Last Ride of the Heir RPG

[piosenniel]

The Perky Ent's post

The summer’s sun blazed a gentle beam of light across Arathorn’s face. A cool wind was on the horizon. A peaceful tiding of leaves dancing in the wind as Arathorn walked into the courtyard. Rivendell’s beauty was beyond comprehension this time of year. Finding a small bench, Arathorn pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. Gazing into the sky, blue with small clouds, Arathorn began to write a letter.

~*~

My dearest Gilraen,

I have reached Rivendell and I couldn’t be any happier. I haven’t located Elladan and Elrohir as yet, but I’m sure they’re around somewhere. How is our beloved baby? I’m sure Aragorn will turn out to be a great man. Something….a deep inner feeling, tells me his life will be a tale of ages. Though I have taken my last look into his eyes for a long time, I could see it. I still can’t believe he’s two years old and can already run so quickly. He’s a great boy. Take care of him, and yourself.

Arathorn paused for a minute, and then concluded:

I’ll be back as soon as the stars will allow. I love you Gilraen, so be careful.

With undying love,

Arathorn son of Arador

~*~

Arathorn took a while to seal the letter, and then summoned a Ranger admiring the Elvish architecture. “Borodun! Borodun! Borodun, come! I have a delivery for you. As I know you know, I said you could head back for The Angle as soon as we departed, but I need to get this letter back as fast as a dragon,” Arathorn said to the stout ranger by his side. “Ay sir! I’ll deliver it post haste. It was good to see you again. I’ll see you on your return?” Borodun said with a grin. “But of course Borodun! Now ride with the blessings of the Lost Kingdom and the glory of men!” Arathorn exclaimed with gusto. And with that, Borodun fetched his horse and departed from Rivendell.

“Now where are Elladan and Elrohir?” Arathorn said as he looked around. “They said they’d meet me in the royal courtyard. What’s taking them so long?” Arathorn pondered as he continued to look around. Just then, two arrows appeared in the ground, at his feet. “Did you miss me?” Arathorn said as he laughed. “Yes. Lucky for you we did miss you! How’ve you been Arathorn?” Elladan asked as he patted Arathorn on the back. “Like a king! How else!” Elrohir said with a great smile. “Not quite, gentlemen. Are you ready for the trip?” This question did nothing more than break the twins out in hysterics. “Ready? Oh course we’re ready!” Elladan said. “If I’m not ready, let’s see if I miss you!” Elrohir exclaimed. And as Elrohir reached back to pull an arrow, he felt something strange. What he felt, was nothing. His quiver was empty. Embarrassed, Elrohir ran to get more arrows. Elladan hit his hand on his face and said, “I’ll go with him, to spare you the trouble of humiliating him!” and then left.

Arathorn waiting for quite some time, became quite restless. So restless that he pulled out his sword and started preparing for the fights. Time waned. After an hour, Arathorn shouted with a great anger.

“Where are my Elves and Rangers!?!”

[piosenniel]

Arvedui’s post

The cool mist that comes before the dawn flitted its way into the locked chamber, blending with the warm musk of the room and the dying embers of the fire in the woven iron grate. In the dew there was a cold sighing feel, as a wet cloth must seem to a fevered man. And the relief the grey air brought was not wasted on the figure sitting in an oaken chair, encircled by tomes and lost in thought. To the unsuspecting eye the form was a man in the middle of his years, seeming very young and hale, yet worn and burdened with the knowledge of age as well, fingering a hansom blue ring on his right hand, his gray eyes gazing to some far away place.

That was, until two soft thumps tickled his sensitive ears and brought his eyes sharply into focus.

Elrond Peredhil let out a groan of frustration at the end of his reverie and was rewarded only by a quiet chuckle from the opposite end of the room where the disturbance has come from. "Diran le (I see you), Elladan." He called out wearily to the lithe already moving out of the shadows behind him.

"Forgive us Adar, but even I must make some noise to enter a barricaded study." Answered a new voice to his right, now coming into the flickering light of embers.

"I wish you would take the hint that a locked room implies." Elrond replied mutinously, but already he was smiling despite himself.

"I believe Elladan received all our lessons on locks and their implications, father." The right-hand figure, a tall and fair looking creature with mischievous gray eyes, continued in a tone of complete innocence. "And you know his hearing can be very selective at times. A most strange affliction."

"Besides," said Elladan, speaking up for the first time, with an amused lilt to his voice, "You enjoy the intrusion."

Elrond shook his head and rose languidly to face the figures. "My perceptive sons, what am I to do with you?"

"Sending us into the wild in the company of a bunch of scruffy rangers seems to be your favored solution." Elrohir remarked offhandedly as he sank unto a polished stool.

"Arathorn is here, then?" Elrond asked, more sternly than before. He frowned and his mind began to work frantically again. It would be soon, but if he them bereft of...

"You are not pleased at this?" Elladan asked with a concerned note in his voice.

"Nay, nay." Elrond answered, sighing and then forcing a smile. "What news from the Angle?"

"Much of the same." answered Elrohir. "There may be orcs massing near Angmar, but otherwise not a lot to note."

"Oh, but he does have a son now," Added Elladan as an afterthought. "Named Aragorn."

Elrond nodded, a mixture of relief and happiness flooding through him. "That is well. Arathorn will need an heir."

"You foresee him being even shorter lived than Arador?" Elladan questioned, and Elrond paused before he answered, knowing of the friendship between his son and the Dunadan.

"A storm is coming." He answered grimly, keenly aware of an invisible weight pressing down on him, and deeply saddened by its presence. "And if it passes, Arathorn will not live to see the light on the other side."

"The darkness may not descend for many lives of men yet." Elrohir said, trying to be optimistic.

"True, but enough of this." Elrond waved his hand and batted away the subject, judging that he could ignore it until he could find another quiet dawn in which to lock himself away and think. "I suppose you both intend to go with him on whatever new venture he's planning?" He asked as a matter of form, sad to see his sons leaving Imladris again but reconciled to their going.

"Aye, so long as there are orcs, we shall hunt them with any who go with us." Elladan answered, a quiet fury evident in his voice.

Elrond gave a melancholy smile, half lost in a memory, and then placed his hands on his sons' shoulders. "Go then. Namarie, iynn nin. Nai hiruvalye man faroth!(My sons! May it be you will find the hunting good)" They embraced, and Elladan and Elrohir left, unlocking the door as they went. Elrond gazed after them, thinking with a sudden, brutal clarity that this hunt would be more than any of them bargained for. He sank back down into the comfort of the books surrounding his chair and knew that for Arathorn, and his son after him, the darkness had dawned, and a war was beginning.

[piosenniel]

Eowyn Skywalker's post

The day was fair in Imladris; the wind rustled the trees and grass. It was fair and bright; all was quiet and peaceful. And in that time, Hanindur, son of Seragon sat, and watched the trees twitch in the wind.

"Why does the weather play such games, when peace is not to be found, and a shadow roams freely in the lands?" asked Hanindur softly. He sat in the shade of the peaceful trees, and watched. The sun shone brightly, and there was little shadow in the hidden valley, beyond that which lay under the trees.

Birds chirped, as if there was nothing in the world to fear. And they have little to fear, thought Hanindur. Why would they fear, when it is us, the men, and elves that must fear them. Anything could be a spy... who knows what watches in the dark shadows of time?

A cloud drifted over the sun, shadowing the area. It was but a cloud, nothing to be feared, but Hanindur jumped. Shadow... fear and doubt. There was something about the shadows that caused him fear now, ever since the death of his father.

It had been all dark that day, and though the sun still shone, it hung heavily, and darkly in his mind. And evermore his thoughts drifted to shadow, and to darkness... the past that was so dark to him now.
He fell into those dark thoughts, and drifted into a world that no longer existed to him, days before his father's death.

A voice cried out in anger.

Hanindur jumped, shaking himself out of his thoughts, and out of the dark times that he had been recalling. "Where are my elves and Rangers?!?" he heard someone shout. It was the voice of Arathorn.

He jumped up, and walked over to where he had heard the vioce shout, and Hanindur realized that much time had passed, as his shadow grew long as he stepped over to Arathorn. "I am here, if you wish for my help, Lord Arathorn," he said, his voice low. "Your Rangers have not abandoned you."

[piosenniel]

Mad Baggins' post

Beroth was enjoying his stay at Rivendell; he had never encountered Elves before and he loved learning about their ways and customs. The quiet, comfortable rooms were quite a difference from sleeping outside beneath the twinkling stars. He walked down the corridors silently, taking in the beauty of Rivendell as slowly as possible. He stopped to run his hand over an intricately carved pair of doors. The wood felt smooth and was a rich cream colour. Beroth was about to have a closer look when his keen ears caught a noise at the door. He sprang back and pretended to have been examining the wall as a young Elf maiden stepped out of the doorway and walked gracefully in the other direction.

Beroth sighed, feeling extremely foolish. The Elves were so eloquent and fair; sometimes he felt like a clumsy oaf in their presence. He walked further down the hallway, pausing every so often to look at a particular piece of art. Reaching a doorway that led to a balcony, Beroth stepped through it and into the bright afternoon sunlight. He leaned on the balustrade, breathing in the sweet air. Suddenly, his peace was disrupted by a loud roar from below.

"Where are my Elves and Rangers!?!"

Beroth groaned and hurried off the balcony, down the hallway and towards the courtyard from which the shout had come. When he passed through the gateway to the courtyard, Arathorn was indeed there. Beroth reached him and bowed, saying, "I am here, Lord Arathorn. What is your will?" He straightened up and gave Arathorn a winning smile.

[piosenniel]

ArwenBaggins' post

"Papa? Papa!" A small, black-haired girl tugged on the loose leggings of a tall man dozing in a chair overlooking a beautiful, gleaming city. "Papa, lookie wat I drew! See! It's Lord Arathorn an' you fightin' some orcs!" The girl pointed to some crudely drawn stick-men and dog-like crawling figures. The man smiled and rubbed his daughter's head as she continued more solemnly, "Mama 'tolded' me dat you're gonna leave us 'gain ta fight off some baddies… but she's lyin', isn't she?"

Eirian's smile faded quickly from his wrinkling face. He bent and sat the toddler in his lap. A cool morning breeze drifted in through the balcony. It ruffled the silken nightgown of his young tot, making her giggle. He watched as Elves glided across a bridge a little way off- some were in armor. "No Evelyn, she's not lying. It will be two mornings from now, I regret to say. Darkness is stirring…" His deep eyes drifted away for a moment, but a creak of the tree growing through the middle of the room brought him back to reality. "Although, you are only four, you wouldn't understand. Why don't you go find Mama and we'll help her make breakfast," He smiled again and sat her on the dusty ground.

The girl smiled and nodded, waddling past the large tree and disappearing behind a satin curtain. Eirian stood and followed, adjusting the sword at his belt. After pushing back the lavender veil, he was met by a slender woman with a large stomach. "Good Morning Lovely," Eirian kissed the top of his woman's head and started cutting a loaf of bread. The world was good at now, if only then.

~*~*~*~

By mid-noon two days later, a modest pile of supplies was sitting just inside of the room. Evelyn was crying and rubbing her eyes on her mother's skirt. Eirian embraced them both and put his pack over his cloak, stepping out of the door. "Fear not for me, my dears. I will return, and peace will be restored. I love you both," He kissed his wife and hugged his teary-eyed daughter once more, adjusting his knapsack and putting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

He took his time getting to the royal courtyard. While he was ever avid to start killing the blasted beasts, he felt a deep quilt inside leaving his four-year-old daughter and a wife that could give birth to his third child within a month.

“Where are my Elves and Rangers!?!” Eirian heard this shouted as he entered the yard. He saw Arathorn standing with his sword unsheathed and in front of the other Dunadan.

"Come now Arathorn," Eirian unveiled his sword as well and steadied the blade. "We can not have you in a bad mood… have you see Elladan and Elrohir? They passed my door earlier, but I haven't seen them since," He shrugged and swung his sword over his head, practicing his swift killing strokes.

Eirian again sheathed his sword, sighing and finding a nearby stone bench to sit on. He flicked a piece of dark hair from his face and began, "Those fellows must think we are Elves as well; they are taking quite an eternity!"

[piosenniel]

Hama of the Riddermark's post

Owacyn lay on the couch in his room. He looked up at the elf-wrought ceiling and smiled, it was fascinating. He was trying to distract himself with nice things, as he had a bad feeling in his gut about this attack. No matter how hard he tried to dissmiss it it always came back, snapping at his heels and stalking his every step. He constantly thought about Gwendalyne back in Gondor, and his unborn infant. He hoped it would be a son, but right now he doubted if he would be around to see his child born and grow. He wished he could, he wanted to teach him how to ride and fight, to shoot a bow and wield a sword. He sighed as he lay there. So many things were uncertain at this time.

He was just drifiting off to sleep, pondering this venture some more, when he heard Elrohir running past his window, cursing at himself in elvish. He smiled. Elrohir was a good friend and a fine bowman, even if he was prone to make a fool of himself occasionally. He drifted off to sleep, a few of his trepidations were gone, after all he'd be riding with the dunedain's finest, and the sons of Elrond himself. Somewhat content, he closed his eyes...

"Where are my elves and rangers!"

Owacyn sighed as he opened his sleepy eyes, swinging his feet off the bed he slipped his boots on. He slowly walked and stepped out of the door. After all, an hour was a short time really..."I'm here, my Lord" he said almost resignedly. Arathorn scowled at his manner, but did not say anything.

Owacyn sat down on a step and took a long, slender pipe out of his belt and stuffed it with weed. He lit it and sucked in deep, blowing smoke rings as he let it out of his mouth. He was slightly irritated that Arathorn had shouted so loudly, he had been enjoying a nice rest. Maybe he was a little too eager. He lay back and looked up at the sky. "Owacyn!" snapped the voice of Arathorn, "Get up!". Owacyn sighed and raised himself to his feet. "Yes, Lord Arathorn." he said as he went over and stood by the banister, looking out at the waterfall in Rivendell. He saw Elrohir running back, his quiver bristling with arrows, and a few even tucked into his belt, he grinned. "A little over enthusiatic, Elrohir?"

[piosenniel]

Phervasaion's post

Paladir looked up through the wavering trees at the sun rays beaming down onto the floor, and he smiled. “It is a beautiful day to start a journey,” he said aloud to himself. “Let’s hope the rest of my days will be as beautiful.” He looked upwards towards Imladris and had to stop for a while to gaze upon its beauty. He had never seen the place before and, to him it seemed that the sun was shining stronger there than anywhere else around and he may have even dared to call the place a heaven.

Paladir shook his head thinking he had strayed into some sort of dream, but the beauty of the place was more real than anything he had seen in his dreams before. The Ranger had been travelling for some hours without rest towards his destination of Imladris and was feeling weary from his trek through the wilderness. He sat down and set his back up against a tree a began to drink some water out of his flask, and after only a couple of minutes he set of again, heading up the slopes towards the gates of Rivendell. Paladir held a great respect for Arathorn and did not want to be late for the beginning of the journey.

He was making great pace up the slopes as he had a feeling that something was drawing him towards the great Elven city. Even as he reached the borders of Rivendell he heard a cry of anger towards the courtyard.

“Where are all my Elves and Rangers!?!”

‘Oh no, don’t tell me im late’ thought Kaladir as he began to sprint up the steps towards the royal courtyard. When he got to the top there were four Rangers standing. One was of course the great Arathorn II, the others were called Hanindur, Beroth and Eirian who were all great Rangers, but Paladir did not know them well.

Paladir walked swiftly to greet Arathorn. “I heard your call sire,” Paladir said as he bowed down. “And I have come to answer that call.” He looked up and smiled at all the Rangers standing about him.

[piosenniel]

Saraphim's post

Smiling good-naturaly, Elrohir went to the armory and stuffed his quiver nearly to the breaking point. His brother stood off to the side, still laughing quietly at Elrohir's earlier embarassment.

"You, dear, brother, should not be laughing," said Elrohir. "You aught to remember Arathorn's impression of you when you eat."

"Are you a fool, Elrohir?" said Elladan, who laughed even harder. "You eat the same way!"

"Yes, but I do not drink like a dwarf after every bite."

This caused Elladan to stop giggling insessently and poke at Elrohir's pride back.

They continued to squabble while donning thier armour and strapping on thier other weapons.

Walking slowly out through the halls, the twins were on the verge of grappling to relieve thier brotherly love when they heard Arathorn's exasparated cry.

"Where are my Elves and Rangers?"

Laughing at something other than each other, they, sped up and met the Chief of the Rangers who was looking impatiently around.

"My dear friend," said Elrohir, "You should not rush Elves, not all of our people are as eager to wander as we are, and Men would stay in lovely Imladris until time ended, if it were allowed."

Arathorn smiled wanly and called again, with an order attached for his comfortable rangers.

[piosenniel]

astarielle's post

For what seemed like the fortieth time Elladan checked once more that he was ready. The day was still, with numerous birds flying in the sky like specks on a carpet of azure blue. Many remained unseen, but not unheard, in the depths of the trees having glorious conversations with each other. He stood in the courtyard amoung many Elves and Men all united by one cause, joined together by single foundation. He turned around an traced every contour of the Homely House, as he had done many times before, as if etching it into his mind, not one arch or doorway to be forgotten.

The twins had entered the courtyard enthusiastically some minutes before. "I do not doubt the honesty of men, for that is the basis of living in communities. What I do doubt is their time-keeping!" He replied to a ranger standing near him.

Elrohir and Elladan had answered Arathorns call readily, and needed no encouragement or persuasion. If there was one sole thing they hated in life, if it is at all possible for Elves to 'hate', in human terms, it would be orcs.

[piosenniel]

Will Witfoot's post

The light of the morning sun gilded the scented garden's of the hidden valley, Imladris, and radiated from the robes of a lonely figure seated under a tree, making him appear as made of light himself. Then the wind granted the gardens it's chill kiss and the figure drew it's grey cloak around itself, dimming the light, and revealling a lithe, gaunt elf staring thoughtfully into the waters of the river Loudwater flowing past Rivendel, the Last Homely House East of the Sea.

Cerímb watched her son, her only child, sitting all alone with the same air of melancholy around him that had marked his life since he was born. When not practising with the sword or poring over the many tomes of the libraries, he could be found seated deep in thought, usually as far away from others as possible. Few were those whose company could provide him with any joy.
Desspite all the years of having to live with the knowledge of her son's dissability, Cerímb could not stop a tear from trickling onto her cheek.
As if sensing the presence of his mother, Eldín turned. Seeing her standing there, he got up from where he had been sitting, his cloak oppening to reveal an elegant blade seathed by his side. Realizing that his mother was crying Eldín embraced her, gently wiping away the tears that fell silently to Cerímb's cheek's.

'Is it time?' Eldín asked, using the peculiar mode of communicating through gestures that he had been taught since he was a small child.

Cerímb nodded. 'Yes, Arathorn is leaving. They will be waiting for you.' She knew that her son could read her lips, but she preffered using the same way of communication that Eldín himself used, when conversing with him.

Eldín leaned forward to kiss his mother on the brow. 'Fear not, mother. I will return as certainly as the sun rises.'

He turned from her and begun to walk towards the courtyard where he knew the warriors would assemble. Cerímb watched her son go, before bursting into tears.

[piosenniel]

bilbo_baggins' post

Angakemion could feel the mists of morning rising before any could see it happen. Imladris was as beautiful as ever, with the snow melting in the Misty Mountains, and the water running down to join the river, and ultimately, the Western Sea.

The Rangers that had come a while back were leaving again, soon. He was going with them. He could hardly remember the frenzied events that had precluded the departure. He could feel the excitement charging the air, and giving it that slightly reddish hue that came just before a great battle.

He was excited about going, and he hoped the departure, which he could feel was entirely to imminent to communicate, would come quickly. He hurriedly went to his room, and gathered his packed things. His father entered.

"Father, I have no time to waste, the Rangers will leave soon. I hope I can still go."

"My son, do not fear. They will not leave without you. Now come and embrace me for the last time, my dear Anga!"

Their joyous hug was cut short as Anga realized he needed to leave, and quickly.

"Father, I hate to leave Imladris, especially since I wish to court a woman. But the time for love and affection has past, and battle looms on out horizon. I must go."

"Then leave with my blessing, son. I shall miss thee, and pray for your return."

With that, Anga left to go down to where the party was gathering.

[piosenniel]

Potatothon's post

Nuwethion was checking his equipent in front of the mirror and adjust his bracer by fiddling with it for a few seconds. He wiped the braids of his shoulders and went to the hallway where Iarbrethil was waiting for him. They did not need words for this parting, for they both knew it was for just a short time. They embraced and he kissed her forehead. She stroke his face for just a second and then he turned and went out into the open air. He turned around once more and gave her a meaningfull look.

"Abedithon le." Nuwethion said.

His wife's eyes lit up for a short second and Nuwethion walked out into the cool breeze that met his faze. Nuwethion decided to take it slowly, for their was no need to rush trough rivendell. And that way he could see the beautifull landscape, though many times encounter, never boring. The sound of the Bruinen sang in his ear and birds sang their songs. Nuwethion himself sang as he went and as he arrived near the courtyard he heard the heir Isildur raizing his voice above bird, river and leaf.

"Where are my Elves and Rangers?"

A few seconds later, men and elves came and reported to him. And as he was a few steps away from the yard, the sons of Elrond arrived.

"My dear friend," said Elrohir, "You should not rush Elves, not all of our people are as eager to wander as we are, and Men would stay in lovely Imladris until time ended, if it were allowed."

"Indeed they would. And even though some of the elves are eager to go, I for one was listening to the songs of trees and birds. Harsh was the sound that disturbed it, although the reason appolagizes for it. Be at ease. All will arrive at the apointed time. They promized remember?" Nuwethion said with a much-saying smile.

[The Perky Ent]

Almost instantly, ten people answered Arathorn's cry. Five elves and Five Rangers. "Finally, now, let us look upon our party. Elves, these are some of my most trusted rangers. Let's see here. Here is Hanindur and Beroth" Arathorn said as the men known as Hanindur and Beroth gave a small bow. And now, Eirian, Owacyn, and Paladir!" Arathorn said as three men stepped foward, gave a short bow, and stepped back. "Well, there's our men, now tell me twins, who are you bringing?"

"Ah yes." Elladan said as he looked around behind him, "This is Cerímb! But only, she isn't here due to her skill." "Yes. Here's the real warrior! My son!" Cerímb said, revealing a strong, able looking elf. "This is Eldín. He is strong, but there's a catch." Cerímb said with a sigh. "And that catch would be..." Arathorn said. "Well, he's a deaf mute. But just as strong as any other man. Fear not, for he will prove himself." "I'm sure he will, now, who are the others?"

This time it was Elrohir to took a step foward. "This is Angakemion. We like to call him Anga. And last but not least, Nuwethion!" Elrohir said, revealing each elf. Each and every person in the quartyard had a different reaction to each race. It wasn't exactly the best combination, but it would prove.

"Well, there are matters I must attend to with Elrond. Now, why do you men, and elves for that matter, get to know each other a little bit better!" as Arathorn left, the men began to sit down and talk.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Arathorn went to leave, and stepped away, to speak to the Lord Elrond. Hanindur looked around at those who were to be his companions. Five men, and five elves, himself included.

Hanindur sat down, much like he had sat earlier, beneath the wind-shook trees. And the day was fair and calm still, though a cloud shadowed over the sun, dimming the light a small bit. Shadows seemed to creep from beneath them, though Hanindur knew that it was but an illusion.

A slight wind rustled the branches, and the trees seemed to whisper in the wind; the day was a fine day, and a fine day to set out from Rivendell, the day was worthy of their leave-taking, though Imladris was a lovely place to be on such a fine day.

The clouds drifted apart, setting light once again over the whispering trees, and it's fair beauty seemed to make Rivendell look even fairer then before. The elven kind was lucky to be able to dwell within such a lovely location. It was not the fate of the Rangers to sit in one place for long.

Hanindur studied the faces of his fellow Rangers, Beroth he knew, for they were, as Arathorn had said, his most trusted Rangers. And by sight, he knew Paladir as well. The other two were not known to him, though there was a familiar feel to all the Rangers, as, in a manner, they were his kin.

The elves too, some he knew, others, not. Being that he had spent much time in Imladris, many of the elves were familiar to him, though not always did he know their names, as to their faces.

The others talked quietly, but Hanindur tended to be silent, a quieter person. So he sat on the green grass, and looked around at the others, burning their faces into his memory.

[Potatothan]

"Well, there are matters I must attend to with Elrond. Now, why do you men, and elves for that matter, get to know each other a little bit better!"

Nuwethion smiled at Arathorn's words. He sat himself down on a nearby bench. Hanindur was a bit apart from the rangers. He looked at him and Hanindur smiled.

"So, we are left here like youngsters when the adults are talking about the important matters and we must get to know each other and be friends. Like many of us aren't already that. How are you young master Hanindur?"Nuwethion asked the man.

"Well, as good as you can be in these times."Hanindur replied.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"So, we are left here like youngsters when the adults are talking about the important matters and we must get to know each other and be friends," said Nuwethion, with a fairly good point, in Hanindur's opinion. "Like many of us aren't already that. How are you young master Hanindur?" he asked, directing the question towards Hanindur.

