-:Tome of the Faithful:-

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

Postby Gurtholfin » Tue May 21, 2002 1:27 pm

<i>Numenore, the Land of Gift, lay on the brink of oblivion. For the kings, though powerful yet, have fallen far from grace; driven by lust and greed. The light of the West that once shown brightly upon these houses of men was now faded...</i><BR><BR><BR><BR>The full bright moon danced across the ripples of the calm mwater. Her image dashed apart like beads of pearl scattering across the ground as Tilion's net sank fast into the water. Alone on the water, Tilion enjoyed his midnight netting more than anything. No peace such as this had he found in all his ocean journies. The sea-it forgave all his sins and offered hope for the future...<BR><BR>Standing up in his small cutter he caught a glimpse of a shotting star as it traversed the deep sky. It was a perfect marriage of chance and opportunity; to see one of Orome's errant arrows fly. He took it for a good sign.<BR><BR>Tilion hauled in his net. The fish leapt wildly and fought for any chance to escape. Dragging the net into the cutter a knot gave way. Their collective effort wasn't in vain, for a single fish slid back into the dark cold water. The netted fish slowly ceased their movement.<BR><BR>"And so if even one escapes, victory can be shared by all."<BR><BR>He rowed the long stretch back and dragged his boat aground then carried his cargo ashore. He took one last look over his shoulder. East. There lie friends and enemies, hope and despair. He turned West and saw the same things. He shook his head and began to walk home...
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Postby Aurandir » Tue May 21, 2002 2:32 pm

Aurandir stood on the busy wharf, staring out toward the west, an absorbed expression on his face. He was worried, worried about the events taking place in his beloved land, worried about his family, worried about the persecution of the Faithful. <BR><BR><i>Too much to wory about</i>, he thought.<BR><BR>He shook his head, ridding it of unpleasant thoughts, at least for a while. Thoughtfully he walked down the pier, subconsciously avoiding the barrels, rope, anchors, and other sea faring equipment. He stopped in front of his ship. <BR><BR><i>She was beautiful, like Arendis. At that he rebuked himself. Still worrying over that girl! You're a Sea Captain, and above wishing for unattainable things. Pitiful Aurandir. </i><BR><BR>He laughed at himself. Spying his first mate, he called out to the man.<BR><BR><i>"Romenil, is she ready?"<BR>"By dayfall there won't be a thing in the way of our departing."<BR>"Good work Commander Romenil."</i><BR>The man laughed. They had been friends since childhood, since the time when Aurandir had been punished for stirring up some light trouble. To humiliate him the instructor had put him in a junior learner's boat, under the young Romenil's command. Using formal titles was something for either ceremony or jocularity. Aurandir quickly made up his mind.<BR><i>"But, to be serious, I will be going back to Rómenna with you. Could you have a few men go into the city and get my chest?"<BR>"Aye, Aurandir. I'll see you on the morrow."<BR>"My thanks."</i><BR>Aurandir walked into Pelargir. He would need a good nights sleep in order to have a clear mind tomorrow.<BR>
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Postby Gurtholfin » Sun May 26, 2002 5:08 pm

Walking up the road he could see that a fire was still lit in his house. Strange. She should be asleep by now.<BR><BR>He slowly pushed open the door and saw her. Lying with her head on the table, asleep. He smiled. Blowing out the candle he lifted her up and carried her to her room. She opened her eyes slowly as he laid her down, "Goodnight, Tilion."<BR><BR>Tilion's parents left her in his care when they packed their things and moved to Pelargir when she was only 3 years old, back when the first signs of hostility towards the Faithful were shown. They had the two children late in their years and were no longer able to care for young Sirwen; Tilion took this burden upon himself.<BR><BR>He entered his room and washed before lying down. He said a prayer for his family across the sea, and slept...
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Postby Amarie » Tue May 28, 2002 7:08 pm

Two travellers were riding from Eldalondë during daybreak. One of them, a dark-haired maiden glanced back, forlorn. "We must have no more of that, Anaire," spoke the other. "Looking back only makes it more difficult for us to press foward." Despite the scolding tone in his voice, his face was weary and sad. They carried all their belongings with them in saddlebags that hung from both sides of their horses. <BR><BR>Anaire knew why they were leaving Eldalondë, the only place she called home. Its streets were almost empty now. They had been that way for several years, ever since Ar-Gimilzor forced the faithful to relocate to Romenna. She and Tarar had only lingered there because his wife, Nirme was bed-ridden and she did not want to leave Eldalondë. It had been Nirme's family's home ever since Numenorë was raised from the depths as a gift to the faithful Edain. But she was gone now. And Romenna was their destination.<BR>
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Postby Aurandir » Wed May 29, 2002 1:47 pm

Aurandir awoke at the rising of Anor, as was his wont. After his customary meditation, facing the direction of Numenore, he got fully dressed and packed. The crew was probably just preparing the ship now, and so he took his time in getting ready. As he opened the door he was surprised to find Denethor, a lieutenant on his ship, in front of the door.<BR><i>"Hello Denethor." He acknowledged him with a nod.</i><BR><i>"Captain, I was wondering, do you need any help with getting ready to leave?"</i><BR>Aurandir was incredulous. <i>"Surely they are not waiting!"</i> He didn't wait for an answer though. Hurredly he picked up his sea chest and threw it into the hall. Just as hastily he threw on his uniform and ran out the door as fast as possible to the wharf. <BR><BR>When he reached there the ship was ready as could be wished.<BR><i>"Romenil, is she ready?"</i><BR><i>"This last quarter hour sir!"</i><BR><i>"Good. Quartermaster, take her out."</i><BR>The man nodded and gave the orders to the helmsmen. Slowly the ship went away from the docks, the helmsmen adjusting their course with minute precision. Getting away from the dock was sometimes irritating, as they didn't use slave rowers. Soon they were out though, and Aurandir sighed with relief. He hadn't worried, but still it was nice to be out in the open sea. He was a blue water sailor, most at home in the deep waters, where one was free from most of the inconveniences and hassles of life. One still had to give gifts though. He went back into his cabin and returned with two doves, a pure white against the darker colors of the ship. He went to the quarter deck and stood leaning over the side. Inaudibly he whispered a small praise, of life, the Valar, Arda, Eru. Then he uncaged the doves and set them free. With a flutter they left, wild and free. He watched them until they were nothing but specks of white on a deep blue ocean and then turned away. <i>That should satisfy Osse.</i>
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Postby Amarie » Wed May 29, 2002 7:54 pm

