The Hunt for the Bride

Pull out your pack and head on down to the Prancing Pony for some great Role Playing (try to stay in character)!

Postby Hidden_Ring » Fri Feb 25, 2005 8:31 am

Followers of the Tangled Thread (and it's unraveling)

Understanding of Orion's words flashed in Declynn's eyes but Elana and Deore were still mystified by the Elf's words. The daughter struggled hard to comprehend the riddled meaning recalling only vague tales of a forbidden road and shadowed mountains. The mother, after a moment's consideration, gasped as comprehension dawned. "You can't mean traveling under the Dwimmorberg!"

"But Mother, where are you talking about and why not take the road of Master Orion suggested it?"

Elana pulled Deore closer to her, as though trying to shield her daughter from the horror of the mountain pass. "He means for us to climb the Dimholt Road and travel under the Haunted Mountain."

The Dead that kept that road shut have departed the circles of this world. It is open to those that still draw breath--

Deore spoke out again. "You've been quiet about this Declynn. Did Orion tell you about this road?"

"No. He didn't share this plan with anyone. Not myself nor either of you, it seems. I don't fear the path under the Mountain, not any more." Declynn spoke soft and slow as though there were parts of this plan she had figured out and disagreed with.

I do not fear the path under the mountain and I will walk that way. I will not force any of you to take my road, but all may walk beside me of their free will. Take a little while to make your choice on the path. I'll return in an hour. With that, the Elf stood and pulled the fine-woven cloak about him, as it seemed to fade into a pale grey color, like the snow that lay about. Pulling out his carved whistle, he played a soft tune of his own writing and, in the gifted way as before, his voice sang a song of the seeking of the Ents. The leefless forest of the Watchwood whispered from the vale, murmuring accompaniment to Orion's and the whistle's voices.

Turning from the whisper of the woods, he walked slowly back to the camp. Hoping that his expectations would not be true, Orion sat once again on the lump of rock and looked at each of his companions. Their choices were readable in their eyes and none had to speak.
I guess then this is where our way will part, Elana, Deore. I had hoped you would come with us all the way to the Great River's mouth. It was not to be, regrettably. Foretelling and seeing what a life would hold is not in me, but lay with my father. I can only hope that your path in the wide world will be free of incident.

Not without a sigh of regret at the time of parting, the white-blond Elf starts to gather the few things he had set out in the campsite. A small weight settles in his chest as he prepares to leave the Rohan woman and the half-orc. ....Never thought I'd actually be sad to part ways from one such as Deore. Hopefully that foul scum will chase Declynn and myself instead of mother and daughter. They deserve some peace.... Climbing astride the huge toffee-tan draft horse, Orion nudges Kemenroch to take the road south to the river Isen as Declynn rides beside on Demon.
User avatar
Hidden_Ring
Ranger of the North

 
Posts: 1772
Joined: Fri Aug 09, 2002 9:45 pm
Location: WV & PA
Top

Postby PatriotBlade » Fri Feb 25, 2005 11:25 pm

Tale Of The Warriors Of Light
"Have we...met, before?"
Her breath caught painfully in her chest as she looked at him with her bright green eyes. His blond hair was much shorter than she remembered and ragged. His elven armor was pathed with the hands and skill of men and he wore a gausy bandage over his eyes. She was on the verge of tears. "Yes." It came out a choked whisper. Her hands were clasped uncomfortably in her lap for she was unsure of herself. Her first instinct was to rush and embrace him, but if he didn't remember her... She stood then and walked toward him."Yes, we've met before. A long time ago..." she drew a ragged breath. She was close enough to touch him now. She hesitantly touched his shoulder, gently pressing her palm flat over the muscle. "... Nevon."
Now it was his turn to have difficulty breathing.
He could hear a deep longing in her voice, see a great sorrow in her ageless, depthless green eyes, and could feel a great power dancing at her finger tips, fighting to get free. He could almost remember her. He could see a version of himself standing on a beach pleading with her, but he didn't know why.
He didn't draw away from her, even as his heart rate increased with her proximity. They were both trembling as she drew closer, meeting his veiled gaze. She sudenly moved again, tears escaping her eyes as she kissed him.
He had reached up to catch her other hand when her tears fell, hitting his hands and running through his fingers. The pain in them was gone. He stared at them in wonder until she clasped them, bringing his attention back to her.

"A long time ago, we lived in this city as two of it's knights-protectors. We fell in love, though I couldn't let go of one I loved before. infact you built these rooms for me. But I hurt you deeply and l left without even trying to patch things up." she finally embraced him. "I am so, so sorry. Will you let me try to make you whole again?"
User avatar
PatriotBlade
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 4371
Joined: Fri Jan 04, 2002 2:03 pm
Location: My own crazy, mixed up world.
Top

...

Postby Son_of_Legolas » Sat Feb 26, 2005 8:58 pm

Tale of the Warriors of Light

The image of the young man and this perfect woman walking hand in hand down the streets of the white city would not leave his head. He looked down to his hands after her lips parted with his own.

You...say that we were lovers in a time long past? I don't know what to believe anymore...I can remember my name now...Nevon, yes, it was Nevon, you just called me that. I see these images. I see me begging you to stay at some beach, and then it all goes away after that. I woke from a terrible nightmare, one of those nightmares that grips you from the heart and squeazes until you don't want to remember what happened. From that nightmare I was entered into something worse. A land of these feverishly grotesque creatures surrounded me. I was forced to withstand tortures, and exposure to a deadly red light. I feared that light more than anything, but they made me look at it...and this is what happened.

Nevon lifted a hand to his brow and pulled away the gause. Heather stepped back with a hand over her mouth, tears welling up in her beautiful green irises as she gazed up Nevon's own crimson, fire-blazed orbs.

I felt abandoned to a barren waistland full of pain. I don't know how I got there, but... I was alone. And right now, even though I see you here, and you want to love me again...I still...

Nevon replaced the gause, and felt his flaming tears lick the material. Frustrated, Nevon through the flaming band onto the floor and turned away, stopping at the door...

...I still feel alone...

##------->Nevon Greenleaf
User avatar
Son_of_Legolas
Shield Bearer

 
Posts: 366
Joined: Fri Jan 18, 2002 2:10 pm
Top

Postby PatriotBlade » Sat Feb 26, 2005 10:48 pm

Tale Of The Warriors Of Light
Heather began to weep softly behind his back.
He turned and looked at her. She was hugging herself, her face creased with guilt and sorrow as tears slid down her face.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness, Nevon... just a chance to try to mend some of the damage I've caused. I can't change the past, though I would, if it were within my power-but maybe I can ease some, if not all of your pain. I am a healer with the gift and curse of healing touch. I'm not asking for things to go back as they were, I know they can never be again. Those times are lost to me-tortious memories of a happy time. But you pulled me out of a great depression. You saved my life many times. Let me repay the debt." Her breath caught in her chest, causing it to tighten painfully. Her long dark curls hung limply around her shoulders and gently framed her face. Her demons were dancing across her vision as she looked at the man she had loved and ruined. She forced herself to look into his eyes-to meet his red gaze. They were angry, cunfused and hurt.
"I have done many things in my long life that I regret, but abandoning my first love to his death and hurting you were the worst, and the ones that are impossable for me to attone for, no matter what I do. They are my demons. They are my burdens. They make the curse that will follow me until Eru lets me go home."
User avatar
PatriotBlade
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 4371
Joined: Fri Jan 04, 2002 2:03 pm
Location: My own crazy, mixed up world.
Top

...

Postby Son_of_Legolas » Sun Feb 27, 2005 5:33 pm

Nevon could only look at her with a fixed look that could have stared down an ogre. He didn't mean to glare, it was simply all he knew to give. He wiped the flaming tears away from his eyes looked at the crying Heather.

H.....Heather. There's nothing in this world I want more than for you to make me whole again, its just that....

A gong sounded in the courtyard. Nevon's eyes from from angry to wild and he looked around for his sword, but he had left it in the armory before he started building the gate reinforcements. On the bed glittered a similar red as his own crimson eyes. A familiar blade; deadly, thin, and ancient. He stepped over to the bed and his eyes met with the surface of the sword.

Boldly reaching out a hand he grasped the handle, but reeled in pain. He even felt his eyes burn as he stepped away from the blade.

Blessed, he looked at Heather who looked up again with tear-filled eyes. Never for the hands of evil to touch. I remember.

He reached up and touched his eyelids and once again felt like he was alone.

Perhaprs cursed would be the word...

He bowed to the lady one last time and ran out of the halls to join the ranks of the white city.

"At least," he thought, "This evil will be fighting evil."

He found a standard on the ground and lifted it in his hands, then broke it over his knee.

No matter what weapon he fights with.

##------->Nevon Greenleaf
User avatar
Son_of_Legolas
Shield Bearer

 
Posts: 366
Joined: Fri Jan 18, 2002 2:10 pm
Top

Postby PatriotBlade » Thu Mar 10, 2005 3:21 pm

Heather sat looking at the door, several minutes after he had gone. the call to battle was sounded again, pulling her out of her revere. she strapped on her weapons, then hid the dragon sword under her bed. She dashed out of her rooms and made her way withought thought to the Houses Of Healing. The healers already there knew what they were doing, she had trained them well. She looked out a window to get a glimps of the coming battle. A world weary sigh escaped the lips of the half elven healer. She turned to leave, catching the chief healer as he passed. "I will be in the liberary with my friends for a short while. If I am needed before I can return, do not hesitate to send for me."
He nodded and went about his business.
Heather ran most of the way to the liberaries. She entered out of breath and nearly in tears. She headed for the needed wisedom of Parm, though she knew that he could truely do nothing but offer comfort. She stopped, just within the circle of lamplight as he searched through books and papers at an old wooden table.
He looked up at her, his white hair and beard gleaming in the wan light. her appearance startled him. Her elvish green eyes glinted with unshed tears, her long dark curls were diseveled and the once neat braid was comming loose. Her face was pale with grief and she was dressed for a fight. He had not even heard the battle call.
"Lady Heather?"
"Parm, I'm a fool. A childish fool, for all my many years." her breath caught as she spoke. "He'll kill himself for grief of a lost memory because of what he's been through looking for me. I brought him to this and he won't let me help. If he dies, the city may be lost." She stopped as the tears finally escaped ans slid down her face. She lost what control she had left and rushed to his side, kneeling to embrace him and burry her face in his sweet smelling beard. "Can you help me? What do I do?"
He barely heard her muffled, choked whisper.
User avatar
PatriotBlade
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 4371
Joined: Fri Jan 04, 2002 2:03 pm
Location: My own crazy, mixed up world.
Top

Postby TinuvielUndomiel » Mon May 30, 2005 2:55 pm

Tinu was at a loss.