It took Hanindur a moment to realize that Nuwethion was talking to him. "Well, as good as you can be in these times." he replied. Continuing, he went on: "But is it easy to be good in these times. They are hard upon us all, is that not it? There is always a darkness now." His voice was low, and dark; he spoke the thoughts of them all, for at times, every one of them had thought that very thing. There was always a shadow now.

The trees were obvilious to this fact, they rustled in the wind without any notice of the shadows that always seemed to creep up upon them. Though the day was fair, and the sunlight bright, and unshadowed, there was the seeeming of a shadow that was inevitable to escape. And Hanindur's words just made it seem even darker, though the light was still strong.

Seemingly, it was too hard for even him, a hardened Ranger, to think of, for that was surely was his mind was upon, for too long. "And what of you, master Nuwethion?" he asked, trying to bring a level of cheer to his voice, but failing in his attempt. "How are you fairing in these days of darkness?"

[Will Witfoot]

Not for the first time in his life, Eldín felt like he was all alone, cut off from the world. It would have made no difference had he been standing alone in a withered glade instead of this company of rangers and his kin. Without the presence of his mother, no light would have shone to mark his path.

He turned to her, studying the eyes which had the look of one who had recently wept. He felt a pang of quilt at the sight of his mother's sadness, and like so many times before he pondered if the quilt he felt at his parent's anguish was just. After his early childhood, not a tear had flown for himself. All his pity had been directed at his mother and father.
As if feeling her son's eyes upon herself, Cerímb turned her head to answer his gaze. Their eyes met and she smiled, a loving smile that sent all of Eldín's doubt back into the shadows.
Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around to see Elríng, his father, standing behind him. Eldín bowed to him.

Elríng studied his son with an expression of pride on his face. Born without hearing or the skill of speech, no-one had expected Eldín to ever ammount to naught other but a burden for other's. Yet here he was, a tall and able warrior, as worthy as any to face down any enemy. Elríng smiled and embraced his son. Releasing him, he spoke in the silent tongue he and his wife always used with Eldín.

'Hail, Eldín, my son! Tall have you grown and strong is your arm this day, the day you have long awaited. I am proud of you.'

[Potatothan]

"How are you fairing in these days of darkness?" Hanindur asked.

Nuwethion smiled at the man. His sharp glance went to a gaze for a few seconds and then he looked back at Hanindur.

"Well, I'm just what I have always been. Not troubled by the troubles of outside. How can anyone be sad when he dwells in the house of Elrond? No my friend, the evil must have indeed grown very big if it wants to trouble me."Nuwethion said with a wink.

His gaze went of the ranger and looked around at the trees who were wispering all the news they had found in their wize roots. His gaze went from the trees to the sky and Nuwethion's face got a bit grimmer.

"I wonder how long my mind will stay without trouble."He said to himself.

[bilbo_baggins]

"Well, there are matters I must attend to with Elrond. Now, why do you men, and elves for that matter, get to know each other a little bit better!" Arathorn then went to go talk to Lord Elrond. Some time would certainly pass before they would depart.

A while later, Anga saw the touching moment passing between father and son, wishing he could talk to the Elf. He looked like a good person to have as a friend, and a terrible one as an enemy.

Walking up to the pair, he quietly noticed the strange, fleeting expressions on the faces of them both. He noted several, and hoped to remember them so that he could perhaps talk to, what was his name again, Eldín, that was it. Hopefully, they could be friends, as he was a loner in his own right, as well.

Standing with an expression of interest and awe is sure to get you noticed sooner or later, and so it did. The father of Eldín glanced over and saw that Anga was watching them. He came over and talked.

"Hello," he said, "Have we met? I am Elríng, Eldín's father. Have you two met?"

"Hello," Anga replied, "And no, I have not had the pleasure of meeting you or your son yet. I would welcome the opportunity to, though."

As Elríng relayed the information, Anga watched the expression of happiness creep in on Eldín's face. He seemed pleased that someone would like to talk with him. Angakemion could have just burst with pleasure, he was so happy. He and Eldín were going to be friends.

[ArwenBaggins]

"Well, there are matters I must attend to with Elrond. Now, why do you men, and elves for that matter, get to know each other a little bit better!" Eirian grinned contently and found a nearby stone bench to sit on.

Everyone seemed very shy and nervous to begin conversation. Eirian was usually a very talkative man, but he was deep in thought as he had been often of late. I would bet that Arathorn and I are the only married men here…, He was going to call that bet, but in the current quiet state he decided not to- a very rare occurrence for the Dundain.

A brisk morning wind stirred in the trees and open courtyards, momentarily blotting out the scarce voices of his fellow companions. As he stood, Eirian noticed the Elf that was incapable of speech, Eldìn being slowly 'talked' to by another Elf that seemed to be his father. Suddenly, a obstreperous giggle was drifting below him. Turning at the odd noise, he saw little Evelyn standing with a bouquet of flowers near his feet.

"Papa, I wan'ed ta tell ya goodbye one more time, 'fore ya left. Mama told me ta come down here real quick so no one can 'nap me," utter stillness drifted over the men as they noticed the small black-haired girl still dressed in her nightgown. "I picked some flowers for everyone- Mama says dat 'day bring good luck an' happiness in travel. Can I pwease give'm ta all of your friends?" The girl's adorable pucker made it impossible to say no.

Eirian smiled and rubbed the small girl's head, taking her hand and leading her to each of the soldiers in turn. She smiled and said hello to everyone separately, giving them a small blue flower as a gift. As Eirian led her last to Arathorn, her pudgy chin dropped in awe. She blushed as Arathorn smiled back to her while accepting a large purple flower graciously. "Well, I love ya Papa. I hope all of ya come back real soon after killin' all dem baddies," She handed the final flower to Eirian, a daisy.

"Thank you Evelyn. Tell Mama that I will miss her dearly and that I love her. Goodbye, my daughter," the last sentence was drawn out as long as one breath would allow. The girl's bright gray eyes swelled with tears, but she fought them off proudly. Kissing his cheek when he kneeled, she sniffled and ran back toward their dwelling.

Hanindur smiled and said from behind Eirian: "You have a wonderful daughter," with that, the other man turned and continued to converse with someone unknown to Eirian. He watched his daughter disappear in the trees, his hand on the hilt of the large broadsword he called his own. The flower in his hand swayed in the breeze; his family was what he was fighting for.

[The Perky Ent]

A warm light brushed against Arathorn's eyes as he began to talk to Elrond. "Your sons seem ready. They have selected a good batch of warriors. It looked so good I might go so far to say there won't be a single orc left west of the Misty Mountains!" Arathorn said as he gave a smile. Elrond gave a thin grin. "Well, that is why we're here, isn't it?" Elrond said. There was a long silence. In the distance, Arathorn could hear the men talking.

"Well, I must ask that you see us off! It will be a strugle, so please make sure we leave with a bang. I've been talking to the residents, and they think a party is in order! May you grant us the privilage?" Arathorn said, giving a loving face. Elrond was silent, but after a moment gave a loud exhale and said, "Of course!"

[Saraphim]

Elrohir had been speaking softly with Elladan, before something struck his ears.

"A party," he said to his brother, and immediatly looked to his father and Arathorn, who were still talking.

Elrohir came up to them smiling. "Parties are not the best way to go about hunting the minions of evil. Or so it has been my opinion." he said, "But I am certainly willing to see if one can boost the energy and morale of our hunters."

Elrond and Arathorn smiled, and Arathorn said:

"Lord Elrond has graciously allowed us to have a small party, yes."

"Ah Ada, you are kind. I wish you would throw a celebration every time Elladan and I left. We might be hunting much more often!"

[astarielle]

Elladan smiled, for Elrond to allow even a small party was some feat! He gazed around the group assembled, many men united. The Elf was pleased, so many people from so many places yet all seem together somehow. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, just to make sure that it was still there.

In his heart Elladan was pleased, the strengths of men, coupled with that of the Elves would be an unbeatable force, a purge to all who are unfortunate to stand in their path. He wandered away from his brother into the huddle of men gathered there.

He saw one man, looking as though his mind was elsewhere, deep in thought. Elladan recalled his name as being Eirian. He walked softly up to the ranger, then nodded in polite greeting, "A star shines on the hour of our meeting, well met my friend". He said half in Elvish and half in the the tongue of men.

[Phervasaion]

Paladir watched as Arathorn walked of to talk with Elrond about the setting off of the journey. Paladir did not know how well this new adventure would go, whether it would be just another quest in the many Paladir had already had, or whether it would be his final battle in the growing darkness of middle-earth. Either way, the Ranger knew it would be one of the greatest he ever had.

Paladir looked up into the pale blue sky pondering these thoughts when suddenly he felt a light tug on his right arm. He looked down to see a small girl standing there with a beaming smile and a small blue flower in her hand.

“Hello sir,” she said in a shy manner. “I brought you a flower so you an the otha men have good luck on your adventure.” Paladir smiled and accepted the small flower with great happiness. The little girl walked off and Paladir held the flower up to his nose. He could tell the flower was from Rivendell as the scent was more beautiful than anything he had come across in the wild before and he felt that the refreshing scent had lifted his heart.

He looked back to see the girl with tears in her eyes while speaking to her father Eirian, whom he knew he had seen before. The little girl ran off and her father was left standing there, and he seemed to be proud of his daughter for what she had done.

Paladir walked of to Eirian and smiled. “Your child is extremely kind and giving,” he began. “To be honest, if I were you I would find it difficult to take leave of a family in such times. I admire your strength to do so.”

[Potatothan]

Nuwethion looked down at the small child that handed out the flowers to all the men and elves. He looked down as she offered him one. He bowed down to accept the flower. Then he bowed again, took the child at the sides of her head, and gave her a kiss on her forehead.

"Hanon le little one. My son is not yet as old as you are, but when he will reach your age, I hope he will have the same joy and happiness as you posses." Nuwethion said with a kind smile.

The little girl giggled shyly and went to the others to give them a flower. Eirian looked in Nuwethion's direction and gave the elf a meaningfull look. The little girl sobbed when she last spoke to her father. One of the men walked up to Eirian.

“Your child is extremely kind and giving,” he began. “To be honest, if I were you I would find it difficult to take leave of a family in such times. I admire your strength to do so.” Paladir said.

Nuwethion smiled in himself, but he also knew the grief that Eirian was experiencing. He had left many times, but now that his child was born, it was much more difficult. He also felt sorry for the other men who did not have children, for leaving the blessed realm of Rivendell was on itself extremely hard. Leaving behind famely and friends was even more difficult. He also felt sorry for Eirian. His daughter being blessed by all the men must have been his biggest wound so far. Nuwethion promised himself he would see Eirian return, even if it would mean leaving everything behind but his bones.

He was still looking at the flower and after studying it, he braided it in the braid next to his ear. It was good to have a bit of Rivendell with him. A bit of home.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn was standing distant from the group, he looked into the sky, searching for some trace in the heavens that might permit a favourable journey. Seeing none he scowled and turned away, walking back to The group. He turned to talk to Elladan. "Elladan, I've been scanning the skies. Nothing gives us good fortune. I have a bad feeling about this whole enterprise." Elladan laughed, "Don't be such a grumpy old bastard Owacyn. My father knows what he's doing. He wouldn't let us go if he'd seen something bad in store for us." A weak smile crossed Owacyn's face as he nodded. "I suppose you're right. I shouldn't be worrying so much, I'd just rather be sure." Elrohir nodded and interjected, "I agree with Owacyn, it would be better to have a clear mission. As it is we don't have the first clue how many uruks there are, or where they are." Elladan muttered something in quenya and walked off the the balcony.

Owacyn turned to see Elrond and Arathorn talking in hushed voices and a flicker of aprehension crossed his face. Perhaps Elrond had seen something and just hadn't told anyone. But that was crazy, he trusted Elrond more than anyone else and had great faith in his judgement. He looked over to the waterfall and saw Glorfindel riding his horse back. He smiled, he felt reassured that Glorfindel was here, after all he was a great fighter, if a little unreachable sometimes...

[Arvedui III]

Elrond, the last of his resolve falling away, finally abandoned his study to see what exactly Arathorn had planned. It was more or less a formality as the twins had already told him all he needed to hear; But he felt compelled to see the Dunedain, as they were taking his elves with on Arathorn's newest venture, and, he reminded himself painfully, every quest could be their last. He descended a set of stairs and walked slowly into the main garden, his eyes taking in sights already long memorized. However he found there was always extreme joy in walking among the greenery. It made him feel young again. At this, Elrond chuckled to him. I am getting old indeed. He shook his, consoling himself in the fact the Cirdan was probably twice as old as he. "I must see him again" He thought aloud, nodding politely to several passers-by with all the grace and severity of the lord of Imladris. Inside, however, Elrond was thinking of a rather unsavory night in Lindon that he had passed with the shipwright, wanting to forget about the matter entirely.

There were times when he wished the memory of the Eldar was not so keen.

Elrond smiled as he came upon Arathorn and his rangers gathered around him. He looks a little like Elros sometimes. The beard, perhaps. Eru only knows he would never let me forget he could grow one. Stroking his own smooth chin as he greeted the Dunedain, Elrond's smile only widened as he talked with Arathorn. The man was always eager for anything, it seemed. Certainly, if the residents thought he deserved a party, it was the least he could do. Elrond's mind began eagerly taking to the proposal, working it around his brain, ideas and tasks flashing before him that he barely had time to acknowledge. And striding back into his home, Elrond hurried to begin the first of them.
-------------
To his mind, the work had gone off well. Elrond stood looking around the Hall of Fire, his back resting comfortably against the southern wall, waiting for Elladan to herd the Dunedain and the elves going with him into the hall. A veritable sensory of good smells and colorful foods lay spread on the tables in front of him, the warm crackling of fires adding to the lull of the water that flowed through Rivendell. When the troop of elves and rangers entered, it was to his extreme pleasure that their collective jaw seemed to drop open in surprise.

Obviously, they had most the like been expecting just a simple meal laid out before them, and not the long dining tables, good chairs and silverware, candles, servants to procure more food should they desire, and many elves of Imladris dressed in their finest robes to bid farewell to the Dunedain. Elrond warmly gestured them all to sit down at the main table and took his place at the head. The honorary party still showed naught but surprise as they sat; And Elrond detected something that disturbed him in their expressions, but pushed it aside. The many elves gathered at side tables while Elladan, Elrohir, Arathorn and the rest of the hunting party just look and him in disbelief. A silence fell, and Elrond cleared his throat, saying, "I have only two words that would carry any meaning with you all tonight, so I will leave all others aside. Eat well!" There was an appreciative chuckle and most started to doll food onto their plates. A few of the rangers still hesitated, though, and so Elrond called for some of their crude ale to put them at ease.

He would greatly regret it.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Sudden shock hit Hanindur like a knife. Lord Elrond was hosting a party?! Well, that was a shock to him, as he had been expecting no more than a simple meal before they set out, not a feast! It must've been Lord Arathorn's idea, he thought, knowing well enough that Elrond was not the type to host a party, and certainly not for such a simple time as this. There was no reasoning for the feast, but Hanindur was not going to be the one to complain. He was the first to appreciate a good meal any day.

"I have only two words that would carry any meaning with you all tonight," said Elrond, clearing his throat to catch the attention of the shocked, and deeply un-at-ease Rangers, "so I will leave all others aside. Eat well!"

Hanindur was, indeed, appreciative of the order, as was shown by his low chuckle. Though he was still wary about the whole idea, he began to eat willingly enough. Food took his mind off of the troubles of the world around him, though a mug of ale would've done just that as well. It was a pleasant enough surprise, nonetheless. The wind whistled in the trees outside of the House of Elrond, but within, all was merry, though the faint howling was audible through the stone walls.

Hanindur stroked his chin thoughtfully when Elrond choose to call for ale to be served out. This was completely unlike the elven lord, but Hanindur did not mind one bit. No, not one bit at all.

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth was elated to find that Lord Elrond was putting on a party in honour of their quest. He stepped into the Hall of Fire and his breath was taken away by the beautiful decorations, silverware and food. He was filled with a sense of anxiety and nervousness, feeling too rough and unclean for such gorgeous surroundings. Elrond bid them sit at a long table covered in plates of delicious-looking and -smelling foods. He then said, "I have only two words that would carry any meaning with you all tonight, so I will leave all others aside. Eat well!"

Beroth chuckled, feeling all nervousness wash away, and reached for a platter heaped with slices of thick bread. Taking a bite of one, he realized that it was the best bread he had ever eaten. He hungrily devoured the rest of the slice and reached for another. While he was eating, he heard Elrond call for some crude ale. A wide grin spread across his face as Elven servant appeared with tankards of ale. He gratefully accepted his and silently toasted Elrond before draining it dry.

The ale coursed down his throat and settled in his stomach, filling it with a kind of happy warmth. Beroth smiled, feeling his cares disappear, and thought what a kind and generous man - er, Elf - Elrond was.

[The Perky Ent]

A large amound of food plummited down Arathorn's throat. Seven different meals were on Arathorn's plate as he guzzled down some ale began to laugh. Although it was just a dinner, the participants were cheery. Arathorn watched as several of the men gorged down their food. The elves, although posessing better manners, quickly ate as much as the men.

As Arathorn stuffed a large piece of meat into his mouth, Elrond stood up. He had much poise as he got up and, as it seamed, glided over to a group of elves. The group moved foward, with their hands behind their back. As they moved in, Elladan gave a great laugh. "Now this is a real treat!" he said as the elves revealed instruments. They were a band. Elrond waited for silence, and when there was, he noded.

At once, an uproar of music came across the table as the party watched their entertainment. One of the elves were even singing. It was a soft melody, although a fast tempo. As Arathorn listened to the music, he began drinking more and more ale. But not just Arathorn. All the men began drinking, as if hypnotized by the music. As a fiddle began to play, Arathorn began to clap to the rhythm.

Arathorn, being consumed by the music and the ale, got up and began clapping. When the elf started singing again, Arathorn started to sway. Observing Arathorn with confusion, Elrond looked up at Arathorn. He was puzzled why he was stopping this nice dinner of his. After a minute of clapping, Arathorn had another drink, and then began to dance.

As he danced, the other men watched. Some of them even clapped. It went on and on and on, until Arathorn went to one of the elves, and asked curtiously, if she wanted to dance. "I promise i'm not a bad dancer. I just want to put more fun in the party." Arathorn said. The elf maiden looked at him, and then at another at her side, and then got up. "Ok, I'll dance." She said as he began to dance with Arathorn.

After a breif time of dancing, Beroth, also being consumed by ale, got up, and asked an elf maiden to dance. Now there were to people dansing, which Elrond did not like. Elrond forseed the night wouldn't end the way he planned it!

[ArwenBaggins]

Eirian took a deep drink of his ale, washing the glorious tasting food down his throat. The prospect of Lord Elrond throwing a party baffled him, but he decided not to ruin a good thing.

The music started to pick up, so Eirian he stood and rounded the table. A few Elf-maidens were standing or sitting i na few various places in the room; he laughed heartfully and approached one, telling himself that he was just dancing with her for fun. "May I have this dance m'lady?" he asked in a false-snoddy tone, making the beautiful woman giggle. She took his hand and Eirian led her onto the floor.

While not completely drunk, Eirian was a little full of the beer. He danced happily with the woman, every once and a while switching partners with another one of the Men. He saw Lord Elrond sitting with another group of Elves in one corner, talking solemnly with a grim look on his face. He knew this wasn't what Elrond had originally planned.

[astarielle]

Elladan chuckled to himself, not thinking much of the rangers' dancing. He thought he could do much better himself. So, he turned to Lord Elrond and inclined his head in the direction of the dancers asking for permission. Lord Elrond gave a slight nod and at once a grin appeared over Elladan's face. He took one more gulp of ale, stood up proudly and walked over to the group of Elves.

He bowed politely to a fair-haired elf in a blue shimmering dress. Then extended his hand and asked her to dance, “Would you do me a great honour and join me in this dance?” The question needed no answer as the maiden took his hand and he led her to a space in the hall.

They moved as if the music was made by them, spinning away to returning once more. Their feet barely touched the ground and not once did their gaze’s part. The dance was more akin to that of birds, gliding and soaring were the air would take them. As the music stopped, the pair came gracefully to the end of their enchanting dance. He bowed once more, a smile on his face. Elladan turned to his brother almost inciting him to do better, then to his father looking for that recognition of achievement.

“No eagle could have been more graceful than you fair maiden, I thank thee once more.” Said Elladan as the pair smiled and parted. Elladan resumed his place at the table.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir watched the rangers and soon the elves stand and invite nearly every elf-maiden in the hall to accompany them to the music. Even his brother was caught up in the revelry, a rarity indeed, and was soon in the middle of the floor, slashing down the dance floor with a beutiful elven girl.

The song stopped and Elladan met his eyes, with an unspoken challenge in his smile.

It was: Go ahead, dear brother. Best me, if you can.

Elrohir smiled and drained his flagon of the odd tasting mannish ale. He knew what the challenge was simply because, had the positions been reversed, he would have issued the same one.

The problem was that the elf-maidens who had not already danced were in short supply. Elrohir scanned the hall and settled on a rather young one in a yellow dress.

She blushed as he came up to her and bowed.

"My lady," He said, smiling his best charming smile, "I am afraid that my asking you to dance has rather a selfish tryst in it. You see, my brother over there..." He gestured to his double, who was sitting at the table laughing with a group of rangers and elves. "...has set a rather high standard for me. It is my challenge, dear lady, to defeat him in a test of dancing. And to do that requires a strong, suitable partner. Will you help this poor elf defeat his brother in a petty game of footwork?"

The elf-maiden smiled and took his outstreched hand. "I would be honored, my Lord,"

A new song began as the pair stepped onto the dance floor. It was a spirited song, full of exuberance that enlivened Elrohir's heart and set his feet into motion. The elf-maiden was just as good a dancer as he, and soon the two felt as if they were the only ones in the room, with the music watching over.

Elrohir almost thought that he had grown wings on his feet, and his partner as well, she seemed to glide across the floor and responded to his every movement with a likewise beutiful one of her own. He twirled her and she looked like a flower, her gown flowing around her.

The song ended and the two bowed gracefully.

"My lady,"said Elrohir, "I must say that you are the best dancer I have met in a long time."

"Thank you, my Lord. And you are the best dancer I have ever met."

"Well," Elrohir replied, leading her back to her friends, "You are quite young. You will meet better dancers than I in your long life," he bowed again, "Thank you, my lady."

He turned and met his brothers eyes, with a challenge in his smile as he headed back to the table.

Best that, dear brother.

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth twirled about clumsily with the beautiful Elf-maiden in his arms. The song ended and he bowed, nearly falling over. "Thank you, m'lady, for that lovely dance," he hiccuped, straightening and smiling what he thought was a charming smile.

The Elf giggled, placing her hand over her mouth, and curtsied gracefully, saying in a soft voice, "You are most welcome, Ranger." She then turned about and went back to her seat. Beroth smiled and turned around, stumbling back to his place. Not wishing to fall on the floor, he sat down carefully. When he had accomplished this feat, he looked around and saw that other Rangers had begun to dance, and that most of them were completely consumed by the ale as well. Beroth sighed, leaning back in his comfortable chair, and grabbed a piece of bread from the table to eat. He nibbled on it as he watched the dancers twirl and fly around the room. The Elves moved with a beautiful grace that was wondrous to the eyes, and the Rangers...well, you couldn't say the same for the Rangers.

Beroth finished his bread and got up quickly, which was a bad choice. He reeled and almost tripped over his own chair before he gained control of his body. He wobbled across the hall to a lovely young Elf-maiden and bowed, saying, "Pardon me, miss, but may I have this dance?"

Although he lacked coordination, none of Beroth's pleasantness had been affected by the ale, and the maiden smiled and accepted his invitation. Sweeping her onto the dance floor, Beroth felt that he was on the top of the world.

[astarielle]

Elladan watched Elrohir dancing, focusing only on them the rest of the room was a mere blur. Elrohir was certainly profficient to say the least, he demanded admiration. But, thought Elladan, so do I. He smiled to himself. This ever ongoing battle to better the other had been going on since they were young, from climbing trees to mastering the sword. As the years went by the brothers accepted that somethings they were better at and some weaker. Yet dancing was not one of them.

He walked up to his brother and slapped him on the back, "You dance well brother, how about a contest - you versus I and.....the rangers can decide who wins?" He miled to himself and knew that Elrohir would accept the challenge.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur was quite hungry, so, even when the others got up to dance, for quite a while he found himself sitting still, and eating. The food served in Imladris was quite good, he knew that for a fact. And he was rather tired anyhow, not feeling up to dancing with the light-footed elf-maidens drawn by the music. He watched as some of the others stood up, and danced with the elves drawn nearby, and had to force himself to stop laughing at the grim expression on Lord Elrond's face. Hanindur knew that he was slightly drunk then, for there was no reason to be giggling like a young child.

That ale was a bad idea, he decided, forcing himself to his feet, only to stumble right back down, and fall into his seat. Not good.