They were well past Emerië now. They were heading northeast, towards the main road that stretched across the island from Andunië to Romenna. The road passed through Armenelos, a place Anaire and Tarar were very much trying to avoid. Anaire gazed at the darkening sky above them. "Ships would be wise not to venture out tonight," she murmured. She glanced at Tarar and smiled. She knew that he did not need the gift of sight to know that a storm was coming. He was blind yet he sensed it more than anyone else. He was a seasoned mariner and only an accident had caused him to stay on dry land, with Nirme and his adopted daughter. "Indeed, many sailors will be calling out Uinen's name tonight," nodded Tarar. "We will have to ride faster if we wish to beat this storm to some dry shelter."<BR><BR><BR>
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Postby I-am-Tigger » Wed May 29, 2002 8:01 pm

A groan rose from the wet body laid out on the beach. Bruises were in evidence where the waves had buffeted the injured sailor against the rocks.<BR>Dressed in typical sailing garb, it was hard to find any sign of where the port of origin had been. But the flotsam and jetsom laying around evidenced a ship wreck. Barrels of wine splintered and tainted by salt water had washed up along with more barrels of salted meat.<BR>Pushing herself up on her elbows the young girl tried to get a sighting of where she was, but nothing looked familiar. Wincing with pain she dropped back to the sand and gravel. The sun beat down mercilessly onto her exposed arms and legs, reaching out she pulled a broken barrel towards her and pulled its remains over her head and face. The effort of this small attempt at self preservation left her exhausted and she drifted back into sleep. Her sleep was punctuated by nightmares of high winds, ships boards creaking and water rushing over the deck, flooding the cabins. She moved restlessly as memories of being thrown off the ship just before it finally broke apart came crowding into her mind. <BR>The night's storm would bring the locals onto the sands, and she could only hope they would be friendly. <BR>
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Postby Fingolfin_of_the_Noldor » Thu May 30, 2002 2:04 pm

Eruresto awoke to find himself in the midst of a great tulmult of howls as the wind wipped through the windows and threw open the door. Jumping to his feet he quickly dressed himself and ran toward the docks. The rain and wind would not relent as the captain endeavored to pierce the seemingly endless wall and so slowly he made his way down. <BR><BR>A bolt of lightning pierced the gloom as Erurest neared the pier enabling him to makeout the meandering ships as they lay moored in the . Suddenly his thoughts turned to Aurandir who had passed over the sea the day before and the ships as were to arrive very soon. <BR><BR>Apparently a squall had broken through the tol-falas and made its way east what ever damage it had done afore could not be surmised and as such the mariner made his way with all possible speed and even greater determination.
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Postby Amarie » Thu May 30, 2002 3:37 pm

Anaire shivered as she looked towards Meneltarma. It towered over anything and everything on the island. It was spectacular to behold as one drew nearer to it. But they were not drawing near to it. They were travelling away from it as they had struck the main road after Armenelos. From there on, it would be an easy way to Romenna. The tip of Meneltarma was flanked by low-lying clouds. The storm was dying down over Numenore but on the high seas, it was still very much in full strength. For some reason, the winds around the island had been unusually strong the past few months. When Anaire would ask Tarar what he thought of it, he would only say, "The Valar are not pleased."<BR><BR>On the road, they would pass a few people. Most of them would whisper and say, "There go another two of their kind bound for Romenna." Or they would say, "Good. We won't have to deal with the likes of them. Let them go to Amandil. Ar-Pharazon will attend to them later."<BR><BR>
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Postby Gurtholfin » Thu May 30, 2002 4:35 pm

Tilion tossed a rag over his shoulder as he shook the frying bacon in the black pan. Biscuits laid under a cloth still steaming. Soon the water would boil for the tea and he could...<BR><BR>Sirwen ran into the kitchen, crying. "Tilion! Tilion! I saw someone on the shore!" She threw herself into his arms. He pulled her hair away from her face and wiped some of her tears away with his thumb.<BR><BR>"There now. Why should that trouble you?" he asked.<BR><BR>"She was dead...but then she started moving. And then she got up from the sand and began walking towards me!" She continued to cry. <BR><BR>Sirwen trembled in his arms. He couldn't remember her every being this frightened before. "I'll tell you what your big brother is going to do! I want you to take me to where you saw this woman. She might be nice and perhaps will want to share breakfast with us. What do you think the dead that walk like to eat? Hmm?" He smiled at her lifting her chin and drawing her eyes to his. <BR><BR>She giggled, "You'd better bring your sword, Tilion. She could be dangerous.<BR><BR>He had already thought about that. The Faithful weren't permitted to walk in with open arms in public. "I don't think that will be necessary. We could always kick sand in her eyes and run back home!"<BR><BR>Sirwen laughed as he held her by the hand and the two walked down the hill towards shore...
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Postby Aurandir » Fri May 31, 2002 8:13 pm

Aurandir stared at the squall ahead. It would be a nasty ride, no doubt about it. He called down from the quarterdeck.<BR><i>"Foul weather ahead my men. Set up life-ropes, lash everything down, batten down the hatches, and get ready for the storm."</i><BR>His order was repeated in more formal fashion by the bosuns, urging the men on. These cursed storms! More and more frequently they came now, the dark thunderheads rolling in and letting vent with a crashing thunder and forked lighting. There was also talk of dreadful happenings in Numenore, droughts and desieses, plagues and storms. The Valar were running out of patience it seemed. Oh that they would not consume them in their wrath! At the thought of his beloved home being struck down by a plague or war he quailed. Surely they never would go so far. Please to Eru they never went so far. The storm came closer.
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Postby Star-of-Hope » Sun Jun 02, 2002 4:44 pm