What could be done now? She only half listened to Leslie's comments about the river as she brought before her mind what little they knew. One, Hobbi had to be near. Alive or...dead. Her mind wouldn't allow her to pursue that thought any further. She knew so very little about the Protector that was supposed to be around Lurea's neck. Perhaps it worked differently with Tinu since she was not Hobbi's love. This thought too brought the sting into her eyes. How would they ever decide where to go? She could not lead them... but she held their only lead.

Sighing, she peered out across the watery horizon of the Bay of Belfalas.

"He's out there," she whispered, the thought coming to her all of a sudden. She realized that the same voice that had come to her at the wreckage of the Inn had whispered it to her and she had taken it in as her own thought.

"Who are you?" She said aloud, looking around, her eyes growing wild again. She ran to Anorast.

"I am going mad. Here, you must take the Protector... I cannot be its bearer any longer. I cannot carry this burden. It is not mine to carry," she spoke rapidly in the old tongue as though she had forgotten the Common Tongue.

Running into the trees, sand squelching between her bare toes, Tinu went toward her comfort--the woods.
User avatar
TinuvielUndomiel
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 1497
Joined: Fri Jan 18, 2002 2:46 pm
Location: Wherever the storms are
Top

Postby Leonir » Mon May 30, 2005 4:27 pm

A Marriage of Evils

After the hobbit's decease, Leonir led the child to his chamber. She was a little shaken once she realized the significance of the hobbit's death, but she dutifully reported it to her mother, as requested by her new guardian.

In return, he handed her an enormous crystal orb. She peered at it for a moment and then her stormy eyes touched upon his, without flinching.

"Is it not too heavy for me to hold?" she queried. Leonir laughed at her foolishness.

"Of course it is not too heavy. It is lighter than air--see?" He spoke a few words under his breath and the orb with the luminescent sheen floated upon the air.

"Ohhh," Melda whispered, thinking that she had been silly. He would not hurt her, this elf. He had saved her from the wargs that had killed her cousins, her guardians from birth. Why should she not trust him now? A glimmer in the back of her mind warned her, but she ignored it in her stubborness.

She held out her hand and the orb came to her, alighting gently upon her outstretched fingers.

"It is as the whisper of the wind," she marveled and looked at its flawless surface. Within it, there was no distortion of the room as she had expected, instead there was a labyrinth with a large cat bounding after an orc and a man with a falcon.

Melda laughed with delight. "Look at the kitty run!" she bubbled, thinking this all a game inside her new toy.

"Yes, Melda. Concentrate on that kitty. Just by thinking it, you can make her faster or slower. Do you wish her to play with them? Shall we introduce more elements into this game?" Leonir raised one of his false, elegant eyebrows.

"Oh yes! Please," the peredhil pleaded in the voice that belied her age.

"Then you shall have them," he laughed.

With a turn of his hand over the orb, there appeared one trapdoor right before the path of the man and he fell into second level of the labyrinth. As for the path of the orc, a bevy of scorpions appeared before him. However, he had the choice of two other paths--one to his right and one to his left.

"Now, my dear Melda. Shall we see how they fare?" He sneered and, putting his arm around the nodding peredhil, replaced the sneer with a falsely genuine smile.
User avatar
Leonir
Citizen of Imladris
 
Posts: 55
Joined: Tue Feb 04, 2003 11:55 pm
Top

Postby prmiller » Tue May 31, 2005 7:19 am

None but Lady Heather knew her heart, her purposes and her pain. Parm
knew, and hating knowing this, that even as Lady Heather tried to tie up
the tangled threads of her life, it was, after all, her own life and her choices.

The weight of the journey had been hard on the bard. This was no guildfest! They had battled monsters and evils that none could have imagined. Willum was nearly spent. His natural habit of whistling a tune,
of cracking a wry quip was no more. Lines were etched into his face! He
had actually aged! A mere lad and there were wisps of grey within the
locks of his curly brown hair. It was as if Willum had been enchanted.
But no. This was nothing but the horrors that Parm had tried to warn
Willum about back in the great inn at Tharbad.

Then there was the treachery at Lond Daer. Nessa had warned Parm,
Lady Heather had had to hurt Parm in a way that nearly crushed his spirit. Deception woven into sincerity. Who could fight that? Only Heather's elf-mind and Nessa's mysterious powers could undo the spell,
for it was, indeed a spell of a kind that Heather still shuddered to consider.

Now they were...here. Past tentacle and claw, fire and smoke, darkness
and death. What of Alfirin? What had become of her? What of Arahn.
What was to be his fate? He had dream-cursed his own father! How could
that have ever come about. Aravel had only visited his dreams with
encouragements. Now she hardly came at all. Instead, Parm's sleep was
actually dreamless, it was a grey void. Even the Valar, the great and
immortal Valar, had distanced themselves from this journey. Parm was
alone. Yet, not alone. He knew Willum trusted him, perhaps, in a boyish
fashion, even loved him. He knew Lady Heather's heart was anothers, but her loyalty to defend him was without question.

All Parm could do was observe the world about him, listen to the words
muttering into his ears, like far away sounds of a brook, interruptions of
silence, but meaningless babblings. Parm found the need to excuse him
self to walk.

Some distance from his friends, and where, he believed he was out of
sight, Parm stretched, like a great beast after a very long hibernation.
Willum was not gone. How could he let Parm be alone?

Parm started when Willum spoke, but it was a good question:

"Will this adventure ever come to a peak and an ending?"
'Ah, Willum, my fellow-traveler, we may very well be nearing that
peak even as we gather here.'
"Don't bindy-bandy words with me, Master Parm! I may be a boy, but
I am a Bracegirdle, and we are tough-talking folk! If we say a fired
burnt us, it did! If we say we lost a horse, it's lost! No poems, no songs.
I want the straight word, Master Parm. Are you in this until the end?
Or do we watch you fade off again! Stay with us m'lord! So much is
riding on our finding key facts and learning names. I say we get a
crack on moving this story forward!"

With that, Willum grabbed a piece of hardtack in his pocket, broke off
a chunk and popped it into his mouth...just like the old gaffers did back
home.
Parm smiled. In fact, he even laughed.
The effect was wonderful.
At last, the chance to laugh!
User avatar
prmiller
I am Parm: Servant of Eru, Bard of Imladris

 
Posts: 7241
Joined: Tue Jul 09, 2002 8:04 am
Location: Calgary, Alberta, CANADA
Top

Postby Declynn » Tue May 31, 2005 8:40 pm

Followers of the Tangled Thread (And Yeah unraveling!)

The sun shown bright as they moved and at times Declynn caught herself looking back in the direction that Elana and Deore took. Oddly Elana and Deore reminded her of her, both did. Elana knew the pain suffered at cruel creature's hands, and Deore knew more so then she what it was like to be thought this disgusting monster. Her own name did what Deore's appearance might do with common people. Though Deore seemed too sweet to be judged that way, the name Declynn Winters was the name of a rampaging murder, harlot, plague spreader... all up to the people's imagination as to which they picked. Still the unusally kinship and having someone to relate to was not something she expected to find in both a mother and daughter.

Glancing at the hadsome elf she shook her head in thought, there was no chance he could relate to Deore or Declynn he was too handsome and she doubt such a noble elf would have such horrible titles like being proclaimed evil by looks or a name. Nor could he relate to Elana or Declynn, when in history had a man suffered such indignaties? No she had hoped Elana and Deore would stay so that she could talk to someone maybe they'd understand and not judge her. Besides she doubted if the elf knew who she trully was that he'd trust her as far as he could toss her. Still the two were companions, sighing she wondered how to make light conversation with an elf. With Leslie it came so easily they're friendly banter, but a male elf? What did men talk about anyway? She knew what Drake talked about Ale and Ale drinking contests. Well there was one thing in common they both enjoyed bashing and beating that worm Donaldo. She gave a half smile as she noted the pain both of them had caused him then sighed and ventured a question.


"So where do you come from Orion?" She tried to sound as friendly as possible though cursed herself for her lack of speech skills, she was not one for being social.
User avatar
Declynn
Citizen of Imladris
 
Posts: 72
Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 1:02 am
Location: The Wilds
Top

Postby Hobbituk » Tue Jun 07, 2005 2:10 pm

Kuti fell. He hit the hard rock of the passageway with a thump and sprawled across the floor, dust rising from the ground and filling his senses. His sword fell from his hand and he heard it clang as it too hit the floor. Suddenly the trapdoor through which he had just fallen fell shut with an almighty bang and he was in pitch darkness. He lay still for just a moment, he tasted blood in his mouth and could not remember whether this was from the battle in the throne room or from his more recent fall. He tried to look around but could see nothing. Experimentally, he waved his hand in front of his face but still could see nothing.

He felt helpless. What was he to do now? He should have left when he had the chance. Why didn't he leave? He could not even remember now, some irrational reason. Probably money, he thought, that had long been his sole motivation. A sick feeling crept over his stomach. He was reviled at himself, he hated himself, had done for a long long time. It was not his fault though, he knew that, it was his father...it was those prigs back at court...it was the women who spoke so softly to him, called him sweet and smiled with those pretty yet treacherous eyes and then saved their hearts for other men. Better men. How he hated them all, and yet he hated himself even more.

So what was he to do? He had no idea where he was, could not see a thing and had no inclination to go anywhere or do anything. At least nothing was trying to kill him right at this moment. Perhaps he could sit here and await the end of the world.

-

Morg continued to run. He was aware that Kuti was no longer behind him but he was equally aware that that the beast...the lion...or whatever it was...was still following and was gaining constantly. He supposed he might be able to run faster were he to lose his sword which was still in it's scabbard on his back, but he had a feeling he might need to use it very soon. He took turning after turning, as he did so taking care to memorise the path he was taking. It would be a foolish thing to do to escape from this immediate danger only to die of starvation wandering around this maze in the dark.

At least he knew he could keep going for some time yet, his stamina was unsurpassed. Perhaps he could outlast this creature. The lions he had encountered in the east had tired after only a short sprint.

He knew this was a futile hope even before the thought passed through his mind. This was no mere lion, this was a beast of some dark magic. He had seen it cut through his solidiers like they did not exist and his strongest attacks had not hurt it. Still, he thought again clinging desperately to what little hope he had left, at least he could keep going for some time yet...

