Kidnapped!

[Susan Delgado]

Nuhrive ran through the wood, the branches whipping at her face. He was close behind her, she could hear his breath, hard and ragged. She ran on panting, until she came to a clearing, a dead end! The barbarian was so close, any moment now… In a smooth movement she swung into a tree, hiding. The elf hating barbarian was now in the clearing, looking for her…

“Nuhrive Fleetwood, you know you’re not meant to be up there.”

The small slightly whiney voice made the elf maiden jump in surprise, almost making her lose her hold on the branches she was perched on, jerking her out of her dreamgame. Looking down irritably she saw a rather scrawny boy a few years younger than her standing below her awkwardly. She glared fiercely at him and came down in a way that would have been graceful if she hadn’t ripped her skirt. She winced but stood straight.

“You’re not meant to be out here either then.” She shot back irritably. He was always
following her! He looked hurt and uncomfortable, like a puppy that’s been told
off. She sighed and attempted a smile. Immediately he beamed back.

“We have to go to the Lady’s halls. There's a meeting about the bands of wild men, you know, the ones who’ve been wandering outside. They stole some more goats and they beat one of the young elves on duty and-“

“Yes, Sultir, I’m quite aware of which wild men.” It was all people talked about now
and she had to admit, more than a few of her daydreams had included escaping daringly from these men. But there were so many of these meetings…She sighed and the male elf looked anxiously at her again.

“Oh come on then.” Immediately she took off again towards the Great Halls. The scrawny boy stared after her for a moment and gave a small moan then followed.

[ December 29, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Morai]

Harlon Nowane leaped into three cartwheels as he entered the Galadriel's Royal Court. His hat jingled as Harlon's head turned scanning the room. A goofy expression appeared upon his face as he greeted the guests, wild men. The Lady's fool bowed.

"Greetings my Lord. My,my! Did you cut your hair, Lord Celeborn? New tailor maybe? Or could it be...." Harlon's silly antics were interupted by his audience's growl. He gulped

"Hm, this is a tough crowd. No matter, I need my meal." The elf thought. Turning around, he ran in the oposite direcion.

"Oh dear, I forgot my pies!" Harlon shouted crashing into a pillar. Dizzily stumbliling around, he thought aloud:
"My! Three Galadriels and three Lord Celeborns! I wonder what's going on?" He ducked out of sight and picked up his pies. Holding it up he asked:
"Who whishes to have the honor of throwing this at the Royal Fool?" Harlon asked sweat dripping from his face.

[Ithaeliel]

"Noro, noro Ithilion!"

The hooves of a white horse sounded across the Fields of Celebrant, mingled with the cries of the frenzied rider as he raced on, his brilliant green eyes straining desperately for a glimpse of the familiar Golden Wood, his thought bent on whether he would ever see it again. But a few hours ago the rider had caught word of a band of Easterlings who were dangerously close to Lothlorien, his home. But now, exhausted by his constant yelling and sore from riding rugged parts even his great steed could not make smooth, he was forced to stop. Sliding to the earth, he stroked the muzzle of his weary mount. "Well done, my friend, to have gone so far uncomplaining." So saying, the dark-haired elf left Ithilion to graze and, sighing in frustration, jumped nimbly to the top of a boulder that jutted out of the ground. Fiddling with his bowstring, he scanned the barren plain for a target. Yet his eyes spotted not one sign of life other than his horse. "The Wild Men must have gone hunting the harts," he muttered with indignance.

From behind came thudding hooves and voices crying out his name. Looking back, the elf saw it was his companions, a husband and wife who took a surname of Fleetheart.
"Feadhros," called the woman, "You must not ride off so suddenly ever again!"
"The Lady would not will you to panic with this news," chastised the other.

Feadhros hung his head. "No, she would not," he said. "Yet I feel it is in her best interest that we be there to protect her from harm. These Easterlings are said to be ruthless."

"Lady Galadriel will be safe until we arrive, of that I can assure you, young Feadhros. In the future, you must stay calm. Your nerves could be the death of you," said the woman.

Feadhros relinquished. "I am sorry for abandoning my post so recklessly. I shall not do it again."

His companions smiled. "It is forgiven. Since we have come this far, let us continue." And mounting their horses, the three scouts of Lorien went once more toward Lorien.

[ December 29, 2002: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

On behalf on Aylwen Dreamsong...
Jemel walked through the forest, her hawk Aniram close behind. The Lady Galadriel had asked her, yet again, to inspect the borders and talk with the scouts. There had been strange people and things around the Golden Wood lately. Jemel strode through the woods until she came to the post of one of the smaller scout groups. The woods had grown thin, trees spreading out more as the forests of Lothlorien ended. She stopped suddenly as someone ran to her from behind the trees to her left.
“Mistress Jemel! Come to report?” the taller elf bowed and eyed Aniram.
“He doesn’t bite. Not often,” Jemel smiled as Aniram flew to perch lightly on Jemel’s shoulder. “Yes, the Lady has sent me to get tidings. Things of late have brought need of haste and worry.”
“Yes, they have. Not much here, but we received a message from the northern border asking for backup. We sent some of our men, and we haven’t seen them for two days,” the scout leader watched as Jemel wrote down everything he said on her parchment. Jemel’s ocean blue eyes looked up at the elf, wondering whether or not he was telling everything.
“Are you sure that is all? Do you need anything from the capital? Horses, food, supplies?” Jemel could easily send such things once she made it back to Caras Galadon.
“Would you be so kind as to send a horse or two? We came up here, not expecting to be here so long, and some of our men need horses,” his eyes began to search the woods.
“Certainly. Good day, be careful.” Jemel rolled up the paper and held it out. Aniram flew from her shoulder to grasp the paper within his talons. Jemel whispered something to him and he flew off into the woods. Jemel smiled and bowed to the scout, and then turned around, ready to make her way back to the capitol.
Jemel walked slowly back through the woods, contemplating the goings on throughout the area. Just the day before she had been out to the eastern border, and news came that a band of wild men had been wandering in the distance. Many orcs had been in the area too, coming from ways of Moria. Of course, any of the disgusting things stupid enough to come close were killed, for no foul orcs had ever been into Lothlorien and lived. These tidings were disturbing, though. According to other messages from some of the other nations, things elsewhere had been going astray as well.
“What a world we live in.” Jemel spoke softly to herself. She was more than halfway to Caras Galadon, so she ran the rest of the way to the Golden Woods’ main city.