The girl fell back to the ground, and collapsed crying, she had scared off her only rescuer. Tears ran down her face washing off the grime and making furrows in the sand, which caked her face. Her hair was tacky and hung about her face covering her enough to disguise her age and appearance. Its dark sheen replaced with sand and salt water making it cling hard and flat, grey and gritty. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as the full effect of her appearance penetrated to her consciousness. Her shirt, ripped from her back, shredded by the sharp shells on the beach where she lay, coated in her own blood and sticking hard now to wounds, only now starting to heal. The shirt hardened to the cuts and gashes by drying out and leaving sand embedded, and sea salt biting in its pain and healing curse.<BR>The soft trousers she had worn on board the ship were torn and offered little modesty, and her soft leather boots gave only her feet any true protection. She felt too sore to struggle any longer and assembling the rags she now wore she attempted to cover her sunburnt and battered back, at last slipping back into a pain ridden unconsciousness. Lying among the wreckage she resembled little more than a pile of rags.<BR>
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Postby Gurtholfin » Sun Jun 02, 2002 5:42 pm

Tilion looked on ahead and watched as the waves caressed the rocky shoreline, smoothing its stones. When the sun shone in full force one could lay and bake on those rocks, if one was so inclined...<BR><BR>"She was over there! But I don't see her anymore." Sirwen blushed at her embarassment.<BR><BR>"Well, let's keep walking anyway. It's a beautiful morning don't you think?"<BR><BR>They walked only a few steps further before Tilion realized that something did in fact wash ashore. A pile of rags. Maybe some dirty or damaged clothes thrown overboard. Some torn sail perhaps. Sirwen stopped and stepped behind her brother. Her little arm reached out from behind him and pointed to the pile of rags Tilion was just studying.<BR><BR>"That?" He asked. "Do your clothes wake you up in the midnight hour asking you to dance with them, Sirwen?" Tilion joked.<BR><BR>In a moment they were upon the pile and much to his surprise, mingled with the rags, was a young woman. Badly beaten. Against the rocks maybe. He quickly took his shirt off and covered the body. "You run ahead home and draw some fresh water into the wash basin. Ready the spare bed with fresh linen also. I'm going to carry her after you."<BR><BR>"Ok!" Sirwen ran ahead leaving tiny footprints behind for Tilion to follow. He picked up the young lady's body and listened close to make sure she was still breathing. Short irregular breathing. He frowned as he began to briskly walk back home...
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Postby Star-of-Hope » Sun Jun 02, 2002 11:55 pm

The girl cried out with pain as she was lifted and her back made contact with something hard. Opening her eyes she saw a strange man looking down at her, he had a gentle face and she felt reassured that she would come to no harm. Her chest hurt and breathing was difficult, gasping for breath she tried to speak, but only a harsh sound rose to her lips and the pain it induced in her throat and chest prevented her trying again. Closing her mouth and her eyes she allowed herself to drift off again, into the quiet unfeeling nothing from which she had awoken. The rhythmic motion as she was carried soothed her despite the pain of her flesh as the cotton shirt pulled itself free of her wounds reopening them and letting out a fresh source of blood.<BR><BR>
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Postby Ithilien » Mon Jun 03, 2002 5:48 am

As Airel ascended the steps to the high tower it occurred to her that she needed to change her name into its adûnaic form. She gave thought to it for a moment and then was completely distracted by the beautiful view from the hill of Oromet.<BR>She gazed East and the wind seemed to bring rumors of war and darkening in the great land beyond the sea, saddening her mind. <BR>Airel had been in Middle-earth just once, but she would never forget the Pelargir and the fair peoples living there. <BR>She stood in thought for a time and then turned her gaze West and forced her eyes into the mists of the hidden realm, looking for comfort. Her family was now living days of fear and distress as well as many people in that territory. Many other rumors run across the land speaking about a new counselor of the king. People feared that darkness was overcoming Númenor. Way too many decisions lay before Airel and at the very thought of them, her sea-grey eyes were filled with tears. <BR>But now, as the West wind played with her dark hair, a rare sense of foreboding overcame her thoughts, and for a moment she saw in her mind unknown people that she would meet and strange images passed before her eyes. A second later it was over, however she couldn’t but ponder about it.<BR><BR>Time went on, the sun came slowly down and Airel descended the tower and rode home. She had decided to leave Andunië the next morning.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
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Postby Gurtholfin » Mon Jun 03, 2002 8:54 am

Sirwen met her brother on the pathway that led to their house. She stayed just a few paces ahead and opened the door to let her brother in. Tilion lay the woman gently down and began to strip her clothes away. His arms were covered in blood as it had began to flow once more before they arrived. <BR><BR>Sirwen fetched clean clothes as Tilion washed away the sand and salt from the woman's wounds. He deeply hoped she hadn't lost too much blood, though looking at his arms and shirt he feared it so. He sighed deeply as he began to dress her wounds. <i>I can't imagine what could have happened to her...</i><BR><BR>"Is she going to be alright?" Sirwen asked as she clutched her doll closely.<BR><BR>"I think so, darling. Her breathing seems to me more steady now. I don't know when she'll wake up..." He looked down at the woman; an expression of pain on her face even in sleep. He shook his head, "Let us clean ourselves up and finish our breakfast. We'll set aside some for her just in case she awakes. I'm sure she'll be famished once those lids of hers open."
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Postby Aurandir » Mon Jun 03, 2002 6:39 pm