It was at that moment he found himself in a large room. It looked like some sort of store room, there were hooks here and there for meat (although these were empty) and there were barrells dotted around against the walls. What Morg noticed most of all though, was the complete and utter lack of any way out. He stopped running as he reached the far wall. He leant heavily against it, catching his breath briefly. He knew the creature was there, he did not need to look. He could smell it, he could hear it's low growl. He flexed his muscles and clicked his neck to one side. He reached behind him and in one fluid motion pulled out his sword. Then he turned.

The beast was stood in the entrance in the room, just watching him. He held out his sword in front of him. It was a big sword, too big for a mere Orc and even most Uruks would be too weak to wield it for any length of time, but he was Morg the Merciless and his strength was unsurpassed. The sword had ended a great many lives and yet right now it felt about as useful as if her were holding a twig or a piece of grass. The cat took a couple of steps forward.

Morg knew he was about to die.

Then, the cat shook itself and all of a sudden turned about and left, padding silently from the room. Morg was shocked briefly, but suspicions quickly bubbled to the surface of his mind. He had had some dealings with dark sorcery and was not without an idea of what was going on. This was a game, he realised. Someone was playing with him.
"Do it then you dotard!" he yelled at the top of his voice, "Finish it if you have the nerve. I swear if you do not I will kill you for this. I will kill you very slowly!"

Nothing happened. He let his muscles relax a little. He was relieved but uncertain at the same time. He did not like being uncertain. Suddenly shadows appeared in the doorway. He sniffed, ah, goblins, he thought. Uncertainty vanished and a smile appeared on his face. The goblins entered the room and charged without a moments pause. This was more like it he told himself as he swung his mighty sword with unmasked glee.

-

Kuti felt as if he had been sitting alone in the blackness forever. He was beginning to feel a chill to the air and cramp in his knees. Maybe it was time to get up, but he still did not know where he would go. Suddenly something nudged against him in the dark. Without giving himself time to panic about what it might be, his hand shot out and grabbed something small and feathery,
"Nilrem!" he whispered, feeling a sudden overwhelming relief. He felt air against his face as the falcon flapped her wings and leapt onto his shoulder.
"You will be my eyes Nilrem." he said softly. He began to feel around for his sword and found it the hard way when his bare finger touched his blade and he was rewarded with a twinge of pain. Though he could not see it, he knew his finger was bleeding. Regardless, he grasped the handle of the sword and clambered to his feet. Then, with one hand gripping his sword tightly and the other feeling against the cold wall, Kuti began to slowly make his way down the passageway.
Last edited by Hobbituk on Thu Aug 25, 2005 1:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
Hobbituk
Ringbearer

 
Posts: 12828
Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2000 4:53 am
Top

Postby PatriotBlade » Tue Jun 14, 2005 3:36 pm

Tale Of The Warriors Of Light
With a sorrowfull sigh, Heather realised what she already knew to be true. Parm could not help her. She must deside what to do for herself. She stood and dried her face, thanking him for his time, then left the libraries. Just as the door closed softly behind her, a young paige nearly ran into her.
"Oh! Milady Heather! The battle has stopped and the wounded are being brought in.I was sent for you because the strange knight fell and the King said none but you should touch him!"
She had started running even before he had inninshed and the lad found himself hard pressed to keep up. "Milady?"
She slowed and let him catch up. "I must hurry, Lad. I know the way. You need not worry about showing me the way or keeping up with me."
He nodded and stopped to catch his breath while she ran on.
The sight of Nevon, covered in blood made the tears fill her eyes again, but she managed to bring herself under control, though her hands trembled as she touched his wounds.


***Will edit and add to later***
User avatar
PatriotBlade
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 4371
Joined: Fri Jan 04, 2002 2:03 pm
Location: My own crazy, mixed up world.
Top

Postby prmiller » Tue Jun 14, 2005 4:30 pm

Tale of the Warriors of Light

Parm whirled about as Lady Heather left and struck his staff with such
force on the stone floor that it sparked and the tip gave off an unhealthy
red flame. Parm was furious! Could he do...nothing?
Willum, who had busied himself, sorting through various documents,
as directed by Parm, silently left the room.
Parm was alone.
Alone in his agony.
Alone in his madness.
Alone.

The days, weeks, months of hardship, cruelty, disappointment
sorrow, despair gathered themselves into a raging inferno of fury.
With a sweep of his staff he sent papers, books, inkpots and quills
flying.

"NO! NO! NOOOO!" He howled, in voice not his own. It was feral,
visceral. It growled and wept, screamed and moaned.

Then, as Parm had been warned again and again, something truly
horrible and dreadful burbled up within him.

The black fury!

Now Parm was no longer enraged, he was undone!
He was teetering on the brink of losing everything and already his
foothold was slipping. Parm felt the warm darkness rise up inside him,
curling around, whispering, seducing, beckoning.

Paaarmmm. Paaaarmmmm.
It was a voice and a wind, a cry in a storm.
It grew in intensity and the delicious wickedness of it was slowly
overtaking Parm's resolve.
Every fiber, yet untouched by this blackness, was also crying out.
Remember!
Scenes of his life in Valinor flickered through his mind.
Voices he loved, counterpointed in hideous harmony to the seductresses
crooning to him.

Remember!
Faces of long-lost friends, the smells, the touch...
the...songs!

The song! The light!

Quietly, the voice called.
'Yes.'
Authority was in the sound. Sincerity, healing, and promise rippled
from that single word.

Parm felt hot tears course down his cheeks.
He had wanted to be useful.
He had wanted to be a warrior, a real warrior.

He missed Hobbi.
He missed Silverscribe.
He missed Erinhue...the leader who loved him and believed in him
when he had stopped trying.
He missed Gandalfstormcrow...dear Stormy.
He missed nienor_niniel.
He missed...he missed...he missed.

Like hot mists, Parm let them rise and sigh out through his mouth.
Memories burned and purged away the bitterness Parm had carried
deep in his heart.
The howling became more defined. He put words into the cries.

"Forgive me!"

"I was lazy. I was weak. I was afraid. Forgive me!"

Yet evil does not simply sit down and sullenly surrender.
No.

The voices began to accuse.

Where was he when Lady Heather needed him most?
What kind of Lore Master was he that he needed a library to help him?
Who could ever trust him again, now that this had happened?
When would he not just give in to the blackness that he wanted anyway?

You want it.
"I want it."
It is in you.
"...in...in.. me..."

Why could he not see that this was what he wanted?
Did he not want an end to this adventure?
Did he not wish he could find the one key, turn it and free the prisoner?
Did he not hope to return to find all as it was in Imladris?

Arahn had turned against him.
Aravel could no longer help him.
Tinula and Valaniel were powerless to aid his quest.

All gone.
"Gone."
All left.
"...left me..."

Where was Nessa and Alfirin?
Where were the mighty friends from the Tharbad?
Where was ... Willum?

Willum?

"Willum?!"

The sudden sting of Willum's absence had the opposite effect intended.
Like a finger that snuffs out a flame, the sudden shock of Willum's
absence snuffed out the voices that had been beckoning Parm.

The agony was still there, like a horrible headache, sharp and persistent, but even in his fog of pain, Parm knew he had greater responsibilities.
He was...he was...a Bard!
Decorated, honored, respected and celebrated...he was one of them,
and beloved.

The memory of this burst through his despair.
He remembered. He pondered. He allowed himself to search about until... There!
It was a single note.
Pure, good, true.
Parm let it resonate within him.

He allowed his voice to caress it, change it, minor and major it,
slide into augments and diminishments.
He could do this. He was a Bard.

He wrapped his heart around that note, that sound and built on it.
He pulled out two notes, then four, phrase upon phrase until the
snatches of song became melody...and from the womb of that melody
the song was born.

"I shall not leave my heart in the darkness,
though it yearns to devour me this day.
I see beauty, though only in starkness,
but on this is my hope and my stay.
All is true that was said in accusing,
All is true that was whispered in shade,
but in truth I am more than my heartaches,
and I shall not today be unmade.
See my staff! It has not been abandoned.
I can still say my name, though in tears,
I am more than the sum of my failings,
than the bitter collection of fears.
Listen now, all you hosts of the darkness!
I am Parm, Bard of fair Rivendell!
I can choose my allegiance, though feebly,
I can choose to be helped to be well.
On this day I have fought one more battle
and perhaps I have not bravely won,
through the bruises and woundings, continue
till my duties at last are all done!

Parm sang the last stanza with renewed gusto,
and the rich baritone that was his own true
voice echoed up and out and beyond the
chamber. Those who heard the song, were in a mysterious
way also encouraged. It was as if the soul of
Minas Tirith had broken out into song.

How good it felt. How good...at long last.

Parm ceased his song.
He felt a small hand take his.
Willum, cheeks wet with tears, looked up at his master.
Parm was back. Safe.
User avatar
prmiller
I am Parm: Servant of Eru, Bard of Imladris

 
Posts: 7241
Joined: Tue Jul 09, 2002 8:04 am
Location: Calgary, Alberta, CANADA
Top

Postby PatriotBlade » Wed Jun 15, 2005 6:50 pm

Tale Of The Warriors Of Light
When she had done all she could do for Nevon, she moved on to other patients, as two asisstants carried the wounded elf to Heather's rooms. Once she had finished, she made her way through the halls after them. She quickly changed clothes and cleaned herself up before sitting beside Nevon's bed. She hated feeling helpless, but indeed, she had done all that she could. The rest of his recovery would be up to him. She retreaved the dragon sword from under the bed and pondered what to do. She thought about her time in the White City before and tried to recal anything that might help them win this war.
"When you came back, I had hoped that he would be able to be the leader that he once was."
She turned in her seat to meet the gaze of the king. "That path may still be before him, but he has to deside. And right now he is not his city's salvation."
"What are we to do, Milady?" He asked with a sigh as he lowered himself into another chair.
"I wish I knew, Sire." Her gaze fell back to the sword, clutched in her hands.

