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

by **tuile** » Wed May 29, 2002 9:45 pm

In a small town outside of Minas Tirith, there was a wandering storyteller, who was unceremoniously dumped on her rear end outside a faceless inn, yet again. This time it was not her fault. Not really anyways. She couldn't help it if she was only a mediocre storyteller. She mournfully mulled over her current state of affairs as she slowly stood up and rubbed her offended behind and wiped tossed lettuce from her cloak. Her mother, who had been sick for many years, almost for as long as she could remember, died suddenly last fall leaving her alone in the world. Her father and brothers had died, heroically she was told, a few years ago in the wars along the border with Mordor. Cursed place. Any other family that she had was unknown and consequently, unaware. Her sudden freedom from the daily toll of watching her mother painfully drift away in front of her eyes, had led to actions both reckless and foolish. She lost her meager job sewing uniforms for the armies of Gondor, which she carried out rather poorly while listening to the stories her mother told. The job was mourned understandably, only due to the resulting lack of income. She wound up drifting around town, moving from man to man, empty as a drained beer mug, tossed aside in a corner. The storyteller straightened her back and stretched. Stumbling around in the poorly lit street, she looked for the post where she had left her donkey. When she found it, it did not have a donkey attatched. Just as she thought, he had untied himself and was quietly perusing the rubbish in the alley. Only visible by his broomstick tail contentedly swishing in the lamplight, he was her sole companion on her travels. She pulled him away from his treasure, grimacing in distaste as her cloak dragged upon the slimey alley floor. Standing under the lamplight in the quiet street, she experienced the same sensation she felt almost four months ago, standing in a grimey room with a man passed out on the bed. A feeling of immense frustration coupled by knowing she was meant for something greater, was tempered with sadness and self-pity. Underneath was an anger at herself and the situation. That anger could be her friend at times. It would enable her to change her seeminly insurmountable situation for the better. Or, like tonight, it could make things worse. She sucked in a deep breath. Holding it, she went over the night's events in her mind. Her usual plan was to collect payment from the innkeep before her story, and then hope for a kind crowd. This night, she was not so lucky. The innkeep would have none of her reasoning for pre-payment and her delivery of the story not only failed in emotional impact as always, but it took off in a twisted life of its own. She was merely trying to tell the tale of Beren and Luthien. Not only did she mix up the names (which happened quite often and was easily rectified), she mixed the races. In a moment of strange stubborness, she rambled on as if the story was truly about an elven Beren and a human Luthien. Most of the crowd thought this was truly hilarious and roared with laughter. But a few, and one fellow in particular, took great pains to express his indignation over the whole affair. The ordeal resulted in her yelling in his face a question that still prattled around in the dregs of her mind. Why wouldn't an elven warrior give up his immortality for the love of a human woman? What was so offensive? She had been rather surprised at her own freverent tenacity over an issue she had never thought about, was completely unaware of the ruckus she was causing, and had therefore been a bit taken aback when she wound up tossed out on the street again. Snorting out loud at her own stupidity, she blew out her breath and look up the street one way and then the other. What should she do next? Looking north, she pondered a life-long fantasy of hers. To take up with a few other people, and strike out for the open road. To Dale or beyond? A strange land called Bree? She had never felt terribly road-wise and had up till now, avoided venturing out of Gondor. But now the north road was calling, and even her donkey seemed interested. OOC-- if anyone actually reads this..this is my first attempt at starting a rp...I've participated in only a few..mostly I'm a spectator to other's art. But I just had this pop into my head, and I have no idea where it will go..so I hope you all don't mind and maybe a few will actually be interested. Who knows??<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0> Thanks for reading it if you did!!<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0> PS..let me know if I committed a serious RP blunder...thank you!! LINK FOR OOC THREAD!!<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0> <a target=new href="http://www.tolkienonline.com/TheWhiteCouncil/messageview.cfm?catid=25&threadid=49217">http://www.tolkienonline.com/TheWhiteCouncil/messageview.cfm?catid=25&threadid=49217</a>