The ship rocked gently on the waves, perversely at peace when not an hour had passed since they were being tossed about the sea like a child's plaything. Aurandir walked into his cabin and lay down on his cot, thinking of the damages and casualties. One dead, two maimed, four others wounded. The mizzenmast was gone, carried away in the gale, but they could jury rig a new one out of spare spars. Number two anchor had had its fastenings torn away and had subsequently fallen off into the sea, and there was now a gaping hole in the starboard side. All fixable, except the man dead. He thought about the man's fate. He had been knocked on the head when the mizzen came down, and had died shortly after in the sea healer's room. Just a regular seaman, slightly landlubberly but dutiful, paid attention to orders. And in an instant he had been destroyed, his spirit had shed its coarse trappings and had gone on, to a place where none but Beren and come back. At this juncture he got up and poured himself a drink. Sitting in a hammock, swaying gently with the ship, he resumed his course of thought. Where did men go? To the Halls of Mandos? To the Halls of Eru? To their just reward no doubt. Swirling his carrack around in its glass, musing into its deep, vibrant depths of red, he called for his first mate.<BR><BR>Romenil came in, a serious look on his face.<BR><i>"Sir?"</i><BR><i>"Ardrahil. How is he being attended?"</i><BR><i>"His mess mates are sewing him up now sir."</i><BR><i>"Yes...."</i>He thought again on Fate, that servant of the Powers.<BR><i>"Sir? Is there anything that needs doing?"</i><BR><i>"No. Forgive the ramblings of a distracted man. The others in sickbay?"</i><BR><i>"All will live. One amputation must be done, a removal of a foot, but that may be attended to after the funeral."</i><BR><i>"Very good. Thank you Rom."</i><BR><i>"Don't fret about it sir. Men are called at their time, no sooner, no later."</i>He walked out, quietly shutting the door behind him.<BR>Aurandir spun around, templing his fingers. Romenil was right of course. As a captain he had always looked out for his men, and the death of a crewmember deeply affected him. He drained his glass, set it in its holder, and lay down to sleep. Within minutes he was snoring.<BR>______________________________________________________________________<BR><BR><i>taptaptap</i><BR>Aurandir awoke instantly and rolled out of his cot. Through long habit he had acquired the ability to rise whenever he sensed a change in movement of the ship or noises at his door. He opened the door. Denethor was standing there, looking grave.<BR><i>"The funeral is ready, sir."</i><BR><i>"Aye."</i> He nodded his acknowledgement and put on his official uniform. Heavily he walked out, the grief of the thing weighing upon him. He had never liked funerals. He stood at the head of the body, while the man's mates stood at the sides, their grief evident on their faces. He began.<BR><i>"Today, we are gathered on a most solemn occasion. Solemn and sorrowful, with downturned faces and inexpressible grief. With sadness we look on the body of Ardrahil Serrecon, seaman third class. Not all present know his story. Will a shipmate speak for the dead?</i> <BR>A man stepped forward, and told of the man's life, simply and without flourish. After he was done, a few others spoke. Aurandir looked around. No one else stepped forward, and he stepped to the head of the corpse.<BR><i>"May Ulmo keep you in his waters, and Manwe in his heart. Farewell, true sailor of Numenore!"</i> He bound a belt bearing the seal of the Mariner's Guild around the man's chest and stepped back. His friends slid the body overboard and it sank quickly, down to the ocean bottom.<BR><i>"And there may you rest, forever in the deeps until the Day of Reckoning and the Unmaking."</i><BR>
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Postby Amarie » Mon Jun 03, 2002 8:07 pm

Anairë reached Romenna by daybreak. The sky glimmered with red and orange hues as the sun peeked out from the horizon. The city was beautiful by the fair light of sunrise as the waters beyond it sparkled. She had been crying all night, as she rode hard and fast. The events of that night came back to haunt her again. She could not, she would not think of it. Her eyes were dry now, as if she had run out of tears. "Oh, Tarar," she murmured as she dismounted her horse, Roheryn. <BR><BR>She looked down on her dress. It was bloody and crumpled. There was a gash on her right thigh, some cuts on her arms and some bruises on her face. She knew she would have to find an inn to clean up. The maiden found a place by the beach called, "Bay Shore Inn". She was glad to see that there was no one else except the innkeeper at the front desk. She did not really care to attract attention at the moment. <BR><BR>"I need a room please," Anairë spoke wearily. "I am tired and I know what a dreadful sight I must be. But I'd prefer it if you not ask questions."<BR><BR>"I'm not one to turn away people who need my help, my lady but I really don't want trouble here." The innkeeper was a man of about five and fifty. He was bald yet tall. <BR><BR>"I don't bring trouble with me. Please, I was attacked by bandits. Will you not help me?"<BR><BR>He gazed at her intently. She was about twenty, he surmised. He could see scrapes and bruises on her face; but he was certain that if given a few days rest, she would be turning a few heads at the inn. After a moment's pause, he relented. He knew that he really couldn't turn her away. Besides, he could tell that she was one of them. If the Faithful didn't stick together, they wouldn't stand a chance against the others. He nodded and gave her a key. <BR><BR>Once in her room, she cleansed her wounds and changed. She had only managed to save one bag. Fortunately, her clothes and some of her money were in it. She went to bed and fell asleep, clutching the necklace Tarar gave her before they left Eldalondë. Her dreams were filled with recurring flashes of what happened to them that night.<BR><BR>
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Postby LiMuBai » Wed Jun 05, 2002 1:07 am

The storm has not let up since it struck and the waters of great Anduin was perilously rising. Strong winds and heavy rains swept this small haven for several outcast numenoreans. A sudden gust of wind toppled a cup on the table next to Renaltir's bed. As if on cue, Renaltir wakes from his seemingly restless sleep.<BR><BR>"This is most unusual. The storms don't usually come about this time of year. This could be a bad omen."<BR><BR>He ponders on events that led to their exile from Numenore. It had been five years since he first set foot on the shores of Pelargir. It was a painful decision to leave his birthplace and not being able to see Meneltarma grieved him the most.<BR><BR>"If only we hadn't been too proud ..." he mused. There hasn't been much activity since Sauron had been defeated by Ar-Pharazon's invincible army. He wished to return but Renaltir had come to terms with the fact that he may not see his beloved homeland in his lifetime again. He even toyed with the idea of joining Aurandir on his trip but thought against it.<BR><BR>"The 'faithful' ..." he thought. "... it's a pity that such words would bring such scornful looks from my brethren". A tear falls down his cheek as he remembers his beloved Marinwë. Her decision to stay had been even more painful than mustering the courage to board ship five years ago. "Have I made the wrong decision, beloved?"<BR><BR>Just then, another gust of wind ruffled the curtains and Renaltir rushed to close the windows. "In the morning, I need to consult with the elves regarding this unusual tempest. Something seems to be unusally wrong ..." And with that, he lay on his bed and dreamed a dreamless sleep.
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Postby Amarie » Wed Jun 05, 2002 3:10 pm