"I fear this battle will go ill for us, Makahianiel."
"So why are we hiding down here when we should be planning the battle?"
"Because, I want you to know something-Something important. My family has many secrets, but I tell you this one now." He drew closer as if he were about to kiss her full, soft lips and whispered. "We are the Dragon Keepers."
"Why do you tell me this?" She had begun to tremble at the seriousness of his revelation.
"Because, normally, Beloved, I would pass this knowledge and the key -my sword- on to my heirs, but since I have none, I want you to know, to take on the mantle of Dragon Keeper should I fall in battle."
"But I do not want it, Nevon! I already bear a gift and a curse of great responsability! More would only end me!"
"That, Makahianiel, Beloved is why I trust you with this knowledge; because I know that you will bear it cautiously and responsibly!" He cupped her face as she tried to shake her head against accepting his pleas. "I need you!"
Tears silently escaped her ageless, depthless green eyes. "No."
"Yes! I do not wish to die, but if I should, I could sleep with my ancestors in peace if I knew that the sword and the knowledge of it's power not be lost to the enemy! Please, Makahianiel!"
Still trembling, she knew that she could do no less. In answer she kissed his mouth. When they parted, their green eyes met and she nodded slowly, tears still glistening on her pale cheeks. "You have my word. I will guard this knowledge to my death, as I pray that I need not ever have to use it."
A flicker of joy crossed his face and he embraced her tightly. "Now listen closely, we haven't much time..."


"Milady?"
"What?"
"You looked like one who had entered another world."
Heather shook her head to clear it, as a plan began to form in her mind."No, not another world, Sire. I was in another time."
"Are you alright?"He asked, looking at her hands. She was gripping the dragon sword so tightly, her nuckles were turning white.
"Yes... And I have the answer. I know what to do!"
User avatar
PatriotBlade
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 4371
Joined: Fri Jan 04, 2002 2:03 pm
Location: My own crazy, mixed up world.
Top

Postby Hidden_Ring » Mon Jun 27, 2005 8:42 am

Followers of the Tangled Thread (reweaving the dangling cords- pt1)

"So, where do you come from Orion?" Declynn's question comes slightly unexpected as the pair of them hadn't talked much. Oh they had talked, but not really to each other. Coming out of his thoughts he actually turns to face the Ranger. Do you ask of my birth land or the land I was raised in. Or perhaps...

"Enough enough. I didn't know you had some many places you came from."

Well, I'll start at the begining then. My parents were both martial in their nature, themselves children of the first Elven soldiers. They dwelled in and defended a last colony that lived in the place you know as Hollin. Their dedication to the Last Alliance was deep and abiding, and I wouldn't be able survive on the march. I was but two summers old then, so I was fostered in Imladris. He halts Kemenroch a few moments and then stares a long moment off to the East, which still bears a shadow after all this time. Some things take lifetimes to heal...Orion nods as he brings himself out of his moment of silence. He knows well about long-healing hurts. They were both killed in the fighting on Dagorlad. Elrond adopted me and raised me as one of his own sons. So my home is both the ruins of Ost-in-Edhel and Imladris.

The miles wear away as the pair hold their steeds to a brisk pace, riding over fen and field. Conversation grows a little easier as talk turns to their past. I watched over my little sister as she grew up in Lothlorien and in the Valley. And I went on hunting parties with my step-brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. I've travelled wide and far. As far west as the Blue Mountains and the Dwarf halls there, or east to Ithilien and the Great Wood in the north. I tried to learn about the lands as I could, especially the language.

"You seem quite the scholar. So why aren't you shut up in a library filled with dusty old scrolls?"

Would you believe a horrible fit of sneezing amid clouds of dust? Declynn's skeptical glance tells him the obvious answer Since you obviously don't, it's partly my parents fault as I inherited their martial prowess. Also, an insatiable wanderlust keeps me roaming. Such is the life of a Bard.

"You are a Bard? It makes sense I guess then. The languages and your wandering. So are we headed to the Dwimmorburg now?"

Not quite. Even though the land is in a time of peace, it would be polite to go to the King of Rohan and ask his permission to tread that road. Orion stops speaking, just listening to the soft footfalls of the horses as Human and Elf rode on, south and a little east, to Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. The riders continue on, sometimes talking sometimes in companionable silence. Their swift pace carries them to the Mound road and to the gates of the chief city of Rohan.

There are two hours yet before the setting of the sun as the pair approaches the city gates. Orion watches in mild interest as Declynn pulls up a concealing hood and seems to hesitate on the approach. Despite the cloak and hood, the guards glower at her arrival. Lifting his voice, the white-blond Elf hails the guards to draw the attention from his companion.
Westu hal! Greetings to the men of the Rohirrim. My traveling partner and I seek entrance to the city and a brief meeting with your lord, Eomer King.

"He is quite busy but perhaps he can find the time to speak a member of the Fair Folk. But I must ask who it is that rides with you. Until she speaks, you may not enter."

Orion gives a sidelong look to the Ranger before she sighs and pulls back her hood, letting the guards stare at her face. The expression she wears is like staring at a lump of granite, cold and unreadable. She embellishes the slightly unused sound as she answers their demands. "My name is Declynn Winters." Without further comment, she nudges her heels against the horse's sides and clicks her tongue, encouraging the horse through the gates and up the hill.

The guards glance at Orion, as if wondering how he can stand such a companion. The white blond Elf makes no answer but touches the big toffee colored horse along the neck and follows Declynn up the hill towards Meduseld.
User avatar
Hidden_Ring
Ranger of the North

 
Posts: 1772
Joined: Fri Aug 09, 2002 9:45 pm
Location: WV & PA
Top

Postby Hidden_Ring » Mon Jun 27, 2005 8:47 am

Followers of the Tangled Thread (knotting the loose ends- pt2)

Elf and horse climb the road up to the Golden Hall with haste, hoping to be on their way again soon. The silent stares of townsfolk are becoming less comfortable as the two approach the summit. Orion slips down from the broad, bare horse's back and whispers to Kemenroch, telling him to go with the stable hands while the Elf is inside. Declynn silently follows suit, the pair climbing the stairs to the doors of the Hall. Once at the top, the doorwards spoke in the common speech. "Hail, travelers. I am Eomer's doorwarden. Haleth is my name. Before you enter, I must ask that you surrender to me as a show of good faith all but one of your weapons."


Expecting this, Orion removes one of the twin short swords from beneath his overshirt and passes it silently to Haleth along with a pair of small carved and polished antler spikes that were hidden inside the folds of his sash-like belt. The Ranger seems to not want to do this, but the white blond Elf touches her arm lightly and whispers Please, we're pressed for time. Turelie is waiting. After a moment's hesitation, Declynn follows suit, leaving only the long sword hanging by her side. Nodding with satisfaction, the doorwarden opens the doors to let the pair enter.

Entering through the doors, Orion sees that little has changed since the last time he came visiting to Eomer's court. Logs had been stacked inside near the long hearth in the center of the hall and a feast had been prepared. Approaching the throne, Elf and Ranger bow somewhat to the king.
Hail Eomer King, and greetings to you.

"Hail and welcome to you both. I welcome your presence, Northern Ranger and wandering Fair Folk. What brings you to my realm?"

Declynn speaks first, in her usual manner of short and to the point. "Orion and myself were travelling through your lands and felt it appropriate to request your permission to ride these roads."

"Your forethought is honorable, but in times of peace, folk of good intention made ride free over our fields. Why seek permission now?"

Orion speaks quietly but his words ring through the main room of the hall. Because our road aims to take us up the Dimholt Road and through the Paths of the Dead. Because it was closed for so long, and the start of that road is in your keeping, Lord Eomer. For these reasons, we seek your blessing. We are in need of haste and the West road to Minas Tirith would take too long.

"This is indeed a strange request, my guests. None have before come asking to tread that path." Eomer's voice silences the stunned murmurs that the folk in the hall made, talking quietly among each other. Folk riding the Closed Path was unheard of since the time of the Great War. "A strange request, but one I shall grant. I give you both leave to ride that road. Moreover, you are free to come and go at your will in my lands. Will you stay and take a meal with me here, Master Elf? Lady Winters?"

Orion looks at Declynn, reading her desire quite plainly. And after a moment's contemplation, he feels the same wish. You are gracious, Eomer King, but our errand is one requiring haste and we have delayed for far too long. I hope that some other time, I might be able to accept your offer.

"Orion is right, we have great need of haste, Eomer. I hope you will understand what might seem like rudeness." Nodding his understanding, and with a keen lingering look at Declynn, the lord of the Horse-riders waved them from the hall.

Once outside the Golden Hall again, Orion and Declynn take little time to reclaim their armaments and steeds. With the city gates cleared, Kemenroch and Demon sense the urgency of their rider's need and the soft clip-clop of trotting hooves loudens to the staccato thunder of a heavy gallop.
User avatar
Hidden_Ring
Ranger of the North

 
Posts: 1772
Joined: Fri Aug 09, 2002 9:45 pm
Location: WV & PA
Top

Postby Declynn » Wed Jul 20, 2005 10:07 pm

Follors of the Tangle Thread

Sighing to herself a sigh of relief she glanced back as Edoras disappeared from view when they made some distance. Eomer naturally had wanted to speak to her alone on the last time she had been to Edoras but as much as Eomer wanted to help Declynn there was little to be said or done on the personal matters she had with coming to Edoras. What was done was done there would never be a chance to change anything. Besides Edoras simply was filled with bad memories, she never wanted to stay long in Edoras in fact if she could avoid it she would. Though Eomer was trying to be a good friend. Glancing forward she grew stone faced and silent as they continued for the Dimholt road. Late into the evening and on the outskirts of the Dimolt road they stopped to rest for the night, Declynn had barely said a word since leaving Edoras behind, as she rolled out her bed roll. Finally Orion broke the silence with an observation he had made.

"You seemed a bit over anxious to leave, may I ask why?"

"Sure." Declynn answered simply. After a moment Orion sighed and asked why. "Well if you were pardoned by the King for crimes you were innocent to, and the people still looked at you with hate and fear, wouldn't you wish to avoid that place?"

"Sure, but you were pardoned."

"Yes pardoned, but that helps little with people and such a catasropy like the plague. People always seem to need someone to blame even if that person is or is not guilty of the crime. It matters little to the people that I was one of the first victoms of the infected, nor that I suffered more then they'll ever fully understand. It just matters that I was there, and apart of it; therefore I'm an easy target to point to and say 'She did it, she caused this. Blame her.' Besides there are other factors for my need to leave, Eomer is a good person but I find it impossible to remain long at all."