by **Maldeloth** » Thu May 30, 2002 2:56 am

Maldeloth was galoping through the streets. The hooves of her horse made sounds that echoed through the quiet street. It just started raining and the elf needed an inn to stay. She entered a small street and she saw a woman standing. Alone and sad. maldeloth who was one of the curious elfs of Lorien always wanted to know everything so she couldn't take the temptation. She stopped in front of the woman and looked at her. The stranger looked back with an odd look on her face. They kept looking at eachother and then Maldeloth decided that she had to say something. forgive me for asking this,but...she felt foolish. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with this young woman and she just liked the rain. But then she realized that she could feel that she had worries.er.. May I ask what you are doing alone at night and in the rain? Maldeloth got of her horse and removed her cap of her cloak. The woman just stared at her.After a while Maldeloth said,well, since you are not telling anything. You maybe know an inn here? OOC- you did a good job! <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0>

by **vincent** » Thu May 30, 2002 3:23 am

A drunk and somewhat confused vincent came stumbling out of an alley after relieving himself on the wall of the inn, he remebered only vaguely the events of the evening although something about a woman yelling at a male patron of the bar was pretty clear in his mind, something about him being a lover of male elves, not that there was anything wrong with that, just a lttlle strange. at that moment in the midst of cinching his belt he bumped into that very same woman. Esschusse me miss (hic) Have you got a bit of coin you could spare i havent eaten in two days he tried to sound as sober as possible, and felt he had suceeded quite well. at thast point he noticed the mounted figure on the horse. Hey miss is he botherin you i'll teach him to stop botherin woman in dark alleys at night vincent fumbles for his long knife at his waist

by **Maldeloth** » Thu May 30, 2002 4:01 am

Just when Maldeloth was about to get off her horse and put of her cloak she saw the man had a knife. She saw him looking. Surprised that she was a woman. Go away drunk! I was about to spare some coins but now that I see you with that knife! besides you would buy drinks of it anyways.

by **tuile** » Thu May 30, 2002 7:53 am

Snapping abruptly out of her reverie, the storyteller stared blankly up at the rider and numbly pointed to the building behind her. "But,...I don't know if you should want to stay there," she eventually forced out, but she was drowned out by a fellow emmerging from the dark alley. Then many things seemed to happened at once. The fellow asked for a bit of coin, which made her lips turn up at the ends in a slight smile and her hand move towards her coin purse in an expression of empathy which she was attempting to reconcile with her aversion to his smell. Then the fellow noticed the mounted rider and moved to intercede in what he thought was a harmful situation. The rider, through voice and movement corrected the fellow's assumption and paused him in his tracks. The storyteller, finally regaining some control over her body, ran in between the two antagonists. "Wait! No, wait a moment." The two regarded her warily; one rather unsteadily. "Thank you for your concern sir, but the rider has just asked me a question that maybe you could help with as well. I'm not from these parts." Hoping in the back of her mind that the knife would quickly find its way right back into its sheath, she turned to the rider and said, "That building there is an inn, but you may wish for better lodging." She shifted her cloak. "And for better food. For that matter, better company!" Laughing to herself, she glanced back at the inn, as though she expected the rude audience member to have snuck up behind her. Turning quickly back to the two in front of her, she decided to strike up a converstation. "So, where are the both of you from?" OOC...thanks guys!!<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0>

by **Ráca** » Thu May 30, 2002 8:51 am

Ráca had been sitting in the Inn when the storyteller was thrown out - really quite unfair treatment... anyone could tell she was nervous, and her opinion was to Ráca's mind well-founded... the people in this Inn were the bigots they had the reputation for. Downing the last dregs of her ale, she stood and made her way outside, walking for a bit - the storyteller was in conversation with two other people, so Ráca decided not to intrude and applaud her actions for the moment. Walking round the side of the inn and down a back alley, (quickest way to the stables she was sleeping in) she found herself face to face with two large, heavyset males - the pungent smell of alcohol was present on the air even from that distance, and Ráca did not hesitate to assume that they were completely and utterly bladdered. They looked at the cloak figure uncertainly, and one tottered forwards a few steps. Ráca watched them, not reacting to their motions for the moment. He stopped, and called out in a slurred, deep-toned voice across the distance between them. "Oi! uncloak yerself! we don't need no strangers 'ere!" "Yer! are yer male or female?" Ráca didn't answer, but removed her cloak instead. As the swathes of dark material settled in the dust of the back alley, she revealed herself to be a tall, slim and muscled female. Her raven-black curls stretched to the bottom of her shoulder blades, and her eyes were the same hue as her hair. Her pencil-thin eyebrows arched as she watched the men's eyes travel over her dark, tightly-clothed figure, then back up to her face. They both grinned, and started towards her. Fools... "Hey! You's a beaut! How's about it, yeah?" I think not... Her voice was full of scorn, and she waited for him to anger, as drunk men inevitably do - they did remarkably quickly. She let the first one reach her, and push her up against a wall - then she attacked. With the yell like that of a caged animal, Ráca drew a blade from her hidden thigh sheath - she felled one virtually instantly, and circled the other one - waiting for him to make one hostile move against her. The man that was left decided that this female was more skilled with blades than they thought, and that he probably stood less of a chance than the dead one - he ran away into the night.

