoken by the King. “Young Dirk, it is a pleasure to meet you. How do you like to food of my table?” He blushed, and swallowed hard, It is very good, your majesty. Thank you for inviting me to your board. “You have manners and speak well beyond your years. Also, my guard tells me you are able to elude detection of the elves, even in the trees just outside my halls – when you are awake that is. That is no mean feat, young man. I guess that there is much more to you than we know. When you go back to your father, I will send a message with you asking for his leave to send you back here, and spend some time among the elves, to learn the lore of the world – and so that we may learn more of you.” Yes, sir. I am very honoured. When the dinner was concluded, he was given a room to sleep in and in the morning set out with Legolas and Gimli, who told him of the great realms of the Dwarves, beneath the mightiest mountains and he invited the boy to visit the Dwarves of Erebor, when he can. Eventually, they came to Esgaroth, and Dirk was reunited with his father, who at first wasn’t pleased with the escapade of his youngest son. Then after reading the letter from Thranduil, Drake changed his demeanor, for he knew of his son’s true origins and had long ago guessed that he would not long live the life an ordinary Laketowner. Drake sent Dirk back almost immediately, with a reply to the king’s letter, which thanked him for his hospitality and bade him seek the counsel of Elrond’s sons for news of Dirk and whence he came. Thus began the long relationship between Dirk and the elves of Greenwood. Many times he went there. And oftentimes, Glorfindel, or Elladan, or Elrohir would be there. None ever told Dirk of his past, or of his true father, or even of the future they foresaw. Ever did Dirk yearn for knowledge, and ever did he return to Greenwood, so that he was known to all the elves there as friend and could enter and leave as he pleased. But he always returned to his father’s inn… …Until his eighteenth year, when he began to uneasy. It was then that he went west, instead of back to Esgaroth, after his usual visit with Thranduil, for he learned that Glorfindel was going to the havens and would soon be leaving Middle Earth for ever. Unbeknownst to Dirk, he would never return to the Golden Dragon Inn at Esgaroth as the son of Drake…

by **SmaugsBane** » Thu Apr 04, 2002 12:59 pm

Updated profile. In case anyone is interested.

by **Leoba** » Thu Apr 04, 2002 1:11 pm

When did you get the tattoo? <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-shocked.gif"border=0> BTW, I’m glad you got rid of the moustache! (Long black hair is good, big boots is good, even Dark Lord is bearable but, IMHO, the ‘tache really didn’t fit!)<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>

by **Bardhwyn_In_Black** » Thu Apr 04, 2002 1:23 pm

Bane, Brother, don't I even get an honorable mention for saving your horrific black soul? Just kidding. You owe me, though and I never forget a favour owed...

The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and Tolkien - The One Ring

Dirk the Daring of Esgaroth, R.I.P.

Dirk the Daring of Esgaroth, R.I.P.

Who is online