Soon the subject was dropped as Declynn laid down to rest for the night. The night went smoothly and soon early the next morning as the sun barely touched the sky, they had packed up and were going to make their way down the path of the dead.
User avatar
Declynn
Citizen of Imladris
 
Posts: 72
Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 1:02 am
Location: The Wilds
Top

Postby PatriotBlade » Tue Jul 26, 2005 5:26 pm

Tale Of The Warriors Of Light
Heather dashed through the halls, compleatly disregarding the King's efforts to keep up with her. She turned and exploded into the library again.
"Master Parm! Master Parm! I have the answer! I know what to do! Victory is in our grasp!"
The old scribe looked up at the exuberant look on the warrior's face. Her long dark hair flew wildly as she ran toward him, clutching the dragon sword.
"I need your help, though." she skidded to a stop in front of him, slightly winded, just as the king entered behind her. "I need an enturage to walk out of the gates with me, as the people of the city hide."
"What is going on here? What has come over you, M'lady?"
"Sire, please, listen to my plan..."

~*~*~*~*~

As the sun rose the next morning, the enemy camp was greeted by what first taken a joyus sight; for the city gates opened and a small group of people stepped out. Someone ran for the commander, thinking that the city had surrendered, but as the commanders formed in their ranks, they saw no white flag of truce to convey a request to talk-infact, the small party was arrayed brightly and carried several banners representing the ethnic origins of those forming the party.
The king stood tall at the head of the emerging column, dressed in his finest, the rising sun glinting magesticly off of his polished armor. He was followed by a woman with long, brown hair, mostly loose except for several tiny braids throughout with red and black beads on the ends and she was dressed in a long, tunic-like garment of bright red. The fabric was light and shimmery so it flowed around her knees as she moved. The skirt part of the garment was slit to the top of the thigh on each side, and every step would have shown off her shapely legs, were she not also waering black trousers underneath, tucked into tall black leather boots. Over this red garment she wore light leather armor died black and oiled to a shine. Beside her walked an old man dressed in white robes and leaning on a staff.
Behind each of these three were pages berring the banners of each person's rank and ethnic origin-behind the king, the flag of Gondor. Behind the woman, a young man carried two banners, one of green, adorned with white hands holding a red flower-the banner of a healer, and a black one with the symbol of the Northern fighters known as the Rangers. Behind the old man was the flag of Rivendell. The rest of the group consisted of the city officials, some generals and another woman who led a very small child by the hand, both looking very uncomfortable.

"Have you come to surrender, then?" one of the enemy commanders snarled.
"No." The king said as his company came to a stop and began forming a simi-circle around the three leaders. "We have come to call out our allies."
There were many guffaws and cat calls as the king and Parm stepped to the sides, leaving the red and black clad healer standing alone. She ignored them and whispering a prayer to Eru, reached behind her right shoulder and drew the dragon kantana. Its gold and silver blade gleamed in the early morning light as she began a slow, controled sword dance, twirling the blade over and around her head in a complex pattern. The rhythm of her steps were picked up in the claping hands of the people forming the simi-circle around her as she began a chant. The words sounded elvish, but... not. They were gruffer, spoken with more of a rumbling growl than the usual lilting flow of normal elvish. She finished with a gutteral shout and a flourish of the blade, then drove the point into the ground with all her strength.
Silence covered Pelenor Fields. The enemy was silent for once and the allies were holding their breath to happen. A full minute passed and a nervious rumbling started among the enemy commanders. Then someone dared laugh.
Three minutes had passed since she had ended her sword dance and nothing had happened. The small company could see in the enemy's eyes that their death was emenant and running would be prudent, when a wind, swept down from the mountains behind the city.Trees groned and bent nearly to breaking as the enemy looked around in terror.

"The city!" Heather gasped, pushing the pages before her and grabbing Willum. The generals ran as they had never run before, passing the healer and forgetting about their king who was opposite Nessa, helping Parm reach safety. Heather set the hobbit lad within the city walls and giving him a push forward then turned back. She dashed past her friends and grabbed the sword from where she had left it sticking out of the ground. Lifting it to the skies, she turned her back to her panicing enemy and watched for the glint of sunlight on rock hard, colored scales.
The wind picked up and creshendoed with the sound of an unearthly howl, then was gone as quickly as it had risen.
User avatar
PatriotBlade
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 4371
Joined: Fri Jan 04, 2002 2:03 pm
Location: My own crazy, mixed up world.
Top

Postby Cerridwen » Mon Aug 08, 2005 10:58 pm

Here There Be Dragons
It had been the strangest several weeks in Tryn's reckoning, and he had seen many strange weeks in his life. Father had been in Council for most of them, since the Gate had been opened, and the Summons given.
He and Cerna, together with the twins Serun and Cadri, and their little friend Rhys, had been underfoot everywhere they'd gone ever since, and getting nipped had long ago lost its novelty. They'd decided to come out here to watch the Gate, to see if it did anything else interesting.
Tryn was currently in molt, and he was making a spirited effort at pulling the old sheaths from his new-grown scales. He looked fairly patchy at the moment, and nearly ridiculous, but Cerna dared not tell him so. The patches of his hide that had matured into the glossy armor of an adult shone a deep blue-black. The softer scales that had yet to mature looked like grayish fluff by comparison. She suppressed a giggle at her brother, and let him preen.
"Ipth iptheth fike cvathy," he said, although he meant that it itched like crazy. She tried to suppress another giggle and failed, eliciting an eerie, bluish-green glare from Tryn as he spat out the shed casings.
"You wait until you get your first real molt," he groused, his head and neck turning bonelessly back upon themselves as he pulled at the scales at the base of his wings. "You'll think you'd gotten a blood-sucking infestation of some sort, and you'll put yourself mad trying to make it stop."
Cerna lifted her neck rills delicately, signalling her mild irritation. He flashed his in return, and flared his wings. Her green eyes twinkled, and she nipped playfully at him.
"It itches," he complained, scratching at his shoulder with a hind foot.
"You'll live," she returned calmly, to which he snorted, and began scratching at his other side. Old scale casing floated everywhere around him, enough that he sneezed.
Rhys interrupted his game of chase-your-tail for long enough to laugh at his friend. It earned him being snapped at by Cadri; to her dismay, she became his next target. They flapped at and danced around one another, and she squawked irritably at him.
"What do you think is over there, anyway?" Serun asked.
Cerna shrugged, the motion rippling out from her shoulders to flare her wings slightly. "Before, there was solid rock at the end of that valley. Now? It smells green. It looks it too, if one could fly near enough. There are mists down there that weren't there before."
Serun's eyes got a little bigger at the mention of flying nearer, for a better look. Tryn and Cerna's father had been explicit, and his allowances for their curiosity did not include flying that close to the Gate. It was a long, narrow valley like a gorge, which narrowed at the end until a dragon had to tip his wings to vertical to pass the narrowest point. Then he crossed the Gate and was lost to sight from this side of it.
"When are they going to decide what to do about it?" Serun asked.
Tryn paused in his scratching for long enough to sneeze again, and shake himself. "I don't know," he answered, honestly enough.
"Someone over there needs help," Cerna observed softly. "I can feel it in the Summons. It cries for aid."
"And Father is the one to give it. The Summoning was for him."
Cerna snorted a sharp whistle through her nares and narrowed her green eyes. She might not have had such a bad time of molting as her brother had, but she wasn't a child and she wasn't a fool.
Ages ago, when their own father had probably been a youngster, one of the mortals from across the Gate had saved a dragon's life. That dragon had offered a pledge to return the debt, should the need arise. The magic of that dragon's word had been bound to a sword, and given to the one called the Dragon Master. Only one so named could summon one of their kind. Once across the Gate, the dragon in question was bound until the bearer of the sword held the pledge fulfilled.
Calaeren had sensed that something about the Summoning had not been quite... orthodox. It was oddly done magic, and he dared not cross the Gate to be bound by someone who might command him to wreck harm. Before he went, he wanted to be sure it was safe... hence the Council of the elders of his kind. He'd left early every morning and had come home late every night, and had wanted nothing more than to curl up in his den and sleep for an age. His two youngsters, Tryn and Cerna, had peppered him with questions, and he'd told them at last that he'd give them as many answers as they cared for when it was all over, if only they'd give him some peace.
Tryn and his sister had left their father alone after that, and had enlisted the aid of their friends to help them keep Rhys out from under everyone's feet. The younger fellow had gotten his tail scorched a week ago, trying to evesdrop on the Council proceedings.
He was about to get his tail scorched again, if Cadri had anything to say about it. The two continued to flap at one another, until Rhys finally got a shot in, spun about, and flapped madly for altitude, cackling his glee. Cerna kept one eye on the two combatants as she listened with half an eat to her brother telling again why it was important that Father be sure what he was getting into. She'd heard it before, and was about to say so, when Rhys came hurtling between them, Cadri a breath behind him. It startled Tryn right off the ground and into the air. The younger dragon flared his wings and nearly pulled a ninety-degree angle pivot in midair, bidding for altitude again. Cadri saw his gambit and performed the same feat, meaning to meet and grapple with him...
She hadn't counted on Tryn's bulk being directly in her line of flight. They collided, sending more of his molting scales in all directions, and they landed in a tangled heap, without ceremony.
Rhys giggled at the blind-lucky success he was having, but he hadn't counted on Cadri's twin coming to her rescue. Serun came in like a green-streaked bullet, and knocked Rhys right out of the sky. He landed with a smug flick of his wings, hissing his displeasure. The other youngster described a pinwheeling flat spin, his limbs splayed out in all directions, refusing to obey him, and he plummeted down into the mists of the Gate... whereupon he, and his comically startled expression, disappeared.
Serun stared down after him, his neck spines flat against his body. He made a gurgling, half-strangled sound when no Rhys reappeared.
Tryn grunted, and tried to extricate his and Cadri's assorted limbs, wings and tails from amongst one another. She moaned, as she'd hit him solidly, and flopped over on her side once she was free. He put his nose over the edge and peered down. Serun covered his eyes with both foreclaws, his imagination running the gamut of what his father, Tryn's father, and Rhys' father would surely do to him if Rhys really had gone over to the other side of the Gate. He curled up in a little ball and whimpered miserably.
"On the bright side," Tryn was saying, "there's not a lot of harm that Rhys can do, even when he means it." He paused and his brow furrowed before he added, "Nor yet much help, either."
"On the dimmer side, we're not really even supposed to be here," Cerna added softly.
Tryn nodded once, his expression very thoughtful. He looked the part of their father for a moment. Calaeren was quite proud of his youngster, it was well known. Tryn didn't have the size or the bulk of his father yet, but he was built like his sire, and he was beginning to be cunning like his sire. He had a handsome set of neck ridges, and he'd be an impressive young fellow when he was grown. Calaeren himself was as black as a starless night, and in this Tryn appeared to be taking after him.
Cerna was still a rather unremarkable shade of brown, but she comforted herself that her mother had also been that color once. Their mother was like a tongue of russet-gold fire... Cerna had long ago decided that it wasn't such a bad thing, if the ending of it would be so good.
"There's nothing for it, then. We have to go after him."
Serun made another of those strangling sounds, as though he'd swallowed a fish tail-first.
Tryn grinned at his fried and nipped him playfully, elicited an alarmed little yelp. "Or you could go and explain how Rhys ended up walking the land of the Mortals and getting into who-knows-what..."
Serun's yellow eyes bugged.
"You can't make me do that!" he squeaked. "I'll not, do you hear me? I'll not!"
Cadri stared down into the abyss, appearing to weigh a brace of evils.
Cerna shook her head. "He's right. We have to."
"Hear now-!" Serun squawked in protest, before Tryn bulled into him and sent him over the edge. His unearthly shriek of terror was lost as soon as he vanished into the mists.
Cadri leaped in after him, and Cerna and Tryn followed.