by **vincent** » Thu May 30, 2002 11:50 am

Well i'm from the south orginally but i wander here and there now, brees the place i like best but i find its best i stay away, woman problems you understand aye. At that moment a loud yell echos through the back alley, vincent spins around with a start stumbling and falling down into the gutter. What was that?!?

by **gwenhwyvar_the_ranger** » Thu May 30, 2002 12:34 pm

Gwenhwyvar had been traveling for a very long time. She had started in the north, near Bree. She usually stayed in the north, but from time to time she would venture toward the South when need called for it. She was a ranger and therefore used to traveling alot. But the one place she had never been in all her years as a ranger was Gondor. Need had never drawn her there and she had little free time to make many pleasure trips. That is until recently. She had been adviced for a very old friend, much wiser than she, that she ought to take a holiday. She thought it a good idea and she began immediately on the journey that had finally brought her to Gondor. Her heart had soared when she saw the glistening towers with their banners unfurled in the gentle breeze. It was beyond all she had imagined. Now she found herself winding up through the streets of Gondor trying to find a place to stay. It had begun to rain, but she was to excited to be there to mind the rain. She stopped in front of a particularly lovely looking inn, but she knew she wouldnt be able to afford to stay there. She continued on and soon found herself in front of another inn. It was not quite as lovely as the other... she frowned, it wasn't lovely at all. But at least it was dry and she knew she could afford it. She dismounted and was tying her horse to a post when she noticed a small group gathered a few feet away. Just then she also heard a scream. Her head snapped up and she tensed. The small group seemed to have heard it to. She had heard that there were "bad" parts of Gondor, and she seemed to have found one. She just hoped her lack of funds didnt completely ruin her holiday.

by **AurabellaBolger** » Thu May 30, 2002 1:07 pm

Gondor had been the most anticipated stop on Miss Bolger's itinerary. Its towers and halls and rich history would, she'd felt certain, prove just the inspiration she needed. She was on a mission, gathering ideas for a project dear to her heart. She was (or wanted to be) an impresaria, a creator and purveyor of spectacular inspiration. More specifically, she wanted to start a theatrical company in her home town, a company which would present pageants and pantomimes that would open her neighbors' eyes to a wide and glorious world that lay beyond the fields and meadows of their own territory. It was not a very popular idea. In fact, her next-door neighbor had laughed loudly in her face and called her a "stupid simpleton," though she didn't quite catch on to Miss Bolger's subsequent charge that the phrase "stupid simpleton" was absurdly redundant. Still, she was determined. But a theatrical company needed spectacles to perform, and if she was going to create those spectacles, she needed to venture beyond her cozy home; she'd get no ideas THERE. She had to see the great cities of distant parts, mingle with the people there, and gather their stories. Now here she was in her first important stop. She'd dressed in a black suit, cloak, and hat cocked to one side in the hope of looking at least a little bit impressive, but so far, when people noticed her (which they didn't always) they seemed to regard her as a quaint little curiosity. She carried a crossbow under her cloak, just in case anyone should decide to take advantage of her small stature. The fact that she wasn't quite sure how to use it seemed increasingly important. But she'd heard her first story of interest -- a frightfully garbled telling of the old chestnut of Beren and Luthien, but interesting nonetheless. In fact, it had set the wheels of inspiration turning in her mind. The story, just as it had been told by this teller, might make a good comic pantomime, a sort of "fractured history." When the teller had been thrown out of the inn -- and she had to admire the way the lady had stood up valiantly for her mistaken version of the tale -- she'd followed her, in the hope of offering her money to tell the tale again and to help her turn it into a comic pantomime. She'd convince this lady to help her serve the cause of art. She walked up to the lady and her new acquaintances with a swaggering step (she would swagger while she was traveling, she'd decided, and thereby seem less bumpkin-like). "Your pardon!" she said, bowing, and then, with a flourish, presented the lady with her card. "I have a proposition for you. Splendid tale you told back in there, even if those sad fools failed to appreciate it. Might I have the honor of knowing your name?" Before the storyteller could answer, a scream cut through the air. Miss Bolger shuddered. It was suddenly VERY important that she wasn't sure how to use that crossbow.