He gave up trying to stand up, and went back to eating. At least with the slight dizziness brought on by the ale, that was one thing that he could do easily enough, and not have anything to worry about. Shrugging, he picked up his knife, and went back to his food, trying to keep his vision straight. He never had had a good head for beer or ales of any sort. "I think I'm going to regret this," he said under his breath, trying his best to keep his mind focused, and not fall under the influence of the beer.

[Saraphim]

"Elladan," said Elrohir, "You know me all too well. I cannot deny a challenge of any sort, especially when it comes to something I am obviously so much more gifted at."

This remark fulfilled it's purpose of goading Elladan, who bristled. Some of the elves and rangers around them tensed, expecting the twins to begin a fight. But Elrond and Arathorn knew them too well, and, although Elrond was not thrilled at the prospect of his sons having yet another competition, both agreed.

The musicians, hearing of the oncoming duel, seemed to play with a new energy, and Elrohir had found his partner, the same elven-maiden who had so enchanted him with her dancing abilities before.

Instead of moving onto the nearly empty dance floor, Elrohir bowed to his brother.

"As I and my beautiful partner here have so recently had a turn, it is only fair that you should be given a half a chance to show me up. As if a head start would help you win over me, that is."

Elladan smiled. "We will certainly see, dear twin."

[astarielle]

Elladan smiled. "We will certainly see, dear twin."

He thought to himsel for a second. "I was thinking brother, too make the contest truly fair, shouldn't we both dance with the same maiden?" Although this was being presumptious on behalf of the maiden, thinking that she would agree to this though she would be well within her rights to refuse, he asked anyway.

"If that is your decision brother, then I am inclined to uphold your wish. However, I would like to ask the opinion of this fine Lady on the matter."

"As you wish Elrohir. To be noble surely the Lady should have a rest first?"

Elladan returned to his seat briefly, and took another gulp of ale and waited for his brother to join him.

[Phervasaion]

Paladir sat down at the long table with the other Rangers and admired the beautiful patterns upon the table cloth and plates. He then glanced at all the food and his eyes widened. The quantity and quality of the Elven food seemed to be the most excellent that he had seen, or tasted for that matter, in a long time. All the Rangers ate and drank until their hearts were content, and Paladir was thoroughly enjoying himself.

After a while, Paladir looked up to see that a lot of the Rangers were beginning to dance. They’ve had too much ale, he thought to himself. Paladir looked across the table and saw Hanindur climbing out of his seat, only then to fall back into it again. Paladir let out a loud laugh and Hanindur turned and looked.

“I’d like to see if you could stand with no trouble from the ale, Paladir my friend,” he said with a slight smile on his face.

Paladir rose from his seat with a confident expression on his face, and as soon as he stood he tripped over the leg of the chair and fell flat on his face. He landed with a thud and half the people in the room turned and looked. Arathorn and the others laughed as he climbed to his feet again, and he gave Hanindur a look as if to say to say, okay you were right.

Paladir could now see everyone in the room, and he noticed a fair Elven maiden in the corner sniggering at him. He walked towards to her, this time without tripping over and being the laughing stock of the party.

“Care for a dance, milady,” he said to her in a low, not so confident tone.

The Elven maiden sniggered again. “Only if you don’t trip over my feet,” she replied. Paladir stuttered slightly. “Well…err… I did that on purpose, so… err… Hanindur over there wouldn’t feel left out,” he said as he led her to the dance floor.

[Will Witfoot]

Eldín dug into the food with a will, but drank only little of the served beverages. He had never understood the attraction of alcohol, and drinking it couldn't help him loosen his tongue and poring over his cares with a faithful friend.
He glanced up from his plate and saw men and elves on the dance floor. This was more to his taste. Although he couldn't hear, Eldín was accounted an excellent dancer, even by elvish standards. No-one knew how this could be, save Eldín himself. He simply felt the swirl and flow of the music, relying it for guidance.

He rose from his seat and made his way to the dance floor. Most of the others were dancing with a partner, one of the fair maidens of Rivendell. Eldín approached none of the ladies, prefering to dance alone, as he always did.
Slowly at first, he begun to dance to the unheard tune. Faster and faster he danced, lithe as a moth in the night and beautiful to watch. He could not hear the tune, could not take joy from the sweetness of the music being played, but took comfort in the swirl of the dance.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn had remained sedate for the party, quite content to sit and watch others enjoying themselves. He had drunk a reasnable amount of ale, and his vision was starting to swim slightly. He reclined on his chair and looked at the party going on around him. Smiling, he permitted his eyes to droop, and close.

He was running across Pelennor, closing on Minas Tirith. He was smiling, and he could see his wife holding his child up on the battlements. He ran harder, straining to see if it were a boy or a girl. He got ever closer, and he could nearly pick out the face of his child, but he tripped, falling, the floor opened up to swallow him and he was falling, crying out.

He woke with a jolt, receiving concerned glances from all over the table. He breathed heavily before muttering "I'm alright...just a dream".

[bilbo_baggins]

Silently brooding, Anga watched the other elves and rangers partying, drinking, and carousing until several couldn't take it anymore, and dropped off into sleep. Why had they held a party? It seemed slightly foreboding to party and celebrate when they needed to be at their best for the immediate future. They were going to battle, and Elrond decides to party? Strange, yet not that strange. Elrond Peredhil had been claimed to be foresighted. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a purpose to this party, one that did not quite meet the eye.

His fellows, companions they were. One and all, good men; or elves, for that matter. Anga smiled at the little twist of language humor. In his own tongue of course, they were Eldar. The same word, (or nearly) in the westron meant that they were older. How humorous. They were always older than most humans.

Still smiling and shaking his head slightly, Anga was met by one of his companions. One of the rangers. He did not quite remember his name, but time would bind them all to a fellowship of orc-hunters. He could feel it.

"Are you having fun? Aye, it's a good party. The drink is amazing. How do you make it?" he asked.

"That I cannot tell you, Ranger. 'Tis Rivendell's secret, or one of them for that matter." Anga replied.

Having some of it himself, Anga slowly walked through the party, taking it all in. He was getting extremely anxious, and hoped to go to battle soon.

[The Perky Ent]

As Arathorn finished his dancing, Elrond came up to him. The other men and elves were all dancing and having a great time. Arathorn had single-handedly turned the dinner into a full party. As Elrond finally reached Arathorn, he was speechless. Finally, his brow tightened as he said, "A hótule asinye i meneltannar tirien. Come outside and look at the stars with me! I need to speak to you alone! ” Arathorn’s jolly face froze as he slowly walked out from his party. Far away from the party, where it could barely be heard, Elrond began to sigh.


“It was all my fault. I should have expected this.” Elrond said as he closed his eyes to meditate. “Yes. It is obvious. I, of course, don’t blame you or your men. No one is to blame.” Elrond said. “Is there a problem Lord Elrond? I was not aware of a problem at the party.” Arathorn said, trying to comprehend what he did wrong. “Well, truth be told, I didn’t expect any dancing!” Elrond said, giving a small chuckle. “Oh! So that’s it! Well, I’m terrible sorry! Should I stop the party?” Arathorn said, feeling very bad about himself. “No! Please don’t! Let the men have their fun!” Elrond said. The night sky shined brightly as Arathorn took a seat on a bench. In looking at the stars, Arathorn felt like the world was on his side. He gave a great sigh as he spent many hours wondering the mysteries of space. After a while, Arathorn realized the party was over. Giving a great yawn, Arathorn left for his room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, Arathorn found trouble waking up. Although the fresh air from the night before helped, he was finding trouble curing his mild hangover. As he got dressed, ready for departure, he found trouble putting on his cloths. He was rather fond of Imladris, and hated leaving it. It felt like the cold chill of winter. As he walked into the courtyard before the gate of Rivendell, he could feel the chill glide through his body. As the men and elves gathered around, Elrond walked up to then in fine green clothing. “Tenn’ enomentielva! Namárie! Until we meet again. Goodbye.” Elrond said, giving a small wave. Arathorn, with Elladan and Elrohir at his side, began to take the first steps of their quest. It had begun.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn was already awake hours before...truth be told he had barely slept. He was sitting high in the trees around Rivendell. He saw Arathorn riding up to the gates and dropped from the trees, mounting up himself, he got there to hear Elrond's farewell and smiled. At least Elrond hadn't seen anything bad in this venture...He rode up beside Arathorn and looked over at him, Arathorn smiled, "Already pessemistic, Owacyn?". Owacyn muttered "Not yet, but I'm sure I will be soon.", "It would be strange if you were optimistic." Arathorn shot back. "Mmm..."

Owacyn was still shaken by the dream, although it didn't mean much on the surface he was certain that it meant something...he sighed and looked back at the band and dropped back to talk to the twins.
"Elladan...I really think this could go wrong..."
"Already, Owacyn? By the stars, you're speeding up with age." Owacyn sighed deeply. "I know, but there's something that just doesn't feel right...we have no clue how many orcs there are or anything..."
"Elladan's right, Owacyn," chuckled Elrohir, "You really are getting faster to see the bad in situations."
...

[Saraphim]

The morning light made Imladris look as though it was bathed in a blue light, giving it an unearthly appearance.

Elrohir stood against the wall in the main courtyard, sharpening a knife and waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.

Elladan came down the steps with a freshly replenshed quiver.

"Good morning, dear brother," said Elrohir. Did you sleep well after getting the beating of your dancing life last night?"

Elladan smiled. "I slept very well, considering that I was the one doing the beating."

Thier bickering lasted until nearly the entire group had assembled.

Then, one of the other elves, Owacyn, approached them.

"Elladan...I really think this could go wrong..." he said nervously.

Both the twins smiled, and Elladan said, "Already, Owacyn? By the stars, you're speeding up with age."

Owacyn sighed, and said: "I know, but there's something that just doesn't feel right...we have no clue how many orcs there are or anything..."

"Elladan's right, Owacyn," Elrohir interrupted, laughing consolingly, "You really are getting faster to see the bad in situations." he continued: "We may not have our father's foresight, but we can see when we have a strong company."

[Eowyn Skywalker]

They were on the road now. Hanindur took one last glance back at Rivendell, before hurrying to catch up to the others, the morning light giving the hidden valley a fair appearance, glistening in the sunlight. A magic look, one would almost say, for the golden glisten was almost mystical. He always did find morning a wonderful time, the newly awoke light bathing the area in a golden glow, and the trees with orange and red highlights, and, even earlier, a blue gow like that of the moon. It seemed nearly unearthly, and quite fair to behold, and he wanted to take one last look before they were on their way again.

He was quick to catch up, as that last look had taken only a few moments, to capture the beauty of the valley in his mind. And they were walking again. The road was familiar to him, as Hanindur was known to frequent Rivendell, though wandering was his call. So oft had he taken that road, and he knew it well.

After the party the night before, Hanindur found that his head was spinning slightly, and he didn't feel as steady as he should've been, but, other then that, he was fine, and able to enjoy being on the road once more. It had been a long enough stay in Imladris, it was high time for him to be back to the forests, and hidden pathes of Middle-earth. He was not sure where he would go after they were back. Maybe to Bree, he thought. I have not been there in a while.

Something tugged at the back of his mind, as he heard Owacyn comment that they didn't know how many orcs there were, and that something could go wrong. And Hanindur realized with a start that he was right. He had been on many journeys of the like, and they never had known what to expect, but nothing had ever really gone too wrong. Maybe this time something would. Suddenly, he had a bad feeling about the entire thing.

"Agh." Hanindur scoffed. "What could go wrong?"

[astarielle]

Elladan was quietly contemplating to himself, watching the birds fly overhead that were blissfully unaware of what was going on down on the ground. The group was solemn, unlike what they were last night. Then, there was not one person where, at least once during the evening, a smile did not appear on their face. He heard a ranger talking behind him, "Argh. What could go wrong"

He truned and smiled, "Everything that is possible could go wrong yet in the same way nothing. For not all that is bad is disasterous, quite the contrary -for somtimes what may seem wrong may in its time come out for the better. We may not see it, or chose not to but it is there and will always be." Said Elladan matter of factly.

Hanindur shrugged and said, "I suppose you're right, you are blessed with much wisdom."

"Even so we all posses the ability to see the good in the bad, the right in the wrong and the love in hate." As he said this Elladan caught his brothers eye and laughed breaking the near silence that the group had been marching in so far.

A number of members of the party turned and looked disdainfully at him, at which Elladan coughed and walked on with his head bowed.

[Potatothan]

Nuwethion listened to the words of Elrond's son and he knew them also. Like his brother they twins never spoke of doom or distress, just truth. It was nice to know that the two could be serious when needed, for they always were a bit of rascals. Nuwethion walked up to Hanindur and laughed with Elladan. He was caught up in thought for a second that he didn't notice the silence that was creeping upon the group. He patted the ranger on his shoulder and gave him a smile.

"Everything wrong has a right indeed. But don't you worry about that. How many there are nobody knows. It is not important to me anyway. We are large enough to defeat them. Else Lord Elrond would have send a bigger party. As for me, I only count the orc bodies afterwards. That is much more important." He said with a wink.

"So you count your friends afterwards too?"Hanindur said.

"I don't count my friends. Everybody is responcible for their own actions. Not that I don't care about them, nor that I don't assist when needed." Nuwethion answered.

Nuwethion walked on trough the terrain surounding the hidden valley. The silence was still around them and it was getting on his mind. As a responce to it, Nuwetion broke out in chanting for he was always eager to sing and an audience. And so he chanted on as he went.

[Mad Baggins]

As Beroth walked, his last sight of Rivendell resonated through his head. The early sun had bathed everything in a soft, warm light. Thinking of the beautiful sanctuary that now lay behind him made him slightly dread the long march ahead, not to mention the unavoidable battles with Orcs.

His head was throbbing slightly from the night before, and he only remembered a few scraps of what had happened. There had been dancing, and ale, lots of ale. He also remembered an elf-maiden that he had danced with, but that was about it. He could think of nothing more.

He grimaced shortly when he heard someone, it sounded like Owacyn, say that they did not know how many Orcs there would be. Others behind him started talking, but he could not make out their words. He heard Nuwethion say, "...don't assist when needed." Soon after, he broke out into song. Beroth smiled as the melody lifted his heart and spirits. He looked up into the sky and noticed a flock of birds wheeling up into the endless blue.

Beroth closed his eyes, breathing deep the sweet scent of morning dew, and continued on.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

So do you count your friends afterwards too? The words still rang in Hanindur's mind, and he knew them all too well to be true. Indeed, he tried to act like nothing could go wrong, but still, there was everything that could go wrong. It was true, as well, Elladan was wise in such matters. Hanindur agreed quite well with what the elf had said. But still, there was always the chance that something would go very wrong... very wrong. And they were long overdue for something to go wrong.

He tried to keep up the pretense that nothing would go wrong, but in his hearth, he knew all too well that something could, and would go wrong. And there we have it, he thought with a slight laugh. I'm back to thinking the worst in everything. If there were many orcs, they would've sent a larger party, right?

Hanindur shook the sudden dread from his mind. They still had no way of knowing how many orcs there were, and what would happen. And that feeling was not pleasant in the least. Not to mention the lightheaded feeling from too much ale the night before, but that would wear off soon. In the meantime though, all Hanindur's thoughts were dark, and full of shadows. And Nuwethion's words did not help the darkness within him, though the sing was indeed lightening to the mood that covered many of them now.

But to leave Rivendell to face inevitable battles, and possible loss to friends was not a fair thing to think of.

The trees whispered softly, and the wind was gentle, as they had no fear of what could happen, trees could be cut down, and mountains would stand in the way of the wind, but still, the trees could not count the loss of friends, and the wind would continue to blow, no matter what stood in their way.

Everything was bathed in warm sunlight, and the plesant scent of the morning dew, but Hanindur walked in a silence, and a shadow, oblivious to the peace of the area, as his thoughts dwelled in foreboding and darkness... who knew what was to come?

[Saraphim]

Despite the revelry of the night before, the spirits of the elves and men had dropped well below Elrohir's tolerance level. All were talking in hushed voices of certain doom.

"This simply will not do," said Elrohir loudly, causeing everyone to look aroound at the disturbance. he stepped to the front of the group.

"Listen to me, my comrades. This talk cannot go on. It will bring us down to cowardace and shame, two things that do not belong in a battle party," the elvesa and rangers looked around at each other, surprised at Elrohir's speech.

He continued, "My lords, If it is woven into our fates to perish this day, then so it shall be. No words or actions will prevent it. But shall we march into battle singing the praises of doom? Or will we fight to the tune of life, and love of those we would protect and serve?"

Those gathered were now utterly silent, listening to the elf's words.

"If it one thing I cannot abide, it is sadness without a cause," said Elrohir quietly. Then, louder, "If at the end of this mission, our friends lie dead, we may feel anguish and pain. But not until! No, my comrades. Do not let the fear of death hinder your courage. Without that, we are certainly doomed."
Elrohir finshed, eyes aflame, and waited to hear what they would say.

[bilbo_baggins]

Hearing Elrohir's speech lifted Anga's spirits beyond the glum that had settled on all, a premonition not easily rid of. But, as he had said, it was not the time nor place for such behavior. He felt a little ashamed of himself and hoped he would be worthy of forgiveness.

Continueing to walk, Anga thought things through. He had to make some connection with another of the party, or he would be rather lonely. Of course, he had always been a loner, hadn't he? No, Anga thought viciously, don't think those things! But the evil personification of his doubts did not relent. You are nothing, it continued, nothing but a worthless lump of flesh. Even the gift of immortality is wasted on such as you. Why do you not cease to exist? It would be so much simpler. The voice droned on, and for once in his life, Angakemion had no-one to turn to.

With sweat breaking on his brow, he tried to plod ahead. Gazing at the passing scenery stilled his thoughts. The wind in the trees, blowing gently. The same cool zephyr passing through their company, sweetly refreshing them.

The promise of a fight also helped him. He mentally went through a half-dozen exercises he would practise tonight. Sharpening his skills, every movement at a time. He hoped that by the time they reached orcs, he would be more than ready to face them.

[The Perky Ent]

As the men and elves left Rivendell, Arathorn kept a steady pace in front of everyone. As he walked, Arathorn realized just how green Imladris was. Everywhere he looked, trees, flowers, and shrubs. It truly was, in Arathorn’s opinion, a blessed land. It was a pearl in a dead clam, Arathorn thought. “Arnor is in ruins, the Angle isn’t exactly a palace, and Bree is a insult to my fathers great work. Lindon is empty and The Shire is a secluded mystery. The West is in a decline.” Arathorn said, although everyone was either too far behind or arguing to hear him. Giving a sigh, Arathorn continued his walk.

After a considerable time of walking, Elrohir ran up to Arathorn with great energy. “So Arathorn, we are to walk the East Road until we see orcs? It doesn’t seem promising! Thought we haven’t done this in a while, my bow, along with my brother’s, haven’t be gathering dust all this time.” Elrohir said, as he loaded his bow and fired it into the air. All the men and elves noticed at once, but didn’t see that Elrohir fired it.

At once, Elladan ran up with his bow drawn. “Where are they? I wish to use my bow before the day is out!” Elladan said, eyes darting around. Angakemion, along with Hanidur, came right after Elladan, swords clasped. “Put away your swords men. There is no orcs. Elrohir was just…uh…demonstrating his skill. Yes…um…I bet that he couldn’t land an arrow in that tree over there,” Arathorn said, pointing to a tree far away. “And he did, so…now he’s won the bet!” Arathorn said, giving Elrohir a piece of gold. Elrohir was blushing. Arathorn was a great man, he thought. “He just saved your hide Elrohir, pay him back!” Elrohir thought, trying to quickly improvise. “Yes, I won. However…uh…my arrow bounced off in the wind. So, Arathorn deserves his money back!” Elrohir said, giving the gold back.

After Elrohir’s embarrassing incident, the party was quite for a while. Slowly, the bright red sun became level with the horizon. Then, as the sun began to set, and the moon began to rise, Eldín started making uproar. “What is it Eldín?” Elladan said, wondering why he was making a commotion. At once, Eldín pointed a pale finger out into the horizon. “I see nothing!” Arathorn said, tightening his eyes. “Nor can I! Elf, what is it you see” Hanindur said. Suddenly, Elladan and Elrohir gave a great laugh. “The Trollshaws! Our first landmark!” Elladan said, running off. The others quickly followed.

As the last light of the sun slowly dimmed, Arathorn reached the Trollshaws. Finally, they would get to the hunt. Before the trees, Arathorn stopped the men and elves for a speech. “Now listen!” Arathorn said with a stern face. “We are here to hunt orcs! Let us not be tormented with trolls. They aren’t exactly flowers in the meadow. Let us be cautious!” And as soon as Arathorn had said those words, and arrow flew past his head. And in the darkness behind the trees, he could see illuminated eyes. Orcs. At once, Arathorn ran into the forest, sword drawn. Almost instantly, the others followed. As they ran through the forest, over mud and branches, Arathorn suddenly realized he couldn’t find the orcs. “Where are you?” Arathorn said, sword waiting to strike. To the right of him, he could hear a stomping sound. Then a crunching sound, and silence. As Arathorn followed the sounds, he came into a clearing. He had found the orcs. They were dead. “We are too late! They have been taken!” Owacyn shouted. “What was their cause of death?” Paladir asked, as he and the rest moved into the center of the clearing where the orcs lay. “It seems,” Elrohir said, “that they were beat to death.” Arathorn gave a curious look over his shoulder. “But that means…” And as Arathorn turned around, he saw a ring of trolls surround the men.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir was surprisingly unruffled, given his situation. Underneath his tactical, battle-ready mind, he knew that after the battle had ended, he would replay it in his mind, and remember how many times he came to within a breath of dying.

But it was with eerie calm that Elrohir loaded his bow and shot, the arrow hitting its mark in the eye of one of the trolls.

Another arrow went through the other eye, felling the beast, and creating a opening point to escape from the ring of approaching trolls. That one came from Elladan, who nodded to Elrohir.

He knew what to do. Swift as he could manage, Elrohir had used the fallen troll to give him a boost up to a tree, where he used his vantage point to shoot arrow after arrow, aiding the elves and rangers. In a matter of moments, more of his comrades were with him shooting from the canopy.

Then, the moment came. Elrohir reached into the quiver at his waist, only to find it empty.

A wave of fear washed over him, but was abated when he saw Elladan below him, battling for his life with a great brute of a troll. Drawing his sword from his back sheath, he leapt down from the tree, and used the momentum to aid in his swing, slicing the great head from its putrid neck.

Elrohir landed kneeling on the troll's back, sword still in the follow-through position. Elladan helped him from his knees, thanking him.

"But there is no time for words, brother," said Elladan quickly, "Our friends are still deep in the fray!"

[Mad Baggins]

"Trolls!" shouted Beroth, feeling his heart leap into his throat. He drew an arrow from his quiver, fitting it to his bowstring, and let it fly. The arrow found its target, the soft neck-flesh of one of the trolls. Beroth smiled grimly and shot another arrow, this one lodging itself in the eye of a troll. He shot arrow after arrow, nearly all of them hitting their mark. When he found his quiver empty, he smoothly put away his bow, not letting his fear show to the others. He unsheathed his great sword and charged at a troll, dodging the others' arrows and swords.

"You have met your doom at last, foul creature!" he cried, leaping and swinging his sword. He thrusted upward quickly and stabbed through the creature's neck, felling it. As it dropped, Beroth narrowly missed being crushed by its massive weight. Sprinting away, he picked out another troll and descended upon it, piercing its foot with his sword.

The beast bellowed in anger and pain, swiping at him with its great arms. Beroth leapt back, holding up his weapon, and charged again. He stabbed at the troll's neck again but missed, stumbling forward. He was nearly trampled to death when the beast stepped forward, but at the last moment he leapt back again and stabbed, this time piercing through the lower chin. It gave a gurgling cry, then collapsed before Beroth. He exhaled in relief and turned back to the battle.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

A good deal of time it had taken to walk to the Troll Shaws. And when they had gotten there, all the orcs they had ran into had been dead. And not just dead, but pounded to death. By something large and heavy. Hanindur was aware of someone saying: "But that means..." But he was too busy nocking an arrow to the string to notice anything else that was said as the realization came to grounds-- they were surrounded by trolls! He faintly heard the wizz of a well shot arrow against the air, and one troll fell over. Hanindur assumed that was one of the elf's shots, but this was no time to be worrying about who got the most kills, when their lives were in danger.

He pulled back, and let fly the arrow towards the nearest troll, silently praying that it would catch the creature between the eyes.

It didn't.

Silently cursing, and hoping that he wasn't too foolish to continue on against the maddened monster, he dropped his hands to his side, and pulled out his dagger, throwing it with as much strength as he could muster, without having another arrow on the string. The metal blade hit, and pierced, destracting the troll long enough for Hanindur to get another arrow on his bow, and fire. He was aware of another arrow, this time from above, also striking the troll, and, with the combined fire, the troll dropped with a strange howl in it's throat, as it fell over, dead.

If that had been the only troll, Hanindur would've relaxed, but there were too many to waste time now. He drew his sword, not even taking the time to reclaim his dagger, still imbeded in the head of the fallen troll, and slashed hard at a partly wounded troll, injured by the arrows shot by those with bows, and very angered.

He had fallen into the heart of the battle now, a battle not only to kill the trolls, but to hopefully keep his companions alive as well.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn fired an arrow at the first troll, it took it in the eye. It howled in pain, and swiped at Owacyn, who ducked, rolled and came to a kneeling position. Firing another arrow Owacyn ran forwards, jumping up and swinging the sword down in a huge arc, it took the creature in the forehead, and stuck there. The troll moaned and collapsed, Owacyn was thrown by the fall, but recovered his footing just in time for a second troll to catch him in the chest with a huge punch.

Arathorn looked to the side, momentarily pausing in combat as Owacyn hurtled off the ground, he crashed into a tree trunk and fell to the ground, not trying to stop himself with his arms...

[Phervasaion]

Paladir looked back at Rivendell for one last time as the group made their way out of the gates. He sighed and said “Fair Imladris… Will I ever see you again?” He then turned and caught up with the others who were already making good pace down the bank. They journeyed on and Paladir was looking into the sky at the gathering clouds around them. Suddenly, he heard a whizzing noise and looked to see an arrow soaring through the air, though he did not know who fired it.

Probably one of the elves, he thought to himself as he ran to Arathorn drawing his sword from his battered sheath. “Put away your swords men. There is no Orcs. Elrohir was just…uh…demonstrating his skill. Yes…um…I bet that he couldn’t land an arrow in that tree over there,” Arathorn said, pointing to a tree far away. “And he did so…now he’s won the bet!” Arathorn said, giving Elrohir a piece of gold. Elrohir was blushing. Arathorn was a great man, he thought. “He just saved your hide Elrohir, pay him back!” Elrohir thought, trying to quickly improvise. “Yes, I won. However…uh…my arrow bounced off in the wind. So, Arathorn deserves his money back!” Elrohir said, giving the gold back.

Paladir sheathed his sword and remained quiet until they reached the trollshaws in the evening, when the sun was disappearing behind the hills. Arathorn halted the group in the trees began to speak to the Rangers and Elves about the danger of trolls when, out of the darkness an arrow came and narrowly missed the chieftains head. “Orcs!!” He shouted, as everyone drew their swords and followed him into what may have been their first glorious victory in the growing darkness of middle-Earth. But, when they ran into the darkness the Orcs were already dead… Something else had killed them.

“We are too late! They have been taken!” Owacyn shouted as he looked upon the vile dead Orcs. “What was the cause of their death?” Paladir suddenly asked as he turned towards Elrohir. “It seems,” Elrohir said, “that they were beat to death.” As soon as he said this Paladir heard thumping sounds behind him, and he knew what it was straight away. The company turned around to see numerous trolls walking towards, and surrounding them.

Immediately The Elves and Ranger’s began to fire arrows at the surrounding troll’s. Paladir fixed an arrow and shot at the nearest enemy, but it narrowly missed his head and seemed to make the troll slightly angry. He charged towards Paladir while he was fumbling with another arrow when he suddenly stopped and fell to the ground with a thud in front of Paladir. There was an arrow in the back of his head, and Arathorn was standing behind him with a bow in his hand.

Paladir nodded to him as he unsheathed his two handed broadsword and charged into the fray of battle. He ran to a troll and hewed off its right leg, and as the great monster fell, he finished it by driving his blade into the creature’s neck. The Ranger then shifted himself, narrowly dodging another trolls swing, and with an upward swipe, sliced the neck of the fiend. Paladir knew that his skill lay in hand-to-hand combat, rather than in bow use. He was now side by side with Hanindur, Owacyn and Arathorn as they continued to battle, and win, against any troll that challenged them. The first fight was nearing an end.

[ArwenBaggins]

Eirian, fumbling in confusion, forgot about his bow and gropeled for his sword. Finally grabbing it, he charged headlong into the already-dwindling fray. "Die, hideous and foul beasts!" He found the nearest troll, dazed but angry from the sudden fighting, and sliced madly at his midsection. He cut clear a hand and slashed deeply into his side, but not before the inscenced troll could swing his man-sized club and knock Eirian forcefully to the ground.

Falling with a loud thud in the deep mud and briars, Eirian howled in pain but refused to go down without a longer and more damaging fight. His left wrist was almost certainly broken- he could barely move it and it was already swelling to twice the normal size. The troll, blood pouring from his bodily injuries, roared loudly and crashed about, nearly knocking Arathorn in the side of the face. Eirian wiped his now-bloody forehead and delved his sword into the neck of the monster, twisting and turning it in all ways possible. It fell with a low grumble.

The battle was nearing an end, the trolls being murdered heedlessly by the adventurers. The pain of his wrist was almost unbareable, but Eirian couldn't quit now; fighting was his life, his protection, his sport. Trolls were now bumping and pushing and chopping at each other and the group, but they were now brutally outnumbered.

[astarielle]

"But there is no time for words, brother," said Elladan quickly, "Our friends are still deep in the fray!" Elladan took a deep breath before running full pelt into the heart of battle once more. Trolls surrouded them, no-one knew which way to turn.

"Do you remember that game we used to play when we were yet young?" Elladan smiled as he said this. Elrohir nodden and smirked as he knew what his brother meant.

"You forget little brother."

At which, Elldan handed his brother an arrow as his quiver was spent. They each fired an arrow at a troll, not intending to kill it. As expected the trolls roared loudly and came crashing towards the elves who where now standing back to back, swords poised. They seemed to be moving in slow motion as they charged towards the twins, clubs held high ready to beat down their foes.

The elves remained stationary as the trolls loomed over them. They could now smell the foul odour emminating from the beasts now see the muscles quivering with rage. At the very last moment ,as the spiked clubs were about to come crashing down on the pair, each elf dived between the opposite trolls legs out of harms way. An almightly roar, resounded around and could have been heard from many leagues away. The trolls staggered around then toppled to the ground sending a vibration through the earth.

"It seems you have forgotten little as well Elrohir" said Elldan as he drove his sword into the neck of one of the fallen trolls.

Elrohir nodded, then both ran back into the foray.

[Will Witfoot]

Eldín's face didn't change even when he noticed the pack of trolls surrounding them. It remained in it's default passive and withdrawn expression, for all the world like he was still walking along the sunny path that lead away from Rivendell instead of preparing to face the charge of a vicious monsters thirsty for blood. His eyes only took on an even sharper quality than usual. They were his only guidance in this world.

Calmly yet swiftly he drew his long, elegant blade. Aside from dancing, Eldín took joy from swordplay, which he excelled at. He fixed his eyes on one of the beasts and began to bound towards it, taking wild joy from this possibility to test his mettle.

The deaf and mute elf fought with the same grace that was present in his dancing. He leapt, twirled and stepped around his foes, confounding them and attacking them when they were at their most vulnerable.

Gracefully, he somersaulted over the swipe of a troll's crude club and leapt forward to slice a wound into the monsters soft knee joint. Swiftly he jumped back as the troll, driven to rage by the pain, dropped it's club and lashed out with one of it's huge paws.

As he prepared to attack again, Eldín allowed a smile to creep onto his face.

[The Perky Ent]

As the battle raged, Arathorn began gaining more confidence as he used his sword. Arathorn began slicing troll after troll, without the slightest concern. “Now I remember why I’m here!” Arathorn said, decapitating a large troll. Although the men were winning, the night was getting darker. The men and elves were all moving around the ring as the trolls began to fall to the ground. The battle was nearing an end.

Suddenly, while Arathorn thrusted his sword through the neck of a troll, there was a sudden crash. Arathorn only had to look to his side to see Owacyn, who lay by a tree. “Owacyn! Owacyn!” Arathorn said, trying to wake him. Owacyn only let out a small groan. “I will look after you!” Arathorn said, as he quickly fired an arrow at a troll in the process of being killed by Elladan. “I’m fine Arathorn. It was just the impact.” Owacyn said, slowly getting to his feet. When Arathorn looked around again, he saw only two trolls left. None of the men or elves attacked. They just circled around the shocked and frozen trolls.

“Well,” Elrohir said. “Well who gets first strike?” the men were silent. Then, Arathorn ripped a bloody arrow out of the head of a troll, and handed it to Owacyn. “Will you do the honors?” Arathorn said, giving a smirk. “With pleasure”

After the trolls died, the men just sat, either retrieving their arrows or cleaning their swords. “Well, I suppose this will be a good place to camp. We’ve got quality padding.” Owacyn said, giving a laugh. “But what if more trolls come?” Paladir said. “Yes, if they see the bodies, we will surely be dead!” Elrohir said. “Well we can’t get back on the road! We’re in too deep to find it.” Arathorn said, trying to remember which way he came, which was hard considering how many times he walked around the circle. “Pardon me, but it’s very easy to find the road!” Elladan said, climbing to the top of a tree. At the top, he could see a small, long brown line. “He’s right!” Elladan shouted. “It’s too far to find!”

As the men slowly began to adjust to their camp, the elves began taking turns keeping watch. As was quite, and the pale moon had just started to descend. Suddenly, Eldín, who was keeping watch, witnessed a line to crashing trees. Something was moving out there. Something large. Eldín climbed down the tree and alerted Elladan, who also took a look. “More trolls!” he shouted, waking up the men. “The trolls will soon be upon us.” Another said. “Everyone, up the trees! I think we’ll have a little surprise for them!

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur breathed out sharply, as night fell, and the battle ended. It hadn't been near to the worst he had suffered, but it had been bad enough, anyhow. He knew that they had strayed far enough from the road that they probably wouldn't find it that night again, and would have to stay there, where they were, all the night long.

He knelt, and cleaned his sword off in the weeds, a black, and stickty coating just beginning to grow hard coating much of the blade, to the handle. Hanindur wiped it off, not wanting his blade to grow rusty, and resheathed it, standing up to relocate the dagger he had thrown earlier. Out of shape, Hanindur, he thought wryly, for normally he wouldn't've been foolish enough to leave the blade where an enemy could pick it up. He wiped off the shorter blade, and tucked it back into it's sheath, hanging off his belt.

The night was cooler, and it was not a pleasant thought to be spending the night near the bodies of fallen trolls, though there was really no other option. He was rather uncomfortable with the idea though, as normally, after a battle, they had been able to get safely to the road, and far enough from the site. He would manage nonetheless.

Hearing the cry of "More trolls!" and "The trolls will soon be upon us!" Hanindur stood up, checking to make sure his bow was at easy reach, and his sword belt was clipped safely at his side. The order was given to climb up the trees, and he was happy to oblong, grapping the upper branches, and swinging up into the trees scattered around the area. He reached the top with little problem, as the branches were strong enough to hold him easily, and he was not afraid of a little climbing.

Looking out, he couldn't see anything, but trusted the elf's eyesight to know there were trolls nearby. He sat back, and settled in to await the next wave.

[astarielle]

Elladan stood motionless high up in the branches of a tree on the eastern edge of the clearing. He could hear the trolls crashing their way towards them, branches breaking and trees left in a devastated path behind them. That rank smell lingered in the air from the dead bodies but was made ever worse from the foul air that eminated from the advancing trolls.

"These Trolls are just like flies, you think you've got rid of them then a whole host appears at once!" Elladan said to no-one in particular. Some of the nearby rangers gave him an odd look but Elldan readied his bow with an arrow retrieved from the head of a fallen troll.

[ArwenBaggins]

It was unnaturally hard for Eirian to climb the tree with his injured wrist. Reaching a branch with some help from Elrohir, Eirian lay against the trunk of the tree and ripped the end of his blue shirt. Wrapping it around his wrist tightly, he tucked the end into the top and held it as straight as possible. "Bloody trolls!" he muttered barely audibly, getting a slight smile from Arathorn.

He looked up, his right hand on his left wrist, scanning the horizon. It was dark, and although he hated the stench already rising from the dead trolls, Eirian thought it was wise to stay here for the night and not risk another attack when trying to find the Road. I wish the stupid things would hurry up and come... I need some rest... he thought to himself, trying to keep sleep and pain from overcoming him.

Wiping the blackened sword on his tunic, it left a long smear. He watched the others cleaning their weapons as well- swords, bows, and Hanindur even had a knife. He could tell everyone was restless, waiting for the second wave of trolls to come; waiting was hard, for a fighter most off all. That was all that they could do, however, was wait.

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth wiped the sweat off his brow and stood, panting. The trolls were all dead, and he was glad. I hate trolls! he thought, cleaning his sword. The foul blood that dripped from his sword emitted a nauseating stench and disgusted him. Filthy creatures. "My sword should not be defiled by such filth," he mused, wiping the blade with some leaves.

He felt something wet dripping down the side of his head. He felt his head and looked at his fingers. Sure enough, they were crimson with blood. "Oh dear," he said aloud, wiping the wound with his sleeve. He had somehow acquired a cut upon his forehead, which was now bleeding rather freely. Pressing his sleeve against his forehead, he looked for something to bind it with. Unfortunately, he did not have enough time to find a suitable dressing.

"More trolls!" came a cry. Beroth groaned and sheathed his sword quickly. Running about, he picked up as many of his arrows as he could find, putting them quickly in his quiver. He hoisted himself up into a tree and crouched upon a thick branch. Poised to attack, he nocked an arrow in his bow.

"Come, foul creatures. Come and join your comrades," he muttered, waiting for the trolls to crash into his line of sight.

[Phervasaion]

The night was cold and dark, when the battle against the first wave of trolls had ended. Luckily, no one had lost their lives against the foul beings, but some were injured or hurt. Paladir himself only had a few cuts and bruises here and there, but he was, as all the other men were, worn out and was in need of some well earned rest and sleep.

The company began to adjust the surroundings to suit their needs and pleasures, dead trolls were moved except no fire was set up, in case it drew any more enemies to them. Paladir sat down and looked at his sword, while inspecting it he noticed no real damage, barely a scratch, only dirt and blood from the battle. He cleaned it up using the edge of his cloak and then grabbed a nearby stone and started to run it down the edge of the blade, sharpening it, ready for anything else they may come up against that night.

Paladir began to feel even more tired, everyone else had already gone to sleep, apart from the Elves, who were looking into the distance with their keen eyes, and they were looking so intently that they almost made themselves look like statues, not moving a muscle. The Ranger than fell into a deep sleep, but shortly after was awakened again, by the distressed cries of the Elves and men.

“There are more, more trolls!!” One shouted as Paladir came out of his slumber and to the realization of what was happening. “Quick! Prepare yourselves. The trolls are in greater numbers this time and the battle may well be more strenuous and difficult than the last,” another said

“Then it was a good job I sharpened by blade earlier then, was it not?” Paladir answered as he walked to Arathorn unsheathing his sword and readying himself for the second wave of trolls.

[The Perky Ent]

The men and elves, after hearing of a second wave, began to relax and equipt their weapons. The morale was suprisingly good. The men, including Arathorn, thought they were just little ants. But of all the men, Anga doubted them the most. He began swinging his sword around, as if already battling. "Save the stunts for the actual fighting, Anga. You must rest for the fight. If you keep on using your energy for something like that, you might as well kill air, because that's all you'll hit!" Arathorn said in a grumpy mood , as he pulled out a pipe and began to smoke.

Arathorn never took well to boredom, and smoking no longer comforted him. Then, he remebered an old song Gilraen taught him. In a low mutter, Arathorn began to sing:

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!

Elladan, with his great hearing, heard Arathorn's song. "Here here!" he said, as he went back to watch the trolls. Arathorn wasn't that good of a poet, but felt like adding a verse. Consentrating hard, he began to sing:

I do not know where I may go
but it will not fill my heart with woe
for my spirit cannot be broken by foe
for it fills me from head to toe

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the sky grew darker (which was hard considering it was already night), Elrohir drew out his bow and shouted, "They're here! We must assemble now!" Arathorn quickly got to his feet and assembled the party. "Well, here's our plan: Elves, cock your arrows and fire from the trees. Wait for my order to fire. Elladan, when the trolls get close, fire an arrow at the center of the ring. That will be our signal to get ready. Men, get behind the trees. The elves will fire, forcing them into the circle. Once in the circle, we will surround them! Any questions?" Arathorn said, hoping for silence. His wish came true.

As the trolls approached, the twins positioned the elves atop the trees. Arathorn had the men spaced out behind the ring. Arathorn was not afraid of the larger force. In fact, he welcomed the challenge. Suddenly, he heard a weird sound. It was a large sound. Only, it...was audible. "Smash! Crush! Smash! Crush!" The trolls were speaking. Suddenly, a golden arrow landed in the center of the ring, and Arathorn could hear the elves fire.

"Ahhh!" the trolls said, running into the center of the ring. The trolls weren't like the last batch. These trolls had hammers, axes, and maces. "Now men! Forth!" Arathorn shouted, charging into the ring. The other men followed. "Now elves! Cast them into the void" Elladan said, firing at a troll, striking it in the head. As Arathorn charged at a troll, it swiftly crashed his hammer in what would have been Arathorn's death site had he not jumped out of the way. Arathorn quickly slashed his sword across the trolls hand, climbed up the hammer, jumped off it, and cut the trolls neck. It fell to the ground. The other men were having a harder time. The elves continued to fire, except for Anga. He was out of arrows. Thinking quickly, he jumped off his tree, with a sword in his hand, and landed on a troll, his sword impaling the troll.

In the middle of the fight, Owacyn was hit with a mace. He fell down on the ground and couldn't get up. A very large troll was standing over him. "Silly human. Trolls win!" the troll said, grunting. Arathorn began rushing over to Owacyn, trying to save him, but didn't get there fast enough. Anga had jumped out of nowhere and killed the troll. "Nice work Anga!" Arathorn shouted, while dodging a giant ax. "Thank you!" Anga said, pulling Owacyn up to his feet. "Thank you" Owacyn muttered, drawing out his sword. In the process of helping Owacyn, Anga never saw it coming. "Anga! Watch out!" Arathorn said, running twords him. But it was too late. A troll had hit Anga 20 feet in the air. Anga landed on the ground in a loud thud. "Anga?" Arathorn said. Anga didn't move. "Why you!" Owacyn said, running twords the troll. Arathorn and Owacyn both jumped and cut down the troll at the same time. But it made no difference. Anga was dead.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur closed his eyes for a bare moment as he stood behind the trees, and drew his sword. He heard Arathorn's last orders, and on, until he heard the sound of an arrow cutting through the air, and to the center of the ring. The second wave had began.

He opened his eyes, holding his sword in both hands, and, along with all the others, appeared into the midst of the trolls. But this time the trolls had a greater advantage, and it was the one advantage that he feared. They had maces.

Hanindur grimaced, it wasn't funny to be up against an enemy with a mace, he knew, he had been there once before, though only once, and he didn't favor doing so again. But there was no choice in the matter, they had to fight the trolls, and win, or they would all die. And he wasn't too fond of that idea, many of the other Rangers and Elves had families in Rivendell, or other places. He was not one to let his companions die beside him.

He took his sword, and plunged into battle.

It was a dangerous path, weaving in and around the troll's hammers, and maces, and other weapons. Hanindur made himself concentrate on only finishing their battle here, and it would not be easy, he knew that as a fact. Go under... he thought in his mind, diving underneath a hammer strike, and thrusting upwards with his sword at the troll. He continued to thrust, and dodge all blows, until the troll crumpled to the ground. Pulling himself to his feet sharply, Hanindur realized with a start that he was wounded. Blood stained his left arm, and it was not just the black blood of the trolls, it was his own.

He didn't feel the pain there, and tried to put it as far from his mind as he continued to fight, for his life, and for that of his companions.

It was as he noticed from the corner of his eye one of the others go down that Hanindur realized that this could very well be his last battle, and that of his companions. There were more trolls, and there was a chance that they would die. If they had been nearing the end of the battle, he would've wept the loss of Anga, but the battle had just started, and there was no time for that now. There was nothing to do put fight, and that he did, for himself, for the death of Anga, and for the lives of his companions.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

"NO!" Owacyn screamed as he saw Anga hurled by the troll. He ran up to the troll that had ht hm and leapt on its back, plunging his sword into it again and again, the trolls tough skin made every thrust an effort, but he kept stabbing and stabbing. The troll moaned as it fell to the ground, bleeding profusely from the many wounds.

Owacyn ran over to Anga, and lifted up his head, the lifeless eyes stared back at him, "Why you!" he shouted into his face angrilly. He gritted his teeth and turned around, a vicious rage in his eyes. He spritined over to a troll that had just caught Elrohir and knocked him off balance, and leapt up, thrusting his sword into its thick neck, severing the windpipe and the artery. The precision attack dropped Arathorn's jaw, and Owacyn twisted in mid air and yanked the sword out, ripping a huge chunk out of the troll's neck...

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth stood behind a tree. He had been crouching upon a branch, but then Arathorn had called them down to hide behind the trees and wait for the Elves to draw in the trolls. Beroth shifted and drew in a sharp breath as an arrow whistled down to strike a troll. He steeled himself and ran towards the fray, shouting.

He felt his stomach tighten as he saw the maces in the trolls' great paws, but it was too late to turn back. His sword flashed as he swiftly cut the soft belly-flesh of one troll, leaving it to hold its stomach in an attempt to keep its innards from spilling out. Beroth turned to battle another troll and saw Anga hurled into the air and crash to the ground with a sickening thud. His heart wrenched as he watched Owacyn run to Anga and scream, lifting up his lifeless head. Frozen, he stared at Anga's cloudy eyes staring into the sky and seeing nothing.

"Beroth! Move!"

He heard a voice scream at him and he whirled around, seeing a troll barge towards him, brandishing its mace and shouting wildly. A red haze of anger and remorse filled his mind and he charged at the beast, plunging his sword into its stomach and twisting it. The creature bellowed and swung its mace at him. Beroth barely dodged it and yanked his sword out. He stepped out of the path of the troll as it collapsed in a heap.

[ArwenBaggins]

Eirian caterwauled and held his sword in a fighting stance, jumping from behind the tree and toward the trolls. "Kill nasty men!" The large lumbering beast yelled, swinging his ax accurately; Eirian ducked out of the way and saw it as the oppertune moment to lodge his blade in the troll's chest cavity. The troll groaned and fell.

Another troll was there waiting. While battling it, cries of 'Anga' seemed to float over the battlefield. He sliced off a finger, a hand, and then an arm, the new troll swinging his mace and striking with amazing accuracy. Eirian had no time to dodge; it struck him with terrible force in the side and flung him through the air, landing on his swollen wrist and howling with pain.

Eirian found himself lying not far from a motionless Anga. It didn't take a second glance- his body was crumpled and his chest was eerily still. Eirian didn't have time to think about others, however; he was in enough pain to pass out if he didn't keep his mind away from it. Wiping some blood from his lip, Eirian used his sword to get up and ran back into the battle with the one-armed troll.

This battle wasn't as 'fun' as the others.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir saw Anga fall from the tree where he was shooting. The elf's body felt as if it had been coated in ice, but that was all he felt. No fear seeped from Elrohir's soul as he drew his sword and leapt from the tree, landing on the shoulders of a lumbering troll and thrusting his blade down into the beast's head.

The elven-made sword did not break, but Elrohir felt the strain as it passed through the thick bone. As the troll slowly realized what had happened, and began to die, Elrohir pulled the sword from the head and jumped down, face to face with another of the monsters.

Elrohir's movements, coming from years of practice and inginuity, were more than a match for the troll, who whirled around confusedly as Elrohir rebounded from a tree trunk and sliced a great gash across its back.

The troll howled in pain, but dropped, its spinal column severed.

Anga lay in what seemed to have become the epicenter of the fight, with huge feet rumbling the ground around the fallen warrior.

A single look told Elrohir that Anga was dead, but that was not the only problem.

One of the trolls was reaching down towards Anga's body, presumably to eat his heart, as was the custom among the more stupid of trolls.

A still cool Elrohir twirled his long-handled sword expertly, and in a flash of metal, the troll's reaching arm was on the ground.

"Really," said Elrohir, as the troll turned angrily to face him, "I would have thought that a troll so smart as to actually speak would have the intellegence not to eat in the middle of a battle."

The troll growled something unintelligable, and raised his remaing arm, which held a knobbly club.

Elrohir raised his eyebrows, "Well, perhaps you have an excuse, then,"

He threw his sword, peircing the troll's chest, and as the troll merely brought his club down, not noticing the sword, Elrohir jumped aside and drew his bow, sending arrow after arrow into the troll, before it came crashing down on its back.

Climbing the heap, Elrohir drew the sword out of the troll and wiped it on the troll's pants.

Elrohir looked at Anga's body again, and walked over to it. He knelt down and sighed, looking at the elf who had been killed in his prime.

"Angakemion, may you go swiftly into the halls of the heroes, for that is where you have indeed earned your place." Elrohir whispered, pulling Anga's sword over and setting it into his lifeless hand.

[The Perky Ent]

After Owacyn's amazing performance, Arathorn could do nothing but fight harder. He wanted to; although he didn't think himself better, top Owacyn. He quickly looked around for a suitable troll as he dodged a swing from a mace. There were so many trolls, although many were dead. But the scariest thing about it was, more were coming. There were many in the ring, but there were too many trolls to fit. They had attacked the elves in the trees. The battle was far from over.

After killing his 22nd troll, Arathorn found his perfect opportunity. Three trolls were standing in a strait line, unaware of it. Arathorn quickly climbed up a tree, and reached the top in seconds. On the tree, he looked down on the other side of the battle, to see the trolls that weren't in the ring. There were about a hundred. Quickly, Arathorn pulled out his bow, and began to fire. In a few minutes, Arathorn shouted "50!" before he looked back to seize his opportunity. It was open; the trolls were still standing in a line. It was perfect. Arathorn took up his sword and jumped. He landed on the shoulders of a troll, his sword deep in its head. As he troll began to fall backwards, Arathorn pulled his sword out, and jumped. He landed on the second troll, his sword in its back. He had pierced its spinal cord. As Arathorn held on to his sword, to keep from falling, the troll fell forward. Right before it hit the ground, Arathorn pulled out his sword, and jumped off the troll, and over the head of the third one. Falling right in front of the troll, he jammed his sword in the troll's heart. The troll fell backwards, and Arathorn pulled out his sword.

This time is was Owacyn whose jaw dropped. In those five seconds, Arathorn had taken out three trolls. "That's for my father!" Arathorn said, as he stopped fighting to take a breath. This was his mistake. As he rested for a second, a troll saw the incident. "My brothers! Nooooo!" the troll said, as it filled with anger. "You...DIE!!!" the troll said, as he ran at Arathorn with his mace. While running to Arathorn, the troll was hit with two arrows, but that didn't stop him. Right before he died, he swung the mace at Arathorn, and it made contact. The troll had hit a line drive, and if there wasn't an abnormally fat troll dead on the ground, Arathorn might have died. Arathorn bounced on the blubber of the troll and slowly got to his feet. The troll that had hit him was now dead. "Arathorn! Are you hurt?" Elladan shouted. "I'm fine. It's a good thing this troll eats!" Arathorn said with a laugh, as he went back into the fray.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn grinned broadly. A contest, that was what he was up for! He leapt up to nearly head height of a toll advancing on him, and swung his sword brutaly accurately, it severed the troll's neck and it fell. Owacyn leapt onto its back and dived headfirst at another, spearing it side on in the ribs, it fell, wrenching the sword from his graps and flinging it over to the other side of the battlefield. Owacyn cursed bitterly as he ran over to get it, rolling at the last moment to pick it up, wich meant me also avoided another troll's huge warhammer.

Owacyn jumped onto the warhammer as the troll lifted it up, landing on the back of the troll's neck, and ramming his sword home in the back of its neck. "48!" he yelled at Arathorn who merely grinned back and felled another troll. "54!" Arathorn shouted back. Owacyn chuckled grimly, turning around to slice the throat of one sneaking up on him, then twirling on the spot to take another in the head with a thrown knife. "50!" he shouted at Arathorn...

[astarielle]

Elladan, who was still up in the trees raining arrows on the trolls, lept from branch to branch avoiding swings from the trolls below. He had killed around 34 trolls since the beginnning of the foray but spent his last 2 arrows on the troll that tried to kill Arathorn. As his quiver was spent he decided what to do.

He eyed a troll standing with his back to the trees howling with rage. Elladan gracefully made his way unseen to the tree directly behind it. He climbed up until he was directly above the trolls head and drew his sword. With a cry of "Elbereth" Elladan lept from the tree and drove the sword deep into the head of the troll. For a few moments the troll remiained standing giving the elf time to return to the trees before it crahed to the floor.

Almost at once a couple more trolls came crashing through the trees behind him overcome with rage for their fallen comrades. They paused at the edge of the circle searching for the attacker of the troll whom Elladan had killed. "Where is he? I'll eat him whole for breakfast!" The elf heard one say. Elladan remained close in to the trunk of the tree. In one swift movement Elldaan jumped from the tree once more to land on the back of the left-hand troll. He cut the troll's jugular. As the other swung his mace at Elladan, the elf clung on to it and made his way up the arm towards the chest. The troll thrashed about trying to rid himself of the elf but to no avail, he fell dead to the ground in a matter of moments.

[The Perky Ent]

"Glad you could join us Elladan!" Arathorn said, plunging his sword in the back of the leg of a troll. "And let you have all the fun?" Elladan said, thrusting his sword in the trolls other leg. The troll swifly fell to the ground. Owacyn was rapidly killing trolls, much to Arathorn's dismay. Arathorn quickly jumped on the back of a half dead troll and began stabbing rapidly. In a moment, the troll was dead. Once the troll hit the ground, Arathorn ran up to two parallel trolls. He jammed his sword into the stomach of the first troll. He then jumped on a rock, and from the rock , jumped on the sword. On the sword, he pulled out a dagger, jumped, and cut the throat of the second troll. The both fell. Elladan's was shocked, and if it was in his nature to drop his jaw, it would have dropped.

Arathorn only had one flaw in the plan. His sword was in too deep in the troll. He pulled very hard, but the sword wouldn't come from the gut of the troll. Arathorn, finding no alternative, took out his dagger and began cutting a hole in the troll's stomach. It was a long process, due to the thickness of the troll skin. "I'll keep watch!" Elladan said, circling around Arathorn. After a short period of time, Elladan began shouting and ran off. Someone was in need. Arathorn was defensless now. He only hoped no troll would come. But he didn't have very good luck. As the sword became loose, yet not loose enough to pull out, a large troll, armed with a mace, stood right in front of Arathorn.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

As Arathorn looked up at the troll, saw it raise its club, he was motionless...unable to move he knelt there as it roared and started to bring the mace down. Arathorn heard a shout, and recognised it as Owacyn's voice. He came from behind, leaping over Arathorn and landing on the belly of the dead troll. From there he jumped headfirst into the chest of the huge beast. Arathorn heard a gurgle, and saw black blood ooze from the mouth of the troll. Owacyn was hanging onto his sword, which he had rammed into the monster right up to the hilt. The troll thrashed violently, jolting the sword. Owacyn hung on for grim death as it started to swipe at him with its club. He cursed, it wasn't fatally wounded. Summoning all his strength he pulled his body up onto the sword, letting go as he reached the highest point and grabbing onto its head. IT jerked back violently, throwing Owacyn onto its back, though he still clung on.

Arathorn looked on, powerless, his sword still wasn't extricated from the troll's belly, and he had to watch as Owacyn was picked up with a single, huge, hand. Thrown into the air like a rag doll, and then hit with the club as he came down. He flew into a tree, and Arathorn heard a disgusting cracking noise. Screaming in anger, he wrenched the sword from the belly, and swung it up as the troll descended on him...

Black blood squirted onto his armour, and the troll fell forward, its throat cleanly cut. He wanted to run to Owacyn, but he couldn't. Another troll was bearing down on him...

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth wiped the sweat out of his eyes and charged at yet another troll. Swinging his sword, he slashed off an arm and cut the creature's throat before it knew what had hit it. He moved on to another troll and killed it swiftly. Stepping around the body, he moved to the next creature. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a body flying through the air. Killing the troll, he turned and gave the still body his full attention. It was Owacyn. A gargantuan troll loomed over him, waving its club. Blood trickled from a wound.

Beroth heard a rage-filled scream and began to sprint towards Owacyn. The troll that threatened to crush him was beginning to wobble, but it was still a large threat. He leapt in front of Owacyn's form and thrust his sword into the troll's neck. Pulling it out, he watched it wheeze and slowly topple over. Beroth turned to Owacyn and touched his shoulder gingerly. Getting no response, he picked him up as gentle as he possibly could and carried him swiftly out of immediate danger. As he ran, one thought resounded through his head: Owacyn, hold on.

[Phervasaion]

Paladir stood behind a tree waiting for the order of Arathorn to attack the trolls, the trolls of which were making a loud noise, crashing smashing so loudly that you could hear it from miles away. Suddenly, Paladir heard the commanding voice of Arathorn not far from him.

“Now men! Forth!” He said while running from behind his cover and into the flank of the trolls. Paladir obeyed and dived out from behind the tree, drew his sword, and charged the enemy down at the front.

“For Arnor, The lost kingdom!!” Shouted the tall Ranger as he ran towards the nearest troll and beheaded it in one swipe. The battle had only really just begun when the cries of Anga echoed across the field. Paladir did not know the fallen Elf very well, but it made him mourn for the loss of their first companion, and who knew who could go down next. Owacyn was grieved for the loss of Anga but it only made him mad, and now he was killing the trolls as if they were no match.

Men, and Elves stood in awe admiring his wrath against the enemy, it seemed that nothing would get in the way of his revenge. Arathorn, Paladir and the other men began to work harder fighting and killing the trolls with surprising ease, and their movements were so fast and smooth that the trolls had no time to dodge or block them.

“This is for Anga you foul beasts!!” Paladir shouted as he chopped the arm of a nearby enemy and then drove his sword through his scaly stomach. “And this is for Imladris!!” He shouted again as he struck yet another troll.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur sighed hard. The battle was drawing so much of his strength away, it was harder to fight than many of the others he had been in, as before, he had never faced a troll with a mace before. Because of that little complication, his only choice was to keep his eyes peeled, rather than on whatever he was fighting, to stay alert. Already, anyone who danced would've been proud of him, with that amount of dodging he had to do.

Not to mention avoiding any misplaced arrows as well. What was it that had been said the day before... something about counting the enemies. He recalled answering Do you count your friends afterwards too?. And how true that was now, as he knew they had lost one... maybe more, though indeed, he hoped not. But there was no time to see whether any others were down, as he had to keep his eyes on the trolls.

After fighting so many, it became easier, it seemed, almost a programmed reaction to the trolls. And yet, he did not feel that he could let himself stop to take a breath, though it was what he needed most. There was no time, there was no way that he could take any such chances. Not now.

Dodging a hammer stroke, and dashing underneath a troll's fist just as he would've been cruched, Hanindur stroked sideways, and slashed at the troll's arm. With that disablement, he was able to thrust his sword into the troll's side, and it fell over sideways, now a habit for him to jump out of the way. But his jump was misguided, and, as the troll's hammer fell back in as a dead weight, he found himself hit from behind by another troll's thrust, just missing his head, but a close enough hit to knock him off his feet.

Hanindur swore in his mind. In the suddenness of the last moment, he had let himself slip up... somewhere. His sword lay just out of reach of his hand, the blow having knocked it aside. There was a choice, whether to just die there, as it seemed inevitable, or to make a dash for the sword, though it was seemingly impossible to get the blade in time to save himself from the final blow.

Ignoring the pain from the blow, he rolled over and grabbed the sword, taking a gamble, and throwing the blade up at the troll's heart.

The chance paid off, cutting through the troll's thick skin, and piercing it's heart, hopefully to the death. It fell over forwards, and Hanindur was lucky not to be crushed by the dead weight falling at him. His sword was in sight, he could've grabbed it, but couldn't make himself move to get the blade.

He stumbled against the ground, and fell forwards, having no control over himself now, the pain from the hammer hitting him too deeply to fight any longer. He knew he wasn't dead, but knew that there was nothing that he could do, as he sat against a dead tree, breathing sharply.

[The Perky Ent]

"You acursed creature!" Arathorn said, looking at Owacyn. He still wasn't moving. Arathorn, his rage filling him, ran under the troll assaulting him. While he was under, he shoved his sword upward. The troll began to scream as he fell to the ground, twitching the entire way. Arathorn quickly pulled out his sword and went to Owacyn. As before, he was motionless.

"Owacyn? Owacyn! Get up! You might not realize it now, but this isn't the best time to sleep." Arathorn said, pulling Owacyn to his feet. Owacyn gave out a small cough and mumbled what sounded like "yes sir!" Arathorn's stamana was getting worse and worse as the trolls kept comming. The elves were handling themselves pretty well, but the men were starting to loose focus. Suddenly, Owacyn's eyes bulged. He screamed "Watch out!", but it was too late. Arathorn, standing on the head of a dead troll, was already in mid-air by then.

A troll had come from behind and pounded its full weight on the dead troll's stomach, forcing a tornado of air through the mouth. A million thoughts were pouring through Arathorn's mind as he was airborn. His primary one was, "How do I get out of this?". As he began his descent, he realized he had two options. He could either try to land on a tree, or land in the middle of a upward facing ax. His choice was obvious. At once, Arathorn began leaning twords a slumping tree. In the process, he cought half of the branch he tried to catch, stopping the impact. However, he did, nevertheless, let go of the branch, falling ten feet.

The impact was heard all around the ring, and everyone stopped. Arathorn lay next to Owacyn. They shared one thing in common. They both weren't moving.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir was begining to run low on energy, but the enemy had not. The remaining trolls had gone battle mad and were hitting anything that moved, weather friend or foe.

A slice to the back of the knees brought down another troll, followed by an arrow to the head. Elrohir stood up from the dead hulk, wiping grime and sweat from his face.

He noticed Arathorn and Owacyn lying off to the side, and a jolt of fear shot through him. Another troll was standing over them, trying to get unstuck from a tree root that had mercifully caught on his foot.

Elrohir took advantage of the troll's predicament and threw his sword, imbedding it into the back of its neck. It roared in pain and anger, ripping it's foot free and turning to face Elrohir. The elf calmly loaded an arrow onto his bow, waiting for the troll to get close enough.

Then, too fast to follow, the shaft drove itself into the troll's throat, followed by another in the forehead. It dropped the arm it had been holding up, ready to rid Elrohir of his life, and crashed to the ground.

Elrohir ran over to Arathorn and Owacyn. He heard Elladan come up behind him.

"Check Owacyn," he said simply, checking Arathorn's pulse, only to find the Dunadan's hand grip his wrist.

A weak smile crossed his face, and Elrohir reflected it. Relief flooded him, and doubled when he heard Elladan confirm Owacyn was alive as well.

"You two rest," said Elrohir. As if they had any choice in the matter. "The rest of these filthy spawns of evil will not take too long to dispatch."

A grim smile crossed his face as he pulled his sword from the dead troll and entered back into the battle.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn would have cried out in pain if he had been able to take air into his lungs and then expel it again with any degree of regularity. He felt like he'd broken every rib in his chest, and he slumped down against the tree. He drifted into unconciousness, dreaming the same dream he'd dreampt back at the feast at Rivendell. He awoke with as much of a start as his broken body could manage and he saw Arathorn above him, cradling his head in his hands. "This is no time to be sleeping, Owacyn." he tried to sound as formal as possible, but his "Yes sir!" was laced with blood which he coughed onto Arathorn's armour. As he looked up, he saw the massive beast behind them raise its club menacingly. "Watch out!" he spat out with still more blood. He wasn't quick enough. He watcher in subdued horror as Arathorn was propelled into the sky by the blast of air. He saw him try to grab a branch, but it snapped in his hands and he landed on his head next to Owacyn. Owacyn swore as loudly as he could. Arathorn was still breathing, but it was erratic.

He looked up again to see the troll advancing on him, but then to see one of the brothers, he could not tell which through his misty eyes, slay it with extraordinary precision. He heard someone say "Check Owacyn". As two fingers were placed on his neck he coughed more blood onto his chest. "He's alive!" came the relieved reply. "You're damn right I'm alive!" he spat out. "You don't think I'd go dying on you do you?". Elrohir smiled warmly as he saw Owacyn pushing himself up using the tree. He regained his feet slowly and painfully, and even when he was up he nearly fell as he let go of the tree.

"You'd better stay out of the fighting..." Elrohir whispered into his ear. Owacyn nodded appreciatively and started to limp towards the camp. A cry caught his attention as he moved and he turned his head to see Elrohir knocked over by a troll with a vast mace. Elrohir was clearly in pain, clutching his arm in a fetal position. Owacyn grimly took his boww off his back. It was nearly ruined, but the string remained intact. Slowly he put an arrow to the string, drawing it back with great effort to his cheek. Letting it fly he saw it leave the bow completely before the bow snapped under the released tension. The arrow flew into the trolls throat and it gurgled disgustingly before starting to sway. Elrohir managed to roll out of the way of the falling troll just before it would have crushed him.

He stood up, clutching his arm, which was bloodied, and walked over to Owacyn, his sword trailing along the ground. He smiled and slapped Owacyn on the shoulder. He coughed again. Smiling he drew another arrow...

[Mad Baggins]

The intensity of the battle had not waned, and Beroth was feeling his limbs begin to slow with weariness. His heart was pounding and he was breathing in short, sharp gasps. He wiped an arm across his forehead and it came away coated in sweat and blood. Running to and fro in the midst of the fray, he killed yet another troll. Then another, and then another...

The battle was long, so very long. Where are all these trolls coming from? Beroth wondered. They were seemingly popping out of nowhere. Dodging the trolls that were lumbering about, swinging their clubs and maces was a cumbersome and dangerous task.

Beroth leapt over a corpse and confronted an enormously obese troll. It roared and swiped at him with a paw. He sidestepped and then danced back in to deliver a fatal blow with his sword.

Time for a different approach, he mused, running for a tree. Sheathing his sword, he grabbed a branch and swung up into the crotch of the tree. He took out his bow and whipped an arrow from his quiver. The arrow sang through the air, straight and true, and found its mark: the eye of a troll. It bellowed in agony and pawed at its face. Before it could pluck out the arrow Beroth had sent two more, one into its other eye and the last into its throat. The troll moaned and crashed to the ground.

Smiling, Beroth snatched another arrow and sent it on its way.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

He gasped hard, and forced himself to stand up-- Hanindur was sure that he had been out of commission long enough to reenter the battle-- he wasn't going to let more friends die that easily, not again. They had already lost one, he wasn't about to lose himself either.

Hanindur picked up his sword from where it sat on the ground, where he had threw it at the troll. Surprisingly, the blade wasn't broken from the force of the troll's dead weight falling upon it. He wiped the black blood off of the blade, and took it into both hands, as the Ranger ran back into the battle, in the hopes that his friends were still alive. Where are all those trolls coming from? he wondered, as he went back to his old style, of dodging, and thrusting, not easy with the sharp pain that had built up in his side.

If there had not been so many more trolls, and so few of them, Hanindur would've left the battle, on the grounds that he could do nothing put hinder. But, as it was, there was no choice for him, but to fight, for, with the lack of one man, the battle might fall to their enemies, and he would die anyhow. If he was to die that day, Hanindur vowed to go out worthy of rememberance, and not as a coward.

Breathing in dully, he dashed under the first troll, slicing at it's legs, while it turned, and hurled it's mace at him. This time, he was ready for the attack, and dodged into the troll, and not jumping back, to avoid the injury that he had suffered the last time. He was still slightly limping, and wasn't as fast moving as before-- now Hanindur had to stay attuned to the battle, and all his senses, or he knew that he would be killed.

Continuing to dodge, and to disable different trolls, Hanindur slowly worked his way back to the heart of the battle, where he could work to protect his friends. The trolls were finally slowing down in their attack, but there was still so many of them, he didn't know how much longer they would be able to hold up if anyone else was injured.

[astarielle]

After checking that Owacyn was still alive Elladan dashed about picked up arrows between taking strikes at unsuspecting trolls. He climbed the nearest tree and surveyed the battlefield. Everyone was tiring but, though less numerous, the trolls were still about and making their presence felt. Elladan drew an arrow and fired it at a troll about to hit an elf.

He tried to count as he was firing the numbers of trolls remaing but it was difficult as many that tumbled to the floor staggered back up only to be hewed back down again. Slowly it seemed to the elf that the company were beginning to get on top of things but there was still much to do. Elladan fired another couple of arrows sending two trolls to the ground now covered with bodies and weapons. The clearing now had a blanket of troll flesh for grass. He doubted that much would grow there for a long time.

Soon enough his arrows were spent once more and he returned to the earth drawing his sword again. Summoning his waning energy he leaped onto the back of one of the trolls. The troll tried to hit him woth the club but Elladan swiftly moved to the opposite shoulder so the weapon came crashing down on the troll itself. The elf mada a dash for the head only just staying on as the troll swayed and thrashed about. Once more the club came crashing down adn one more time Elladan moved away. The troll came crashing to the floor seemingly dead but Elldan drove his sword into it to make sure. "Trolls really are more stupid than any creature that walks this earth".

[Phervasaion]

Like most of the others, Paladir was beginning to feel the effects of the battle. He was worn out and needed a place to breathe but the trolls would not allow it, and now they seemed to be stronger than ever before. Suddenly, Paladir glanced to see two bodies on the floor, the bodies of Arathorn and Owacyn.

No, Paladir thought to himself. Not Arathorn, he’s our leader and we need him to get anywhere in this fight. Please let him be alive! And Owacyn can’t die… He’s not the type to do that!! A weak smile came to Paladir’s face as he saw them move, when Elrohir and Elladan went over to check up on them. But, he knew they could do no more in this fight, and Paladir and the others would have to Finnish the battle on their own. This would be a difficult task, of course, with Arathorn, Owacyn and Hanindur now unable to help due to injuries.

Paladir was playing it safe against the trolls, not trying any fancy moves like Aragorn and Owacyn, incase it lead to him also being knocked out of battle, or even dead. Nor was Paladir trying to beat Arathorn’s and Owacyn’s score in the amount of trolls they killed, and even if he was he knew it would be a difficult task.

A troll swung his mace and Paladir dodged it, severed one of its limbs and finished it with a final blow to its head. “That’s for Arathorn you scum!!” He said as the troll fell to the ground. “And this is for Owacyn and Hanindur!!!” He yelled yet again as he sliced the neck of another.

Paladir seemed to feel a flame rekindle inside of him, giving him energy to kill all the trolls, and he felt as if air wasn’t needed anymore. The trolls were still many, but eventually, Paladir knew that they would all perish.

[The Perky Ent]

Pain hit Arathorn like a rock under the Falls of Rauros. Arathorn tried walking, but to no avail. "Well Arathorn, you can't just sit here" he told himself, and with a sigh, he threw his sword strait into the brow of a troll. It fell in a swift motion. The others weren't having such luck. "I'm in charge! I have to save them" Arathorn thought, once again trying to get up. He could bend his legs, but he didn't have enough energy to support the rest of his body. "Mind if i borrow that, Owacyn?" Arathorn said to owacyn, refering to the bow. "I don't see why not!" Owacyn said, handing the bow, along with several arrows, to Arathorn. Arathorn pulled the string back, and fired.

It was well into the morning, yet still dark. Everyone was getting weak and tired. It seemed, if the fight didn't end soon, they'd fall asleep never to wake. By now, Arathorn had used all of the arrows, and couldn't reach any. All the elves were using swords now, striking as many trolls as they could get their hands on. Owacyn now could weild a sword, but didn't have enough energy to fight a troll. "Good news Arathorn!" Elladan said, straying away from the battle. "Almost all of the trolls are in the ring now. It will be over soon!" "Excellent!" Arathorn said, once again trying to fight. "May their deaths be a long and painful one!" Arathorn said, giving a roar. Elladan smirked, and ran back into the fight. Those who weren't injured were getting on their last limb, and although Elladan sounded very enthusiastic, he was giving false hope. His energy was almost spent, and the same was with the others.

After a while, the night sky became lighter. Morning would come soon. Arathorn fighted to not fall asleep. He desperatly tried to get up and fight, but he couldn't. Arathorn couldn't stand to lie there and watch the horror. Sudddenly, there was a great roar, and one of the trolls came running in Arathorn and Owacyn's direction. Apparently, someone had weged their sword in the trolls back, and the troll had run off with it. He troll was blinded with pain, and couldn't see where it was going. Feet before it reached Arathorn, he focused all his energy to jump out of the way. It worked as the troll ran off into the night. "That's it!" Arathorn said, getting to his feet. "I'm not gonna wait! If I die trying, then let it be said that I died fighting, and didn't wait to be killed!" Arathorn said, giving a loud roar, catching several trolls attentions. Arathorn got to his feet and fastly limped to the fight. Owacyn followed him.

There were now twelve trolls left, but all of them had maces, and the men could no longer fight. All that was left was Arathorn and Owacyn, who had mustered energy resting. "Kill the scum!" a troll shouted, as he looked down at Arathorn. The troll in front of Arathorn laughed, looking at the blood covering him. "This is for Nuwethion!" Arathorn shouted, grabbing a sword from the ground, and shoving it at the troll. Owacyn did the same. Both trolls fell down to the ground. "Gah! He killed Durb! Get him!" a troll shouted, as the ten remaining trolls circled. Ten strong maces stared down at Arathorn. "Well Owacyn, you were a great companion to the end!" Arathorn, said, giving a small smile. "As were you Arathorn! Goodbye" Owacyn said, putting down his sword. There was no hope. It was all over. Arathorn would never live to see his son. Suddenly, a beam of light shot from the bottom of the sky. "It must have happened. I am dead." he said, giving a great sigh. Suddenly, the trolls began to screem. "Nooo!" they shouted, as a rumbling sound was heard. All the elves and men looked up, watching in amazment. "Agh!" one troll shouted, as he began to swing at Arathorn, but stopped inches before his face. He had been turned to stone. The battle was over.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur sagged to the ground heavilly. "Thank Eru for daylight," he said hoarsely, knowing that he wouldn't've been able to fight any longer. The sun had came out, and the trolls were stone blocks under the new light. Then he recalled that there were others still alive... but whom? The ranger forced himself to his feet, exhausted, and in pain. His sword lay on the ground, coated in rapidly thickening blood, from the trolls that were now harmless stone.

If only the sun had came earlier. If only... it always came back to that. Then maybe Anga wouldn't've been killed, or Nuwethion, or Arathorn injured. There was so much that could've been changed, but it was always the 'if' there. There was no way to undo what was done.

He stroked his sword against the torn ground, to remove the black blood from the now tarnished blade, and sheathed the blade. Hanindur didn't know what had happened to his dagger, and, at the moment, didn't care either. He cared for his friends, and for their safety, surely they were still alive, surely most still lived. Indeed, he hoped, but hope was always only hope.

Hanindur crossed the torn field, stone-turned trolls littering the way, and uprooted trees still laying on the ground, where the trolls had tossed them. So much destruction... Everything that the new light touched seemed to be destroyed, or blood-stained after the battle. He would've picked up his pace, to cross the land that had once been a great forest-- and could've been-- but the wounds he had received during the fight pained him. Hanindur bit back a cry of pain, as he wove his way through to where the remainder of their party was.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn let out as much of a cheer as his broken ribs would allow. The fight was over, and they'd only lost one man...He swung his sword down and decapitaed the stone head of one troll. Then his eyes strayed over the battlefield. Over the body of Anga, and the body of...

"Oh no..." he whispered to himself as he ran to Nuwethion. He lifted the dead elf's head up, and frantically sought for a pulse in his wrist and neck. He ripped the elf's chest armour off in a vain attempt to liberate his lungs and allow breathing, but it was no use. He lifted his hands and noticed they were covered in blood. Shaking, he turned the body over, and saw that most of the back of the head had been utterly smashed, and small pieces of bone fell into Owacyn's hands. Shaking with rage he stood up and screamed into the sky. Cursing it violently, before sinking to his knees again. He had never been that close to Nuwethion, but his loss still saddened his heart.

Traipsing back over to the camp, the party held the bodies of the two fallen on biers. Elladan and Elrohir walked crestfallen behind the two biers. Two of their kin lost in the fight. As they laid the biers to rest Owacyn sat by the fire and started to whittle a small wooden sword. The rest of the group sat near, not saying anything, but sad faces were worn by all...

[ArwenBaggins]

Eirian dropped his sword. The trolls were stone… he was alive. Groaning in pain, he reached to the bloodstained ground and picked up his blunting blade. Rangers and Elves were sitting, gasping for breath, not far in front of him at camp. "I could join them…" he complained aloud, he himself struggling with the pain his wrist and other wounds brought.

He noticed the two bodies were not breathing in relief on the biers. Remembering the sanguinary incident with Anga, he cursed under his breath. If only he had been there to protect him and Nuwethion. If only Arathorn had not been injured. If…

Stupidly kicking a frozen troll as he walked past, he cringed as more unwanted pain drifted through his toes and then his foot. The pain in his swollen, almost certainly broken wrist was enough to make him pass out, but he forced it away. The battle was over… there was no need to fall now. He wouldn't fall now… if he could help it.

Wiping some blood from the edge of his gray eyes, he continued to slowly stumble toward the rest of the group. Finally reaching Arathorn, he collapsed. He couldn't stand the pain any longer. He had fought many battles, but none seemed as hard as this one was. He lay on his back, his bloody head resting on the knobby roots of a giant tree. 'This is wonderful, he crooned inside of his head, his eyes falling closed.

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth lifted his sword to deliver a fatal blow and stopped in mid-air. The sun was peeking over the horizon and the trolls had fallen silent. Tentatively, he touched one of the trolls and felt stone beneath his fingers. Relief flooded through his body as he raised his sword in a gesture of victory. Wiping his bloodied sword upon his tunic, he suddenly remembered the cut he had received earlier in the night. Pressing his hand to his forehead, he felt a long gash caked in blood.

He turned to see how the others had fared and noticed two still figures on biers. One of them he recognized as Anga, but the other...Nuwethion?

Beroth's eyes filled with tears as he joined the procession, trudging solemnly behind the biers. They were laid to rest respectfully and the Rangers and Elves dispersed among the camp. Beroth wiped his forehead with his dirtied sleeve, unmindful of his injury. The cut opened and blood began to trickle down his face.

Wincing, Beroth pulled a small fabric bag out of a pocket and opened it. He pulled out a leaf of athelas and replaced the bag. Then he pushed the leaf into his cut and pressed the sleeve of his tunic against it. His eyes watered as the leaf stung, but it subsided and became a soothing coolness instead. Beroth wandered over to where a group of rangers sat and let himself fall to a sitting position, filled with grief over the loss of their comrades.

[Will Witfoot]

Wielding his blade with superlative skill, Eldín wove a deadly dance around one of their hulking opponents, wounding the troll in the critical soft spots in it's flesh and leaving it chasing shadows as he ducked out of the way of it's clumsy blows, re-appearing again only to deliver another flurry of attacks, each deadly kiss of his sword drawing black blood from the creature. After the troll was sufficiently slowed by it's wounds, the nimble elf administered the coup de grace, somersaulting in the air past his adversary's face and slicing his sword across it's throat. The troll gave a final, gurgling roar and fell to the ground, it's blood pooling up under it's dead form.

Eldín glanced around him, determined to let no foe take him unawares. Despite his difficult condition, he had learned the teachings of Imladris' weapon masters well. His guard was always up and his keen eyes ever open in case of trouble.

Suddenly, there was a lull in the fighting. The trolls that had assaulted them stood completely still, and it was a moment before Eldín could understand the reason for it. Then it all came together as he realized the suns first light playing upon the rough features of one of their gargantuan assailants, illuminating the rough, grey stone quite clearly. Eldín smiled. The light was yet stronger than darkness.

The smile died from his lips, however, when he recognized the two figures lying amidst the carnage of the battlefield. He hurried over to the still forms, pain in his eyes as he saw the relaxed features of Anga and Nuwethion, their faces smoothed by death. He felt a deep sadness, especially at the loss of Anga. Even though they had only got acquainted with each other quite recently, he had felt that they were on their way to becoming friends. It would have been the first friend that Eldín had ever had.

The surviving members of the group laid their departed companions to rest, singing songs of lament for their memory. Eldín could not hear their song, nor could he partake in it or word his sorrow at the loss of their comrades. He was truly beginning to realize how removed he was from the world.

[The Perky Ent]

Arathorn propped his back against one of the stone trolls. The battle had been won, but at the cost of two fine people. Arathorn was amazed that there was only two. He, personally, had thoughts that there might not have been a single survivor. Clearly, he had made good choices in his party. The men were all in bad shape, and probably wouldn't make it out of the forest easily. And if they couldn't make it out by night...

Arathorn rallied the others foward, after a long period of time. The sun was now well into the sky, its golden rays cascading over the forest. "Let us not forget the dead. For they will not forget us. Let us remember Anga and Nuwethion, who died on our behalf. Today will be a sollum day. No trumpets will be heard while we are present." Arathorn paused, looked at everyone. They were are mourning their loss. Arathorn took a deep breath, then said, "Well, let's get to work." And with that, Arathorn began moving one of the edges of one of the trolls axes, and began to dig.

A little past mid-day, there were two even holes in the ground. Arathorn noticed that Eldin was secluded from the rest of the group. "Do not recoil" Arathorn said, giving a soft pat on Eldin's back. "We will see them, eventually." Arathorn said, walking back to the holes. There, Arathorn, with the help of Elladan and Elrohir, placed Angakemion and Nuwethion in their graves. And when the dirt was back in place, Arathorn took the stone from the trolls, and began to hack at them. After a while, Arathorn had made two gravestones for the dead. "Angakemion and Nuwethion now rest in the Ring of the Dead. This ring will be remembered, for their sake. And for ours. And all who pass will be filled with the sorrow of the scene. They will feel our pain." Arathorn said, in a loud but sorrow tone. As the others turned away, Arathorn whispered, "Goodbye Anga. Goodbye Nuwethion."

[The Perky Ent]

Although everyone couldn't focus, the thought of another battle kept them going. The forest was very vast, and in the process of fighting, the party had lsot their way. "It's this way!" One said, pointing in a direction as another said the same thing, pointing in the opposite. "Elladan! Elrohir!" Arathorn said in fury, summoning the elves to him. "Climb the trees and scout the horizon!" Elladan and Elrohir mustered their strength, and began in climb.

"There it is!" Elladan and Elrohir shouted in unison. "Head strait from this tree and you'll find the road!" The man and elves quickly ran thought the forest, dodging felled trees and sharp rocks as they went. As they ran, the sky became lighter and lighter. "We are almost there!" Arathorn said, after a few hours of jogging.

As they came out of the forest, they could see the sun set. The red orange sunk beneath the ground, singing a sad song. "If any orcs come, ignor them. We're not getting into that again!" Owacyn said, giving a small smile.

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth had not had more than a few moments' rest when they were called to move on again. Everyone was quite somber as they began to walk, but the silence turned to shouts of confusion as they realized that they had become lost. Arathorn ordered Elladan and Elrohir to climb a tree and scan the area to find the road. They were in luck; they had but to walk in a straight line from the tree that the elves were in and they would find the road.

Beroth followed the others as they picked their way swiftly through the forest. He kept his eyes on the ground, glancing up every so often to make sure he was with everyone else. He noticed the forest becoming lighter as the sun rose higher into the sky. The light brought a new feeling of energy to Beroth, and he jogged faster.

Hours later, he heard Arathorn announce that they were almost at the road. Beroth sighed inwardly, feeling a sense of relief. The forest was beginning to have a closed-in feel; the scent of pine and earth was becoming cloying and clingy. When the trees began to become sparse and they could see patches of the road, Beroth ran faster. He burst out of the forest, breathing deep the fresh air of the open country. He barely heard Owacyn's remark about ignoring Orcs.

[Phervasaion]

The death of Anga and Nuwethion saddened the whole group, but Paladir thought they had died most honorably and that the cause was true. The burying of the two valiant warriors was indeed one of the most touching things that Paladir had seen, even though it only seemed to last a few minutes, and soon they were on their war-torn feet again making good pace through the forest.

It was not easy, considering that Paladir had a large gash in his right leg which was bandaged up with rags torn from his clothes. Paladir limped as he ran, but still managed to just about keep up with the others and, even though the group was delayed at one point getting lost in the confusion of the numerous trees, they found the road before sundown.

All were relieved once they gotten to the road and felt free in the more wide and open spaces. Arathorn led the group down the road for some time until the sun finally sank behind the mountains, and then he said that they would make camp at the road side until sunrise.

Paladir volunteered for the first shift for night watch, which was rather uneventful, but even though he was glad to be out of the trees the open spaces gave him some feeling of insecurity. Suddenly, Paladir felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see the smiling, yet very tired face of Hanindur. “What brings you here my friend?” asked Paladir. “My shift doesn’t finish for another hour.”

“Just finding it difficult to get to sleep I suppose… I was too busy thinking about the last battle and the loss of Anga and Nuwethion. And how close I came to loosing my own life,” Hanindur responded in a quiet tone of voice.

“Aye,” Paladir began. “We all had luck in that battle. Still, I seem to find that luck plays a large part in most battles, and hopefully it will hold for many years to come. And, even though its saddening thinking of the lost who have died in battle, I always try to think on the more bright side of things. When I do, I feel even luckier. For one, we were lucky that only two of us died, and that the sun decided to come out when it did as if it didn’t, we would have all perished. If another one of us passes away on this journey try to think that they died for a good cause, and hope they have a better life, wherever they have gone.”

[ArwenBaggins]

Eirian could not walk another step. They had jogged at a quick yet normally non-strenuous pace, but with the current state it was a struggle for everyone. When they finally reached the Road at sundown, Eirian breathed a small sigh of relief in the cool open air. They decided to make camp on the roadside and continue in the morning.

"Good thing too," he called to anyone who would listen as he leaned against a tree. His wrist had not stopped hurting since the end of the battle, and he was beginning to feel the consequences of it not being properly bandaged. He was lightheaded and striving to just keep his eyes open.

True, the deaths of Anga and Nuwethion had saddened everyone and dampened their spirits, but they all tried to look on the bright side of things. He was more cautious, however, and realized how precious life really is. His thoughts fell upon his expectant wife and young daughter. I shouldn't have left them, he confessed silently, holding his wrist close to his chest. I was so caught up in the fighting aspects that I didn't take their health and well being into consideration… how stupid can I be?

He volunteered for third watch. The night was very uneventful; he even noticed a scarcity of woodland creatures. "The bloody trolls probably scared them all away," he scoffed aloud, kicking a small stone down the dark Road. "As long as they stay away from here, they can have the animals."

[astarielle]

Elladan barely slept that night but lay gazing up at the inumerable stars that set the night afire. They blazed like glittering gems on a sea of shapeless shadow. As he lay his mind wandered accross many plains, forests and mountain ranges and at last to the sea. He could her the waves rolling repeatedly onto the shore and the distant cry of gulls over the ocean waves. Elladan could taste the salt in the air that blew in his face. He stood there motionless listening to the breaking waves and the whisper of the wind.

"Long you will yet live in our hearts and ever on in our dreams, Newethion and Anga" He spoke into the wind. The wind rose then fell as if that his thought had been acknowledged.

Slowly the vision faded and the air felt cool and the soft sound of the waves was replaced with a rippling of leaves of the forest behind. It was still dark but by his reckoning it was near dawn. Elladan glanced around, he could tell that it was not only the watchman that was awake at that time. He got up and walked around the camp, he knew he was not going to get anymore sleep.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir slowly washed his wound in the small stream he had found not far from camp.

It was a shallow cut, as the troll's weapon had merely glanced at his arm, and for that Elrohir felt grateful. He winced as he wrapped a rag lightly around it and slowly eased his arm back into his tunic.

He knew he was lucky, as he walked slowly throught the forest back to camp. They had made graves for too many of thier comrades already.

Stepping into the light of the fire, Elrohir came upon his brother. No words were spoken for several minutes as the two just looked at the stars.

"There is no sleep in you tonight," said Elrohir.

"Nay, and neither in you," said Elladan, " And not simply due to your wound."

Elrohir shook his head.

A few more moments passed in comfortable silece between the twins.

"They will go go quickly to rest in the halls of thier fathers," said Elrohir, speaking to both himself and his brother, who nodded.

"But come," said Elrohir," It would be an insult to thier memories not to be well rested in time for any other battles that we may find."

"You may go attempt sleep," said Elladan, "But I will stay watch for tonight."

"Very well," said Elrohir, who began walking back to the fireside,"But you forget I am you brother, who knows you better than any other," he turned slightly and smiled back at Elladan,"And I know you will soon join me in sleep,"

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur was quiet for a moment, after Paldir finished speaking. "Yes," he said lowly, and hoarsly. "May we hope that they will find a better life after death. And I suppose," he added, "that one could consiter it luck, that there were merely two slain in battle of out team, but nevertheless, their absence will be felt, harshly." He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, not really feeling the tiredness upon him, for there was also a harsh restlessness as well. "Uneventful watch?"

"Aye," Paldir answered, "though the open spaces give one a sense of insecurity, in a manner."

Hanindur nodded. "Well, friend, I suppose I had bess try at least, and get some rest before my watch," he stated, though sleep was not really upon him, more a sense of unease... probably a leftover sense from the battle that had just taken place. He found himself staring at the horizon, where the sun had gone down a mere two hours ago, while he had wondered in restlessness, and thoughts. Too many thoughts, as to how close he had came to losing his life, as to the loss of two members of their party.

They were not pleasent memories that filled his mind, and they hurt too, as it was never well for another to lose their life, non deserved to die in battle, though an honorable death, nevertheless. He walked away from Paldir slowly, in thought, as he left the other to his watch, and tried to pull himself to sleep.

Hopefully the remaining watches would be as quiet as the one at the moment.

[piosenniel]

Dunlendings

Dawn was near. A pale light crept through the trees, illuminating the figures asleep by the near dead fire. It was quiet; no sound of birds readying for the day – save for the deep, echoing croak of a lone raven somewhere among the towering trees to the north. A single figure sat huddled near the last embers, hood shadowing his face, head nodding toward sleep. His companions, there were eight of them, lay near – sleeping fitfully on the ground as if pursued by bad dreamings.

Wulfson watched them from his vantage point atop a high rocky outcropping to the south of the road. His tall, lanky form was pressed low against the flat surface, his dark eyes scanning the meager camp for any booty worth taking. He put his finger to his lips as his younger brother, Ulrich joined him. Both watched the scene for a few moments then withdrew to their cold camp a little ways away.

Four others welcomed them back – all tall men, swarthy in appearance, with long, braided black hair. Dunlendings, the rangers and Elves would have termed them. But in their own language they called themselves the Men of the White Horned Mountains, and they bore a deep and abiding anger against those who had displaced them from their homeland – the Rohirrim and the men of Gondor who had given away their land to the horse farmers. And any who aided these two groups were also fair game in their belief.

‘What did you see?’ one of them asked Wulfson, their leader. ‘How many and what kind gather about their little fire?’ asked another.

‘Nine there are,’ answered Ulrich, his eyes on his brother. ‘Two of the Fair Folk,’ continued Wulfson, ‘and seven of those meddling Rangers.’ He spat the last word out in anger. ‘They’re camped just off the Great Road. They look worn out, as if from battle.’

There were low grumblings at this turn of events. The group had been traveling along the road, beneath the cover of the trees for some time, bound for Breeland. A fine group of ten horses had been ‘obtained’ from an unfortunate farmer on the outskirts of the Mark, and they were now bound for sale to certain men in the woods of Breeland who would pay well for them.

‘Shall we head further south to avoid them?’ asked Ulrich, looking to his brother for direction.

A feral light rose in Wolfson’s eyes, and he shook his head ‘no’. ‘We are well rested and well armed and horsed,’ he said with a toothy grin. Pulling his long, double bladed knife from its sheath, he kissed it. ‘Why should we run? Let them run, instead. And our blades taste their blood when we catch them.’

Silently, the others drew their own knives and touched the pommel of each to his. Then two were sent to watch the Elves and Rangers and report back on their activities. The others packed up their few belongings and saw to the horses.

‘We’ll ride ahead to the marshlands before the Last Bridge. There are some rocky outcroppings there, thick with bushes to shield us from view. We’ll ambush them there. Take what we can from them.’

‘And kill them?’ asked an older fellow, who’d lost one eye in years past in an encounter with a Ranger.

Wulfson’s lips drew back in a gruesome smile, showing his ragged yellow teeth. ‘Kill them all . . . the Elves, too . . .’

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth slept fitfully. His dreams were full of trolls and the lifeless bodies of his two companions, their eyes staring sorrowfully at the red sky. Your time has come! a voice screamed, and Beroth jerked awake. His skin was drenched in a cold sweat and he was quivering. Someone was shaking his shoulder.

"Beroth, it's your watch," he said. "I'm sorry if I startled you."

"Oh...no, no you didn't," he replied, trying to stop trembling. He rose from his bed, shaking off the grip of sleep, and crossed his arms, hiding his hands. His awakener (he could not see his face for the darkness) gave him a strange look and asked, "Beroth? Are you all right?"

"Yes...I just had a dream. It was quite vivid and for a moment --" He gave a hoarse laugh. "For a moment, I thought it was reality. But I'm fine now."

The person put a hand on his shoulder, then turned and walked away towards his gear, singing softly. Beroth smiled and sat down, yawning. A movement upon an outcrop to the south caught his eye, but when he turned swiftly to look, nothing was there. He shook his head, thinking, That dream has made me become skittish. I must calm down.

He yawned again and shivered. He drew his hood over his head and poked at the fire with a long, pointed stick of ash. The chilly night woke him up quickly enough, and Beroth kept himself awake throughout his watch. Soon the eastern sky grew paler, and Beroth realized how fast the time had slipped by. He roused the others and was greeted by a few good-natured grumbles. Soon they were all wide awake and nibbling on a quick breakfast.

After everyone had eaten, Arathorn led them west on the road. Beroth found himself glancing at the place he thought he had seen the movement. He had a feeling that he was being watched, but he shrugged it off as leftover uneasiness from the battle with the trolls. To ease his mind, Beroth began to sing.

[piosenniel]

The Dunlending dog lends its voice to Beroth’s song . . .

The two Dunlendings watched from their vantage point as the group of Rangers and Elves fixed a meager morning meal, and then gathering their possessions, started off down the road. They noted that it was one of the men, and not the Elves, who was the leader of the group. “Arathorn”, they heard someone call him.

From the cover of the bushes and trees set off from the sides of the road, the two outlaws followed at a distance from the center of the group. With them were two of their great hunting dogs, said to be bred from the wolves that lived in what was once their people’s homeland. One of the men in the group they watched had begun to sing. In a wavering, thin voice he had started his song, and at the nods and smiles of his companions, his voice gathered strength.

The dogs twitched their ears at this curious sound and growled low to each other. One of them, thinking to join in the odd howling, raised his own voce in a long, drawn out howl of his own, which was quickly silenced by his owner . . .

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn jumped out of his bed as he heard the howling of the dog, within seconds Arathorn too was standing with weapon drawn. Owacyn had a look of fear slightly embedded in his face. "What is it?" whispered Arathorn?, "That howl...I know that howl...that's a dunelending hound!" Owacyn replied back. Arathorn looked puzzled. "Owacyn, we've just fought how many trolls?" and you're scared of a dog?", Owacyn looked at Arathorn. "Trolls are slow and stupid, these dogs are almost unbelieveably fast...and deadly...about the size of a wolf..."

Arathorn gulped slightly, "And how many are there?" Owacyn hook his head, "I only heard one...but we should be careful, there could be many more..." Arathorn shook his head, "What a foolhardy venture this is turning out to be, eh? Owacyn?"

[Saraphim]

Elrohir had woken before the howl, but a grogginess from extreme fatigue had kept him from immediatly finding his bearings as a good night's sleep would have afforded him.

Most of the others were already awake. Elrohir looked down at his brother, who was still asleep with a cloak over his head. A well placed kick sent Elrohir's older twin into action, and a snarky comment was silenced when a second howl tore the area.

Elrohir looked to Arathorn.

"Well?" he asked," What do we do now?"
But he knew the answer and was already fitting his bow with an arrow.

[astarielle]

The day passed slowly as Elladan's eyes tracked the movements of the sun with his eyes. "The star of the day seems to tarry in its long journey more so today" he said no no-one in particular as the group, still anxious from the events earlier that day, continued along the road. Minutes seemed like hours, and hours like days to both elves and men alike.

The group was walking quietly along the road, everyone trying not to listen too closely for strange sounds but inevitably doing so. The previously high moral now seemed stricken with melancholy and uncertainty for the future. Stopping only briefly for meals the companions made quick progress along the road. Not soon enough did night fall and sleep could soon forget the troubles of the day.

Elladan remained on watch tuning his hears to the slighest sound and his eyes to the slighest change of shadow. The murmering wind whipped up the flames of the fire and sent embers crackling far into the distance. The grass played its mournful song as the lingering sounds of the day disappeared as night grew and cast its shadow.

[piosenniel]

A day later -

The Attack at the Bridge . . .

The two Dunlendings trailed alongside the slow moving Rangers and Elves keeping well out of sight. It had been two days since they’d first come upon them, and the group seemed to have some idea that they were being tracked. Though, the Dunlendings took especial care now to keep their dogs quiet and them selves well hidden behind the trees and bushes that lined the road.

As the seven Rangers and two Elves drew in sight of The Last Bridge, their spirits seemed to lift a bit. Their stride lengthened and their eyes were now fixed on the passage across the River Hoarwell. The two Dunlendings who were tracking them pulled silently away and rode quickly away to where their fellows awaited,

Hidden three to each side of the road behind a copse of trees on one side and above on a rocky outcropping to the other, the Dunlendings watched the approach of the men and Elves with great anticipation. As the last of the men reached the small rocky cairn the Dunlendings had put near the road to guage the moment of attack, The Wild Men and their four great hunting dogs swept down and out from their hiding places with a great cry. Wolvish grins on their faces, swords and lances raised in readiness they charged the Rangers and Elves from both sides and behind.

Ulrich led the attack on the hated Rangers from the rear. He spurred his horse in, his two great dogs running alongside, their lips pulled back in a snarl from their sharp, yellowed teeth. The first man to fall was the Ranger, Eldin. He took Eldin’s lance in his left shoulder and stumbled back. Ulrich’s female dog saw her opportunity and was on him in a flash of fur and fang . . .

[The Perky Ent]

Seeing the bridge gave hope to Arathorn. He figured by then the loss of their company would ease. And, however slow it took, it was. "At last!" Arathorn shouted, slighty quickening his pace to the bridge. As Arathorn paced slightly ahead of the others, he had no idea what was in store for him. When Arathorn reached the Dunlendings cairn, he had only seconds before he a Dunlending followed by two massive dogs. By the time Arathorn pulled out his sword, Eldin was on the ground, covered by two gigantic dogs.

Running to Eldin's side with his sword in his hand, Arathorn was inches from one of the dogs attacking, when Arathorn himself was pinned down on his back by a dog. Arathorn tried holding the dog back, but as his sword had flown five feet away, it became complicated. Finally breaking through Arathorn's grip, the dog raised it's paw. Arathorn could see it's sharp nails, each a small dagger. As the paw came closer and closer to Arathorn's face, Arathorn heard a small sound in the distance. Before the dog could even touch Arathorn, an arrow had plunged itself in the canine. It fell on the ground, not moving. Getting up to his feet, Arathorn could see Elrohir give him a small salute as he cocked his bow with another arrow. Recovering his sword, Arathorn ran back into the battle, where his sword would taste flesh.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn shouted as he ran towards Eldin. The dogs paused for a moment, then one of them turned and leapt at Owacyn. Crying out with hate, he brought his sword up, leaping into the air, before reversing it and plunging it blade-first into the ground, and the head of the hound. He drove it until the dog's smashed skull would permit him to push it no more, then wrenched it out and swung a precise swipe at the other dog, who turned just in time to see Owacyn's sword cut its throat. It sank, whimpering, to the ground, where Owacyn thrust his sword into its heart. It slumped to the ground, before gasping out a final howl.

At the death of the two dogs, Ulrich screamed and charged at Owacyn, the horses hooves thundering as they bore down on the prone ranger. At the second before his head would have been crushed, Owacyn rolled to the side and in a single, fluid movement swung his sword at the horse's legs. He cut clean through the front left leg, and the horse buckled, hurling Ulrich under itself, and rolling until lack of momentum forced it to stop. Ulrich looked up at the ranger standing over him, the dark hair and scar looked familiar. "Owacyn, [* EDIT BY MOD *]...", Owacyn smiled widely as he looked at the man. "Ulrich, I told you I would never forget...and I haven't..." Owacyn drove his sword into Ulrich's chest, blood spurted from the dunlending's mouth as he wrenched it out. "I'll deal ith you when all of your freinds are dead, Ulrich."

[The Perky Ent]

The battle was short. After Owacyn's dramatic heroics, it wasn't very hard for the group. Especially the elves. Together, Elladan and Elrohir had killed 2 men before Arathorn could even kill one of the riders. Hanindur and Beroth killed the others. It was Arathorn who killed Wulfson. He ran up to Wulfson and sliced his right shoulder. Falling on the ground, Wulfson was pinned and couldn't use his arm to save himself. Lying there helplessly, Wulfson began to moan.

"Awww!" Wulfson said in a raspy voice, sucking in small amounts of air in short intervels. "My arm is ruined!" Wulfson continued, "My body is worthless. My life is worth nothing! Please! Have a heart! We're all on the same side, aren't we?"

Arathorn paused. Wulfson began coughing, still waiting for mercy from Arathorn. There was silence for a moment. Then, suprising everyone, including Wulfson, Arathorn calmed his grip on his sword. "No savage. We are not on the same team. However, I will give you mercy...but it will cost you."

Arathorn's face was rock solid, unlike Wulfson, who was whimpering. "You are a savior! I will pay whatever price! Just please let me live!" Wulfson said, trying to clasp his right hand with his left. "You will pay the price for your life, murderer?" Arathorn said, lowering his sword to Wulfson's neck. "Yes! Yes! Just let me live!" Arathorn lifted his sword from the Dunlending's neck, and moved his sword into a stabbing position. "Here is what you pay!" And in one swift movement, Arathorn punctured Wulfson's other shoulder.

Screaming bloody murder, Wulfson began cursing at Arathorn madly. "What have you done?!?" Wulfson said, his face red as a cherry. "What good is living without my arms?! You idiot! How could you do this to me?" Arathorn's face was as much as stone as when he showed mercy. "That was the price for spareing your life. He accepted. In saving your life, I have stopped you from ever killing again" "You," Wulfson was mad now. All sanity that might have been in him left with the blood flowing from his shoulder. "You think I still can't kill? We'll see about that! Maravmar!" and as he shouted, the last living dog ran twords Arathorn.

"You coward!" Elrohir shouted, as he was watching the event from behind. Before the dog could even jump on Arathorn, Eldin suprised everyone as he weakly threw a dagger at the dog, killing it. After this, Arathorn could take no more. "This is how you treat life? You would waste such a precious gift? Surely Anga or Nuwethion would not. Had I the power to determine who has life, I would surely use it. But I believe that a man should use every power he has. And I know the one just for you!" The was silence for a split second. "Death" Arathorn said, stabbing Wulfson for the third time, but this time, in the heart. Spitting up small amounts of blood, Wulfson exhaled greatly, and lived no more.

"Is it over?" Hanindur said to Arathorn. "No" Arathorn said, pointing to two figures in the distance. They were Owacyn and Ulfang.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur made a slight face-- the ranger had been hoping it was over. After the amount of fighting that had gone on over the last while, he was getting slightly tired of it, though he was used to it. At least this battle had been fairly short, the one he had killed had been less of a challenge than a 12 year old boy had been... luckly he had not had to face one of the dogs. Those had been vicious looking creatures, wolfen, and evil.

The hope to be able to resheath his sword was vanquished for a moment, as he watched to see what would happen-- to see if his blade would be needed again. One thing was certain, and that was with the choice to follow Arathorn, and the others this time-- his blade would not go unused. No, there was no dust to settle on the once shining blade, not with the amount of times they had needed to fight. First the trolls, which had been a heavy battle, and then now-- and it was inevitable to say that there would be more.

Hanindur sighed slightly. At least with this battle they had captured the horses, which meant for less walking, anyhow. That would be useful-- for at least something good had came from the shorter fight.

[The Perky Ent]

Arathorn wasted no time in getting a horse. "Come men!" Arathorn said to the rangers, who were all looking at Owacyn. "He can handle himself! Let's get some horses, and set the rest free" Arathorn said, pointing to a group of horses. Coming to a dark red horse, Arathorn began to approach slowly. The horse was very calm, and didn't notice Arathorn at all. Taking a deep breath, Arathorn placed one hand on the horse, and began to stroke. Making a slight movement, the horse shivered, but then calmed. Taking an even deeper breath, Arathorn gulped, and climbed upon the horse.

Some of the men were having harder time. The twins hopped on two white horses very easily while Hanindur fell off once. After everyone was on a horse, Arathorn looked at Owacyn, who was standing over Ulfang's body. "Come Owacyn! Time is short!" Hanindur said, pointing to a horse. Quickly, Owacyn picked out one of the imprisoned horses, and tried to get on.

It was a sad scene. The horse and the man had completly different points of views. The first time Owacyn approached, the horse lightly bucked him. "Why you good for nothing-" but Owacyn stopped. The horse was running away. "Owacyn, just grab another! There's tons!" Elladan said. "No, it's gotta be this one!" And running across the bridge, Owacyn tried to catch the horse. The others followed for about a mile, until Owacyn became so tired he could chase no longer. After all, the fight with Ulfang had taken a lot of energy out of him.

"That's it!" Arathorn said, riding up to the horse the color of space. Speaking someting in elvish, the horse slowly calmed down. "Try now." Arathorn said, offering the horse. Slowly climbing up, Owacyn got on his horse. "Finally!" Elrohir said, riding his horse alongside. Then, into the sun, the travelers rode north, to glory and death.

Traveling all across Arnor, they slew many orcs. From North, South, East, and West, they fought. It was rather quick, except for one skirmish in Weathertop, where Arathorn nearly died. Then, after about a month of riding, Arathorn looked up into the horizon and saw something he never thought he would. "Look!" Arathorn said, pointing to a small black dot. After about 10 minutes, that tower got bigger and bigger. Then, after an hour, they were within reach of Arathorn's final destination. Angmar. "We camp here tonight!" Arathorn said, getting off his horse! "Tomorrow, we break the doors, and find what mysteries lie in the dungeons of the Witch King's lair."

[The Perky Ent]

Arathorn was having trouble getting sleep. He couldn't deside if it was because of the towering black castle shadowing him, or the fact that his horse had picked a really bad time to go to the bathroom. Whatever the matter, it caused Arathorn to get up and walk around. "So much history" Arathorn said, looking around the fields surrounding Angmar. All around the ground were remnants of skeletons shattered from battle. "Much evil rests here" Hanindur said, walking up to Arathorn. He too was facing the same sleeping problems as Arathorn. "I still don't see why we should come. The orcs only came this way. We don't know if they came in. Face it, Arathorn. It's been deserted for years." "Then what's the harm? I know you mean well, Hanindur, but this is something I have to do. After all, how often do you get to come here? And what if the orcs didn't come here? Then that makes it even safer." Arathorn said, picking up a rusty sword from the ground.

"Not necessarily" Elladan said, walking behind Hanindur. "Say something dark still festers there. If the orcs came, it would have killed them, and revealed itself. If the orcs didn't come, and something is there, we betting hope we don't catch it's eye." "We won't" Arathorn said, putting the sword back on the ground. "I promise."

[The Perky Ent]

The red sun raised slowly from the endless horizon. A magnificent display of ruby, saphire, and magenta danced around the sun in such a way that gave awe to Arathorn. "Now that," Elladan said, "Is something you can only see up here. In the cold places of the north. Slowly, one by one, everyone began to wake up. And after they woak, they sat and looked at the sun. Then, after a while of watching, the sun took a breath, and lifted up from the horizon, shining great beams of light, reflecting on the men.

"Well men," Arathorn said, though pausing, as Eldin gave a grunt. "And elves!" Arathorn corrected. "We're going in! To mystery and glory! What mysteries lie here we do not know, but I know that there are many. This is why I call for an act of seperation. You elves will go up to the towers and see what is there. No doubt many secrets...and treasures." A murmer passed through the elves. "Us men," Arathorn continued, "We will go down into the dungeons." There was a mixed reaction throughout the group: elves and men. "What!" Elrohir shouted! "You get to find the real adventure all by yourselves?" "There is too much danger Arathorn! This is madness!" said Paladir. "It is what it is! It may be danger, but what glory has been taken without danger?" Arathorn said fiercly. There was silence. "Then it's decided. We're going in!" said Hanindur.

Standing in front of the gate, the men felt acquard. It wasn't in as good a shape as it was when the place was inhabited. What was once a great, thick, strong door, was now a rancid decaying hunk with cracks in it. "Time to break it open!" Owacyn said. "Not exactly." Arathorn said. "There's a crack large enough to crall through over there." Arathorn said, pointing to a small hole at the bottom of the gate. Owacyn began to blush. "Well...well...well where's the adventure in that." Owacyn said, charging up to the hole. Shocking everyone, Owacyn took his sword and began swiping his sword just above the crack, making it bigger. In a few moments, he had made a small door. "See! Now we don't have to crawl!" Owacyn said, drawing a breath. "Very heroic" Arathorn said sarcastically, walking into Angmar.

Inside, everything was dark, with the exception of the light from the "door", and two torches. "I don't like this" Hanindur said, taking a step back. Eldin looked at him as if he was looking at a monkey, and grabbed a torch. "What a nice coincidence!" Arathorn said, taking a torch. "Well, let's get going! It looks like there's a stairway past that hall! Let's go." Arathorn said, walking slowly into darkness.

The dark, high ceilings were starting to get to the men. Suddenly, they heard a scream. Though, none of them were screaming. "Calm down men!" Arathorn said. "The place is old! It squeaks!" "It came from outside!" Elladan said, rushing back to the "door". Outside, there was nothing. "See, nothing!" Arathorn said, starting to go back inside. Suddenly, something hit Eldin very hard. He nugged Elrohir, and then he too realized. "Exactly." Elrohir said, softly. "Nothing. There's nothing here, or anywhere. This is bad!" "What?" Arathorn said. "Of course there's nothing here! We're in the middle of a deserted kingdom. There hasn't been anyone here for centuries!" "You don't get it!" Elrohir said, once again softly. "I know where the scream came from. Our horses are missing."

Arathorn was mentally hit with a ton of bricks. He looked all around, but the horses weren't anywhere. "No horse, not even of Rohan, could get beyond the horizon that fast. Something is wrong." Arathorn said, looking at everyones mildly scared faces. "We should run now! Go back!" Owacyn said. "No. If something did take the horses, the could take us. We're safer inside...for the moment" Elladan said, walking back inside. The others followed.

Comming to the stairs, everyone took a gulp. Two great black stairs were stretching for what seemed miles. "Well, I'll be seeing you!" Arathorn said, going down. The others followed, except for the elves. Once the men had passed beyond light, Elladan, Elrohir, and Eldin stopped going up. Waiting for a minute, Elladan signaled Eldin, and they, with Elrohir, began to take the stairs not up, but down.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

The group moved down slowly through the total darkness. Owacyn kicked a stone by accident, and it made a resounding sound as it bumped down the stairs. Owacyn cursed wildly, silently, at himself. He heard a scratching noise above him and looked up. He couldn't see a thing, and he shook his head for being so stupid. He felt a breeze on his back, and he took another step down. He heard the scratching sound again and his heart started beating faster. He took a torch out of his pack and struck a tinderbox to illuminate it. Light flooded the tunnel. Again he looked up, seeing nothing, he again berated himself for being so paranoid.

He tried to step forward but found that his legs had gone numb. He pulled his legs forward with a concious effort and stepped down the stairs. Breathing heavily now, trying to keep as calm as he could. He slowly drew his sword with his right arm he continued down, trying to make as little sound as possible...

[astarielle]

The air inside Angmar was stuffy and putrid. A foul stench eminated from the inner chambers of the abandoned Kingdom. Moss clung desperately to the slimey stone walls, now crumbling with years of decay. All in all it was not a very nice place to be, a stark comparison to the light and fairness of Rivendell. The darkness seemed to grow thicker as the group made their way along the tunnel, by the time they split the dark was almost tangible.

The three elves, following commands from Arathorn, made their way up some stairs. Elladan lead the small group keeping his sword free in his right hand and the other hand against the wall. They climbed slowly and waited for the light of Arathorn's torch to disappear in to the growing darkness. Elladan raised his hand, barely visible to Elrohir at the back of the group, signalling to stop. With a sideways incline of his head Elladan signalled that they should make their way down into the depths of the forebodding place. "If any evil does still linger in this place, it will shun the light and therefore remain in the shadows below" he said quietly not wishing to disturb the air and signal their presence to anything that my be lurking in the vacinity. The light footedness of the elves meant they travelled along in relative silence.

[The Perky Ent]

Climbing down the stairs, Arathorn held his torch tight. If it fell, it would be a long way down. Looking around, Arathorn could tell that, as run down as the place looked, it wasn't empty. Hearing a scratching noice, Arathorn looked back at Owacyn, who had also looked behind him. Thinking nothing of it, Arathorn continued down the black sharp stairs to the dungeons of Carn Dum.

After about an hour of walking down the steps, Arathorn could see the bottom. It was smooth, even black marble, similar to that of Isengard. At the bottom, Arathorn could also see a small canal running through the middle, and continuing for miles. Halfway in the middle of the canal, there was a small, crumbling, bridge, which connected both sides. "Quiet men!" Arathorn said, looking behind him as he stepped onto the ground. "Shadows must not even know our presence!" As the men rested on the ground, Hanindur saw something very strange. "What is that light on the stairs?" He said, pointing to a soft, red light slowly comming down. Then, spontaniously, the elves jumped off the stairs onto the ground. "You really didn't think we'd let you have all the fun, did you?" Elladan said, greeting the men. Elrohir and Eldin followed close behind. "I figured as much" Arathorn said, taking a close look at the stairs, making sure it was just them. Arathorn wouldn't risk anything. That is, anything if he knew about it.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir kept his grey eyes open, searching the shadows for movement, and his ears tuned to every sound. An arrow was nocked on his bow, and his sword was loose in its sheath.

The ascent to the towers proved nothing more than dust, so Elrohir followed his brother down the steps to meet the men in the lower levels. He could feel Eldin close behind him, just as wary.

They were nearly down the stairs, Elrohir began to hear things from the chamber below.

"That cannot be the men?" he asked, incredulous at thier noise.

"The Dunadain are still men, I suppose," said Elrohir, using elven grace to avoid a crumbling step, "Shall we give them a good scare? Just to keep them on thier toes?"

Elladan smiled wickedly, "I wouldn't dream of doing anything else."

[The Perky Ent]

"Well! We're all here! Let's get started! There's nothing on this side, so let's cross the bridge and see what we find" Arathorn said, getting up and starting to walk. The others followed. As they approached the bridge, Eldin looked back for a second, sencing something. However, he quickly ignored it and continued. Crossing the bridge was a little difficult. There were many holes in it, and it wasn't very strong. It was a long drop to the bottom, and the group wasnt' fond on jumped into brown, dirty rapid water. So, they slowly crossed the bridge, and made it to the other side.

On the other side, there were many rooms, all going into different directions. At the end of the hall, there were two large wooden doors. Arathorn took one glace at them and said, "Well, we know where to start!" They slowly walked over to the doors and looked up at them. They were big enough to fit a family of eagles. Taking a deep breath, Arathorn slammed on the door, and it slowly opened. Inside, there were a bright light, which revealed treasure greater than that of Smaug's. But that wasn't what concerned Arathorn. Inside, there were orcs. Tens of thousands of orcs. The entire fellowship was quite. No one moved. Then, one orc looked at the doorway, and screamed "Intruders! Get them!"

Suddenly, a vast army of orcs began running out of the bright hallway at them. They didn't have time to breath. Immediatly, they began running for the bridge. Although they had a head start, the orcs were getting closer. "I told you this was bad!" Owacyn said, running for his life. Arathorn didn't have time to react, as he was trying to cross the broken bridge as fast as he could. Once everyone had crossed, Arathorn went back to the other side, kicked very hardly at the beginning of the bridge, and it collapsed, leaving only half the bridge left. The orcs couldn't cross.

Several orcs tried to jump, but then landed in the water. Learning from the experience, the other orcs could do nothing but yell at the travelers. "The stairs!" Elladan said, running to them. But something was wrong. Suddenly, Eldin realized why he had looked. He had smelled something. Orc. A bright light was moving slowly down the stairs, all the time screaming in the Black Speech. "We're trapped!" Hanindur said, running back twords the bridge. "Orcs are everywhere! There's no where to go!" Elrohir said. "There is one option!" Arathorn said, looking at the bridge. "We jump!" "Your crazy!" Paladir said, looking at the orcs on the stairs, who were getting closer by the second. "We have no other option!" Elladan said, running to the bridge. Then, he found a large hole, climbed down so he was hanging on, and let go. In an instant, Elladan had fallen into the roaring rapids of the canal. Realizing the only option, Elrohir followed his brother and jumped. After that, Owacyn, Paladir and Hanindur jumped. Leaving only Arathorn and Eldin.

"Let's go!" Arathorn said, grabbign Eldin and running to the bridge. "You first!" Arathorn said to Eldin. Eldin shook his head, and told Arathorn to go. Without wasting a moment, Arathorn jumped down the hole, into the canal, leaving Eldin. By the time, Eldin started for the canal, the orcs from the stairs had already reached the ground and were running twords Eldin. Then, just as Eldin jumped over the hole, about to fall in, a orc archer cocked his bow, and fired. Eldin never even reached the canal. His lifeless corps lay of the bridge, and the orcs took it. Eldin was gone.

Rushing through the canal, Arathorn tried to hold his breath as he was pulled down by the current. Underwater, he could see the others in front of him, but the current was too rough to look back. After several minutes, Arathorn ran out of air, and began to drown. Fortunatly for him, 10 feet ahead was a waterfall. It flung Arathorn, and the rest into a lake in the middle of a tall, large room. Emerging from the surface, Arathorn gasped for air, and got back onto land. There he found the others, all gasping for breath. Everyone, except Eldin. Looking around the large, dark room, Arathorn laid down on his back and said, "We are safe here...for now"

[Eowyn Skywalker]

It was dark there-- there was little light to change the bleak gloomyness of the place. Gasping for air, Hanindur pulled his fingers through his haid to get it out of his eyes. "I knew I had a bad feeling about this!" he muttered, looking around. As Arathorn had said, they were safe for now. Leaning backwards to catch his breath, something, or a lack of something drew his attention. He cursed, realizing that the water's push had washed his dagger away. "Well, that's handy," he added to his prevous statement, standing up-- getting to his feet easy enough, though the water dripping off of his soaked clothing gave an added challenge.

On his feet, and having regained his breath, Hanindur looked around some more. The room was large, empty, and quiet, save the breathing of the surviving men and elves. There was no daylight really to be seen-- an evil place it was. He had the feeling that he wasn't going to see daylight again, either. The darkness was foreboding in feel, and he didn't like it in the least.

A quick count of the others revealed what he had been certain of-- Eldin was also gone. Yet another that will be mourned, he thought, bowing his head a moment.

But there was no time to worry over the loss of yet another member. There was still the ever present danger to worry over, even if they seemed safe at the moment.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir wrung the dirty water out of his tunic, trying to keep from thinking too much about Eldin, whose death marked the end of all the elves in the group, save Elrohir and his brother.

He checked the quiver at his side, grateful for the waterproof cover he kept over them. His bow, however, was waterlogged. Sighing, he undid the bowstring and dried it as best he could on his wet clothes.

Elladan sat silently next to him, sword drawn to dry it before rust overcame it. That made Elrohir think of his own sword, which he drew.

"Well," said Elrohir, "We now number six. We are trapped in an enemy stronghold with no visible escape, " he smiled grimly, "I always thought it would end this way,"

"What?" questioned Elladan mockingly,"You never expected to follow Ada over the sea when he goes? Live a life of luxury in Elvenhome?"

"When there are deaths to be died here?" exclaimed Elrohir.

"Not likely!" said the twins together, chuckling as Arathorn came over.

"I wish the rest of us could be as good-natured about our oncoming doom as you two," said the Dunedain, "But perhaps it is simply an elven thing"

"No," said Elrohir, "It is our thing. I'd prefer to die in battle..."

"...Than to live a boring and safe life," finished Elladan.

[The Perky Ent]

Arathorn removed all his weapons and set them on the ground. If they rusted, they'd be useless. Ripping a piece of his tunic, Arathorn started removing the water from his sword. "Well, It's safe to say there's no exit." Elrohir siad, as he too was cleaning his weapons. "Wait a minute, remember those orcs that fell into the canal?" Hanindur said, looking around the room. "You're right! I don't see them anywhere! They must have escaped!" Elladan said, looking down at the water. "Someone check" Owacyn said, looking for a volunteer. "I got all of you into this, I'll get you out!" Arathorn said, jumping into the water. Under the water, Arathorn could see nothing but a stone bottom. All along the edge was stone. There were no cracks. "Where are they?" Arathorn thought to himself, checking the water. Then, swimming deeper, Arathorn felt two bodies. Orc bodies.

Emerging from the water, Arathorn looked at everyone with a meloncholly face. "The orcs are dead. They must have stolen treasure, as they sunk to the bottom." "Then there is no way?" Paladir said. "No, there's a way. Not a safe way, but a way. There's a purpass for this room. There must be. A giant circular room with a water source. If there's no grate for the water to exit, something must be taking it. It's not diffusion, as the rock bottom is hard. There is some secret to this place, but what it is, I do not know. Something tells me we're not alone here. Tread carefully men. I have a feeling our fighting days aren't over. "

[The Perky Ent]

After everyone was dry and restless, Arathorn got up and said, "Well, there's an exit somewhere! Let's find it. Take torches and split up. Twins, go to the left. Paladir, Hanindur, go to the right. Owacyn, come with me" As they split up, more and more of the room became visible, although there was nothing to find. "Owacyn, there is something here. I can feel it. It's either right in front of me, or right behin-" but Arathorn stopped. He heard yells. It was comming from the right. Owacyn and Paladir had found something.

Running back to the lake, Arathorn saw something he had only heard of. Something that haunted these lands for aeons. Looking up, Arathorn saw a fell beast, and it had Paladir. Elladan and Elrohir quickly ran up to it. Fireing an arrow in the stomach of the monster, it dropped Paladir, but he was hurt badly. This would be a long, fierce, tough battle.

[astarielle]

Elladan and his brother walked off to the left with the darkness retreating with the blurred light of the torches they held. Everything the dim light touched was dark and putrid. Somewhere water could be heard forever dripping from the barely visible ceiling creating a stagnant pool on the hard ground. They hadn't been looking for an exit, any exit, long when shouts were heard from the other side of the room. Fearing the worst Elrohir, closely followed by his brother, ran towards the sound, bows notched.

The sight they saw, neither could have imagined. Infront of them was a fearsome fell beast, such as they had never seen before apart from in the books of old. It towered above them as if mocking their size, enticing them to take it on. But that wasn't all they saw. In the great jaws of the beast was Paladir. For what seemed an age, as if frozen to the roots of the earth, they drew their bows. In the gloom it was hard to aim straight but the twins fired their bows and struck home. The beast roared, not out of pain but more out of annoyance, and dropped their friend on the ground. He was badly hurt but far from safety yet.

Elladan made a dash for Paladir who lay outsteched on the ground whilst shouting to his brother and anyone else that could hear him above the roaring of the fell beast, "Cover me!" He ran as fast as he could but with every stride he took the distance seemed to grow. Unfortunately the fell beast saw the elf before he could reach the fallen man. Despite a hail of arrows that rained down on the beast, its claw slashed towards Elladan. Elladan ducked but not quick enough, and a claw caught him accross the shoulder leaving a deep wound and knocking him sideways. Elladan was winded and despite the pain he crawled on towards Paladir whilst the others distracted the fell beast. He hurridly pulled his friend to safety, well as near as safe can be in a place such as this. Paladi was still alive thankfully and after catching his Elladan breath he pulled himself up and notched his bow again, forgetting the pain in his shoulder.

[The Perky Ent]

Phervasaion's post

Paladir, along with Hanindur walked off to the right as the group split. The place was dark and foul, and Paladir new that something was not right but he followed Arathorn’s orders and carried on walking into the darkness. As they walked forward they definitely felt a presence before them, and an evil one at that, evil and powerful. Paladir stopped, thinking he had seen something, and as he gave his eyes time to focus there was a towering dark figure in front of them, yet it remained still.

“Is… Is that a statue? Or worse?” Hanindur said, edging slowly towards the dark shape. He rose his torch up towards the shadows face and suddenly, its eyes opened and a red fire beamed from them.

“Hanindur move!!” Paladir cried as the beast raised its hand to swipe the Ranger, but Paladir charged and shoved Hanindur out of the monster’s grasp and instead Paladir himself was taken by the monster. The great being began to squeeze the life from Paladir, and its grasp was so tight that he didn’t think he was going to make it, but he kept trying to fight his way out from the monster’s hand. The beast began to loosen his grip, but, even though Paladir could now breath again, he new this was not good. It threw him into the air and then opened his wide gaping mouth, revealing long sharp teeth, as sharp as a sword, and Paladir landed right on top of them. His left leg and the lower part of his stomach were now impaled on the fell beast’s teeth and Paladir new that even if he survived this encounter with no more wounds, it would only be a matter of time before he died.

This is it, he thought, but suddenly he heard a whizzing noise, and straight away he new the noise was an Elvish bow… Elladan’s bow. The beast tossed Paladir to the side like a piece of rag, and he landed with a thud on the hard ground. At first Paladir could hardly move as his legs were totally disabled, but his upper body was still in tact and the Ranger would never give up. Elladan ran to Paladir to check if he was still alive and to his astonishment he was, he looked up and noticed a wound on Elladan’s right shoulder and yet he still continued to fight, firing arrows at the dark fiend, but all they did was bounce of his hard, scaly skin, causing no real damage.

Paladir glanced to his left and through his blurry vision he managed to count all of the remaining company, five there were, but he knew that it may not be enough, as skilled as they are, to defeat a being of this power. The injured Ranger then looked to his right and saw his sword lying on the ground. The light was reflecting off the weapon, light from the men’s torches. Paladir mustered all his strength and began to crawl, slowly but surely, to his gleaming sword. He stretched out his right arm and grasped the hilt tightly and brought the sword into his possession and as he grasped it he said to himself, “We’re not finished yet beast!” He looked down at his legs which were now covered in blood, yet he began to feel life flow through them again, and with a great struggle he started to pick himself up off the floor.

[The Perky Ent]

In anger of what had just happened, all the men charged at the fell beast, who wan on the ground for the moment. In the lead was Arathorn, his sword clasped in his hands. Approaching the Fell Beast, Arathorn aimed right above the left wing and swung. It made a small cut that ran across the wing, but it didn't remove it. Upon the attack, the Fell Beast screamed in pain, and with it's tail, wacked Arathorn across the room. Arathorn tried to get up, but the pain was too unbearable. Seeing what had happened, the other men charged faster. Just as they approached, the Fell Beast became airborn. "It's up to us for now" Elladan said, pulling a arrow out of his quiver.

Many arrows fired at the Fell Beast, but it would not come down. It was highly resisting. "Aim for the head!" Arathorn shouted from a distance. Taking his advice, Elrohir fired at the head, and brought the fell beast down. "Our turn!" Owacyn said to Hanindur, as they both ran up to the beast and confronted. Owacyn ran for the feet, grabbed his sword, and swung. Swiftly, theh Fell Beast's right leg came off. Hanindur, in the other direction, went for the tail, and with three sharp swipes, detatched it from the beast. Writhing in pain, the Fell Beast rose into the air again, flying madly across the air. "Bring it down!" Arathorn said, pointing to the Beast's eyes. Elladan and Elrohir both fired, but missed. Only one arrow hit, but it landed in the stomach, a place not likely to bring down such a beast. Suddenly, as Arathorn looked up at the men, he saw Paladir with them. He was about to do something crazy.

[The Perky Ent]

Phervasaion's post


“Hold!” Said a voice from behind the monster, and everyone turned, including the fell beast, to see Paladir limping towards the beast while using his sword as walking stick, he looked as if he was an old man but his voice was still loud and clear.

“Listen to me Demon!!” He began. “You may have injured me, but you haven’t beaten me! And even though my legs are now almost useless, I only need my arms and hands to wield my blade! And if I wield it!! Then I remain undefeated!!!” His voice began to grow even louder and stronger. “So hear me! Let us finish the fight we started!!!”

The fell beast just stared for a minute, but then a great evil smile came across his face, the smile was a smile of acceptance. He rose his hand to hit and finally kill Paladir, but to his surprise Paladir dodged his blow, and countered his attack with three heavy hit’s to the monster’s leg, and only with the third did Paladir manage pierce his skin. The beast backed away but came back with full force, and the battle between Paladir and the Fell Beast went on for some time, with Paladir amazingly dodging his swings and then coming back with heavy blows. But, it was only a matter of time until Paladir faltered, his legs gave way and he was flung to the other side of the room where the fell beast planned to finish him. With three large stomping strides the beast reached Paladir and raised his hand, but the Ranger was still not finished as he jumped to his feet and drove his sword through the monster’s neck. It swayed slightly, and with a crash he fell against the wall, creating a large whole and an escape for the company. The fight was finally over.

“Now… now you can escape,” said Paladir, pointing to the huge hole in the wall. “The way is open,” his voice became weaker and quieter. The men and the remaining Elf brother’s ran over but there was nothing they could do for Paladir now. Blood was seeping from his wounds, and Paladir was too weak to carry on. The injured Ranger fell to his knees and took his last breath.

“At least… I’m going to a better place, Hanindur.” Paladir gave a weak smile and then fell to the ground,

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn winced as he saw Paladir go limp, a tear escaped from his eyes, but he swiftly wiped it, trying his hardest to make it look like it was to get rid of dust. Drawing his sword slowly his thoughts strayed to Gondor and his wife and unborn child. Slowly and painfully he snapped them back to the present. Arathorn rested an arm on his shoulder. "Owacyn, there will be a time to grieve, but the time is not now...we must get through this, we have to, for the sakes of our children, and for children to come we must survive." Owacyn looked at Arathorn and tried to give a smile, but it came out as a twisted smile with a nervous twitch at the side.

Elladan and Elrohir joined them looking up the stairs. Hanindur slowly joined them as well. Owacyn looked around the company. Nine reduced to five in what seemed like hardly any time at all. Hanindur slowly and quietly said "We should commit Paladir to the waters, not just leave him here to rot in this hole."

[The Perky Ent]

"We cannot linger! There will be a time to bury the dead, but it is not now. Every second we wait, more orcs will prepare. We must go!" Arathorn said to Owacyn, running through the hole. A small stair went down into the depths, which the men followed. Beyond that was a small tunnel reaching beyond the darkness. "It seems we've found a secret tunnel of some king! This must be how they built it. Using these tunnels. They must lead to an exit! Let's go!" Arathorn said, running into darkness. "Is there no other way?" Elladan said. "The air smells foul" "We have two choices! We can either take the tunnel and stand a chance to escape, or we can stay in the tunnel and wait for them to find us." Arathorn said, grabbing his sword as he ran.

For what seemed like hours they ran through the darkness without sing of an exit. The tunnel and Paladir's body were now far out of sight, and the world seemed like pure darkness. The men couldn't even see where they were going, as their torches were put out by a leak in the tunnel a while back. "Now I know what it feels like in the void!" Elrohir said. "It truly is a punishment worthy of someone like Morgoth." Elladan said. For the next half hour, they ran, until they began slowing down. "This is useless, Arathorn! I'd rather be back in the tunnel, than lost and dead here. There's even a chance we're running back in the wrong direction!" Owacyn said, giving Arathorn a hard look. "Just a bit more" Arathorn said, though his mind was slowly agreeing with Owacyn.

An hour later, they saw light. It was beautiful. A beacon of hope. It gave hope to them. At the end of the tunnel, there was a ten foot drop into a bright, large room. With the exception for a large stair running up, the room seemed empty "This is our exit! Surely! " Hanindur said, jumping out of the tunnel. "Freedom" Arathorn said. "Look!" Elrohir said, running up a crack in the floor. Elrohir quickly broke the floor, revealing an enormous stash of weapons. "This must be a hidden armoury!" "Let's get some weapons and get out of here!" Arathorn said, grabbing beautifully crafted swords. After gathering a large amount of weapons, the men went up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs was a large dining room. Four long tables stretched hundreds of feet across the room. On each side of the room was an open exit. One, it seemed, went to a lounge. The other, went to the main hall. "We're saved!" the men said, running out to the hall. "Not yet!" Arathorn said, for guarding the large wooden doors were a small group of orcs. "Them the ones that got us at the bridge! Kill em!"

[Eowyn Skywalker]

The sight of the orcs made Hanindur furious. He was already stuck hard enough by Paladir's death-- the death he had died in order to save him, and now just the idea of the creatures of the enemies who had caused all of those deaths caused a flame within him to light up. He was yet tired-- exhaustion showed on all of thier faces, though perhaps more distant with the elves that remained, but the thought of those orcs drew all feeling of tiredness away.

The light that signified some level of hope for them glistened on his blade as he drew it-- the small amount of orcs that had attacked them at the bridge noticed him there. Hanindur dashed at them, a blind attack from his anger, and frusteration at the seeming lack of things they could do. Only five of them now remained-- himself, Arathorn, Owacyn, and the two sons of Elrond. Whether that would be all that would remain after this, Hanindur did not know. All he knew was that if he was going to die then, he would die in battle.

[astarielle]

As Elladan emerged from the tunnel he felt the heavy grim darkness fly from him that had been weighing him down for so long. He felt a great sense of relief as they entered a dimly lit room. But as soon as it had left was the feeling renewed as orcs guarded the heavy doors.

Instinct took over as he drew his bow, his arrows had now become few as their company had done. But arrows, no matter how few can still accomplish great things. That was what he thought as he fired an arrow at an orc charging their way. Hanindur had drawn his sword and was charging with fury at the orcs, the death of their companions weighing heavily on his mind. Without being told the rest of the company followed suit, they had accomplished greater deeds than killing these few orcs.

The pain in his shoulder was immense as Elladan parried with and orc for what seemed like an age before finally over coming it and slicing of its head in one swing. Every time an orc fell it grew harder to continue to fight, for every man and elf that had been through so much yet knew there was more to come. After dispatching another orc to join the ranks of the dead, Elladan whirled around to check all were still alive when a light coming from his stairs caught and held his eye. "Orcs!" he shouted, "from the stair, we must get out of here...quickly!"

With new found strength they faught on, faught on for their lives.

[The Perky Ent]

"Quick men! We must find things to baracade the hole! Owacyn, you stay outside and start piecing them together! Hanindur, come with me! Elladan! Elrohir! Keep them busy!" Arathorn shouted, running into the dining hall. "Ay!" Elrohir said, firing arrows at the first wave of orcs comming up the stairs. The twins could sustain them, but by the end of the day, they won't hold out. "Quickly!" Hanindur said. "Wood from the chairs!" Arathorn said, grabbing two chairs and running back ot Owacyn. "Break these are start filling the whole. When it's complete, yell, and we'll get out of here!" Arathorn said, throwing two chairs to Owacyn, who slammed them against the doors and took the wood. After several minutes, the chairs were all gone, but the hole was still wide. "It's gonna take a miracle to get outta here alive!" Owacyn said, making the hole smaller. What he didn't know is that there would be a miracle. However, it wouldn't be for the men.

"The orcs are gone for now" Elladan said, running into the Dining Hall. "Good, now help me break this table apart!" Hanindur said, hitting it several times with his sword. in a few moments, the table was cut into carrysize pieces. "To Owacyn!" Arathorn said, ushering them out of the room. "More orcs!" Elrohir shouted, firing more arrows. After a few moments, Arathorn was shocked when Elrohir said, "I'm out of ammo!" Without a moments hesitation, Arathorn drew his sword and jumped in to fight. Four, Five, Six, and Seven. "That's the last of them, for now! Elrohir, I need you! Help me with this cauldron" Arathorn said, pointing to a large cauldron place right above an unlit fireplace. Together, they dragged it to the stairs, and threw it. "That will stop them! Owacyn, hows the hole?" Arathorn said, running back to the entrance. "Just a few more patches and we're outta here!" "We're almost home" Arathorn said to himself. "We're almost home"

[The Perky Ent]

"We're ready!" Owacyn said, sitting down next to the wall to take a break. "Alright, we're coming out!" Arathorn said, crawling through a small hole in the wood wall. "Come on brother!" Elladan said. "Goodbye Angmar" Elrohir said, exiting the fortress. "Time to patch the last bits up!" Owacyn said, applying the last bits of wood.

In a few moments, the entire entrance was sealed. "Well, time to head home" Hanindur said. "We could really use those horses right about now" Arathorn thought to himself. He got his wish. Suddenly, two orcs on horses rode down a hill towards the men.

"Get them! Don't shoot the horses!" Owacyn shouted, as the twins both fired arrows, killing the orcs. "Well, we've got horses, but there's only two. Who's gonna get them" Owacyn said. Just then, there was a bang on the wooden door.

[The Perky Ent]

Suddenly, the wooden wall shattered, flinging wood everywhere. In fear, the horses ran.

"Get the horses twins! Behind the door, over a thousand orcs stood, waiting to attack. "This is the end" Owacyn and Hanindur said.

"Or the beginning" Arathorn said. "Goodbye friends" Arathorn said.

And after that statement, the fellowship was destroyed.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur just stared as the wall shattered. It took a moment for him to realize, and understand why it had just broken. "One thousand orcs," he breathed out, in a deaded shock. As the wall shattered, the two horses that they had found bolted, in terror. In the back of his mind, Hanindur understood that the two horses would be needed by the twins. "This is the end," he said, at the same time as Owacyn.

"Or the beginning," Arathorn said. "Goodbye, friend."

And after that, all was thrown to pieces as the thousand orcs attacked. Hanindur had the strangest feeling then, that none of them were going to survive this, unless there was a miracle. And over the last while they had been in short supply of miracles. At least when I die, I'll die with honor. Hanindur thought, as all thoughts of the past were drove from his mind, and he found himself battling the present.

[The Perky Ent]

"Arathorn! Hanindur! Owacyn! We won't leave you!" Suddenly, Elladan and Elrohir came charging on horseback. "Don't! We're lost! Save yourself!" Arathorn said, ushering them away. "No!"

"Take this!" Arathorn said, throwing a sealed letter to Elladan. "Give it to Elrond. He will understand. We are no longer important! You must go! That letter is all that matters now! The future of all middle earth depends on it! Leave now! Let us die in peace and honor. There is no hope for us! The shadow has falled. A new chieftan will arise! Go, and stay your sword! You must deliver that letter!"

And, reluctantly, Elladan and Elrohir stopped their charge, and watched in horor.

[astarielle]

"Take this!" Arathorn said, throwing a sealed letter to Elladan. "Give it to Elrond. He will understand. We are no longer important! You must go! That letter is all that matters now! The future of all middle earth depends on it! Leave now! Let us die in peace and honor. There is no hope for us! The shadow has falled. A new chieftan will arise! Go, and stay your sword! You must deliver that letter!"

Orcs were pouring out of the entrance, a never-ending flow of unstoppable water. Elladan could not find the words to speak yet watched in horror as the orcs broke upon his friends. He watched with a dumbfounded expression as tide upon tide of orcs came gushing forth.

Two horses for the two survivors, yet another coincidence in the string of them which had followed the company since they left Rivendell. Yet that seemed an age ago to Elladan as his mind wondered to all things that had happened and all those that were lost, who now tread the halls of the dead. Unlike them the brother’s bodies still remained in the land of the living and in that land there was still danger.

Elladan held tight to the letter Arathorn had given him. He turned once more to the halls of Angmar, where once they and entered with hope yet exited with fear. His eyes searched for his friends once more but not even his elven sight could see them in the midst of a thousand orcs. Every time he saw a sword flash, he hoped it was companion yet as time wore on he found it harder to believe. The orcs were getting closer yet still Elladan could not move hoping that somehow the company would come forth. “Elladan! We must hurry….forget this place…now!” he heard is brother shout but the elf didn’t move until a sharp thud on his arm brought him back to reality. The elf’s eyes swam as he turned his horse and made off for home, for safety.

They had been fortunate, the only two of the twelve that had once set out on that ill-fated summer morning. They will never be forgotten, their names will live on for all eternity where time cannot touch them nor enemies slay them. Their story will be told for generations to come, Elladan would make sure of that. He looked at Elrohir and knew at once the same thoughts were running through his head as well. “Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath (May they find peace after death). Farewell my friends, my brothers.”

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn looked around and parried another stroke, reposting and piercing the orcs body, pulling hiw sword out he swung it around and beheaded another. He saw Elladan and Elrohir and smiled, they had been good freinds for many years, but he had hoped that he could have ended the friendship another way. Looking around he saw Arathorn shove his blade through an orc's throat, Owacyn spun around and hacked another orc to the ground. An arrow flashed out of the darkness and smashed into his left arm, just above the elbow, it tore through and punctured the other side. Owacyn let out a scream of pain and took his left hand off his sword, it was useless now. Wielding his sword one handed he spun it deftly in his hand and pushed it through another orc's sternum, wrenching it free in time to thrust it backwards into an orc's belly. He felt a blade push into his back, but it didn't go deep. Crying out he turned and brought his sword down with all his strength, the orc fell back, its skull cloven cleanly in two.

Owacyn looked to Hanindur, and watched him slay orc after orc as they came at him. Spitting blood, Owacyn took up a defensive stance and pulled his shield off his back with his left arm, the pain was excruciating, but it at least gave him some defence. Pushing aside an orc's slash with his shield he slashed its throat and it fell back, gurgling, pinning a smaller orc underneath it. A blade sliced across his abdomen, leaving a large cut, but not damaging any organs, Owacyn was losing blood fast now. He knew he would die, no medicine, elvish or otherwise, could be administered in time now...

Owacyn fell to one knee, still slashing calculatedly at the orcs approaching him. Thirteen more fell under his blade, until with all his strength, he stood up shouting a warcry, winging his sword around in a large defensive circle it took the lives of another three unlucky orcs. Another arrow came from the back, slamming into his right chest, just below the nipple, puncturing a lung. Blood now seeped continually from Owacyn's mouth, and every mouthful he spat out drained his strength more. Screaming hate he walked slowly forward slashing wildly, and clearing a large perimeter around him, where orcs were hesitant to enter. Smiling, he dropped his shield and took his sword in both hands and lifted it up, blade high, so that the hilt was in front of his face. He closed his eyes slowly anda great sense of peace came over him.

On the blank backs of his closed eyelids he saw Minas Tirith, the White City, in all its glory, with the sun reflecting off the white stones. He was running towards it, and looking up he could see his wife and child on the battlements, she held the baby up high and it gurgled happiness. A small tear fell from his eye and trickled down his cheek. Arathorn turned round just as this happened "OWACYN!" he cried, but to Owacyn the voice was strangely distant. He reached the battlements and began to climb the stone wall, ever closer to the top. The orcs around him murmured, and started to move closer. Owacyn heard them, but like Arathorn's voice, he felt it didn't really matter.

Reaching the top of the battlements he saw his wife only a few paces away, another tear trickled out of his eye. He would never see his child, not for real, or his wife, ever again. He looked at the child in her arms, it was a boy. "Seon," he whispered. Arrathorn and Hanindur heard his say this. "Seon," he said again, a little louder. Arathorn and Hanindur were no longer there to him. He felt the orc's sword enter his back, peircing his heart, but it didn't hurt so much. He felt his body contort as he fell backwards, and he felt the cold stone as his head smacked the floor. With a last gasp of air he murmured again, through his dead lips, "Seon."

[The Perky Ent]

Watching Elladan and Elrohir ride away, tears fell down Arathorn's cheeks. "Goodbye son" Arathorn said, drawing his sword and turning the other way. There was silence. Then, Arathorn, Owacyn, and Hanindur screamed, and charged the enemy. Arathorn quickly reacted and struck down two orcs in one shot. Once their heads were chopped off, Arathorn began parrying three attacks, before striking down another two. "For Aragorn!" Arathorn said, slicing orcs by the dozen. Suddenly, a obese orc jumped on Arathorn from behind and brought him to the ground. He was pinned. Then, giving all of his energy, Arathorn forced him off and crashed him into six other orcs.

Looking to his left, Arathorn saw Owacyn loosing blood. "Owacyn, I'm com-" but Arathorn was stopped by two more orcs jumping on him. "Not Today!" Arathorn said, knocking them off. The orcs hit them like a rock under the falls of Rauros. The pain was excrutiating. "Gilraen!" Arathorn shouted, diving at a handful of orcs, killing them all.

"There's no end!" Arathorn said, attacking the orcs in the area. Suddenly, Arathorn heard the sound of arrows being fired. Looking to his left, Arathorn saw two arrows hit Owacyn. "Owacyn!" Arathorn cried, but he knew the worst had happened. "No!" Arathorn shouted, running to Owacyn. "Seon" Owacyn said softly, and closed his eyes. "No!" Arathorn shouted, stabbing the orc that killed Owacyn ten times in the face. "Not Owacyn!"

A new rage had filled Arathorn. He could no longer feel pain. All energy was focused on battle. The loss of his best friend brought forth so much adrenalen, Arathorn almost thought he saw his sword glow. Running through a small layer of orcs, Arathorn killed twenty at a time. They would pay. Suddenly, Arathorn heard two more arrows. This time, they were for Hanindur. One arrow pierced his hip, the other, his skull. Hanindur didn't get to even udder a final word. "No! Not you too!" Arathorn shouted, crying the entire time. It was just him now. "By the power of my fathers, I will stop you!" Arathorn shouted, getting up and charging again.

Although the rage was just as strong, if not strong, Arathorn felt his strength waining. But it didn't stop him. By the time Arathorn stopped to take a breath, he had killed over seventy orcs. Then, he felt it. An arrow shot through his right calf. Arathorn fell to the ground apruptly, kneeling. Although helpless, the orcs didn't attack. "He's mine!" "No! Mine!" the orcs argued, fighting over who would give the final blow. "He's mine!" said a large, black orc. His muscles were bulging ten times that of a normal orc.

The orc began to laugh. And subsequently, the others followed his example. Arathorn tried to lift his sword, but he didn't have enough strength. He knew his time had come. Then, Arathorn began to laugh. "What are you laughing about, puny human?" the large orc said. "I'm laughing because every one of you will die. Your lord will be destoryed. This land will be obliterated. Your kind will be extinct. My son will bring about a new order!" The orcs stopped laughing. Even the large one. "No..." the orc said, "Our lord will never die" Arathorn gave a smirk, which really angered the large orc. He drew a bow and arrow, and aimed at Arathorn's eye.

"Make me proud son"


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

Many days later

"We did it brother!" Elrohir said to Elladan, staggering into Rivendell. "This will give father a laugh" Elladan said, coughing. Elrond rushed to the entrance to greet them. "What has happened? Where are the elves and men? Where is Arathorn?" Elrond said, with a frightened face. Elladan and Elrohir both closed their eyes, gave a sigh, and opened them. "They all fell. We should be there with them, but Arathorn wouldn't let us. We traveled to Angmar. It was horrible. Along the way, we lost all but Arathorn, Owacyn, Hanindur, Eldin, and Paladir. By the time we escaped, Eldin and Paladir had fallen. We were surrounded by orcs, but Arathorn sent us here with the only horses that survived. He said we should give you this" Elladan said, revealing a letter to Elrond. "He said it was more important than anything." Elrohir said. "Thank you" Elrond said, walking away.

Back at his study, Elrond opened the letter.


Dear Elrond,

If you have this letter, you know what has happened. I do not wish that I could tell you, so long as you can read this. We have lost almost everyone. It's all crumbling apart. This was, as I feared, my last adventure on the face of Middle-Earth. However, my life is no longer important. If I die, I have a favor to ask you. By the time Gilraen finds out of my death, she will be heavily burdened by greif. She needs to be able to take care of Aragorn. I can sense something about the boy. I sense he will be the last Cheiftan, and bring about a change in the world. By the end, I feel he will bring about a new order. This is why I must ask you this: Bring Aragorn and Gilraen to Rivendell. Keep his identity a secret. When he is ready, he will accept his lineage. I feel so strongly about him that I feel he will bring forth a new age. A fourth age. An age of peace and prosperity. Please understand my request. Tell Gilraen I love her very much, and will always think of her. The halls of my fathers are calling me. I can slowly hear them. It is time. Tell them I love them very much. It is my final request. Please understand...

Arathorn








~*~ THE END ~*~

[piosenniel]

~*~ To Elvenhome ~*~