They were in the bottom of a very old ravine. This was not old in the same way the one in their home was, on the other side of the Gate. This one had mosses and ferns and other growing things. Rhys had found something long and fat, with many legs. He was creeping along after it, as though it had held his entire attention for the moments he'd been alone down here. He raised his head upon hearing Serun's screeching arrival, and the hooof of wind when the other youngster landed. Then came the rest of their little bunch.
His many-legged bug had disappeared by then, and he heaved a sigh. He hoped there would be others.
When Tryn landed he did so in a hunter's crouch, his every sense on the alert, his posture tense and wary. Once he had assured himself that no one had been alerted to their presence, he began scratching madly again, sending fluff everywhere.
Cadri sneezed delicately, and edged away from him. She nibbled affectionately at her twin's ear tufts, and he appeared to resign himself to many lives of misery and a fate that consisted of at least three deaths, at least one of them by fire.
"It's that way," Cerna murmured, her nose pointing to the lip of the little ravine they crowded in.
Even from here, they could smell a battle going on. The sharp scent of metal and sweat, and the earthy scent of horses and men blended into an altogether alien cocktail that filled their senses to bursting as surely as the scent of moist earth and greenery filled the little ravine.
"That way, then," Tryn said, getting his wings under him and leaping into the air.
Cerna, Cadri, Rhys and Serun followed, into they knew not what.
User avatar
Cerridwen
Rider of the Mark

 
Posts: 799
Joined: Mon Jan 14, 2002 8:28 pm
Location: Upstate South Carolina
Top

Postby Turelie_Lurea » Wed Aug 17, 2005 7:08 am

"I shall not leave my heart in the darkness,
though it yearns to devour me this day.
I see beauty, though only in starkness,
but on this is my hope and my stay.
All is true that was said in accusing,
All is true that was whispered in shade,
but in truth I am more than my heartaches,
and I shall not today be unmade.
See my staff! It has not been abandoned.
I can still say my name, though in tears,
I am more than the sum of my failings,
than the bitter collection of fears.
Listen now, all you hosts of the darkness!
I am Parm, Bard of fair Rivendell!
I can choose my allegiance, though feebly,
I can choose to be helped to be well.
On this day I have fought one more battle
and perhaps I have not bravely won,
through the bruises and woundings, continue
till my duties at last are all done! "

The notes of the song reverberated in the deepest recesses of the Weatherspeller's mind, waking her from her spellbound slumber.

"Parm?" She whispered tentatively. Was he here? His voice had seemed so near for a moment, then faded away like the last rays of the setting sun. The light left her once more with the loss of a friend's voice and she shuddered as her mind registered her location.

Once more, she succumbed to the overwhelming sensations that kept her silent, her eyes rolled back, and she slept the dreamless slumber. Yet, something in Parm's song had partially released the elf; perhaps that was why she no longer ran from nightmares dreamed up by the enemy.
User avatar
Turelie_Lurea
Ranger of the North

 
Posts: 2565
Joined: Fri Feb 15, 2002 3:28 pm
Top

Postby Leonir » Wed Aug 17, 2005 7:46 am

While Leonir was busy playing with Kuti and Morg, he had forgotten about the others who swore to release his prisoner and to destroy him. His plans had been laid with such care that he could not comprehend failure.

So, when he heard Parm's song, he started.

"What?!" He hissed. That did not sound like the Powerful One giving in to the evil that surrounded him!

Leonir grabbed the sphere from Melda, who protested.

"But I wanted to play with the kitty!" she sobbed, arms outstretched toward her "toy". Before the scene changed within the orb, she could see the unearthly cat bound away from Morg. She was so close to winning!

"Not NOW!" Leonir roared, forgetting that this was not the way to win over such a child. She fumed and allowed sparks to fly between her fingertips.

"Ah, so those in the White City are rallying, are they? And those two fools tread through the Path of the Dead! They dare to hope that the path is clear and that they will find their way to Minas Tirith in time to join the others?" He laughed, the sound hollow and coarse, rasping against the stone walls. Searching the more distant land, he failed to see Guru, Leslie, and Tinu so close to his stronghold. Had he known, a great wall of water would have been their fate, for they stood upon the beach, except for the sorrowful elf who sought the strength of the forest.

"Well, we shall see how well these people of the White City and their pets do with a plague of my underlings." He grimaced as his eyes grew aflame and he stole from the Weatherspeller who was shackled. She had begun to resist him again, but he did not worry this time, for though she might resist her chains, she would not break free again.

Shapeless black beings that numbered in the thousands flew from his stronghold, swarming in the sky, toward Minas Tirith, darking the heavens wherever they infected it. Roiling storm clouds and a furious gust front preceded these dark creatures without any permanent form, masking the nature of the attack.

Next, he shifted his attention to the two who had started their trek through the treacherous Path of the Dead. Lifting his arms and allowing the orb to float before him, he chanted in his Diadronian tongue several curses and awoke restless spirits from other paths, telling them that they had a new home--one that promised to give them the revenge they sought.

"Clear, indeed!" Leonir smirked. "The path is now more dangerous than when the traitors littered it."

Just as he was about to put the finishing touches on his spell, a stray bolt (for Melda was undisciplined in her talents) leapt from her and knocked the orb from the dark elf's grasp. It fell with a sickening "crunch".

"You fool!" he screeched. "You have broken the orb! There shall be no more games for you and no more seeing for me. You have given the enemy an advantage and LOST YOUR BATTLE. You can no longer play with the cat and hunt our enemies. You idiot!" He lifted his hand as though to slap her, but the Darkness Within held it there.

You harm the child, you lose your most precious asset. Do not fail now when you are so close to destroying our enemies. Leonir nodded. It would not do to wreck the child.

The dark elf sneered at the fiery-eyed peredhil who was ready for a challenge. The sneer worked its way into a smug smile and he used every ounce of charm at his disposal.

"It is all right, child. Let us repair the orb together, though it will take us many hours before we can play our games again."

Disarmed by this sudden change, Melda allowed the sparks to dissipate and her eyes cooled.

"Ok," she replied. "What do we need to do?"
User avatar
Leonir
Citizen of Imladris
 
Posts: 55
Joined: Tue Feb 04, 2003 11:55 pm
Top

Postby TinuvielUndomiel » Wed Aug 17, 2005 2:48 pm

As Tinu sobbed beneath the sympathetic boughs, no one came. Anorast had given her no reply and had simply stood there as she gave him the Protector. She looked out of the woods and saw him contemplating the next step.

He doesn't care, she sighed.

"That's not true." The disembodied voice returned to her again.

"No! Go away! I shall not be mad!" She screeched, waving her hands wildly, her long blond hair flying out as she turned around.

"But you are not mad, my dear," the calm voice replied. "Here, come into my arms, so that you will know that I am real."

Tinu laughed hysterically, though softly. "Your arms? You have none, Specter of my mind."

A brilliant white light arose at the antisolar point, moving rapidly through the trees. It was the light of the Trees, she knew that light! Her heart leapt as she recalled its purifying rays and she closed her eyes, receiving the happy warmth.

When her lids lifted, she found herself in the arms of a extremely tall, handsome creature--one that fancied itself one of the race of Noldor. But it was not an elf, this male creature, for the light shone too brightly from within. Even the elves who had seen the Light, such as Tinu, were not this bright. His blue eyes were soft, but not as soft as the silvery fluff that served as his hair.

"My Tiruvalotë," he whispered in the voice as soft as the flutter of a bird, stroking her cheek with compassion. "My dearest friend, Yavanna, misses her Flower-Keeper and wonders often when she will return to her."

Surprised at the ancient name and then the mention of the Valar who once entrusted the Valaindil to her, Tinu pulled away slightly.

"Who are you? Why have you been driving me mad?" she queried, tears filling her eyes once more.

The creature released her for a moment and bowed gracefully.

"I am Maelan Tôrthoron, brother-spirit of Gwaihir, friend of Yavanna, and agent of Manwe. Come, let me hold you and impart to you some peace, for you shall need it in order to continue on this perilous journey," he embraced her once more and the elf did not resist.

For the first time in several ages, Tinu felt safe, comfortable, yes, even happy. All thoughts of bitterness and hurt melted in his arms and in his gaze she saw her homeland, Valinor, and even her birthplace, Cuivienen, in its dark beauty. She had seen the beginning of the Light, but even that joyous event could not counter the darkness that tinged her existence. Now... now that darkness had been lit from within and all of her demons ran from it, exiting her soul.

After what was only a few moments, Maelan released her. The darkness encroached upon her once more, but could not inhabit the old recesses once the light had scoured it out. She felt happier and less edgy, as though there were someone who loved her.

"Yes, there is indeed someone who loves you--Eru. Remember that, even if other creatures are fickle in their love, He never stops loving you."

Tinu nodded, a few remnant tears making their way down her pale face, though they shone with the hope and light reinfused.

"You must continue this trek, for only you can bear the Protector. Do not fear for the hobbit, as long as you carry his cure. In the hands of another, the stones could infect, but with a pure heart, the results must always be healing. I shall follow and guide you. If you need proof, search the skies for Thorongil, my falcon. Yavanna has instructed the bird to never leave my side." Here he paused and laughed for a moment, the sound akin to the kookaburra or other 'cheerful' fowl.

Tinu waited for the joke, but it was lost on her. Must be some sort of Maia joke, she mused.