[Amanaduial the archer]

OCC: sorry about the spacing in my first post, the one susan posted; i copied and pasted from word with messes up the spacing.

Nuhrive and Sultir caught their breath just outside the door and then creapt into the hall as quietly as they could. Nuhrive silently used a word her parents wouldnt have known she knew; everyone was there already. Peering through a crack between the double doors, she looked into the hall. Yep, Isolde and Milar Fleetheart were both there.

"Come on. We'll go up to the gallery." She whispered, beckoning to her friend. Sultirs eyes widened.

"The gallery? Its not safe! No one goes up there!"

"Wrong. Lots of couples go up there, but for exactly the reason that there is no one else there! Come on, Sultir, please?" She grinned. "Or would you rather like to go in there in front of the Lord And the Lady herself?"

"Lets go."
~~~~~~~~~~~
The pair climbed up to the old gallery above the hall. Nuhrive settled into a small nook where she had left her dagger and a few books. Sultir looked accusingly at her but she grinned at him again, causing him to smile reluctantly as well.

The sound of the Fool playing drifted up to them from below. Pressing her eyes to a crack she looked down, getting a perfect view of the stage and she smiled as she saw it was Harlon. Harlon Nowane was one of the best Fools in the court by Nuhrives reckoning, but by the look of the crowd, it seemed they didnt think so well of him.

"Who whishes to have the honor of throwing this at the Royal Fool?"

Nuhrive closed her eyes. No one was going to say it this time. It was just the adults today; there were no little children to volunteer.

Harlon looked around desperately and chanced to look up, catching Nuhrive's eye before she could duck down. His eyes pleaded with her silently for a moment and she made up her mind. She jumped down the rickety stairs, leaving the gasping Sultir hissing after her.

"Nuhrive? What are you doing? Nuhrive!?"

She ignored him and burst into the hall to the shocked gazes if the courtiers and Harlons smile as he began improvising.

"Ah, and here comes my beautiful assistant! Nuhrive, No one will toss my pie!" Here Harlon made a mock sad face before handing her the said pie. Glancing up at the gallery, the elfmaiden caught a glimpse of Sultir's horrified expression and knew exactly what he meant.

My parents are really not going to like this...

[Susan Delgado]

Sultir watched in horrified fascination as Nuhrive joined in the Fool's act. She was obviously enjoying herself, but was too engrossed in her fun to observe the expressions on her parents' and some of the older Elves present. Sultir wasn't. He loved Nuhrive like the sister he'd never had, but right then, he was glad he was up here and not down there.

Presently, the act ended and Nuhrive realised her danger. It was too late to escape it now, though, and Sultir watched from hiding as her parents deposited her in her room and said some things he was too far away to hear. As soon as her parents had disappeared back down the corridor, he slunk through the hidden passages until he came to the one that opened into her closet. She was not particularly surprised to see him appear in her room. She turned to him with a sigh.

"What am I going to do now?"

"What did they say?"

"They told me I was not allowed out of my room until further notice. They're tired of finding me in places I'm not supposed to be, etc. You know how they are."

Sultir supressed a smile. He did, indeed, know how parents were, and he only had one to deal with! "You're not actually going to stay here, are you? How boring! Come on, they won't be back for hours."

"But-"

"They'll never know."

Convinced by this impeccable logic, Nuhrive nodded and they snuck through the palace (utilizing the secret passages when discovery by some adult seemed imminent) until they were outside again.

[Morai]

Harlon sat, leaning back on one of huge trees. He sighed, his stomach growling. Groaning, Harlon threw his hat. A strange jingle sound as it hit the ground."Not a single enertained soul, except Nurhive. Oi !" The Fool thought.

Standing up, he pondered his next act. Silently he moved about, mouthing words to an invisible audience. Other elves stood and watched usual antics of Harlon. He tripped over an invisble object. Harlon struggle to unstick himself from something non-existent. Biting his sleeve, Harlon ripped himself from the ground. Making sure he stamped his foot on the scrap of clothing.

Some children aplauded, begging their parents to give Harlon food or money. His stomach finally satisfied, Harlon left the scene.

[ December 29, 2002: Message edited by: Morai ]

[Ithaeliel]

After taking Ithilion back to the stables, a weary yet relieved Feadhros retired to what he claimed his resting spot, which also served well as a perch. It was one of the higher branches of the ancient mallorn tree upon which the palace lay in all its splendour. From there he espied many a curious activity, and in the past he had seen suspicious things happen, in which case he reported it to Galadriel immediately. His infamous wily ways were surpassed only by his love and loyalty for the Lady.

On this day, however, Feadhros was too careworn and exhausted to be attentive of his surroundings. Heaving himself up onto the branch, he lay down cautiously and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. He heard the laughter of children playing together, the more soothing voices of the grown elves, and he felt magic in the air about him. Seldom was he home of late, and all that was beautiful of the Golden Wood was greatly accented now. The young scout basked in the glory of these things, and he was nearly lulled to sleep by it all. Then he heard two whispering voices nearby.

Sitting up quickly, Feadhros glanced about him, trying to discover who was speaking. Looking down toward the back of the palace, he saw two young elves sneaking out. One of them he recognized as Nuhrivë, the daughter of his partners Milar and Isolde Fleetheart. The other was a border guard he had seen a few times but had never spoken to. Leaping lithely from his perch, Feadhros landed quietly on the next limb, making his way downward until he was just above the two. Then, nimbly as a cat, he sprang in front of Nuhrivë and her companion. The girl gave a yell and jumped back. "You...!" she gasped.

Feadhros grinned a little. "What are you doing out here?"

[ December 30, 2002: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive leapt back with a little yell as the figure jumped out in front of her.

"You!" She gasped, trying not to sound too dismayed. Of all the people she could have met, did it have to be her parents partner?! She knew she was being rather unfair to Feadhros himself; she knew him to be friendly and a good friend, as well as funny, something proven from the mischevious way he was now grinning at her. There were very few adults in Lorien who actually grinned.

"What are you doing out here?"

...and that was another thing about Feadhros. He could spot mischief a mile off. But Nuhrive was good at covering up on the spot; she spent half her life doing it when she had to explain what she did all day.

"We were just going to run a few errands for-"

"Oh dont tell Milar and Isolde please, Nuhrives meant to be in her room!" Sultir rushed out in one breath.

...however, Sultir was not so good at covering up. But suddenly very good at avoiding his friends eyes. She kicked him sharply on the ankle and he winced.