by **gwenhwyvar_the_ranger** » Thu May 30, 2002 3:51 pm

ooc: sorry i dont exactly have anything to post just now, but i just wanted to say, that this thread has already exhibited extraordinary talent. I have truly been inspired already and I'm looking forward to rping with all of you... ~Gwenhwyvar

by **vincent** » Thu May 30, 2002 9:10 pm

Well what are we all staring at? Lets see whats going on!!! Quick miss hobbit mamm find the guard! everyone else follow me!! Vincemnt staggers to his feet, and down the alley using the wall to keep his balance.

by **tuile** » Fri May 31, 2002 12:01 am

The storyteller was dumbfounded. One moment she had stood outside the inn, alone with her donkey and her thoughts, and now there was action occurring almost in every direction. A rather distinguished looking hobbit, a sight rarely before seen, strode right up to her and presented her with a card. The storyteller barely heard what the lady hobbit had to say as she was distracted first by a dark rider dismounting in front of the inn and then by blood-curdling yelp from down the alley. The storyteller leaped around in the direction of the yell, her skin seemingly left behind. The small group shuffled as one behind their valient and quite drunken leader over in the direction of the alley. They were halted in their tracks by a rather large and burly man, charging out of the alley like an angry bull. Violently spitting and cursing in their direction, the thug sped off with impressive speed and was swallowed up in the greedy darkness. The storyteller gradually became aware of her tensed body, her hair all pricked and her donkey, whose furry grey head was jammed tightly against her own body. She had clenched his lead so tight, his little body had cork-skrewed around and pushed his rear end into the rider's horse. Smiling sheepishly at the mounted rider, she moved him aside, gave him a little rope, and patted him absently with a stiff hand. Peering curiously yet extremely cautiously down the darkness of the alley, she wondered half-sarcastically out loud, "So, who wants to see what is down there?" Straightening up suddenly, she spun around and faced the lady hobbit whose card she still clenched within white knuckles. "You LIKED it?" OOC- I agree!! I am so happy to see folks in here and yowzers, ya'll are good!!<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0> I think we've got a nice group.<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0>

by **Maldeloth** » Fri May 31, 2002 2:28 am

Maldeloth was annoyed. This was an odd alley and perhaps an odd village as well. She wanted to answer where she was from but the scream inside the inn took all the attention. She was never so fond of human city's and that is why she was so irritated.The elf just didn't understood them. She followed the storyteller who wanted to take a look. But then after a while, she couldn't take it anymore. How curious she was, she just needed to know why they all met eachother in an alley in the middle of the night while it was raining. She felt that her hair started to get wet and she put her cloak back on.She tried to get the things straight.She now had met a woman, and a hobbit. Who else would come outside? After what the strange woman told her, she did not wanted to stay in the inn anymore. So, do you know another inn around here? Or do you just know a better place to stay then an inn. Because I don't really like them. She looked at the stranger but she was still busy.She wanted to leave but at the other hand not. She wanted to know more about this strange folk. The elf had always believe in fate, and that is why she found it very curious that they all met eachother like that.Most people in villages don't want to know you,so they just ignored you.

by **AurabellaBolger** » Fri May 31, 2002 7:10 am

Miss Bolger -- Abby, to her friends -- arched her neck and looked straight into the eyes of the stately elf-lady. Elves, by their very nature, awed her more than a little, but she wasn't going to lower her eyes before this one and make a bad beginning. One mustn't lower one's eyes. It gave one away. "If such screams as that are heard often in such places," she remarked, "then I don't think I like them, either. I've always thought that camping under the stars was rather glorious." This wasn't strictly true (actually, she'd always thought it rather dangerous), but it sounded bold, and this was the impression she wanted to convey. She turned back to the storyteller. "Yes, ma'am, I did rather like it. Perhaps you didn't intend it to be, and I truly hope I don't offend, but I found it delightfully comic -- an amusing burlesque of the original tale. Just now I'm gathering entertaining stories, as many and as varied as I can find. I am in the theatrical business, you see--" there was no need for them to know that she hadn't quite gotten started yet -- "and I'm looking for material for spectacles and pantomimes. I'll pay you, if you will tell your tale to me, just as you told it in there. I'd even be obliged if you could remember some of those splendid insults you threw at your hecklers." She glanced round at each member of the group assembled, and smiled in satisfaction. She suspected all of them had entertaining stories to tell, and she was looking forward to hearing them.

by **gwenhwyvar_the_ranger** » Fri May 31, 2002 8:50 am

Gwen crept around the corner of the inn in the direction of the alley. The group that she had seen had already headed in that direction, and as it was her custom, she wanted to be sure no one was harmed if she could do anything to prevent it. She moved down the alley, staying close to the wall, listening and alert. The group was discussing, from what she could gather, an interesting tale told by one of them. She found that highly irregular considering the circumstances. She moved on, the alley seemed to have deserted, except for the small group, after they had all heard the scream. *How peculiar* she thought to herself, *someone screams, yet there seems to be nothing amiss in this alley... except the odd conversation topic...* She stepped up behind the group, hoping she didnt scare them and said, "Did anyone see what happened?" The rain was coming down and it made it difficult to see clearly, but she thought she could make out two humans, one male and one female, an elf, and what appeared to be hobbit, which she found rather interesting all the way down here in Gondor. She stepped closer, pushing her hood back enough to reveal her face, but not leaving her head exposed to the rain. They all turned to look at her and she waited to hear their answer.

by **Ráca** » Fri May 31, 2002 8:59 am

Ráca had backed quickly into the shadows, remaining silent and melting into the background as the others chatted about the storyteller's prowess. She looked in disgust at the body of the other man lying by her feet in the shadows, blood pooling around his body. Suddenly she froze - the blood was about to be seen by the others, if it pooled outward any further...

by **Maldeloth** » Fri May 31, 2002 10:12 am

Maldeloth suddenly smelled something. If she didn't have a good nose she wouldn't have smelled the stench. But she could smell that the stench grew stronger. Suddenly she looked in Ráca's direction. She just kept looking at the stranger.Then she saw someone lying at her feet. Maldeloth looked at the chatting group, to see if they saw it too, but they were too busy with their own things. Maldeloth walked up to Ráca and whispered to the stranger,What is this, stranger? Is he dead? Did you do that? While she spoke softly she looked at the others but they still didn't notice anything. Then she thought by herself, an elf would never kill an innocent person or creature, but was he innocent?If he was then it would mean that she was dark. Who are you?She said with a suspiscious voice.

by **Ráca** » Fri May 31, 2002 10:31 am

Ráca replied curtly at the response of suspicion. I DID do that - but believe me, he was no innocent. Alcohol can have strange effects on people, and for him it was the overpowering urge to rape me - so no, he wasn't innocent, by any means. Anyway, I don't kill innocents unless I'm hired to do it. At this Ráca moved her hair to one side, revealing the fact that the bodice that made up part of her camoflaging(sp?) clothing had no shoulders, and on her left shoulder blade was the tattoo of a dagger - the calling card of a Mercenary.

by **Maldeloth** » Fri May 31, 2002 12:37 pm

Maldeloth looked at her full of disgust. Unless you are hired to do it? Why on earth would an elf do that? Maldeloth looked at her right. The group was now quiet and they were all looking at them. The strange thing was that they didn't see the body. Yet...

by **tuile** » Fri May 31, 2002 2:37 pm

The storyteller's brain started to function. The only problem was it did so in various directions, at once. "Uh, yes, why this inn," the storyteller, trying to be helpful, waved her arm in the general direction of the building, "...is not so good. That inn across the way has...umm, very good ale. Oh wait, not an inn? Ah..well...," She scratched her wet head. All the storyteller really knew was seedy inns that didn't seem to suit an elf. She began to feel a familiar hot flush starting at the base of her neck that she always suffered when talking to elves...or telling stories that went wrong. "Say!" she threw out her voice in relief at the lady hobbit, a curiosity her mind longed to sit back, relax and ponder. "You'll pay me? Why that sounds lovely! Insults??" The storyteller laughed. "O, why yes, I've plenty of those!" she exclaimed with a hidden sorrow, for she knew like the all others, the hobbit would hardly be interested past five minutes. "Hey!" The storyteller started along with the rest of the group when the dark rider who had last been seen with her horse in front of the inn, emerged from the shadows of the alley. "Wha-? See what happened?" The storyteller looked back down the black alley as if there was a re-inactment of the mysterious events taking place. She turned back to the dark rider, even as the elf moved down the alley to investigate. The storyteller had a passing thought that the elf was, perhaps, slightly impatient with the circumstances. "Why no..there was just a yelp and then a rather unpleasant looking fellow charged out..," the storyteller drew back slightly from the dark rider. "Why? What is going on? And what's going on down the alley? I mean, really, what are all of you people doing here? What do you want? I just..... Oh Great Gandalf!" the storyteller all but yelped out while pointing at some liquid oozing its way into the light that was tentatively peeking down the alley. "What in the name of Gondor is that? Oh wait, I know, it's blood. Yes...blood..um.." The storyteller turned around, holding her head as it felt likely to float off her shoulders. Her donkey trotting obediently and forgotten behind her, she staggered past the hobbit and over to in front of the inn, sucking air, her mind struggling for clarity. All it came up with was smelling salts...

by **AurabellaBolger** » Fri May 31, 2002 3:34 pm

Abby saw the storyteller's turn, and glanced in the direction in which her new acquaintance had been looking. She found that while she'd been absorbed in the tale, and in the vision of the comic pantomime that accompanied it, a puddle of blood had seeped all the way to the tips of her toes. A short length further lay a man -- or what HAD been a man, till quite recently. Her eyes moved, almost unwilling, from this body to the hard, grim face of an elf-lady, with eyes she could not bring herself to meet, however bold she might have wished to appear. She stiffened her neck with all her might, that she would not be seen trembling, and then went to her new friend's aid. She'd brought some smelling-salts along, in the hope that some kind stranger might be willing to rouse HER from a frightened faint. She pulled it from her cloak and held it under her new friend's nose. "Nothing to be frightened of," she murmured gently, "just a dead man we don't know anything about, and an elf-lady with a hard face who looks mightily dangerous..." She clutched her stomach and turned her face away, as her own head began to spin. "Begging your pardon," she said to no one in particular, "I'm going to be sick." And she was.

by **Ráca** » Sat Jun 01, 2002 4:15 am

Ráca raised an eyebrow, and replied while looking in the direction of the strangers - wonderful. Now she had FAR too much attention. There are many reasons - all of which you don't seem to be aware of. Eyeing the Elf, she felt the need to explain to one of her own kin why.... what could drive someone to these lengths. I have no choice. You have never known poverty, homelessness or starvation the way I have... I was just a child, you hear me? A CHILD. There was no-one willing to give me a job - a homeless child never work as well as one with parents, with family... with money enough to feed themselves. There was only one thing left for me to do - thieve. If I didn't want to die, I had to support myself, and there are only so many things you can do. Then, surpise, surprise, I found myself to be extraordinarily adept at thieving and killing... then I was spotted. It was in Gondor that they found me, and took me in. A group of Mercenaries watched me 'working' one day, and saw me for what I was - skilled in the art for which they lived and worked for. It was then they gave me a name - before I had been nameless... I didn't have an identity before I met them. They tattooed me in the ways of Mercenary - the dagger is our calling card, in case you didn't know - and named me... I could then earn money - enough to live on, and have some to spare. I didn't like it at first, but now I don't think I'd have it any other way. So, you see? It's not as easy to judge as you may have thought... Walking forwards, and out of the alley, she paused by the vomiting Hobbit, and stooped baside her, a hand on her back - she murmured something into her ear, while pressing a phial into her palm. I know, I know... it takes a while to get used to - I was the same, before... Here, take this - it's good for when you feel like that. Take only a drop at a time, mind - any more would help you take an extended nap. Farewell...

by **Maldeloth** » Sat Jun 01, 2002 7:19 am

Maldeloth felt guilty for her judgement. She walked up to the strange elf and said,Alright sorry, for I was way to judgemental. She looked at the hobbit and grinned, then she turned around to the storyteller. So you are going on a mission for this stranger? May I ask you where? Because I am a bit bored and I can use an adventure.I know you don't know me and I don't know you but this would be a great oppertunity to get to know one another. Besides, Maldeloth said,you need someone who knows the country. What do you say? Can I come with you? I don't want any money so that's nothing to worry about.

by **tuile** » Sat Jun 01, 2002 9:20 am

{OOC Post... Hey guys.. this thread has gone further than I thought it ever would, and for that I thank you!!<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0> I didn't start with any clear idea of what time period this would be in or what exactly would happen...I don't even know the name of my character yet!!<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0> On top of that, I have to go out of town..and so I'll be off the boards for about a week and a half.<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-sad.gif"border=0> I am wondering if we should start an OOC thread and hash out some ideas of where we want to go and what we want to do...something along those lines??<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0> It was REALLY bad timing on my part to start a story right before I went out of town..but it just had to come out before I forgot it all..<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0> So I wish all of you a great week or so, and I can't wait to continue when I get back!!<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0> If you guys can continue in areas where you don't need my character, please do!!<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0> Thanks again!!!<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0>

by **AurabellaBolger** » Sat Jun 01, 2002 5:19 pm

(OOC: Enjoying this immensely. Tuile must NOT come back from out of town to find a dead thread. To that end I will--) BUMP

by **Maldeloth** » Sun Jun 02, 2002 3:59 am

(OOC- yeah we will keep this thread alive don't worry)

by **vincent** » Sun Jun 02, 2002 10:53 am

Vincent looks over the mercenary with a disgusted look Oh yes i know what its like to take pay for murder, but don't try and tell me you had no choice, theres always a choice. I don't trust mercenarys, they can't be trusted, and will sell you out for few silver coins, this i know as well. OCC Sorry guys i couldnt post yesterday i was out of town for a day.

by **Ráca** » Sun Jun 02, 2002 1:11 pm

Ráca looked at him - a look of amusement on her face. A word from the wise, amateur - you may think you know what it was like, but I can tell.... we can, with some people... I can read you, sir, like a book. You enjoy preaching to others, telling them what is right, and what is wrong - but in reality, it's just another shade of grey. You can't tell - you don't even have the right to pass judgement. Her expression changed to one that mirrored Vincent's own - disgust. What you just said tell me a lot about you - you say you have had experience of being hired to kill, but in the next sentence you say that we are not to be trusted! What does that tell anyone else about you, eh? I honestly can't see you being the 'innocent, law-abiding mummy's boy' you imagine yourself to be. You have killed before, I can tell. What's the difference? Your storyteller over their is paid for what she's good - skilled - at... so am I. Where does the similarity end?

by **gwenhwyvar_the_ranger** » Mon Jun 03, 2002 9:13 am

Gwen too had seen the blood oozing down the alley. By the looks of the dead man, she had no doubt that he was the type to try to rape what he thought to be an innocent girl. Unfortunately for him, he had tried to fulfill his own selfish desires with the wrong person this time, and Gwen admired the mercenary elf for that. Gwen would have done the same thing had she been in the same situation. In that respect, she was no different than this mercenary whom nobody seemed to trust. Now that she had discovered the cause of the scream, she was satisfied and turned to go back and secure herself a room at the inn the storyteller claimed was no good. Well, there was no use for it, she would find out first hand just how bad it was...

by **AurabellaBolger** » Mon Jun 03, 2002 9:25 am

Abby listened, fascinated, as her fear of the lady with the hard, glittering eyes began to melt. The lady had done her a kindness, after all, in settling her stomach, and as long as she didn't look at the corpse again, she felt fairly sure she would be all right. Upon reflection, she found herself admiring the elf-lady for giving this fellow what had been coming to him. And she suspected she had interesting stories to tell, as well, tales that would provide material for a very different sort of spectacle from a comic pantomime. By way of a conversation-opener, she said to the lady, "Madam, I must tell you that -- this was well-done, I believe." She gestured toward the corpse without looking at it. "Had I been in your place, and such a fellow had approached ME with dishonorable intentions, I would hope I wouldn't simply lie back and scream and let something horrible happen to me. I should want the courage to serve the offender as you served this one." She cleared her throat and said a silent prayer she wouldn't offend the assassin with her next words. "Your point is duly taken, indeed, but I am most curious. From what I've read and heard, mercenaries have certain codes, boundaries they will not cross. For instance, if someone pays them more coin than they could hope to wish for, then tells them their target, and the target turns out to be an old and dear friend of theirs, they will turn their back on the hire. Of course I know nothing about this first-hand, for I've never been privileged to talk to anyone in your line of work. Might you be willing to talk to me about this sort of code? Are there, shall we say, limits?" Then she lowered her head in a gesture of respect. "Of course, if you don't wish to talk about it, you can forget I spoke."

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

From Dreams into Legends

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