"Go now, Tiruvalotë, Tinuviel Undomiel as you were named. Follow Thorongil, for he shall show you the way to the Evil that you and the others must vanquish." The Maia took Tinu's hand, pressed it to his lips, and disappeared in a flutter of silver feathers.

Taking a deep breath and gathering her new-found strength, Tinu left the woods for the unprotected beach. Soon she reached Leslie and Anorast. The latter, possibly recalling being thrown after touching the ornament, had not picked it up from where Tinu dropped it in the sand. So, she pulled it out, removed the sand that clung stubbornly to the stones, and placed the chain around her neck once more.

Her eyes found Thorongil circling the heavens, over the bay.

"We need a boat and we need to go that way," Tinu pointed. "Any ideas as to where such a boat is to be procured?"
User avatar
TinuvielUndomiel
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 1497
Joined: Fri Jan 18, 2002 2:46 pm
Location: Wherever the storms are
Top

Postby Hobbituk » Tue Aug 23, 2005 1:50 pm

Morg stood alone. The once sand-coloured walls of the room were now black with the blood of the orcs he had killed. It had seemed there would be no end of them as they swarmed in around him, but he had relished the fight...relished the kill. Still, it had been quite a fight and he had been put to the test. He had already been worn out from the chase before the battle had even begun and it had taken a great deal to beat back the horde that had descended upon him.

Eventually though, he had triumphed. Those he had not slain and whose hewn bodies now littered the floor had fled back through the labyrinth howling in fear. They would not return. At least not without a great many more soldiers and maybe a cave troll or two.

What to do next? He weighed up his options and it seemed there were two. Make his way back through the tunnels to the castle entrance and leave the accursed island once and for all or he could silently make his way to the centre of the labyrinth, find Leonir and take his revenge. The former was not an option, only the latter would satisfy his honour. He would make the blasted sorcerer pay dearly.

He began walking, taking a different route than the one he had arrived by but still taking care to note every turn he made and every path he took. He would not lose himself here wandering for ever amongst the flickering candles. Soon he came to a flight of stairs leading downwards into total darkness. Morg's nightvision was excellent, having lived for many years in the black tunnels of the Misty Mountains but he still liften a faggot of wood from the ground, lit it with one of the nearby candles and then slowly made his way down into the dark holding his torch before him.

At the bottom of the stairs was a large circular cavern. Morg could see six or seven rough doorways cut into the rock that were pitch black holes. There were torch brackets here and there along the wall, so in order not to waste his torch whilst he decided which way to take he lit each one.

It was then he heard footsteps behind him. He turned quickly and realised it was coming from one of the portals. He drew his sword and held it before himself in a defensive stance. He was still tired, but would not let himself be taken by surprise. Suddenly a bird flew from the passageway and swooped high up into the cavern. He recognised it immediately,
"Tark?" he called into the darkness and sure enough, the familiar wily human Kuttiboh appeared panting.
"Morg? Thank goodness...I thought I was lost.."
"Bah..." snarled Morg, hiding his relief, "You humans would lose yourselves in your own dwellings were the sun to go down."
"So how do we-"

Kuti was cut off by an enourmous roar. All of a sudden a troll burst forth from one of the other doorways. It was a big troll, one of the biggest Morg had ever seen, and was carrying a large club with what looked like a large rusty nail sticking from it. The troll roared once more and then swung the club. Morg was forced to drop his sword in a hurry and roll sideways. His roll took him too close to the wall of the cavern however and his head hit the rock with a sickening crack. Everything went black and he knew no more.
User avatar
Hobbituk
Ringbearer

 
Posts: 12828
Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2000 4:53 am
Top

Postby Leslie-ElfWarrior » Thu Sep 01, 2005 10:03 pm

Seeing Tinu leave quickly Leslie wondered weather to follow or not, perhaps she just needed to be alone to collect herself. Looking back at Anorast she wondered if he would follow her, he did not. Finally Leslie asked the question of. "What is wrong with her?"

Anorast went into a lenghty explanation of how Tinu loved Hoobituk and how the wedding had gone on before the vile kidnapper came to steal the bride away. Now she had to carry the hobbit protector that protected Hobbituk. Glancing back at where Tinu was, Leslie felt a whole new understanding for the poor elfess; the two had a lot in common as Leslie remember one mortal breaking her heart. After that she swore never to fall in love, but unfortunately when you swear such a thing it tends to happen wheather you wish it or no. Even now Leslie feared what may happen with the handsome ranger that had won her heart, she couldn't bare the thought of her heart being shattered she couldn't survive such an heartbreaking experience like that again. Caught in her own thoughts she did not realise Tinu had returned and scooped up the dropped amulet, it was Tinu's words that snapped Leslie back to the present.

"We need a boat and we need to go that way," Tinu pointed. "Any ideas as to where such a boat is to be procured?"

Glancing over at the bay, Leslie nodded. "I know where to get a boat..." She answered softly then headed towards the bay, as they moved she wondered what had brought Tinu back to them. Perhaps Anorast knew... she always found it odd how elves just knew or sensed some things. With her it felt like her senses or wisdom had been dulled or removed. Instead she felt like an ignorant mortal wrapped in elven skin. Briefly the memory of seeing the ocean came back as she stood at the bay in Grey Heavens saying goodbye to Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel for the last time. Lord Elrond asked her if she heard the call to return home as they did. She did not; it was as though the call was blocked to her. Perhaps she was meant to be mortal rather then elven, perhaps she was never meant to leave Middle Earth nor hear such a calling. Briefly she glanced down at the necklace Galadriel had given her just before sailing away. The purple heart with silver lightening streaks running though it, the name now said 'Leslie' in elven on it, but had once said 'Aaron', it hung on an mithril chain about her neck. Shaking her head she looked up once again and focused on te more important matter rigt now.

Entering the bay is was oddly quiet, but as they drew closer a older gentleman came out to tend to his boat.

"Excuse me sir, we're looking for a boat to take us in that direction."

Leslie found herself pointing in the same direction Tinu had but now an island was clearly seen in the distance.

"No one goes there much." The man answered gruffly. "But if you want to go be my guest. It is sixty gold pieces to borrow one of my boats."

Leslie looked back at the other two, the three divided the price to pay for the boat. Combinding their gold they rented a bought from the gruff owner.
User avatar
Leslie-ElfWarrior
Ranger of the North

 
Posts: 2859
Joined: Mon Jan 14, 2002 10:05 pm
Location: Not Even She Knows!
Top

Postby Hobbituk » Fri Sep 09, 2005 2:06 pm

Kuti had no idea what to do. Morg lay unconscious against the wall, the enourmous troll towering over him. Above the three of them, Nilrem circled.

He looked from side to side, it would be so easy. There were plenty of doorways. He could leave quietly whilst the troll was distracted. It was his only hope. He turned to make for the nearest door, but then something stopped him. He did not know what it was. Perhaps it was his conscience, though it had chosen a funny time to show itself. Perhaps it was his pride...more likely, he decided later.

He spun back to face the troll who was in the act of raising it's club to crush Morg's motionless body where it lay. He drew his sword with a flourish and charged forward.

With a one fluid movement he struck the back of the trolls legs with his blade. It cut deep, black blood appeared and the troll stumbled dropping it's club as it did so. Such a blow was not enough to halt this beast however, it found it's balance and lurched around to face Kuti letting out a mighty roar. Kuti was trembling in fear but once more he went forward in an attempt to slash at the monster. Again, he hit home...a long narrow gash down the troll's chest. Unfortunately this only infuriated the troll more and it lashed out with it's fist, catching Kuti's sword arm and causing him to drop his weapon.

Petrified, Kuti began walking backwards as the troll advanced on him. Soon his back hit the stone of the wall and he was trapped. He had only moments to live.

Suddenly Nilrem swooped out of the sky and into the troll's face, clawing and scratching with her feet and beak. The troll emitted a huge howl and swung for the bird but it was too late and the falcon was once more high in the air out of reach. Kuti saw with amazement that the troll's eyes were now covered in blood where Nilrem had pecked at them. It was completely blind.

It swung a couple more times in Kuti's direction, but Kuti had seized his opportunity and moved away, retrieving his sword in the process. He hacked at the troll a couple more times until eventually the troll realised it was helpless and made for one of the doorways. It felt it's way to one of the larger ones and then disappeared into the darkness.

Kuti panted heavily. He held his arm up and whistled softly and after barely a moment Nilrem alighted. Kuti stroked her crown with affection,
"What would I do without you?" he smiled.

"Die horribly." came the voice of Morg from the other end of the cavern. Kuti looked over and saw that Morg was sitting up against the wall nursing his head. Kuti made his way over quickly,
"Are you well?" he asked, thinking even as he said it that it was a ridiculous question.

"Well enough," said Morg though strangely with less of his usual contempt, "A sore head and a little tiredness but nothing that will slow me. Much."

"That is...good," nodded Kuti, "I am glad."

There was a moments silence as the two looked at each other.

"What do you want Tark?" asked Morg suddenly.
"How do you mean?" Kuti said, puzzled.
"You just saved my life. An Uruk. No human, no Tark has ever done such a thing for my kind. What is it you want?"
"No..." began Kuti, "I only...look, I just want to get out of this place. I have had my fill of evil and of good. I only want to...go home."

"I said it once before, in jest, but you truly would make a good Orc. I shall grant your wish Tark. Listen to me..." and Morg began to recite the directions he had memorised. Kuti listened carefully, his life of fetching and carrying messages for the Gondorian court serving him well in committing the instructions to memory.

When the Uruk had finished, Kuti recited back the directions until Morg was satisfied the Godorian had them by heart.

"Why would you do this?" asked Kuti in wonder, "You are, after all, evil."
"There is no evil," said Morg simply, "Only different shades of grey. You will learn this in time."

Kuti turned then and with Nilrem in tow, made his way up the stairs and towards freedom.
User avatar
Hobbituk
Ringbearer

 
Posts: 12828
Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2000 4:53 am
Top

Postby TinuvielUndomiel » Sat Sep 10, 2005 9:58 am

OOC: Double post :-P
Last edited by TinuvielUndomiel on Sat Sep 10, 2005 9:59 am, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
TinuvielUndomiel
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 1497
Joined: Fri Jan 18, 2002 2:46 pm
Location: Wherever the storms are
Top

Postby TinuvielUndomiel » Sat Sep 10, 2005 9:58 am

The Groom's Hunt

Tinu was thankful that Leslie knew the area and where to find a boat. Her mind was still slightly scattered from her encounter with the Maia, reducing her powers of reasoning.