"But....but thats only because she, erm, had to do some...some....things in her room that were, um, very...important..." He improvised but Feadhros laughed and Nuhrive couldnt help smiling. "Sultir, you're hopeless at lying!"

"I will take that as a good thing!" her friend shot back, but he was also grinning. Then Nuhrive turned to Feadhros, who was still waiting for an answer, and she was not going to beg him not to tell her parents. She stood up straight and looked him in the eye. "We have a few things to do in the Wood."

"Oh really? What sort of things then?" He was still grinning and Nuhrive was getting angry.

"None of your business!" She said, feeling her cheeks getting hot. Why was he so hard to lie to? She knew the elf better than her own parents. She started to storm off but Feadhros caught her arm, speaking gently. "Hey. I just asked. Hang on..." Nuhrive winced; she knew he had heard something about Harlon, and he would be able to have guessed about her parents reaction. She pulled her arm from his grasp angrily. He was just another of her parents friends, she should have known it, just another one who would tell her parents of her whereabouts and stop her from doing anything.

"No." She said angrily, her temper flaring up. "No, Im not going back. They'll make me do embroidery again, and just sit in my room. I dont want to do embroidery; I want to be one of the scouts! Not even my mother will let me- she says I am to well bred, even though she does it!" She was backing off all the time. "I hate just being 'well bred'!" Turning she ran away into the forest, taking a cut through to the palace, leaving Feadhros and Sultir gasping on the path.

Taking the rickety stairs up to the gallery two at a time, she grabbed some of the lembas and dried fruit she kept there for snacks. Then taking up her elegant dagger in its sheath she put it on and ran down the stairs again.

Sprinting through the forest, Nuhrive reached the borders of the Golden Wood. Staring out from a hiding place out of sight of the guards, she saw past the trees, gasping. There were entire expanses out there which might have no trees at all; she trembled at the thought then became more resolute. There would also be no embroidery. When the guards changed in an hour or so, at twilight, she would be gone.

[doug*platypus]

It was early afternoon when the band of men neared the edge of the wood. They were strung out single-file, and only the first few initially saw what their leader did. They stopped in their tracks as their fellows joined them.

Their leader shaded his eyes against the bright light; his party had been in the closeness of the forest for the last two days of their journey, hunting. Across the other side of the flat, open meadows before them, he saw what could only be the Elvenwood. There seemed to be an unnatural light coming from the very trees themselves! And it was brighter the deeper he looked into the heart of the forest. This was yet another one time he doubted the wisdom of this venture.

"The Elvenwood," he said to his two closest companions, other brave leaders of the Easterlings, "surely it must be as perilous as we have heard. I wonder now if this raid be worth our necks. What things of value we shall find time may tell.
"Rogar!" he spoke to the large man nearest to him. "Drop the beast, we rest here until nightfall. I will not risk the open fields by day."

"Aye, Skara," the man grunted, slinging the huge buck off his shoulders and onto the ground. One of his companions made towards the carcass to divide it, stopping first at it's antlers to claim his trophy. The weaponsmith had made a brave strike to bring the beast down, and the magnificent 20-pointer was his to do with as he would.

Skara quickly counted his men, making sure all thirteen were there and none straggling, before posting some of the younger ones as guards. The Woodsman did not fear the Elvenwood as much as he had when a boy. And tales had now come to his village of daring raids into the Elves' territory, to steal animals or to hunt. One party from close to the Great Forest had even claimed to have seen one of the mysterious sentinels, and given him some bruises to carry home with him before he could escape. Nevertheless, these Elves were not to be trifled with. Although some of his companions carried much anger and hate towards the Fair Folk, Skara himself would rather return empty-handed than not at all. But, yes, time would tell how they would fare. He rested and awaited the night.

[ January 01, 2003: Message edited by: doug*platypus ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

As Jemel came to Caras Galadon, she first made her way to the small aviary, to see how Aniram's flight went. As she walked she bumped into Harlon, the King's Fool.

"How did the show go?" Jemel asked Harlon as she dug into her pockets for a coin or two.

"It went alright. Though I needed some help from Nuhrive," Harlon answered as Jemel handed him some lembas from her pack, since she couldn't find change.

"Nuhrive...Fleetheart? Isolde and Milar's child?" Jemel wondered aloud, searching her memory.

"That's the one. Thank you for the lembas. Must be off!" Jemel shook her head as Harlon ran off to Varda knows where.

Jemel strode into the aviary, and in greeting she recieved chirps, caws, and cries from every bird one could imagine. She became a perch for more than one kind of bird. Through the clouds of animals flew a hawk, magestic and smooth in flight. Aniram perched on Jemel's outstretched arm, and placed a parchment into her hands.

"Thank you, Aniram. Next time you can go straight to Galadriel though, and I'll be here to fill your food and water dishes," Jemel stroked Aniram's head with her forefinger. "Give this to the Lady, I know you are sure of the way. I'm going to send horses to the western border."

Jemel shook the other birds off her shoulders, and gave the parchment back to Aniram. Then she went to the stables, and talked to the stableboy about extra horses. He agreed to go to the border with two horses. Jemel thanked him and left, taking her time as she went to go and see Galadriel and Celeborn about the recent happenings. Lately there had been many meetings with Lothlorien's older residents, but Jemel often had private meetings with the Lord and Lady about her thoughts and findings.

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros was aghast. What train of thought had brought Nuhrive's temper to rise so, he knew naught, yet he felt badly. Perhaps he had pressured her too much for a straight answer. She knew he was close to her mother and father; it would be easy to suspect him of ratting on her. She also appeared to consider him an adult though he was not; he sympathized with mischevious souls being still young and rebellious himself. He almost pursued the poor girl, but his conscience held him back. What would she think?

Feadhros would still not let the matter go. Turning to the boy, he spoke in a hushed tone. "Sultir, as Nuhrive called you by, we must find her. She is not safe."
Sultir nodded. "You're right. She may run across the path of Milar and Isolde, in which case she will be in more trouble than she already is."
Feadhros looked anxiously around at the trees. "But that is the least of my worries for her. There are tribes of vicious Easterlings that are far too near these forests, and I have not the heart to think what may happen if Nuhrive runs across their path."

Sultir went white. "I know where she might have gone. Follow me!"

Weaving their way through the castle, Sultir and Feadhros' hearts pounded with worry. Though brave and clever, Nuhrive was quite vulnerable to be caught alone in the Golden Wood's present situation. Their friend was in grave danger.

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive made herself comfortable in a tree. Shifting carefully, she managed to not attract the attention of the guards and smiled to herself. They would be changing in a few moments and they hadnt noticed her in the hour she had been here.

The sound of a horn echoed through the wood and the sentries looked up, relieved. Coming down from his place, the sentry near Nuhrive walked away. Then he stopped and yawned, stretching his arms up. The elfmaid less than a foot above him froze, shifting her foot slightly so that his hand would avoid it. Then he left.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nuhrive placed her foot on the branch to come down...

"Nuhrive! Nuhrive?!"

...and once again froze. Two voices she recognised very well; Sultir and Feadhros. Now was the point in the stories when the hero would make a tearjerking farewell to fine friends, and they would resolve to come with him, but then would make do with giving useful and often magical items-

"Nuhrive! Where are you?"

-which was so not going to happen. She could see them coming now and gasped. Well, she hadnt waited here for that long, completely still without a reason.

This is a mistake Nuhrive Fleetwood.

Leaping down in a fluid movement, Nuhrive landed running, ignoring a twinge in her leg as she ignored the small voice of reason. Turning briefly, she waved cheerfully at her two friends, then turned back and ran into the open.

Feadhros would not have ratted on you Nuhrive. You know that. You just wanted an excuse

Running into the open, Nuhrive gasped, standing still suddenly. The trees...she could see beyond them, see them fading out.

Why are you leaving your best friend? Act your age Fleetheart. You shouldnt be doing this; its pure folly.

Leaping over a ledge, hearing her friends calls in her ears, she rolled as she hit the ground and stood, taking a moment to be pleased with herself.

Mistake.

"Hello my pretty." A voice murmered darkly behind her and a hand clamped her shoulder. Glancing at it, horrifed, she saw it was huge and rough, scarred and sword callused; definitly not an elven hand. Spinning away she looked at the huge men standing in front of her. One made a lunge for her. Nuhrive yelped and jumped backwards. Turning she started to sprint. Now her leg was really starting to hurt! Grunts and harsh sounding, brutish voices sounded behind her and she heard them start running as well.

Told you.

Ignoring the gloating voice of reason she sprinted through the wood, dodging the tress nimbly.

But not nimbly enough.

She felt the root beneath her feet and started to fly through the air, her mind pounding...

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Before she could make it to see the Lord and Lady, Jemel was distracted by the sudden rush about Caras Galadon. Someone appeard from around the trees and tried to catch his breath as he went up to Jemel. Jemel helped him steady himself, and looked questioningly at him.

"The north border! We were," The elf panted and spoke between deep intakes of air. "We were changing shifts. There weren't many of us. At least ten or fifteen of them!"

"Take a breath! Calm down. What happened?" Jemel's usual smile was cast down into a frown of worry.

"Wild men. They attacked. There could not have been more than five of our men. We could barely see them. Then we heard a scream. Most of them have left the woods, but we fear they may have-" Jemel hushed him and sent him to find water for himself.

Jemel turned and whistled louder than she ever had. Then in a loud voice she called, "Aniram! Nya mára mellon! Ettul, Lothlorien ná arwa mornie! (Aniram! My good friend! Come out, Lothlorien is caught in darkness!)" In response came a loud bird-cry, and Jemel knew Aniram would be close behind.

Jemel ran as fast as her strong legs could carry her, pulling out her daggers as she moved silently about the woods. She wasn't sure if she would need them, and hoped she wouldn't. As she reached the post of guards and sentries, people rushed around, and two bowmen shot an arrow once or twice.

"Miss Jemel! Jemel!" Someone called her name and ran to her, motioning for her to pull out a parchment and quill. She did so, listening intently.

"One of our own is wounded, but none are dead. We lost one horse, it ran off in fear. Also...we fear we may have lost..." He stuttered, maybe afraid to have to admit something.

"Yes?" Jemel prodded as Aniram flew to her shoulder.

"We fear we may have lost one of the citizens. Not a guard. A female. One of our men heard her scream once, and then we never heard her again. We think she may have either been killed or taken off. If someone finds their loved one is missing, well..." the guard stammered again.

"Varda hold up the stars! They may fall at this news!" Jemel sighed, and reluctantly wrote down the news. "How can this be? Orcs have never lived through Lothlorien, yet one of our own girls is taken by MEN! Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm not mad at you, I am reluctant to give such news to the Lord and Lady."

Jemel put a hand on the elf's shoulder for a moment, and forced a grim smile. She rolled up the parchment and held it out for Aniram. Aniram cried a chirp of either sorrow or dissapointment. Then he flew into the distance.

"I wonder who it was..." Jemel asked herself as two male elves burst through the trees. One she knew a little, Feadhros, whom she had met when sending news to Galadriel. The younger one she knew not, though he still held a look of little hope upon his face.

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros and Sultir were near the borders of Lothlorien when they met with Jemel. "What has happened here?" Feadhros asked.

"The border guards told me that Nuhrivë has gone missing, and they heard screams. I don't know if there's a chance we could catch them up."

"We have to try," Sultir said hopefully. "My name is Sultir. Come, let's find the creeps who took her!"

"I'm afraid that my fears have come true," Feadhros said as they ran, his voice full of worry. "Curse me that my bow is back in Caras Galadhon!"

"What fear do you speak of?" Jemel asked. "Do you know who might have done this?"

Feadhros' brow creased in anger and he gritted his teeth. "Easterlings," he spat.

As they reached the very borders of Lorien, Feadhros stopped short, Jemel right beside him. His eyes were wide as he crouched near to the ground. Sultir doubled back. "What is it, Feadhros?"

The young elf looked up at Sultir and Jemel and back down at the ground. There were huge footprints in the mud, and there were lots of smudged tracks. "There was a struggle here," he whispered. "There are also several smaller prints, like those of a young maiden..."

"Nuhrivë," Sultir murmured in horror. Jemel took a quick note of the findings.

Feadhros continued to follow the tracks out of the forest. "They carried her; there are no more small prints. She must have been unconscious because there aren't any inconsistancies in the tracks now; she didn't struggle."

"Enough tracking, Feadhros, we have to follow them! We can still catch up if we hurry!" Sultir cried.

"And then what would we do? We are unarmed; they would kill us or take us hostage instantly. Besides, these tracks aren't fresh. We couldn't catch them."

Sultir lowered his eyes in dismay. "Well, what are we going to do?" Jemel asked.

"We should go back to Caras Galadhon. I'm sure the Lady has been alerted by now; she will organize a search party and hopefully we will be able to join. I hope so," he said, looking wistfully to the direction that Nuhrivë had been carried. "I feel some of this is my doing."

[ January 01, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Morai]

The Lady of the Wood seemed troubled. Harlon couldn't figure what was the matter, though it must be serious. He tried his usual antics. Galadriel's expression remained grim. Hysterically Harlon begged at her feet for a smile. Still no grin appeared upon the Lady's face.

"I must be losing my touch. Dark days these have become." Harlon thought.

Suddenly a messenger burst throught the halls. Harlon glanced up to see Feadhros catch his breath. Following behind him were Sultir and Jemel, dragging their feet. Feadhros slowly brought his eyes to meet Galadriel's own.

"My lady, I have grave news." He solemly spoke.

[ March 08, 2003: Message edited by: Morai ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Yes. I have been informed." The Lady of the Golden Wood looked upon them now, Feadhros, Sultir, Harlon, and Jemel. Her blue eyes were dark, and as solemn as Feadhros's voice. Through the air flew Aniram, coming to a stop to rest gently on Galdariel's shoulder. In her hand already was the parchment from Jemel.

"It was Nuhrive," Sultir said sadly, even though Galadriel knew already.

"Nuhrive. Such life there was in her eyes." Galadriel stopped short, thinking.

"What do you mean, 'there was'? We can't just take her for dead, can we?" Feadhros tried hard to control both his temper and sorrow.

"Yes, Lady! She was captured, not killed! We must start a search party! If we hurry, we have more chance to find her safe!" Jemel reasoned as Aniram cawed in agreement.

"Very well. You are right. We cannot forsake one of our young ones. Not when she may be alive. Who do you propose we gather for this search party?" Galadriel stood from her seat, and held Aniram in her hands, petting him a little.

"We will find people suited for such a journey. We will not let Nuhrive go," Sultir answered, proudly and assuredly.

[ January 01, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Susan Delgado]

"We will find people suited for such a journey. We will not let Nuhrive go," Sultir answered, "In fact, I'll volunteer! No rescue party is going anywhere without me!"

There was silence for a moment. Then The Lady leaned forward slightly and asked softly, "What is your name?"

"Sultir, My Lady," he answered as softly, brazenly meeting her gaze.

She stood straight again. "Sultir. A valiant name for a valiant child. Why do you wish to join the rescue mission?"

Sultir glanced around nervously. Faedhros and Jemel were looking at him as The Lady was, as adults to a child. He was on the spot and knew it; what answer could he give to convince The Lady to allow him to go? Finally, he took a deep breath, stood as tall as he could, and said with as much dignity as he could muster, "She's my best friend, My Lady. We've never been anywhere apart and I would like to help find her. I can be useful. I can be a messenger or a scout. I'm small and can move silently and without being seen. I believe I can be an asset on this rescue mission." Braving her gaze, he knew he had not convinced her. He was not going. He sighed and glanced at the others. It seemed they agreed with her, and in a way, so did he. He knew that all the benefits of having himself along could be better done by someone bigger and more experienced.

The Lady saw the thoughts on his face and did not humiliate him by telling him 'no'. Instead, she put a gentle hand on his shoulder and said, "I think you should be the one to tell her parents. You must have known them all your life."

He looked into her eyes again and saw that she did understand about he and Nuhrive. Slightly comforted by this fact, he nodded and turned away, to find Isolde and Milar and warn them before the found their quarters empty and their daughter gone. As he left, the three adults had gathered closer and a heated discussion had begun. What none of them knew was that he had no intention of staying calmly with Nuhrive's parents while strangers found his friend. He was certainly willing to be the one to tell Isolde and Milar, but not beyond that. He was going on the rescue mission, even if he had to sneak behind them.

[ January 01, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Jemel watched as Sultir sadly left the room. Feadhros, Galadriel and Jemel began to speak of who should go on the search.

"I'll go. If Sultir cannot go, I will go for the both of us. I feel it may be my fault, to some extent," Feadhros hardly had to argue, Jemel knew without a doubt that the Lady would allow him to go.

"I shall go as well. Aniram can trade messages back and forth, so you will not have to worry. You will have an idea what is going on and how long we will take," Jemel knew that Galadriel did not like to be in the dark about things.

"I could go," Harlon piped in, from behind the three other Elves.

"What?" came a nearly simultanious question from Feadhros, Galadriel, and Jemel.

"I could go! Nothing better to take your mind off things...right? Besides, I could make an awefully good distraction, should the need arise," Harlon continued, getting quieter with each word.

"Maybe this discussion should wait until tomorrow..." Galadriel suggested.

"If we wait, the Easterlings will get farther and farther away. Nuhrive's light grows dimmer by the minute," Jemel said quietly.

"Then who do you propose should go? Seriously, it is no field trip! This is real! Nuhrive is in danger!" Feadhros had lost his temper, but just slightly.

"We know, Feadhros. You are not the only one who has lost Nuhrive," Harlon commented carefully.

[doug*platypus]

Skara paused, listening. The night closed itself around the Woodsman and his two companions as he signalled for them to halt. Only a little while ago they had left the main body of their force several hundred yards back, hidden in the undergrowth. Skara and the other two leaders were scouting around the edge of the wood. Away south the forest stretched off into the distance, its secrets hidden for now in the middle of the night.

Skara was more cautious now that the the group was not together. He thought he had heard, almost felt, movement about them somewhere just now. Suddenly, a blur of movement from above the three men. A small, dreamlike form flew off a ledge to their left, landed nimbly, rolled and stood up... right in front of the weaponsmith, Ru-Sahn. Fortune was with them. She, for plainly this was a maid-child, stood for a second seeming pleased with herself.

"Hello my pretty," the weaponsmith murmured darkly as he clamped his hand down on her shoulder. The child stood horrified, staring at his hand as though the very touch of it pained her. Then spinning away, she looked at the three men standing in front of her. Ru-Sahn made a lunge for her, and she screamed out as she jumped backwards. Turning, the child started to sprint away out of the forest, her hair flowing behind her in the speed of her escape.

"After her!" Skara called under his breath. The others grunted their acknowledgment and tore off through the woods, Skara following. Then noises erupted behind them, back where the rest of the band was, shouts and the clash of weapons. The rest of the group must have been fighting with the sentinels of the Elvenwood.

"Gar!" Skara cursed the luck that separated the Easterlings now, a battle on one hand and a prize captive on the other. Trusting the other two to pursue the child, Skara raced back towards his men, drawing his short sword as he flew over the rocks and the tree-roots.

By the time that Skara arrived, the fight was over. The Elves were nowhere to be seen, but Skara saw a group of his men pursuing deeper into the forest at a pace. Shouting hoarsely after them, he called them back. Cursing and muttering, they re-joined the rest of the group.

"What happened?" Skara asked one of his fellows.

"We were lying hidden, when Elves came near. We would've been seen, we had to attack first. We managed to wound one but then they all banded together and fought their way out. They fled deeper into the woods, the cowards!"

"They'll be back with more of their kind, then," Skara noted. "We must leave the woods. Rogar and Ru-Sahn have our prize already. Come! Be quick! If you can't run now, you stay behind!"

All thoughts of wounds or weariness fell from them. The Easterlings had tasted battle, and now were hungry for more. Several bore marks from the fray, and one was bleeding heavily from his shoulder. Taking no time to dress it properly, they wrapped it around with beast-fur to halt the bleeding, and sped off after Skara down the trail.

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros sighed. "I am sorry," he said. "I feel I must go on the mission, for Nuhrive's parents are my friends, as is she. If Nuhrive dies, things will never be the same."

"No, they will not. That is why we must gather a party now, before the Easterlings are too far away for pursuit," said Jemel.

Harlon piped up with a suggestion. "I have much experience with gaining audiences. Perhaps, if I can do no more, I could send out a call."

Galadriel thought on it a moment, then smiled. "That is a good idea. Would you do that, Harlon?"

"Yes, m'lady. I'll get right on it."

When Harlon was out of the room, Feadhros turned again to the lady. "I agree that he may be of good assistance to us," he said respectfully. "He of course would not be taken for a warrior."

Galadriel hesitated. "Perhaps," she sighed at length. "Even so, we require more warriors than this."

"What about Sultir?" Jemel asked.

"I don't know, Jemel. I just don't know."

Feadhros looked over his shoulder toward the route that Sultir had taken to find Isolde and Milar, his heart sinking like a lead weight. He hoped Sultir would not tell about Feadhros' mistake.

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

Ru-Sahn ran close behind Skara, the unconscious girl slung across his back. He grimaced from the bruises she had given him in their struggle. She was surprisingly strong. Oh, how he hated elves, especially those from the Woods of Light. He would have cut the girl's throat had he not first considered what a trophy she'd make for this expedition. She would be a slave to his tribe, a pretty prize for all to look at.

Suddenly the girl moaned and her foot jerked, kicking him straight in the chest where his largest injury was. Ru-Sahn growled with annoyance, his patience growing thin. Someone else ought to carry this wild maiden around for a while. Let another take my hurts! But if he were to keep his dignity, Ru-Sahn would be forced to carry her uncomplaining. Striding ahead to walk beside Skara, he looked at his leader, who in turn grinned maliciously at the maiden who lay across his shoulder. "Such a pretty thing... she'll be worth something to anyone. And if it so happens that we come across her kind, they'll have to pay us for her. I can imagine the luxury we'll have with the worth of those elven goods..." Skara laughed.

Ru-Sahn said nothing, but nodded.

[ January 05, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive sprinted as fast as she could, forcing herself on despite her ankle, which was now sending shooting pains through her leg. She could hear one of the men, the one that had touched her shoulder, hear him gaining on her. But how close? Risking a glance over her shoulder, Nuhrive's eyes widened and she whimpered slightly; he was only a few metres behind her, and gaining.

Turning back she only just avoided a tree in her way, but stumbled off balance and wasnt able to stop herself. One of the men took advantage of this as he put on a final spurt of speed, grabbing the scruff of her neck and using her off-balanced momentum to propel her forward and then down. She hit the ground hard but turned on her back, scrabbling away from him. She tried to speak, calling to the power of the trees for help but the man slapped her across the face as he heard the elvish words, a look of disgust on his face, sending the elf maid reeling. As he was bent over her, she lashed out with her foot, catching him in the chest and then in the face. He gasped slightly, but his thickset form meant her kick didnt do much except make him angrier. Slapping her face again, he then grabbed her and slammed her against a tree, knocking the breath out of her.

Ru-sahn slung the near unconsious Nuhrive over his shoulder. She caught a glimpse of a girls wide eyed face and an elf lying probably dead on the floor before a hood was rammed over her head and she fell into half unconciousness to the sound of angry, harsh human voices.

[Morai]

The elf leaped from the treehouse. Landing face first into one of his own pies, Harlon gained his auplause. Slowly moving about, he portrayed the scene of Nurhives departure. Dashing away from an unseen enemy or friend, Harlon shouted unheared words. Stoping, the elf played three parts, Nuhrive, Feadhros and Sultir.

Sliently, Harlon brought himself into a heated argument. Jumping from here to there, he threw his hat to the ground. Before he could stop himself from leaving, Harlon ran. Dashing circles around the enertained, he pretended to hurt his ankle.

Arruptly the elf stopped. Grabbing his arm behind him, he pulled himself away kicking mad. One thing left was his hat.

The crowd stood in wonder. It seemed the pantomime scene had served it's purpose. A small child knelt down to pick up the abandoned object. Jingling the bells, the young one giggled. Being held up, it was snatched away by it's owner.

"If you would like to help in the search of Nuhrive, meet in the Lady's hall at sunset. We are in need of many warriors." The fool spoke doing cartwheels away from the audience.

Once again the child looked into it's hands, instead of a jingle hat, she saw an elanor flower....

[Ivy of the Woods]

"Come on girl, we're going." Blair's harsh voice rang in her ears and she hesistantly looked up at him from her sewing.

Nura's large eyes bore heavy weight after staying awake the past few nights repairing breeches and shoes for her brother and his friends. "Why brother?" she asked

"You question me?" he snarled at her and raised his hand.

Quivering slightly she replied hastily "No Blair, of course not."

He snorted, pulled her to her feet and went to catch up his friends. Following obediently, Nura tried to ignore her aching legs. She had never been very strong and after long hours of sewing and fetching dry wood Nura was ready to colasp and would have, if the fear of her brother's hard blows hadn't kept her going.

As she walked, Nura packed her needle and thread into a tiny bag, her only possesion besides her sewing equipement and the clothes she wore. Anything else had been sold a long time ago.

[ May 04, 2003: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Are you sure you told them when? Did you tell them where?" Jemel questioned Harlon. They waited with Feadhros and Galadriel for anyone to show up about the search party.

"Honestly! I had quite a crowd! Anyone not there would certainly have heard from their friends," Harlon was sure that someone would show. The sun sprayed bright and endless colors around outside as it set.

"What if no one comes?" Feadhros asked, as if coming out of a trance.

"Stop thinking the worst. Someone will show. I know it," Harlon assured them.

He was right. A few minutes after the stars began appearing in the sky, people began to enter the Lady's hall. To Jemel's dissapointment, no more than ten people walked in.

"Well, I told you so," Harlon shot a mock smile Jemel's way.

"Okay, fine. You were right. Happy?" Jemel looked at the volunteers. Did any of them even know Nuhrive? Were they looking for adventure? Did they fear blame? Did they merely wish to join the cause? An awkward silence filled the room. Jemel looked around, waiting for someone to break the silence.

[ January 04, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Topaz]

Arriving breathless, and fire in my eyes, I, Lilebrian Longbow, hold forth a hand in friendship.

"Long have I traveled to reach you. Only days ago I heard of the trouble caused from crude men encroaching upon our lands. I come for revenge of my own kin at the hands of Men such as these, and to lend a deadly bow against your foes."

Lilebrian was grasped in the familiar welcome that citizens of the Lady's Woods reserve for one another.

"I am eager to be off, and on the hunt for your kin. I'll tarry not long here waiting for others to assemble. If haste you need, I am ready."

Lilebrian took out a long shaft from her worn quiver and expertly fitted it into the bowstring. Silver gleamed from the sharp tip, cold icey fire burned in this firece Elf's eyes.

Tall and deadly, swift, and quiet as a shadow. The scar on her right cheek held a dark past that forbode of deadly contests. The Longbows had a history of defending their people from great and fell beasts. Songs were sung about Lilebrian's fore Father, Beleg Strongbow.

Today was a day to be worthy of song. May the foes of the Lady of the Wood be gone ere dawning....

[doug*platypus]

Escape from the Elvenwood

"Such a pretty thing... she'll be worth something to anyone. And if it so happens that we come across her kind, they'll have to pay us for her. I can imagine the luxury we'll have with the worth of those elven goods!" Skara laughed.
So far the Easterlings had eluded capture, and emerged victors from a small clash of arms with the sentinels - sentinels who everyone had thought before to be magic folk that could send an arrow quick as a look of the eye into their foes. Skara and his men were confident, for the time being.

Although weary from the day's toil they had not been long in the Elvenwood before Rû-Sahn had taken a prize of worth beyond their hopes, a live and mostly unharmed Elven-maid. Skara and the rest of the band had caught up with Rogar and Rû-Sahn just as the weaponsmith had thrown the girl roughly against a tree. Before falling unconscious the Elf had, as she lay helpless on Rû-Sahn's shoulder, been staring at the ground in fixed horror. It was as if she saw a terrible vision, perhaps of others of her kind lying helpless as she was. Skara knew this could not be. If the girl had had friends behind her, as Skara had guessed from sounds in the wood, they had almost certainly fled. Rotten luck, he thought, since all the Elves ever bred would soon know of the girl's plight. If they were not as cowardly as they had seemed at first, they should surely be tracking the Men by now.

When they were a league back out into the plain, the Men rested for a while. The girl Nura had scrounged enough wood for a fire, and cooked for them as best she could in a hurry. The lighting of a fire here was dangerous, but their provisions were so low that it was either roast venison or starvation. The flight back east would be a hungry one, Skara thought. There would be no time for hunting.

A quick search of the girl before had turned up some dried fruit and light cakes of a kind the Men had never seen before. "Light and flaky, just like them!" one of them had snorted in disgust at the cakes, speaking in the Trader Language so the girl could understand. She had also carried an elegant dagger with her, a weapon of fine make. Rû-Sahn had of course taken this. He was doing exceedingly well out of this venture so far. Nevermind, thought Skara, when we sell this girl off to the highest bidder, I'll have my share all right!

After a few hours' rest, they started off again, on their journey back towards their rafts by the Great River.
"Come on girl, we're going."
Skara could hear his companion's rough voice behind him, as his band readied themselves, scattered the fire and trudged on into the gloom of the hours before dawn.

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros bowed courteously to the Lady Longbow. "O daughter of Cúthalion, it is a great honor to know and work with thee, my fellow archer. I am Feadhros, scout for the Lady Galadriel. I am sure your coming shall be the greater for our cause."

Lilebrian smiled, bowing in return to Feadhros. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Feadhros," she said before being greeted by another.

Feadhros turned to the lady Galadriel, a smile of satisfaction marking his features. "Fair Lady Galadriel, forgive me, for my doubts were in vain. It appears that, eventually, we shall have enough to suffice against the Wild Men."

The Lady nodded. "I believe you are right."

Though outwardly occupied, Feadhros thought constantly of Sultir and the Lord and Lady Fleetheart. Why was the boy not back, and would Isolde and Milar return with him?

[Garen LiLorian]

The Sun shone down, changing the grass to burnished gold, rippling gently in the breeze. It gleamed off of the waters of Celebrant, flashes that caught the eye and forced you to squint at the same time. It shone off of the Men's armor, gleaming even brighter than the grasses. They were atop horses, all save one, who squatted in the grass. He straightened. "Lord, they were here. The tracks run south and east, away towards the Elfwood."

"The time, Surie. The time!" The voice was urgent, and rung through the summer air.

"Maybe two or three days ago, lord. Could be more. They could have reached the woods and been out the other side by now. We can't catch them, if that's what you're thinking."

The man he addressed looked out across the plains towards the woods, and spoke. But if it was for the others, they made no sense of it. "All these years, from the coming of Gareth down through Galthun my father." "Pardon, lord?" The tracker looked confused.

The youngest of the group, his hair outshining the fields as it streamed from beneath his helmet turned back to face his men. "Our pact, Surie. To protect the Golden Wood from all who would endanger it. To hinder those who would enter without the Lord and Lady's permission. The reason for our house, and our lands. We have broken it. This day will long be remembered as one of bitterness for the house of liLorien." He broke off again, staring keenly towards the wood. "Return to my father. Tell him what has transpired here. Inform him that I will be taking this news to the Lord and Lady of the Wood, to ask forgiveness."

"Captain, we've been ordered to escort you. To leave you here alone in the wilderness is not to my liking at all." This was from an older man, who sat in the saddle with an air of long patience. "After all, these men may be on the Northern borders of the wood. It is perilous to enter there, and more so for Men of that kind, I deem. It would be unwise indeed to risk the wrath of the Elves for a deer or two. No, my lord. I think they must have skirted the woods to the north, and made for the river Anduin."