<i>Tarar threw his pack at the man that blocked Anairë's escape route. "Go! Ride Anairë! Don't look back!" She jumped onto Roheryn and glanced at the man who had cared for her all these years. After he blocked another man's blow, he slapped Roheryn's side. The horse whinnied and took off. Her rider looked back and gasped as she saw Tarar fall to the ground. Without hesitation, she turned back. She charged towards one of the attackers as her horse trampled over him. She heard a muffled cry and saw Tarar lying, crumpled on the dirty road. She jumped off her horse and squared off with the remaining man. He grinned and advanced towards her. A second later, a knife had struck his chest. Anairë had thrown it, hoping it would hit its mark.<BR><BR>She ran to Tarar's side. He was bleeding profusely. Suddenly, she heard cries. A few people from the inn had seen the commotion. Now, a crowd was running towards them. Tarar grabbed her arm. "Anairë, you cannot save me." She shook her head and tried to lift him despite her small frame. He spoke, his dark eyes pleading. "Listen to me, child. They will not be merciful with two of the Faithful who have just killed three of the King's men. Save yourself. We have no time. Do as I say. And remember, never forget anything I taught you." He let go of her hand. "Go!"<BR><BR>Her face was stoic as she kissed him on the forehead. "I'm sorry, Tarar." She quickly mounted Roheryn and rode away from the crowd. She never looked back, as the tears fell down her face.</i><BR><BR>Anairë woke up. Her skin was clammy and her body was shaking. She sat up and buried her face in her hands. She and Tarar had dismounted their horses to feed them. While she was adjusting the straps on Roheryn's saddle, she saw three men approaching them. The insignia of Ar-Pharazon was emblazoned across their chest. They had evidently left the nearby inn and were crossing the road to get to one of the homes in the distance. <BR><BR>They were looking at her as they talked softly among each other. Anairë felt uneasy so she looked away. Tarar's head jerked towards them. His sharp hearing had picked up on the men's footsteps and their voices. The men were now next to them. One was stroking Nom, Tarar's horse. "Beautiful horses you have here, old man." He said, but he was looking directly at Anairë. Another, meanwhile, was holding onto Roheryn's reins. The third was standing next to Anairë. She could smell the stench of ale on his clothes and on his breath. <BR><BR>Tarar had moved closer to her, his hand grasping the hilt of his sheathed sword. She, on the other hand, had only a long knife with her. Before she could realize what was happening, she was grabbed by one while the other lunged for Tarar. Nom, obviously frightened, ran away. The short man, the one who held Roheryn's reins was now struggling with the horse. She, too, was very distressed and kicked as the man let go. Fortunately, Roheryn did not run but merely continued kicking. <BR><BR>Anairë then struggled to get free from the man who grabbed her. He laughed cruelly and whispered, "Keep still or I'll give you to Armenelos after I'm done with you." Furious, she managed to free her right hand and with it, she swung at his nose with all her strength behind it. Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Tarar's attacker fall. What happened next was in the nightmare she had.<BR><BR>She got out of bed and washed her face on the basin next to it. She would not be getting a good sleep for a long time. She took a deep breath and decided that a walk by the water would do her some good.<BR><BR>
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Postby Star-of-Hope » Fri Jun 07, 2002 1:08 am

The girl opened her eyes and looked around the hut. A man and young girl were eating at the table, absorbed in conversation, they did not notice she had awoken. Who were they? she saw nothing familiar, all about was sense of strangeness. New smells, sights and sounds. And yet, she frowned, what was familiar? She had no 'memories' . No anchors to float from. She felt as though she were a ship tossed about by a storm and now floating rudder, anchor and mastless, she had no direction, no port of origin and no destination. She was lying in unknown waters, becalmed, but also too damaged to manoeuvre. Were these people friends or foe?<BR>She closed her eyes and searched her mind for clues, of where she had come from. Memories of a ship cracking were dominant, but was it real? The pain she felt from the many and varied scratches, scrapes and bruises on her limbs and body indicated it probably was, she smelt the strong smell of salt spray in her hair and clamming on her skin. It felt gritty and stiff. A surreptitious opening of her eyes and a downward glance bought out an exclamation of surprise, her clothes were ripped, tattered and an odd brown colour in places, spotted by blotches of a fresh red. The realisation that it was her blood and the pain was one of wounds opening had caused a momentary lapse in her plan to stay quiet.<BR><BR>The cry bought the attention of those present to her state of wakefulness...<BR><BR><BR>
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Postby Amarie » Fri Jun 07, 2002 1:52 am

The inn was aptly called the Bay Shore Inn because it stood along the stretch of beach that overlooked the Bay of Romenna. Anairë only had to walk out the door and turn right. It was a beautiful day. The sky was blue and not a cloud was in sight. The sea, equally inspired by the radiant sky, shimmered and beckoned invitingly. The maiden cringed. The serenity of the beauty around her only heightened the disquiet in her heart. Her spirit would not easily be tamed. She had long discarded any pangs of self-pity and only allowed herself to feel sorrow and anger. And most of the time, guilt. <BR><BR>She took out the necklace Tarar had given her. The chain itself was simple, but the pendant was remarkable. It was a five-rayed star that was brilliant in the afternoon sun. In the evening, it shone like the moon. Perhaps the metal was chosen to skillfully reflect the heavenly lights that showed the way for seafarers. Three generations of Tarar's ancestors had been members of the Guild of Venturers, or the Uinendili as they were fondly called. After the Guild was disbanded, the necklace was passed on to the eldest child. "May it light your way, dearest." Tarar had said when he placed it around her neck. <BR><BR>She gazed to her left. Several ships, the most she'd ever seen in her life, were anchored in the docks. The port of Romenna was breathtaking. The sails of the ships were pristine white. People were scurrying about. She walked towards the dock, still in awe of the wonder that lay before her. Eldalonde harbored ships but none were as spectacular or as numerous as the ones she saw here. "Tarar would have loved all this," she murmured. She laughed softly. "And Nirmë would have been bored."
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Postby Gurtholfin » Fri Jun 07, 2002 12:46 pm

Sirwen dropped her utensils and covered her face with her hands. Tiliion raised his eyebrows and listened-soft crying. He turned around to see the young woman sitting up now, her face burried in her hands much like Sirwen's was, crying.<BR><BR>Tilion rose from his seat silently and picked up Sirwen into his arms. "Let us introduce ourselves. Come on," he whispered. He set Sirwen down as he sat in a chair next to the woman's bed. Tilion clasped his hands and frowned at the floor. He wasn't sure what to say...<BR><BR>At the end of her tiny arm, Sirwen held out a lily she had taken from a vase on the table. "Why are you crying?"<BR><BR>The woman sniffled and looked up at the young girl. He eyes were still moist with tears, still tired despite her sleep. She reached out and took the flower and held it close to her breast. "I don't know..."<BR><BR>Tilion looked on, amazed. His little sister surprised him very much. "Do you wish to wash? There is a basin ready...Then maybe you'll wish to eat something. I can only imagine at how hungry you must be...perhaps you wish to eat first?" The woman did not look up at him. He swallowed hard and rose up to his feet.<BR><BR>"I'll show you where you can get cleaned up. You might not want to see more water I know, but I would bet you'll love a warm bath." Sirwen took her by the hand and led her to the back of their cottage. Tilion walked back over to the dining table and sat. He finished his meal alone and thought deeply...
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Postby ArWeN^ » Fri Jun 07, 2002 11:54 pm