The three elves climbed into the skiff with the peeling paint and pushed off from the bay's shore.

The winds were against them as they rowed, but as they drew closer to the island Tinu knew must be there, it suddenly leapt up before them in its terrible hideousness. It was barren of good, she concluded as her sharp eyes looked for the cool lushness of a typical island in this part of the world. It was certainly dark, but it was a dark magic obscurity, not just the shade from tall, dense trees.

Everywhere they looked, there were sharp cliffs, no place to dock their boat. So, they continued their reconnaisance, rowing around the island. Finally, they found a narrow opening covered with the forboding forest.

"It looks like this is our only choice," Tinu said grimly. "Are you ready to go ashore?" The other two nodded and they rowed the boat toward the shore and leapt out to beach the boat. They covered it with some fallen branches and leaves, making it less obvious that intruders were on the island.

Meanwhile, as Tinu's feet first touched the sand, the Protector grew much heavier about her neck.

"He is here," she whispered. "There is no doubt of that." She helped the other two elves as much as she could, but the necklace was sapping her strength the further up the beach they went.

Not knowing precisely where to go, the trio walked into the woods. If the hobbit were held captive anywhere, they figured that it would be there.

The trees bowed down toward them, leering. No light shone through the gaps--all were devoured as though there were infinitely many black holes stealing every bright sunbeam.

Tinu trembled as she walked, both from the effort and from her fear of the hobbit's condition. Something told her that he was in dire need and would not be able to wait much longer for their aid.

Anorast placed a soothing hand on her shoulder and she gave him a wan smile.

"Is the Hobbit Protector wearying you more than before?" he asked, a slight frown marring his ancient face. Tinu nodded, her eyes filling with tears at his kindness. She stumbled over one of the many roots that tried to knock each of them to the desiccated ground and he caught her. She knew now to think nothing of it, for he had not so long ago told her that he did not love her in the way she needed to be loved. But it was enough for now that he was truly her friend.

Words left them as they continued deeper into the forest. They needed all of their senses to be aware of what was around them. For all they knew, Lurea's kidnapper or his minions were patrolling the area or worse yet, knew that they were on the island.

The path they were following suddenly diverged into two paths.

"Where should we go now?" asked Anorast, barely audible.

Tinu walked on the first path. The weight around her neck lessened a degree. "It must be the other path," she sighed.

Leslie took her hand and Tinu did not take it back. She had slowly begun to trust the peredhil and was grateful for her kind gesture. Tinu now needed the strength of the other two to propel her, for the stone was becoming unbearable.

They continued on the second path, trying not to cut through any trees, for fear that they might retaliate on the enchanted isle. The trees held so much anger and hurt that they would lash out at anyone, even friends such as the elves.

Suddenly, they beheld a tiny body lying helplessly beneath the angry boughs. Tinu fell before she could see who it was, dropping to her knees in prayer to Eru. Anorast and Leslie stepped forward to see who or what it was.

It was Hobbituk. And he was dead.

Anorast took his pulse and sadly shook his head. He turned to look at Tinu whose eyes pleaded with him.

"We have come too late," Tinu sobbed, covering her face. Anorast wrapped his arms around her and allowed her to cry.

"There is nothing more we can do," he said, bowing his head in honor of the hobbit.

"But what about the Protector?" Leslie piped up. "What can it do?"

The two elves looked at her and then at one another. It was worth a try.

Tinu slowly got up with the help of Anorast. However, her strength was gone and she could not step forward of her own volition. Anorast picked her up and carried her over to the lifeless hobbit.

Still sobbing, Tinu lifted the tiny torso up to meet her own and hugged the dead hobbit. The Hobbit Protector, unifying their two pure hearts, began to glow white until the two of them were enveloped in an eye-searing white.

Tinu felt peace and happiness flowing through her every limb and into the lifeless form of the hobbit she loved.

"Please, Eru, save him. I love him with a pure heart. Bring him back to us," Tinu prayed aloud, her voice suddenly strong and resonant.

She hugged him even more tightly, strength returning to her as her love took over the weakness within.

Suddenly, there was a spark and a jolt as though lightning had struck the two of them. But rather than sundering them, Tinu held on to the hobbit even more. To her surprise, the little arms hugged her back.
User avatar
TinuvielUndomiel
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 1497
Joined: Fri Jan 18, 2002 2:46 pm
Location: Wherever the storms are
Top

Postby Hobbituk » Sun Sep 11, 2005 8:56 am

There was nothing. No dreams, no nightmares. No thoughts of light nor of dark. No air, no fog, no anything.

There was no good, there was no evil. There was only death. The final word. Forever.

Or maybe not.

A faint pinprick of light appeared. Slowly expanding, it became a beautiful thing. A pale yet illuminating light in the Hobbit's mind. It seemed to take thousands of years, but gradually Herbert Took became conscious once more. Thoughts formed in his mind and then with a force which quite startled him, he felt his heart begin to beat once more. His lungs expanded and filled with air.

Who am I? was his first thought, but he was quick to stop himself,
No, he thought firmly, I will not do this again. Not this time. I am Hobbituk. Hobbi. Herbert Took.

He let this sink in.

I was dead, now I am alive. This is all that matters. The enourmity of this began to sink in and it was all he could do not to relapse with shock. He knew there were more important things to worry about than how he had survived the unsurvivable. He just could not quite remember what those things were.

As he tried desperately to recall, one thought regarding his sudden resurrection would not leave him,

How has this happened?

More awareness of his surroundings filled his body. He felt a warmth and comfort he had not felt in such a long time. It was both soothing and healing. His eyes were still closed, but he could tell he was lying on the ground somewhere. This was not the source of the serenity though. He could feel a lithe gentle body pressed against him. Arms were around him, holding him tightly. He could almost feel the love coming from her...it was a her...whoever it was. She wanted nothing but him and in that moment, he wanted nothing but her.

Like a fist to the stomach, Hobbi's memories flooded back.

"Lurea...?" he whispered. With that he opened his eyes and at the same moment, his saviour pulled away from him.

The gloomy light of the forest hurt his eyes at first and he could see nothing but a blur. Quickly, though, his view became focused once more and he could see everything.

It was not Lurea. He had been sure it was, it had felt like Lurea, only she had ever held him in that way. As close as lovers. It was Tinu. Sweet, loyal, precious Tinu. Hobbi did not wonder how she had come to be there, only two thoughts were in his mind.

Firstly, his joy at seeing her there. Secondly, it was not Lurea. The disappointment must have been evident on his face for as she locked her beautiful soulfull eyes with his and held his gaze, there was an unreadable expression on Tinu's face.

"Tinu -" he began, but stopped as he was distracted by the glowing from the jewel hung around her neck. It was glowing so brightly it was difficult to look at, but Hobbi recognised it as the hobbit protector. As he stared at it, it's colour changed until it was a sickly yellow. Then it turned brown, then black and crumbled into dust.

It's power was exhausted.
User avatar
Hobbituk
Ringbearer

 
Posts: 12828
Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2000 4:53 am
Top

Postby TinuvielUndomiel » Sun Sep 11, 2005 4:37 pm

"Lurea...?" The bleary-eyed hobbit queried softly. A stab pierced the raw, bleeding wound that was Tinu's heart. She pulled away from him and felt more alone than she had at the wedding itself.

His face showed the bitterest disappointment. His wife hadn't come to save him--it was...her. Just her. Just simple, unbrilliant Tinu. The rough stone that stuck in your shoe, aspiring to be the marble hall.

She could not help but look into his eyes, those soft blue eyes that so held her heartstrings. Her face had gone pale and blank, the brightness that illuminated those who had seen the Light faded within her, flickering only dimly.

"Tinu--" he started to say. But she did not want to hear his excuses now. Suddenly, the weight around her neck lifted and, glancing down, the stones that made up the Protector fell as ashes into her hands.

"The end of my love forever. I have given it all," she murmured softly as she reverently scattered the ashes.

She stood up. Her mission was over, her task accomplished. Now she wished only for peace and the slow ride to the West.

"There will be others who shall come to help in this search. I have done what I can and must leave now." She bowed her head slightly, allowing her golden tresses to cover the eyes with stinging tears.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her back on them, facing toward the water and scanned the beach for any other boat, for surely the orcs had some way of spanning the water.
User avatar
TinuvielUndomiel
Ranger of the North


 
Posts: 1497
Joined: Fri Jan 18, 2002 2:46 pm
Location: Wherever the storms are
Top

Postby Hobbituk » Wed Sep 14, 2005 12:51 pm

"But...but..." stammered Hobbi as he scrambled to his feet, following Tinu. What had happened here? Why had the Hobbit Protector crumbled? What was it that had brought him to life once more?

Then he knew. Of course, the Protector. It was that which had prevented the Orcs from crushing him or striking any kind of lethal blow against him. Then, even when the most terrible blow of all had befallen him...the precious stones had returned breath to his lungs and healed his broken heart. What a wondrous thing this was. Surely such a thing had never happened before? That one who was dead could return to the land of the living. Sure, there were myths from the Red Book of such things happening in the Third Age...but everyone knew they were embellished beyond all reasonable truth.

What kind of power could give the gift of life? The gem had been a present from Erinhue originally. Erinhue...even though he was not there, he had saved Hobbi's life. In that moment Hobbi recalled how he had treat his best friend. He had been so spitefull to a man who had only ever tried to do his best to help and to be a good companion.
This is your second chance Herbert, he told himself, this time you can get it right. This time you will not make the same mistakes. But for Erinhue you would not be standing now. If ever you get away from here, you must make it up to him. It was only him...
But Hobbi knew it was not just Erinhue who was to thank. Tinu had played some unknown part, but what could that be....and then it hit him. The sensation he had felt whilst being woken from his slumber. Love. Somehow, he did not know or care how, Tinu's love had brought him to life. His mouth fell open in shock.

He did not pause for long. He now realised his purpose. He had to rescue Lurea at any cost. He had to speak with her and then...well the bit after was not yet important. The important thing was to get her off this island and to safety. That was why he had been allowed back, that was what he must do. He could not do it alone...
"Tinu," he called after the departing Elf, "I...I need you!"
User avatar
Hobbituk
Ringbearer

 
Posts: 12828
Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2000 4:53 am
Top

PreviousNext

Return to Role Playing: The Prancing Pony (Middle-earth Only)

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest