Of Lothlórien and Dol-Guldur

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Of Lothlórien and Dol-Guldur

Postby Fëaros » Tue Nov 02, 2004 9:00 am

Sauron’s armies have been defeated in the Battle of The Pelennor Fields, and his will remains bent upon the one ring. It is widely known across Middle-Earth of the victory of Gondor and Rohan, which has borne hope to all that dwell there. Others there are that go to war in these dark times, deep in the forests of Mirkwood lies a threat, the previous abode of the Necromancer, Sauron. In the dungeons and torture chambers of Dol-Guldur lie the last fell creations of Morgoth. In mockery of Ents and Elves, twisted by cruelty and malice are legions of Uruks and Olog-hai. Governed by one of the shadow world, who was taken to darkness by his lust for power, Khamûl, ringwraith, lieutenant to the Witch-King of Angmar.

The day is late, and the shadow from the south extends further North, a great cry comes up from the fearful tower and disperses through the tainted Mirkwood. Derived from this cry that shakes and rends the very roots of Mirkwood, is the realisation; war is no longer a rumour, it is a reality.

Fëaros, lying crumpled on the ground after falling from a tree picks himself slowly up. Word of stirrings in Dol-Guldur need to be sent to Lórien and confirmed in Mirkwood for Thranduil's kingdom is to be faced with a mighty foe.

The Elves of Lothlórien and Mirkwood must now stand against this evil and contain the threat from the North until the full doom of Middle-Earth is wrought in Mordor.


Fëaros had been in Mirkwood for a number of weeks, thus far he had avoided the fearsome spiders that embraced the darkness and in a sense caused the dimming of Greenwood the Great. In the coming years Mirkwood would be purged of this foul unlight, Middle-Earth; freed from shadow so that the flame of Anor can extend her light to all corners of the land.

Fëaros moved swiftly through the thick foliage, he needed to get word to Thranduil and take council with the elves of the Forest. As he moved through the undergrowth, trying to make his way to the path it seemed a shadow fell upon him, he had sensed something tracking his steps for awhile now, slowly and carefully he removed his dirk form it's sheath which glistened like a sickle moon in the mist. Maybe it was an orc scout from Dol-Guldur or worse, one of Ungoliant's foul spawn. It mattered not, he would face it regardless. He span round suddenly brandishing his modest weapon, only to be faced with someone he did not expect...
Last edited by Fëaros on Wed Nov 16, 2005 10:30 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Postby foodaddict » Tue Nov 02, 2004 7:21 pm

In the deep silence that stretched over the barren wasteland, broken only by the rushing of the strong river beside it, the sound of the slap seemed to be amplified in the air, clear, it seemed, for anyone within a hundred feet to hear.
"Stupid mosquito," the young girl said with mild irritation in her voice as she swept the crushed, miniscule body off her forearm with her darkly clothed hand.
It was late afternoon--almost sunset, it seemed--and a refreshing coolness was creeping over the land that offered so little shelter from the baking sun. Unfortunately, pests came with this coolness, especially since she travelled close to the river--her guide through all this waste.
She looked out across it now--the desolation that stretched out endlessly to her right, broken now and then by a rising slope and then by the darkness in the distance that indicated the beginning of the forest of Mirkwood. She glanced behind her to the Lonely Mountain, where the King of the Dale held his courts. Had she been interested in the affairs of the Dwarves, she'd perhaps have gone further than her assigned destination and presented herself to the King. Only the Gods knew how generous Dwarves could be in rewarding those who served them.
Yet treasure was of little interest to her now. Perhaps it would be of great value to her some day, but when her purse was full to bursting with the payment of her last completed task, that day seemed very remote.
At present she was headed to Lake Town, where her current employer was waiting for her to return with the response from his estranged wife, who was brave enough to live alone in the wilds away from her home. She paused for a moment, pondering how it was that she had become the go-between of quarelling lovers, and sighed, reminding herself that it was but a temporary assignment while the wounds from her last mission healed. She wasn't ready for any heavy work yet--she understood her body enough to know that. When she was well enough, she'd go to Gondor, perhaps. The Steward couldn't have forgotten her so soon...she'd been his messenger to Rohan for well over a year.
A strange chill slid over the landscape and caused her to look up. Her eyes scanned her surroundings and a slight frown marred her forehead.
Then again, she thought, feeling the chill pass and her heart unclench, maybe not.
She looked around once more before resuming her brisk walk, her thumbs prickling as her thoughts raced.
Something tells me there are going to be other things I can do here--and I'm certain they have nothing to do with being a courier between estranged lovers.
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Postby Frelga » Sat Nov 06, 2004 10:21 pm

King Brand of Dale was seated in his high, carved chair at the head of the council table. Elven draperies covered the walls of the council chamber; the lacy stonework of the arched windows and doorways was done by dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. It was a testament to the peace and friendship that bound the free peoples of Mountain, Wood and Lake. The friendship endured. The time of peace was over.

King's son Bard was in the seat closest to his father. His eyes were on his son, Bain, aged only sixteen. The young man stood between in front of his royal grandsire. He did not exactly look defiant, but his face was flushed and his lips were compressed tightly, to keep his words from bursting out. In that last he did not succeed.

"You cannot send me away now. There will be battle. I must stay in the city!" The young voice rose to unbecoming pitch before the King's frown cut him off.

From the far end of the chamber came a low, grumpy sound. The King's stern gaze left his grandson and settled on the fourth man in the room.

"If you have something to say in my council, Dacil, I would ask you to use words and not grunt like a bear at a beehive."

The Captain of Guard did not so much bow in response as slumped his massive shoulders a little. At a nod from the King, he left his post in the doorway and approached the royal family.

"You will take my grandson to King Thranduil's halls in Mirkwood. Do not let him return until all threat has passed or all hope has failed." So the line of kings of Dale would survive in the safety of the Elven stronghold.

Dacil stared down at his unpolished boots. His square jaw moved to the left; knuckles rasped on the bristles.

"What is it, man? Speak up," the King demanded.

"Nothing, Sire," Dacil replied. He looked up, his eyes a startling clear grey in that rough face. "I thought you'd want me here for the battle."

"I do. But that cannot be helped. I cannot spare many to go with my grandson, so I must send the best. Get ready to leave at first light tomorrow."

"Grandfather!"

"Go, my boy. Go with my blessing. Keep him safe, Dacil."

For a moment, it seemed that Dacil would argue. Then he squared his shoulders. "I will guard him with my life, Sire," he said. He bowed to the King and his son - a real bow, this time - and left the room on the heels of the furious young lord.
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Postby naryatheringoffire » Sun Nov 07, 2004 1:51 pm

Galdor and his company had been shaken slightly by the noise from the tower and went forward now in haste to an elf they had been following.They no longered cared for secrecy but urgency to reach Thranduils halls.

As they approached the young elf span round quickly brandishing a small weapon but the leader of the company said to him,

"Put down your weapon we come from Elrond in Rivendell looking for King Thranduil, i am Galdor what is your name and can you lead us there?" Galdor then pulled back his dark green cloak revealing bright gold and emerald armour with the emblem of the house of Finglofin on the chest.The rest of his company did the same all revealing splendid armour showing them to be indeed elven lords and their soldiers.

The young elf quickly put away his weapon and said "I am Fearos, i can lead you to the woodland realm but i am amazed at your company, how many of you have come and why do you come to te woodland realm in these times, it is my hope that you have come to aid us against Dol Guldur for your warriors would be a aid beyond our hope."

"Then your hopes have been answered for indeed we have come to help you in your war against Dol Guldur, I have with me 100 elven warriors amoungst whom are high elven lords such as Glorfindel here and we have with us messages from Elrond for your King so please lead us to him."

"Of course i shall take you for i am happier than i have been in a long time at the site of your company." and with that Fearos sprang off followed by the company all cloaked in green which faded into the forest

The company had been travelling through the forest for near enougth 3 hours before Fearos stopped suddenly and said to Galdor

"Around that bend is the gates to the kings halls."

Galdor then pulled a golden horn from his sid eand said "Let us go to them then" and with that he blew on the horn releasing a mighty note" And the company marched to the gates of king Thranduil.
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Postby Amrunelen » Sun Nov 07, 2004 4:58 pm

Amrunelen hurried through the great gates of Caras Galadhon, returning from her shift. She had been stationed out along the borders as part of the guard against the orcs who were constantly seeking a way into the Golden Wood towards the great city and stronghold of the elves within. Even now, as their glory days were fading, none could enter with the constant vigilance of the elves and the Lady Galadriel wielding her elven ring.

Any who were stationed along the borders took notice to the growing shadow in Southern Mirkwood. Legions of foul orcs and other creatures dwelled there in Dol Guldur. Even with the victories of Rohan and Gondor, it remained a threat.

Back in Caras Galadhon, the she elf went swiftly along the busy pathways among her kin. With every passing day, more elves were leaving for the undying lands, but still a fair number remained. Her quiver was empty and her elven bow had sang many times that day. It was not common for the elven maidens to go out and fight, but still Amrunelen did, and no one questioned her determination and valour. They had greatly respected her father, Ear-gil, who had been mysteriously injured and died some time before they were even threatened by Sauron again, and they knew that she chose to follow in his footsteps, continuing on where he left off.

Amrunelen made her way to her home where she spoke with her mother for a short while before having to rush off again. There was not time to be idle when, with every passing day, the threat of the shadow in Mirkwood grew greater. After replenishing her supply of arrows and adding a few more items to the pack she had been carrying on her back, she set off to the great talan where Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel dwelled.

When still on duty, she was met by another elf who said the Lord and Lady wished to have word with her. And so she found herself where she was now. Amrunelen went up the great steps that wound around the trunk of an ancient mallorn tree, skipping some here and there for speed. At last, reaching the top, she was led to the Lord and Lady by a few guards. She bowed her head and they nodded in return. "You wished to speak with me?", she inquired.

Lady Galadriel rose from her seat and came forward. "Yes. Only a day ago we sent out a messenger to Mirkwood. Fëaros is his name. I think you may know him."

"The name does sound familiar. I am quite sure we have spoken before, though I do not know him well."

"As I thought.", the Lady said knowingly, for she could see the thoughts of others. "He is fairly young yet. We have great trust in him and his abilities, but even the greatest may fall. We thought it well to send out another messenger in case he has gone astray or some evil has befallen him."

"I see...", Amrunelen said, knowing what this was leading up to.

"You have guessed why we called you here then. You have acted as messenger for me before, and always came through. So, I ask you again, will you take word to King Thranduil of Mirkwood?"

"I will do what I can."

Several moments later Amrunelen was descending the great stairway. After fetching her horse she immediately set off again. Both horse and rider took raft across the river separating Lothlorien and Mirkwood. Another elf who had gone with saw her off and went back across the river. The sun was setting. Amrunelen drew the hood of her elven cloak over her head and she seemingly melted into the shadows of the evening. Tindanare's coat gleamed in the last bit of red light cast by the sun. The air was still and stifling. She took a deep breath and started in, wondering just how far ahead Fëaros was and if anything ill had befallen him.

*************************************************************

Weeks went by. Amrunelen walked along cautiously in the night, leading Tindanare, and went back to riding with the coming of day, sticking to any paths when possible. Several had been worn in the dense foliage of the forest; whether by the feet of elves or orcs, she could not say. She had traveled with whatever speed possible and took little time for rest, sometimes going days without stopping for any significant amount of time. Amrunelen was weary, but still determined.

At last, one day, she heard voices ahead. At first she thought her ears were decieving her but...no...they were getting louder as she went on. The voices belonged to other elves. That she knew for sure. I should be nearing the halls of King Thranduil soon. Amrunelen thought to herself. Shortly after she heard the sound of a horn, perhaps announcing someone's arrival. The note echoed for a few moments before falling dead. Her eye caught a glimmer of emerald and gold as a small ray of sunshine pierced through the tree tops. Even the days were dim in Mirkwood, for the most part.

Amrunelen quickened Tindanare's pace to a gallop, so as to catch up with those who were about to enter the gates of the King. Ahead she saw a company of elves dressed in the garb of those from Imladris. One other wore the garb of the Galadrim. Fëaros! Amrunelen drew out a small silver horn and blew out a clear note to announce her presence so they would not close the gates on her. At last she reached the company, just inside the gates. The others turned around as they heard her riding up behind.

"Hail, Fëaros! You had safe passage through the forest then? Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel sent me out a day after you had departed in case something may have happened to you. Now I am glad to see that we have both made it through alive and well." Amrunelen then recognized Galdor. She had crossed paths with him in Imladris before. "Lord Galdor! You come bringing word from Lord Elrond and to take council with King Thranduil, I assume?"
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Postby Fëaros » Sun Nov 07, 2004 6:43 pm

It was an Elf that stood splendidly before Fëaros, behind him were many more.

"Put down your weapon we come from Elrond in Rivendell looking for King Thranduil, I am Galdor what is your name and can you lead us there?"

It seemed to Fëaros that before him stood an old elf, a wise elf, all the splendour of the Noldor shone in his very being, an aura of strength that conjoured thoughts of the mythical Gondolin of old.

"I am Fëaros son of Fëadroth, I can lead you to King Thranduil, in fact my path leads that way. I am amazed at your company, how many of you have come in such dark days? It is my hope that you have come to aid the resistance to against Dol-Guldur, this would be aid indeed!"

"Then your hopes have been answered for indeed we have come to help you in your war against Dol Guldur, I have with me one-hundred elven warriors amougst whom are high elven lords such as Glorfindel here and we have with us messages from Elrond for your King so please lead us to him."

"You mistake me sire. I am of Lorien, I too have word for Thranduil and Of course I shall lead you thither. I am glad indeed at the sight of your company." With that Fearos sprang off followed by the company all cloaked in green which faded into the forest.

After hours of treading down foliage, they came upon Thranduil's Kingdom. Galdor blew a mighty note on his horn to signal their arrival. He, the host and Fëaros marched to the gates.

"Who goes there! Be you friend or foe? declare yourselves" came the shout from a guard in the sentry tower.

"I am friend, Fëaros son of Fëadroth I am, I bring word from the Lady and news of Dol-Guldur!"

"I too am friend, Galdor of Valinor, I come with one-hundred soldiers from Rivendell, to aid you against the threat of Dol-Guldur!" Boomed the voice of Galdor.

"Welcome friends, we cannot be too careful in these dark times, you may pass..."

The gate opened and as the company were passing through there came the sound of another horn, followed by a shout:

"Hail, Fëaros! You had safe passage through the forest then? Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel sent me out a day after you had departed in case something may have happened to you. Now I am glad to see that we have both made it through alive and well."

Fëaros knew her, a brave she-elf of his people. He shouted up to the sentry;

"You need not worry, she is a friend of mine!" Then he proceeded "Amrunelen, well met indeed, how came you here? What brings you to Mirkwood? It is good to see you nevertheless, any news?"

His eyes fell softly upon her and with pity, for she was tired and had ridden it seemed with little rest. Great speed must have brought her hence and not without toil.

"I apologise, I ask too much of one who seems so tired. Let us go speak quickly with the King and then take rest, we should discuss our journies while we sit by a blazing fire in comfort and ease with ample food and drink. Here, have some water, I daresay you are very thirsty"

He took a flask from his pocket and offered it.
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Postby naryatheringoffire » Mon Nov 08, 2004 1:04 pm

As the young elf came through the gates and hailed both he and Fearos, Galdor made to get the attention of one of the guards and ask for a guide to bring him before the king and lead his men to a place of rest and food.But as he thought of doing this an elf clad in green came round a bend in the tunnel and greeted him

"Hail Lord Galdor and welcome to the halls of King Thranduil i am come to take you and your company to eat and rest before you meet for it is a long way from Imladris and your men must be weary?"

"Yes we are in need of rest for we travelled here with all speed for fear of the growing shadow i the forest but it was my intention to meet with your King as soon as may be."

"I will do as you ask Lord Galdor and lead you to the King but i may say that it was his wish that you first rest before you see him."

"If it is the wish of the King then i will not deny him in his own halls so therefor i will eat with my men and then i will see the King, but here also is two messengers from the Golden Wood who have travelled here with much speed and are in no doubt also in need of refreshing before they see the king also and it may be that we will ahve council with the king together for i think that the messenges of both Imladris and Lothlorien will have to be heard together, so i ask them if they will eat with me and my men?" Galdor finished turning to the two Elves who had been listening up to now.
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Postby foodaddict » Tue Nov 09, 2004 6:19 am

Why was it so hot?
She stood beneath a tall willow tree, its large, leafy branches reaching dramatically over the river to her side, as though towards the opposite bank. It was ludicrous, since there was no glaring sun that she needed shade from, but she clucked her tongue impatiently against the roof of her mouth as beads of sweat ran steadily down her face.
Despite the fact that she was a seasoned traveler and was rarely one to truly care about the climates in which she moved throughout her missions, she was not immune to the extremes, particularly the blazing heat that seemed to be engulfing the whole forest of Mirkwood that day. She’d been traveling quickly through the forest since the previous afternoon, not bothering to stop for very long regardless of the fact that strange eyes peered out at her from the dark as she passed. Memories of the many warnings whispered in her ears regarding the perils of Mirkwood danced in her mind, echoing off its corners. Yet for some strange reason—or due to her strange nature, rather—Marren was immune to these whispers. Fear did not come to mind even as she stared straight into the large, bulbous eyes of some unseen creature.
But she did not deny the strange presence that fallen over her as she walked calmly into the woods a few hours before dusk the day before. It made her thumbs prickle, as they always did when strange workings were about, and a rare kick of curiosity tingled in her belly as she moved through the dense trees.
Yet her mind overruled it, as it did everything else, and she pressed on through the path she had decided upon. Rohan and its many business affairs awaited her service, and she was restless and eager for something to do that suited her.
She had kept to the river, as she always did, though as she came to the fork that morning she had followed the slimmer, southern course through which it moved and had been moving steadily in that direction since.
She looked into the dark, rippling water, and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. If memory served her correctly, this was the Enchanted River, and if she followed it faithfully she’d come across the Elf Path at some point. She’d used it before, and had enough faith in herself to trust that she knew where it was. From the Elf Path she could start moving west until she left Mirkwood via the Forest Gate. From there she could follow the Great River to the south…
She was beginning to love rivers. Such good, reliable guides. Too bad she couldn’t bathe in the one she was standing right next to. Too risky.
Just as she decided that waiting for the heat to abate was pointless, as she’d decided it would be the night before, when even the evening chill had not frozen the thick haze of warmth, she froze and retracted the foot she was about to place down in a firm step. There was shadowy movement among the eaves of the trees on the opposite bank, and before another moment passed she had pulled herself easily up into the darling willow tree’s protective branches.
What the…?
Her clear gray eyes widened slightly and then narrowed so much that their silvery depths were simply flashing slits between the dark fringe of her lashes.
I can’t believe it, but I see it! she thought with the same kick of curiosity, though it had heightened considerably, and the prickling in her thumbs was almost painful.
Orcs.
And not just any Orcs.
Uruks, it appeared—slithering through the trees and carefully keeping out of plain sight by going onto the bank. Yet through the darkness of the leaves she discerned their tall forms as they disturbed the general calm of the opposite bank and wondered if they had picked up her scent yet. The rustling of the leaves could be heard even over the steady rush of the water, and one dark, well-shaped brow lifted at the strangely large number of Uruks there seemed to be.
It seems the Elves have become lax. Though with so many of their kindred leaving, who can blame them? Perhaps they’ve left as well.
She waited many more minutes, estimating how many Uruks there were as they each passed her without so much as a glance in her direction. Perhaps the river had thrown them off her scent…though their sneaky movement was odd without question. Were these the same rabble that reputedly thrashed through forests with the ferocity of trolls? But then the Uruks had never been like other Orcs. They were smarter—wiser, even.
Yet who were they hiding from? They were not hunting—Uruks never hunted in large groups to keep from frightening off the prey. Yet here they were, moving with such purpose through the woods—and several hundreds of them as well.
What’s going on? she thought, frowning when the movement still did not cease.
As though fate detected the slight, flustered agitation in Marren’s usually impervious soul, the movement on the opposite bank slowly died away, and she knew that the Uruks were quickly making their way north—a safe distance away from her, almost, if she gave it a few more minutes.
She tapped a finger on her knee as she pulled her legs up to her chest and gave the Uruks another moment of her thoughts.
And then she dropped down to the ground again and shrugged, as though pushing her curiosity off of her shoulders.
And just as she was about to step out again she again retracted her foot and placed it back to where it had been the moment before.
“Damn,” she muttered out loud. “What if they’re headed to Lake Town?”
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Postby Amrunelen » Tue Nov 09, 2004 6:39 pm

"I apologise, I ask too much of one who seems so tired. Let us go speak quickly with the King and then take rest, we should discuss our journies while we sit by a blazing fire in comfort and ease with ample food and drink. Here, have some water, I daresay you are very thirsty", Fëaros had said and offered her a flask.

Amrunelen took it and drank from it. The water was cool. "Thank you.", she said, gratefully, and then handed it back to him. "I am quite weary as I am sure you are also, my friend. Although, if it is necessary, rest can wait."

They stopped speaking to listen to Lord Galdor an an elf of Mirkwood that had come to greet the him as well as themselves. The two were conversing. Lord Galdor then turned to Amrunelen and Fëaros, asking them if they would join him and his men for a meal.

Amrunelen looked over at Fëaros, giving him a questioning glance. He nodded in agreement. "We would be delighted to join you. Afterwards we can hold council with King Thranduil. There is much to be discussed. As for now, if you would excuse me, I'd like to freshen up a little and take my horse to the stables. She has made quite a long journey in a short time." Tindanare shook her head a little as if agreeing. "I would also like to find where I might be staying?", Amrunelen said, looking to the other elf who came to greet them.

"We shall ready quarters for you as well as the others, Milady. King Thranduil will be happy to have you.", he replied.

"Hannon le.", Amrunelen said, with a nod to the elf. "Now, if you will excuse me for a few moments, I will tend to what needs to be tended to.", she said, glancing around at the others.
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Postby atalantea » Wed Nov 10, 2004 2:58 am

She stood froze, staring blindly at her own reflection that was blurred by the water. She closed her eyes as she let out a breath of silent frustration. More to herself than to [i]HIM.
Her reflection looked back in disdain at what she saw. Black hair, blue eyes and pale skin. She looked far too much like her father's sister she could never pass off at anything else than who she was. Atalantea. That was the name and she knew that it was widely known because of those cursed messengers. They delivered it all through the land that she could not go anywhere without being recognized. And she hated it more now. She dropped the pebble in her hand and it caused ripples, disturbing the water's peace.

She turned towards her faithful steed grazing under the shade. "Kidlat," she called and it lifted his head. She walked towards him and mounted him. He urged him forward, towards the river's current. She stalled long enough and now she had to face the consequences of her actions.

"Coward," she called herself. The word described her down to it's very true essence. She ran away and now she caused herself shame more than anything else. She ran away by the dawn of her wedding and now she had to come back and make amends... and finally meet the man she had left standing, waiting by the beautiful halls of Mirkwood. She had to meet her husband.[/i]

It was in this very place that she had said that, thought that, felt that. Not so long ago and today, she was coming to his halls for a reason far from before. She was coming with help from Rivendell.
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Postby Aiwe » Fri Nov 12, 2004 11:49 pm

"Get yer tail back in line, ye lousy cur!"

Inko managed to duck under the uruk sergeant's blow. "Yessir, Grubash sir!" the boy squeaked obsequiously, still flicking bits of dirt idly from under his nails with a rather shabby knife.

As soon as the seargeant's back was turned, though, Inko let his pace slow until he was at the very back of the marching column of uruk-hai. And then, he was gone.

Being gone when he was needed was one of Inko's primary talents. His drillmaster back home in Mordor knew this, and thus had put him under the command of good ol' Grubash the Novice-Slayer. That was how Inko found himself amongst this group of over-inflated orcs, fending off Mirkwood spiders and the occasional unwary elf. That was also how his back, under the grubby shirt and hide coat, had come to be scored with so many whip stripes. Grubash didn't like novices. Fair enough, he'd been training them far too long to actually like them anymore. But he hated werewolves with such a vengeance that his feelings for orcish novices were downright tender in comparison. Inko decided that a smart werewolf ought to keep his distance from the sergeant. And Inko considered himself a very smart werewolf indeed.

So, he hung back, and let Grubash go on up the rank and verbally abuse the former novices that made up his current squadron. The sergeant wanted them on high alert for the inevitable fight ahead. Not too far ahead at all, now. Elf-sign was becoming rampant in this part of Mirkwood; they were getting close to the fortress of that elf-king guy. What was his name? Thrandusomething...

Anyway, Inko had long ago decided that the very best place to be during a battle was somewhere else. Sidle off behind some convenient bushes, wait it out, and scavenge any valuables from the battlefield after the fact. That was the entirety of Inko's personal art of war.

As he sauntered well behind the ranks, his ears picked up something beyond the heavy tramp of iron orc boots. Hoofbeats?

--Aiwe
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Postby Fëaros » Thu Nov 18, 2004 1:57 pm

Amrunelen had left Fëaros now, Galdor was awaiting his company but Fëaros was unsure. He did not want to offend Galdor but it seemed the others had messages that could wait. Fëaros on the other hand believed it was imperitive that he spoke with the King immediately.

He approached one of the local elves and asked to be escorted to the Lord Thranduil. The elf agreed and they moved quickly past great, resplendent buildings, the caves were magnificent. Fëaros had not been here before, he had heard only rumour of the beauty of Thranduil's Kingdom. Up till now he had been pre-occupied with his own thoughts but now, given the chance to rest his mind a little, tales of Greenwood the Great seemed to simmer in his breast.

Without realising it he was already at the Great Hall. The door of the magnificent hall was golden and decorated in mithril, Fëaros was overwhelmed by the splendour, his heart thumped with pride.

There was a Guard on the door, he asked not for Fearos's weapons but simply nodded and proceeded to open the door. As Fearos entered; eyes were upon him, Fearos stalked martially towards the King at his throne. He felt important. As he got within ten yards of the King he stopped and bowed.

"My Lord, I have a message from The Lady Galadriel, I also have news of Dol-Guldur that I long to impart." His voice was thick and strong.

Thranduil bowed in return. He seemed to shine in these golden halls, his eyes were bright and his face fair. "I have expected news from Lorien for awhile, of Dol-Guldur I know much - tell me friend what is your name?"

Fearos was awed by this invitation; "My name is Fëaros son of Fëadroth."

"And your message please?" Thranduil replied.

Fearos gave the sealed parchment to The King. He opened it and read to himself, silently:

"Thranduil, High King of all Elves that dwell in Middle-Earth. Pelennor has gone well as you are aware but the ringbearer is wavering the one has a hold over him, he is as close to succeeding as he is to failing, in this lie our hopes. It is he who bears the fate of all. I perceive war between the Elves and the evil of Dol-Guldur, I urge you to prepare yourself, Lorien shall ever be your ally."

"Thankyou Fearos, now, will you return a message for me?" Thranduil seemed to glow with gratitude.

"Of course my lord it would be a pleasure. There are others with messages for you, surely you should hear them before making any decisions? And also I entreat you hear my news of Dol-Guldur"

"For the moment it is not necessary, we will speak later tonight. There is a room for you, no doubt you are tired, go now, rest and replenish yourself."

With this Fearos left the hall, feeling somewhat discontented. Why would he not speak of the dark tower?. Unsettled, Fëaros went in search of Galdor and Amrunelen.
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Postby Frelga » Thu Nov 18, 2004 3:02 pm

Captain Dacil on horseback was quite a different sight from the hulking bodyguard who slumped against the doorway of the King's council chamber. Clad in mail under leather brigandine, he sat tall in the saddle of his tall stallion, matching the rhythm of the horse's movement with an unconscious grace. Two dozen riders rode with him down the forest path - the escort of Bain, the sixteen-year-old grandson of King Brand. Most of them would go back to Dale once the Bardling was safely delivered to Thranduil's halls. Dacil would be stuck there in the caves, minding the youngster.

Bain was not happy about being sent away, either. The boy tried to badger, beg and bribe his way back into the city until Dacil wanted to pick him by the scruff of his neck and shake some sense into him. That was just what he did, lifting the lordling up with one gloved hand. Dumped back into the saddle, Bain bit his lips and threw furious glances at his tutor. But at least the boy was quiet.

Quiet was what Dacil wanted, as he strained his ears for any sound of trouble from the scouts ahead. The wood-noises held no meaning for him, and Mirkwood was not a normal forest in any case.

They almost reached the river, and the eerie woods stayed silent. Dacil only hoped that the scouts would not relax their vigilance now that they were near the safety of Elven halls. Such complacency could be deadly.
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Postby foodaddict » Fri Nov 19, 2004 8:53 am

A giant spider paused in the midst of its meal, its small but sharp eyes flicking around the secluded glade it had decided to have a picnic in. It tore a little bit of flesh from its blissfully immobile prey and savored the taste, casting aside its usual wariness. It was a very large spider, even for its own kind, and it was going to fight for its meal if it had to.
What the spider wasn’t expecting was the sudden emergence of a darkly-clothed figure from the trees on its right. It had barely swallowed the meat when the figure had crossed the glade, twigs snapping beneath its booted heels, and without so much as a glance at the feasting occupant of the area once more disappeared into the trees.
Other occupants of the forest peered out curiously as the figure moved through the trees almost recklessly, its limbs moving with a hurried briskness that jarred what would have been stealth and grace in perfection.
How long are they going to keep at this? she wondered, not bothering to move quietly since she knew that the Orcs could neither smell, hear, nor see her because of the presence of the river between them. Yet she spotted them moving on the opposite bank as she looked through the trees. It was clearly not in the Orcish mentality to consider disguising or cloaking themselves or even trying to camouflage themselves.
Poor brutish fools.
Where were the Elves? There had to be some of them still in the woods.
Flicking away a persistent lock of hair that kept falling over her face she strained her eyes, risking visibility by moving closer to the river.
The Orcs were slowing down, for some strange reason. The forest on the opposite bank was stilling, and though she saw their dark, hulking forms, she saw no movement, and her senses soared as she attempted to understand what had made them stop.
A sound rose over the rush of the water, floating to her ears and falling lightly in a soft, rhythmical pattern.
Were those—?
“Horses?” she whispered aloud, brows lifting in surprise.
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Postby atalantea » Fri Nov 19, 2004 8:55 pm

Atalantea rode with as much liesure as she would allow her guilty self. She reached the palace and flinched at the idea of facing what she feared the most.

"I am Atalantea of Rivendell, Daughter of Elrond's son Elrohir, I bid you, let me through," she came, looking at the guardian not easily seen through the walls of the palace.

The gates opened and she led Kidlat into the place. She dismounted Kidlat and walked with all the pride she had left into his halls. She walked and found herself staring into the doors. She lifted her hand to knock but then opened it and pushed.
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Postby atalantea » Thu Nov 25, 2004 3:43 am

Her breath caught at the sight that welcomed itself. It seemed all movement stop, time, the valuable and painful curse and blessing stopped as well. She almost reeled at the sight. She could not have prepared for anything like this. She bowed, inwardly shaking although there was no trace of it in the gracefull bow.

His eyes were on her. She ignored him and went straight to the king of these woods and kissed his hand. He patted her head as if she were a child and a smile played at the corners of his lips. Grace came with age that never seemed to lay claim on him. A strong ruler still... will they be able to stay here that long?

"My child, you have returned," he came.

"About time," came a mutter from her left she ignored. She clenched her teeth and smiled at the king. Curses! This was the first time in a long while and here he comes, not waiting for an hour, already making her want to bash him in the head and leave again... only now she can't leave anymore. She promised herslef already.

"I am sorry that I have caused inconvineince to you my lord," she began, looking at the king.

"Why talk to him? I was the one you left!" came another savage whisper. "My honor that you have tainted, I that you have disgraced, have you no thought for anyone else?"

"I needed to think and find myself, I need more time, I'm not sorry though that I left, just that I had caused you unpleasant... things," she said to the king who simply inclined his head.

"Time? You needed time to think? Why not tell me? I could have given you time and room for your self search with more grace that you could ever have accomplished by just fleeing!"

"I am not, talking to you, my lord!" she whirled, her words were hissed, said between clenched teeth. She took another breath that lodged itself somehow in her throat. This was the first time she laid her eyes on him. Words escaped her as his beauty overwhelmed her. His piercing gaze that bore and saw through all her barriers. His lips were drawn in a tight line but did nothing to destroy his features... it simply added more allure.

"Atalantea, meet my son, your fiance, Legolas," Thranduil came.


She closed her eyes and relieved that moment. It seemed so very far away. And at that very day he left for that meeting back into Rivendell and left for how long and until now she didn't know wether or not she should be happy he left. She entered the halls and faced the Lord of these halls and said the very same thing she had said at that day.

"Rivendell, sends help to your hall my Lord, it is an honor to be among your men my Lord,"
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Postby Arvandor » Thu Nov 25, 2004 12:25 pm

It was a beautiful sunny day on the Long Lake, and Erebor stood high and mighty above. The people were rebuilding still, again, and hopefully for the last time. Soldiers still scurried around while people raised up their homes, and salvaged what they could find in the rubble. Still through this the people's spirits were high. For they had victory, and there was also victory in the south. Now all that remained was a mere shadow of the darkness that once was, only mindless thralls that still may have his will imprinted on their souls... Parties were sent out from Erebor and Esgaroth alike, the men and dwarves have learned to work well beside eachother, even with the elves. The three in this area made a good team, and could set a good example for others of their kind who still hold to their ancient grudges.

Garrack grabbed his iron bow of old, took his quiver, and girt his sword. On this day he would hunt, he hadn't been able to hunt for a long time, and the game he was aiming for today was his favorite, orc. He would hunt the remaining orc and easterling presence in the area, sure there were other parties but if he joined with them he wouldn't have nearly as much fun.

He passed through the Desolation of the Dragon, which in these days wasn't quite as desolate, and entered the forest. In Mirkwood fell things lurked, but he feared not it wouldn't be his first time. And he wouldn't be alone, many knew the orcs sought refuge in the forest...
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Postby Frelga » Sat Nov 27, 2004 12:43 pm

The scout's shout came from behind.

"Orcs!"

Sudden and piercing in the still air, the young voice rose and broke into a scream of agony as a black arrow found its target.

Dacil wheeled his horse around. More arrows came flying from the dark forest, clattering against armor. Crash of metal and hoarse shouts echoed through the wood. The rearguard was now engaged in battle. The rest of the escort watched their captain, holding the excited horses in place.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Dacil roared, grabbing the reins of the white horse as Bain tried to streak past him, towards the fighting.

The boy was his job. The rest of his men were as expendable as himself. Some of them might be dying already. Shall the rest of them fly under the hale of arrows? How fast could they ride, over the narrow river road that twisted under the gloomy trees?

Dacil shouted out five names and threw Bain's reins to one of the soldiers. "Get Bain to the caves. Knock him on the head if he gives any trouble. Ask Elves for help. The rest of you - turn and draw!"

His grey stallion responded to the shift in the rider's weight and the ring of the drawn sword. The horse lunged forward, gathering speed; it didn't slow down or flinch as three dark shapes barred its path. The stallion swerved just enough to pass between two Uruks and let Dacil's sword find it's aim.

Behind him, the Dalers crashed into the Orcs. Dacil let his sword arm do his thinking, and the black Orc-blood streamed down his blade. But his mind was clear. He could see that he had misjudged the enemy's strength. This was no hunting party. The Uruk-Hai numbered at least a hundred, each armored for battle. He better hope that help got to them in time.
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Postby Arvandor » Sat Nov 27, 2004 1:18 pm

The scout's shout came from behind.

"Orcs!"

Sudden and piercing in the still air, the young voice rose and broke into a scream of agony as a black arrow found its target.

"That's my queue!"
Garrack charged in the direction of the yell as hastily as he could. He trudged through the woods until at last he broke through some thin brush only to find there were just a few more orcs than he expected, well about 100 more...

Well my 'trusty' bow won't offer much help in this situation...
Garrack quickly drew his blade and charged into the fray, he managed to bash and cut his way through to the other men quickly. He was lucky, he ran out into the orc archers, easily he managed to cut a few down before they even realized he was there.

He noticed the other men came from home...
Nows my chance...
He fell back a little and sheathed his sword, drawing his favored bow. He quickly shot off a small volley of arrows to the orcs crossing, he managed to take some down, which would in turn help to slow their crossing. As he moved to grab an arrow from his quiver he noticed Bain being carried away by 5 others. Hastily he ran to them...

"Where are you going, and why is Bain here? Quickly I must return to the battle..."
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Postby Aiwe » Sun Nov 28, 2004 2:02 pm

Inko hid behind a mallorn, listening to the sounds of people dying. He was worried. The orcs did not seem to be winning.

He could see men running around and riding on warg-food. he didn't know where they were from. Humans all looked the same to him.

He was vaguely considering making a run for it back home when someone grabbed his collar from behind.

"Come on! This is no place for children!"

--Aiwe
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Postby Arvandor » Sun Nov 28, 2004 7:35 pm

"Where are you going, and why is Bain here? Quickly I must return to the battle..."
"We are escorting him to Thranduil's halls for safety, we were attacked en route as you see, quickly hold them back so that we may proceed!"
"Yes, make haste!"
Garrack wheeled and charged back to the battle, his bow would prove to be less of a help with these numbers. He quickly shoulder bashed his way into the battle, he cought a small dispatch of archers who planned to make their way around the host of men. He delivered the coup de grace to the downed orc with his boot and proceeded to charge at the archers. He cleaved an orcs arm off from the neck to the torso and continued to hack them down until an off-setting sight again caught his eye...
Is that a child hiding behind a tree..?
He broke through the few remaining orcs with a solid kick and wild swing and he dove through the brush. A quick and sloppy flurry of arrows followed him, apparantley there were more archers than he had seen... As he tried to scramble up he dropped back on his face and found that his leg was reluctant to move, upon further inspection he realized he had been hit in his thigh...
Damn! I hadn't even felt it...
With quick action and a loud grunt he tore the arrow out and scrambled to the child...

He was vaguely considering making a run for it back home when someone grabbed his collar from behind.
"Come on! This is no place for children!"
He ran to the edge of the woods and fell to the ground winded, as he looked up he was suprised at what he saw...
"What the?!"
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Postby atalantea » Sun Nov 28, 2004 11:45 pm

She was hyperventilating but she would be damned before she let this elf-lord see that. She took a secret, deep breath. He was beatiful. She hated herself for thinking so but it would be hypocrisy if she didn't. She did not say it out loud though. She wrenched her gaze away from him then back.

He bowed with easy grace however annoyed he was. "Welcome to Mirkwood," he came, a look from his father made him go on, hesitantly. "It is hoped that you stay longer than your past visit," he paused meaningfully. The Valars! She wanted to yank off his hair. "It is also hoped that we put all those unpleasant moments behind us and perhaps start anew," He looked at her now, damn, his eyes were unnerving her.

"I am pleased to have finaly met you, my Lord, I will stay, with hope that our lands be more prosperous with this alliance sealed," she said politely.


That was the time she had actually talked to him. She sighed. She stiffened when she realized she was daydreaming. She faced Lord Thranduil. He cupped her face. "Rest my child, you seem weary, that is enough for the day"

"Thank you," she said and bowed then walked towards the door, "Help from Rivendell will come shortly... my father and Lord Elrond sends their regard," She reached the door and a hand opened it for her. An elven Lord opened it for her and she realized who it was. Cousin of Legolas, Llagullen. This man is still mad at her for deserting him. She shrugged inwardly, they were so alike. She returned the stare.

"I will walk you to your quarters," he said, an order.

"I will not run again if that is what you fear,"

"You are not that much of a fool, I hope," he came. "You are not the first messenger... we have received two again just this day"

"I am not a messenger," she bit out. "Help came from The golden woods? Where is the messenger?"

"She rests... and so does the young one who came with her,"

"I need to see them," she said decisively. "Lead me to their quarters.

"Woman, what is then, the essence of the word rest if you disturb them? Do you know what the word mea-" they both froze and faced south of the forest. Elven senses sharpened as screams came from afar, inaudible to mortals,

"They are so near..." she came then both bounded towards the hall again.

"The entrance and path should be guarded, prepare, strengthen our defenses!" he bellowed and elves scurried to follow orders.
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Postby Arvandor » Mon Nov 29, 2004 9:01 pm

He ran to the edge of the woods and fell to the ground winded, as he looked up he was shocked at what he saw...
"What the?!
...What are you doing in the middle of a battle, and why are you armed? For that matter where did you come from you don't look like a boy from the Long-Lake..?"
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Postby Frelga » Thu Dec 09, 2004 11:25 am

The Dalers were outnumbered by Orcs by more than five to one. It took Captain Dacil only a few minutes to do his share. A space cleared out around him, defined by his sword's reach, which no Orc was eager to enter. Dacil turned to look for the next target, his horse backing and treading firmly over the fallen Orcs. He saw with surprise that Garrack, also of Dale, had entered the battle.

His stallion started and danced sideways just as the growl reached Dacil's ears. A low, grey shape darted from under the trees, teeth bared, aiming for the horse's throat.

"Werewolves of Dol Guldur," the thought flitted. And another. "Silver!"

With his teeth, Dacil pulled the glove off his left hand. In the same motion, he swung his bare fist at the lunging beast. The blow would have stunned a regular wolf, but it was the silver signet ring, king's gift, that did the damage. The growl turned to pained yelp as the wolf turned tail.

Other Dalers did not fare so well. A young scout sprawled on the bloody path; black-feathered shaft still quivered in his throat. Another lay on his side, only his shoulders and cloven helmet visible from behind the body of an orc he killed. A wounded horse screamed, drowning out the clang of steel, shouts and wolf-growls.

Dacil spurred his stallion to put himself between the unhorsed soldier and another werewolf. The great horse turned and kicked back with both hind legs. Two horseshoes cracked into the wolf-skull. The rider was thrown onto the horse's neck and only avoided a fall because his steed reared slightly, righting him in the saddle.

An arrow whistled past Dacil's ear, and another hit his mailed shoulder. The third arrow bounced off his helmet. The armor held, but the impact made Dacil sway in the saddle. Clearly, the Captain was now the chosen target.

"Garrack! Get that archer!" Dacil roared, looking round for the Daler, an excellent bowman. But Garrack was nowhere to be seen. "Now where did he get to?"
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Postby Arvandor » Thu Dec 09, 2004 1:13 pm

"Garrack! Get that archer!" Dacil roared.

"Damn! I need to get back to the battle, now you do us both a favor and get down to the town. Tell the first person you see what is going on!"

Garrack shoved the boy on in the direction of the town and charged back to the battle field. Dacil was easily found, a beast of a man on a giant steed. Immediatley the archer caught his eye, his bow was knocked and he was preparing to fire. Thinking quickly he knew the only thing he could do was fire an arrow as quickly as possible and hope it got their before the orc's arrow found it's target. In the blink of an eye Garrack knocked an arrow, but it was to late the orc was about to release and Garrack didn't have enough time to draw and fire... Before the orcs arrow flew another found it's way to the orcs eye. The elves had arrived! Through the far trees elves could now be seen charging to the battle, Thranduil must have gotten word. It was no suprise, this was his realm. Not many could get through without being noticed. But there was no time to rejoice, in the time Garrack spent watching the battle a were-wolf had found him, and in no time was upon him. Garrack managed to akwardly wrestle its claws away and trap one arm with his bow. He freed his other arm by stabbing the wolf in the ribs with an arrow, now he could grab and hold the other arm away. Now there was only one problem Garrack didn't plan for, the werewolf was trying desperatley for his throat and it was winning... It clawed with its hind legs, and if that kept up it might tear through his mail... Now he was in a sticky situation...
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Postby Fëaros » Thu Dec 09, 2004 5:34 pm

Before the scout had even reached even the outpost of Thranduil’s realm the elves were marching to battle. Fëaros was not in the least disconcerted for he was made of mettle hot and true. On his way towards the main gate he came across a rack of weapons and pulled form it an elven sword which he sheathed at his side.

He had not found Amrunelen but he could not waste time searching, he ran towards the great gates of the halls and proceeded through them and onto the main path. He saw that Galdor too rode out towards this peril and was inspired. Fëaros himself left the path and followed what he felt was the most direct route to the skirmish. His mouth was dry with anticipation and he wondered what foul creatures he may come up against. He moved deftly through the undergrowth and as sure as his heart was pure he cut a way to the opening where the assault was taking place.

His bowstring was taut and his eyes were clear, from his quiver the arrows poured and onto his enemies those same arrows rained. Amidst the clamour and bloodshed Fëaros spotted a boy being ushered through the crowd by a Daler. He walked towards them and slew as he moved, before he got there a great werewolf had pushed the Daler down and was grappling at his neck.

“NO!” He shouted!

Fiercely Fëaros fought off another orc and pulled the final arrow from his quiver, aimed and in an instant the wolf lay dead with an arrow between its eyes and the Man of Dale had pushed it off. Fëaros ran over and helped him to his feet;

“You are lucky I came by my friend!” spoke Fëaros. He then turned and took the child who was standing nearby and took him under his arm and carried on fighting off the orcs with his free hand.
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Postby Arvandor » Thu Dec 09, 2004 6:43 pm

“You are lucky I came by my friend!” spoke Fëaros.
"Indeed I am, I was blind sided and starting to fret. I thank you and look forward to being able to repay the favor, But now is not a time for idle talk, let us join the battle for my strength is renewed with your arrival!"
"Aye!" With a grin they unsheathed swords and cut through the orc lines.

The elves charge dealt the orcs a grievous blow, and they now were falling back. Soon they would be in the open fields just above Dale. At any other time this would be folly, to push them towards the town, but the boy should be at the town by now and Dalers would soon come to aid and the orcs would be trapped between the hammer and anvil. Too few were-wolves had come to fulfill whatever wicked plan they followed, they were tough and cruel beasts; one of Sauron's masterworks. They were near impossible to fell without silvered weapons.
Now Fearos and Garrack had cut through to Dacil. Garrack wished to stay with the elf who had rescued him and so followed his lead.

"Captain, I believe you were in need of help? We have come, and Bain is safe in the Halls. Once this is over Lord Thranduil wishes to see you."
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Postby foodaddict » Fri Dec 10, 2004 4:10 am

So not only do we have Uruks, but we have werewolves as well.

Marren leaned against the tree, unnoticed as the Men battled the Orcs with all their strength. She watched as once in a while a large, howling mass would emerge amongst the hordes of both races and the scream of either Orc or Man would rent the air moments later.
She paused as her eyes focused on more people moving into the bloody scene. It took her a few seconds, but a smile touched her lips when she recognized the newcomers.
And now we have the Elves entering the scene. It's about time. This should prove to be truly interesting.
Yet it wasn't. She watched as Orc after Orc and Wolf after Wolf fell to the arrows and swords of the Elves and her interest in the scene slowly dissipated. It was a fight as good as won--the Uruk party was being destroyed decisively and she saw no further threat in them. If they had been on an errand, as she had first percieved, they would not have risked battle with the Men in Elven territory and would have fled as quickly as they could. And yet they had stayed to their detriment, proving that she had just wasted an entire day following what was just, after all, a rabble of mindless Orcs.
She stiffened as the sound behind her dragged her out of her idle contemplation.
And the werewolves, of course.
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Postby Fëaros » Fri Dec 10, 2004 6:30 am

The battle wore on into the evening until all the orcs and wolfhounds were chased down and vanquished. Smoke rose from Mirkwood that night, there was a great burning of the foul orc and wolf carcasses. The surviving elves still gleamed with valour by the moonlight and the Dalers stood by them proud and grim. The wounded and maimed had been taken back earlier to the elven healing rooms by a band of scouts.

Finally they took the dead Elves and Dalemen and carried them ceremoniously to a suitable burial place not far from the elven halls. As they marched a lament rose, the sweet elven voices mingled with the deep sonorous tones of the Dalers and the resonance echoed through the forest, they wept as they sang. Many lives were lost; foul and fair, many lights were extinguished by shadow, more lives would be lost.

Fëaros, Galdor, Dacil and Garrack marched together. Fëaros had been so fell in battle that many of their enemies had fled from his face and cowered in his wake fearing the might of his red wrath, But now his blood ran cold with sorrow and his eyes softened and glazed. Galdor marched proudly and undimmed, though tears stained his cheeks and Dacil was stern and silent, unmoved. Garrack looked exhausted his neck was scarred, it seemed he had been wounded worst of the four, but still he marched on for he was made of a pithy resolve and never wavered though death had bore it tooth and claw down on his throat.

Fëaros still carried the boy under his arm, he knew this was not just a boy. He set him down on the floor so he could walk beside him, though he had been no burden for he was only slight and weighed very little.

"We shall discuss you, your type and your allegiance when we get back to our elven citadel. Until then you may walk under my watchful eye." Inko looked up worriedly but found that Fëaros' expression was not stern or scornful but passive.
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Postby Arvandor » Fri Dec 10, 2004 12:39 pm

The company marched on to Thranduil's halls as Dacil's company set out to. It wasn't a long march but they took their time, there is no need to strain yourself after battle. It is obvious that action will be taken against Dol-Guldur, knowing that there is still strength left within it must be taken down, forever...
A small dwarven dispatch had been sent out when they heard battle and saw rising smoke, though they came to late to see any real action their commander had to find out what happened so they marched alongside, they would not let the elves and men battle without them.
Reaching the gates of the city the new guests were given food and drink and time to rest before returning home, they wounded were now cared for, and those not seriously injured would be there on the march home. Passing through the gates Garrack could no longer take it, his neck burned as if on fire, and his leg had started to lose feeling during the march. Now it was completely numb and he fell to one knee, inspecting he remembered the arrow he took in the thigh, it shouldn't be serious nothing the elves couldn't heal...
"Me..d... I..." Before he could get the words out he passed out, the realization of his wound helped to speed the process, he had lost much blood on the march. Two elves came and speedily grabbed him and rushed him away. Another three approached. One came front and gave a humble bow.
"Captain Dacil, of Dale, your presence is requested by Lord Thranduil, please come this way..."
Last edited by Arvandor on Thu Dec 16, 2004 8:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Arvandor
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