The sky was an ominous gray-blue when Andariel reached the forests outside of Rómenna. She was anxious to get back to her father and brother in town but the slow pace of her steed hindered her. If only she had not gone to Eldalondë…<BR><BR>“Ride on, Issyl. Ride on!” She urged the sleek, black horse that had slowed down to a trot. The stubborn steed did not heed her order.<BR>Exasperated, the young girl dismounted and led the horse to a shady glade. <BR><BR>“You are tired, aren’t you?” She patted the horse and plopped down on the grass. “We shall rest awhile and then we go home. You know how it displeases father for us to arrive late.” The horse whinnied and lay down on the grass beside his mistress.<BR><BR>Andariel wondered what went on in Rómenna while she was gone. She knew her father would arrive at the bay with ships laden with crates of fruit and wine. Her father sailed in the most beautiful ship in Rómenna, the Nenariel, named after her mother, who had passed away during the tyranny of the former king Ar-Gimilzôr. Andariel was still a child, then. She did not understand why such cruelty had been permitted in their land. Her mother had always told her stories of how they would all pass into a land of magnificent beauty, where all was well and grand. She promised a life of happiness and peace. But that promise would never be fulfilled now, Andariel knew. <BR><BR>The sun had just set in the horizon when Andariel awoke from her slumber. She gathered her bags and mounted Issyl, who was impatient to travel back to Rómenna. She hurried Issyl on and glanced about her where the forest was strangely quiet. <BR><BR>Before long, the rooftops of Rómenna could be seen from afar and Andariel patted Issyl on his head. “We’re home, old boy. Hurry on now. Archalion and father are sure to welcome us back.”<BR><BR>She rode into town and brought Issyl to the stables. After feeding him, she bade goodnight to the old innkeeper (who was one of her mother’s old friends) and trudged back to her home near the docks that overlooked the Bay of Rómenna. She walked up the stone steps to the humble abode when droplets of rain began to pour. Muttering under her breath, she took two steps at a time and was about to push open the door when a dark figure leaning against the wall of the house caught her eye.<BR>“Who’s there?” Andariel called out.<BR>“Andariel? Is that you?” It was Anárion, son of Elendil, her father’s good friend. <BR>Andariel smiled warmly at Anárion and tried to hide her weariness.<BR>“Greetings Anárion. How are you? Is Archalion home?” She asked the young man.<BR>Anárion shook his head. “I believe he is at the docks, helping your father out on the Nenariel.”<BR>Andariel smiled wanly and invited Anárion inside. She sat down on the wooden chair by the fireplace and sighed loudly. <BR>“How is Eldalondë? My brother Isildur was there, I believe. Have you by any chance caught sight of him there?” Asked Anárion, brushing droplets of rain off his dark cloak.<BR>Andariel nodded yes and told her friend of the tidings she brought of the ships in Eldalondë…her father would not be pleased.<BR>“What about you? Are you here to see Archalion?” Andariel asked, making her way to the kitchen and bringing back with her some tea that she offered to Anárion, who thanked her.<BR>“Yes, I am. We made plans to see the new ships your father brought in, but he has not arrived since early morning. I was beginning to wonder.” <BR>Andariel smiled. “Well, you know Archalion. He and father had lots of work to do. Perhaps they were delayed.” <BR>“Perhaps.” Agreed Anárion.<BR>“You look tired, Anárion. Perhaps you would like to rest? You can lie down in the guest room upstairs. I shall wait up for Archalion and father. I will tell them of your arrival.” Andariel offered.<BR>Anárion thanked her gratefully and went up to his room.<BR><BR>Bright light streamed through the windows of Andariel’s room when she woke up the next day. <BR>She dressed quickly and descended downstairs where her father was waiting in the kitchen.<BR>“Good morning, father. Where is Archalion?” Andariel greeted him, hurrying to fix their breakfast.<BR>Hyarion smiled at his daughter. “Your brother is very excited of that new ship I brought in. He and Anárion rose early to see them off.” He took out a pipe and examined it in thought.<BR>Andariel set down cups of tea on the table and sat down. “Father, may I go out into town today?” She asked cautiously.<BR>Hyarion nodded absently. “You may, child. Just be sure to feed Issyl well and then be back at the docks before nightfall. I want you to see the new ships.”<BR>Andariel knew well of her father’s great pride in his ships.<BR>Nodding, Andariel grabbed her cloak and went off into town.<BR><BR>"What do you think?" Archalion gestured proudly at the magnificent ship <i>Nenariel</i>.<BR>Andariel beamed at her brother. "It is beautiful, Archalion. You helped build this ship. Mother would have been proud." She said, gazing wistfully at the sparkling bay.<BR>Archalion glanced sharply at his sister and looked away. "Please do not speak of mother again." He said, walking swiftly over to the other end of the dock.<BR>Anárion stepped forward and gave Andariel a tentative smile. "Has he always been secretive about your mother?" He asked quietly.<BR>Andariel sighed. "Yes. He is not ready yet, I fear." She replied, shaking her head.<BR>Anárion nodded and walked over to Archalion to try and lighten him up.<BR><BR>Andariel started walking to the other end where she glimpsed a dark-haired maiden by herself, staring out at the ships lined up on the bay, their white sails billowing in the wind.<BR>She did not remember seeing this stranger around town. Perhaps she was a newcomer? <BR>Andariel decided she would not wait for Archalion to give her a tour of the ships, but walked over to the stranger.<BR>"You look troubled," She said, smiling kindly. "What is it that you think so deeply of?"<BR><BR>
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Postby LiMuBai » Sun Jun 09, 2002 11:43 pm

It came suddenly.<BR><BR>The darkness was stiffling and made Renaltir uneasy. Ironically, the absence of sound was tremendously deafening. He walked and walked but still he couldn't see, nor could he hear ... "Am I dreaming?" he thought. He tried to shout. But as he formed the words in his mouth, nothing seems to come out. Renaltir knew he was shouting at the top his lungs but there simply was no sound. He also knew that for some reason, he wasn't dreaming ...<BR><BR>Finally, bright, white lights seemed to flash in the distance. His eyes hurt whenever a beam struck his face, having been used to the darkness. Eventually, he saw a faint image. It was a huge obsidian tower. Smooth edged with no egress into or out of it. It was standing on lush grass on top of a hill and it's top was nowhere within sight. As Renaltir approached, an opening appeared at the base of the tower directly in front of him.<BR><BR>His curiousity piqued, he enters and sees nothing but a spiral staircase set along the tower's inner, cylindrical wall. Lit torches mounted on the wall served as the inside's only source of illumination. It felt like he was walking for days and he didn't think he was nowhere near the top of the tower. Then as if he willed it, he reached the end of the stairs and another opening appeared. From inside, he could see rocky cliffs protruding from the waters where waves splashed endlessly along it's sides. <BR><BR>As he was about to step onto the sand, the earth shook violently and the rocks began to crumble. Huge pieces slammed randomly on the shore and narrowly misses Renaltir. On instinct, he retreats into the tower as the biggest chunk of rock lands squarelt on the tower opening. He quickly loses his footing and he falls ...<BR><BR>Suddenly, Renaltir realizes that he is on his shelter's roof, fixing the damage brought by the storm. His sudden jerking motion from thinking he was falling almost made him lose his balance. Managing to grab onto the chimney's side, Renaltir pushes himself up to regain his footing. His hammer, however, falls to the ground below.<BR><BR>"Ahoy Renaltir!" a voice called out from below. "You better stop dropping your tools from the roof. You might get someone hurt, you know!" It was Ardolath, a farmer like himself. Renaltir shouted, "Sorry 'bout that Ardolath. I just lost my footing a bit. It won't happen again! The storm sure did it's work, didn't it?".<BR><BR>"Yes it did! Most of the crops are ruined. But at least no one got hurt. I wonder how fare our brothers led by Aurandir. I hope they made it through the storm safely." Renaltir winced at the remark. "I'm sure they are, my friend. I'm sure they are."<BR><BR>"Aurandir should be safe ... he must! We have no one else to spare for another trip to make sure but he needs to deliver my letter!", mused Renaltir. "Tilion deserves to know what happened here a few weeks back!" Again, his thoughts wandered to a quiet evening when their settlement was attacked by a rogue band of orcs. Tilion's parents lived near the outskirts of the settlement and the orcs put their house on fire. Both of them never made it out alive. "It was tragic enough to die by the hands of those filthy orcs. But to die without having seen their son for years ...". A cracked creased by Renaltir's brow, "If only Tilion was not stubborn enough to stay behind. He could have been there to protect them ... or died in the attempt. I do know that I have failed my promise to him though ... failed to keep his parents from harm. Tilion, how could you have trusted me with this burden?"<BR><BR>"Well I'll see you later at the fields then Renaltir." And with that, Ardolath withdrew from Renaltir's home. Renaltir was still deep in thought to have noticed Ardolath leave. When he realized he was alone, he remembered that he failed to mention that he would not be going to the fields today. He was firmly decided to leave for the dwelling of the elves to consult about the unusual storm. But more importantly, he needed to discuss with Gil-galad his recent surreal experience with the "black tower".
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Postby Star-of-Hope » Wed Jun 12, 2002 2:38 pm

Painfully the girl was helped from the bed upon which she lay, the remaining rags of her clothing stripped from her body, showing the bruising and battering it had taken. Angry red cuts and gashes across her back , arms and legs were closing but smeared with the residue of blood which had flowed over her rescuer. She was helped to a large tub of warm water and climbed in to soak her sore and tender body. As she dribbled the water down over her arms she had a warm feeling inside of familiarity, of this being something she had experienced before, the comfort of warm water surrounding her body, frowning she tried to search fro a memory, and lost the comfortable feeling. As tears began their course down her face the younger girl (Sirwen) looked concerned, and she tried to control her grief. The realisation that she had no past, that her every action since she had found herself on that beach had been one of instinctive survival had finally hit home. The girl with no name and no past hugged her knees and stared ahead as the water in the tub grew cold.<BR><BR>Eventually the cold water awoke her from her misery and she stood obediently as Sirwen urged her to stand and helped her dry off. She was given some of Tilion's clothes to wear, which although a little on the large side at least covered her and gave her warmth. Hobbling back to the other room, she saw her host and rescuer sitting before his empty plate having eaten his meal, staring out the open door towards the sea. She sat opposite him and looking at him, searching for some recognition, she asked him: "Should I know you?", "Can you help me, I don't know where I am, or who I am?" <BR>Tears rolled down her face again, from eyes sore and puffy from their constant deluge. Tilion reached a comforting hand across and held hers, "We will discover that in good time, maiden, but for now eat and sleep, you need to regain your strength, your past will come to you when necessary".
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Postby Gurtholfin » Wed Jun 12, 2002 3:35 pm

"Please, try to be as comfortable as you can. I assure you that you've nothing to worry about here, you're among friends. I am Tilion, and this is my sister, Sirwen." Sirwen smiled widely rocking side to side with her hands behind her back. "What would you like to be called, as you don't remember your name?" He asked the young woman.<BR><BR>"I...I do.."<BR><BR>"RANAWEN!" Young Sirwen shouted. Both Tilion and the young woman were startled. "Our names are very much alike and maybe we can be sisters!"<BR><BR>"The would be lovely..." Ranawen did her best to smile.<BR><BR>"Sirwen, why don't you get her some food, ok? You'll find we have more than enough to share with you: food, clothing, space. If you have lack of anything, just let me know and I will do my best to accomodate you. For now, relax. Don't worry yourself over your past. It will come to you." He stood up from the table and grabbed a long shirt from a hook on the wall. "I have some things to attend to. Sirwen, you'll be ok here with her?"<BR><BR>"UH HUH!" She shouted from the kitchen.<BR><BR>"Fine. I'll return in a couple of hours."
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Postby Fingolfin_of_the_Noldor » Fri Jun 14, 2002 9:48 am

<BR>A rider approached from the south but was not marked until the sudden cessation of the gallop.<BR><BR>"Ahoy Renaltir!" a voice called out from below. "What is it now, Ardolath?" sighed the farmer as he again lifted his head from the mist of deliberation. “It is not Ardolath, friend, but rather I, Eruresto of Pelargir and I have come to seek your aid. I have passed some 400 fathoms up the Sirith from the rounded citadel to ask you to facilitate my passage to the haven of Edhelion. I know little of these northern reaches and even less of this quay past that it is near the confluence of the rivers Morthond and Ringló both these names being wholly alien to me but I have heard that you know these parts well. I implore your assistance as I have heard that you know these parts well and my errand is both true and urgent."<BR><BR>"I will aid you as I will but I first must ask you of Aurandir, is there yet news? And what is this errand of yours? pray be brief if time truly is wanting."<BR><BR>“Well, once the storm had passed Pelargir(causing for the most part naught but superficial damage though a sulum or two was heard to crack and other rather minor things found to be fouled ) I without delay rode west toward the Mouths to seek any sign of Aurandir’s or any other possible vessels which had, no doubt, been waylaid. As I passed down with watercourse I beheld the real power of that watery gale. Thought not altogether devastated the land was notably scared more so the farther south and west I flew until I came ultimately to the Bay of Balfalas which had been much filled at the east and south. In spite of all this though, I thankfully found no sign of wreckage or debris which leads me to believe Aurandir had had sufficient sea room and so no doubt made it and at the very least survived."<BR><BR>Erureston dismounted as Renaltir had climbed down as he had been speaking<BR><BR>"As for my errand it is related to these things as something of the Shadow is afoot. I cannot explain entirely but I tell you I saw the Narîka ‘nBâri ‘nAdûn if not within the clouds among them for as I slept I heard their crys which echoed and passed with the wind. Their pinions any could plainly decern as the wings of the clouds spread over the fastness whereupon suddenly all went silent. I say now that this is an fell omen, something is stirring and Amân must not be pleased. This is why I seek out Edhelion for I seek the counsel of the Nimrîir(Eldar). This is why I feel pressed for time for I both: await news from Nimruzîr(Elendil) and the Nimruzîrim with which Aurandir may soon return; and this omen, my heart holds, is of some ill which has or will soon come to pass both of these may call for action swift and soon. In these dark times I search for the council of the greater of the Êruhînim(children of God), but few of the Nimruzîrim ‘nPelargir* have traveled even this far north and of those there but two know these parts as you: one has passed over the sea the other south towards the abode of the Aru-lâi for whence I know not.<BR><BR>Will you help me?
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Postby Star-of-Hope » Fri Jun 14, 2002 2:48 pm

Fear crept over her making her hair stand on end, raising the fine hairs on her arms, and trickling down her back fluidly to encompass her in its icy grip.<BR>Despite their kindness she realised she was still afraid, something had triggered that fear, but she could put her finger on it, pulling the soft shirt closer around herself she smiled at the young girl who had claimed her in sisterhood. “I am still tired, but perhaps I should take a look at my belongings and see if it can help me to piece together where I am from”<BR>Picking up the blood and saltwater hardened rags she had been draped in, she moved to the bed from which she had risen earlier. Seated she methodically went over her clothing, a small pocket still closed firmly revealed a fine chain bearing a precious blue stone, set in a silver setting resembling waves. Holding it to her cheek, she felt a stirring of warm, loving feelings. Moving on over her clothing she noticed that although in the style of a ships crew it was of a good quality, finely sewn and showing delicate needlework. Her boots lying beside the bed, were of fine soft leather and had yet withstood the rigors of her ordeal, with a clean and a hard brush they should be wearable.<BR>Nothing had triggered any memories but there were clues here for her, and they gave her a semblance of hope. Looking toward the girl again, she asked, “Would you mind terribly if I sleep? perhaps when I awaken I can help you prepare the evening meal?”<BR>Upon Sirwen's assent she lay her head down upon her arm and drifted into a restful sleep. Dreaming of restful things from which she would wake without remembering.<BR>Upon awakening she noticed the cottage was warmer, there was a fire lit and the cooking stove was heating. Shyly she clambered from her bed and requested that she be permitted to help in some way.<BR>When Tillien arrived home he found Sirwen and Ranawen, chattering happily while they put together a meal. Their two heads bent over their tasks, and laughter erupting from one or the other as they tried to shell some shell fish from the rock pools on the beach and skin and fillet some of the local fish. A warm inviting smell of vegetables and herbs simmering enveloped his senses, and he smiled at the pair.
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Postby Gurtholfin » Thu Jun 20, 2002 6:10 pm

<i>Tilion tucked his boot-knife safely away and made hiw way towards town. Everywhere people were bustling, repairing broken windows, patching roofs and rebuilding broken fences; the night's storm had left quite a mark.<BR><BR>He was taken by his feet to the Bay Shore Inn. This establishment too was in need of repairs though long before last night's storm. Its lumber leaned towards the ocean so that from a side view the inn appeared to stand crooked. Some said that the timber felled for its construction was originally intended for the building of a great ship. when the plans for the ship were cancelled, the choice wood was auctioned off and so a good portion of it came into the hands of the current inkeeper's great grandfather. In any case the inkeeper loved telling th estroy despite arguments made by teasing patrons claiming the Inn's condition to be nothing more than a flaw in engineering.<BR><BR>Tilion arrived at the back door, his shadow mocking his movements as he knocked seven times....<BR><BR>"You're the last to arrive. Let us begin."<BR><BR>"I apologize, there is a bit of news I should share with you all, but after the meeting. Please, proceed."<BR><BR>One of the taller men stood up, "My father, he plans on sailing very soon ere the King brings all our people to ruin."<BR><BR>Many murmered at this, "What chance does he think he has?"<BR><BR>"He can't believe it will do any good!"<BR><BR>"It's too late, such a feat cannot be reproduced!"<BR><BR>"My father is no fool!" He shouted above their cries. "He would not attempt such a thing if he thought it impossible, throwing away his life in vain!" Silence fell once more upon them. "You! You are close to the King. What plans has he for the fleet he gathers on the western shores, is it truly as we feared?"<BR><BR>The man put down his pipe and took a deep breath, "Aye..."</i> <BR>
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