"Your words are wise, Mablong, but you know as well as I that they are false." The young man answered kindly. "These Men have been arrowing towards the Wood for a tenday. To stop now would be unthinkable. And the quickest path to the River lies through the Wood, and not around. No. They have entered the Wood, and my heart tells me that great pain shall come of this. Ride home. I am in no danger here. Have I not played in this field since I was a lad? I know the lands between Dimrill Dale and the Wood better than any, I deem, and will make better time alone. And," he added a wry smile, "If that isn't enough, you may consider it an order from the heir of your lord."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Garen rode towards the wood with heavy heart. He knew full well these Men would not stop at the borders, and feared the Elves reaction when they learned of the breach in trust.

He entered the wood, and sounded his horn, the horn that all of noble blood carried, the horn that would summon any Elven ranger within hearing. He had not long to wait. Arrows pointed at him from the trees, and a voice carried from beyond sight. "State your name, and quickly. What buisness have you in the Golden Wood?" It asked quickly in the Elven tongue

"I am Garen, son of Galthun, heir of the House of Lorien, and I seek the Lord and Lady." He answered slowly and haltingly in the same tongue. Are there those among you who may speak in Westron, for my knowledge of the High Tongues is but scarce.

A ranger stepped forward, clad in the shifting cloak of Lorien. "Well do we know you, Man's heir of Lorien," he spoke, using the Common tongue, "but we have orders not to let any now save our own kin enter the Wood."

"Then I am too late!" Garen cried, "And some crime has been committed under these boughs?"

"You know of these matters, son of Man?"

"Indeed, yes. For many days now have I tracked a band of Men across the land from Dimrill Dale. But a short while ago I sent my men home, with orders for my father. I come to bear apologies to the Lord and Lady, for indeed their trust has been most greivously broken, and I would see it righted. I ask now that you let me go forward, bound as a prisoner. For I have broken faith, and deserve no more."

The Rangers conferred quickly in Elven, and Garen caught no more than one word in four as they talked. Eventually, one turned back to him. "I will escort you into the city, and take you before our Lord. If what you say is true, than mayhap your punishment shall be no more than you deserve."

Garen bowed his head, and allowed himself to be blindfolded and bound. He was then led forward into the Wood...

[dragoneyes]

Standing among the few who had answered Harlon's request was Thoriel, wearing a plain dress which touched the ground and riding boots. She carried a simple bow, it was not carved but it was still well made and very effective. Thoriel's face was fair, as are all of the elven kind, but hers seemed more used to laughing than most and it was true that a smile was more often than not upon her face, though not now, this was a grave matter.

After Lilebrian burst in, Thoriel spoke up,
"I have been sent by my parents to help you in your quest, they wished to be here themselves but their presence is needed elsewhere, so you'll have to settle with me." she finished with a small smile.
"You are most welcome, as are all of you." said Feadhros, adressing all that were waiting to join the party.

[ January 06, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Light and flaky, just like them." One of the men snorted, deliberately, she supposed, in the common tongue.

"Not quite. It is lembas. It would keep you going for days." She said quietly, not really expecting her captors to hear, or understand as she murmered it in elvish. The man who caught her turned on her though.

"See, she does it again!" He exclaimed angrily, pointing her own dagger at her. "Speaking in that filthy language they use."

Nuhrive glared icily at him, but wisely didnt speak. Another did it for her.

"I think its lovely." The small voice came from the corner, where that girl Nuhrive had seen before was sewing quietly. She had the look of a little mouse, and the elf wondered why she was here. One of the men turned on her though, cuffing her across the head so she bit her lip to stop herself crying out. As the girl looked up, catching Nuhrive's vivid eyes with her own sad ones, the elf knew how this girl felt and, mrather ironically, what with her position, she almost felt sorry for her. The mousey girl looked away first, continuing in silence with her sewing.

Nuhrive looked back to the one who had grabbed her, now pawing her sword his huge, ugly hands. I will get you back, beast. I will get back my dagger and you will feel in in your ribs...

[Ithaeliel]

Ru-Sahn constantly eyed the elf girl, each time his gaze coming closer to wrathful. He had heard the girl speak in her tongue. He was, in fact, one of few Easterlings who understood it. He turned her exquisite blade over in his hands, examining it cautiously, watching the curve of the blade and the gem placed within, hoping to somehow imitate the design in the future, if with less fine materials. It was greener than any forest Ru had ever seen, and in his time he had been to more places in the east of the world than many wild men ever dared to venture into.

Ru-Sahn glanced once again at the girl, who in turn spat at his feet- a most unladylike reaction for an elf. But the weaponsmith held his temper more easily than some, and he simply smirked with disdain and went back to the blade. I have yet to devise such a work of art as this, he thought. But finally, sheathing the blade, the man took a last sparing glance at the girl. "What do they call you back home?" he asked, to her great surprise, in Quenya, below the hearing of his fellows. The child looked at him in shock for a few moments before answering. "I... I... I think it is none of your business what my name is!"

Ru-Sahn gave a small laugh and shrugged nonchalantly before walking away.

[Ivy of the Woods]

Nura hands shook from the blow. The elvish words were lovely. Those ugly brutes are too stupid to realise it she thought bitterly but scolded herself immediately after thinking it. I should not think that way about Blair, he takes care of me. I should be thankful

The elven girl was beautiful and Nura very much wanted to speak with her but saw no way she could. Nura felt deep sorrow for what her people were doing to the girl, it was not right but maybe she just didn't know what was right, maybe they had a good reason she didn't know about

Her hands were shaking too much to continue sewing so she would go get some fire wood, it wouldn't do for anyone to see her without a task. Dusting off her wool dress, she stood and took a glance at the elven girl.

"Where do you think you're going wench?" growled one of the men

"Only to fetch some wood for the fire." she replied and took it as permisson to leave when he ignored her.

[ January 07, 2003: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Susan Delgado]

Nuhrive's parents were speechless with shock. They could accept the fact that she'd sneaked out of her room; they'd been children once too and remembered it well enough to know that such rebellion was almost to be expected. In Men. It was less common among the Elves. They could not understand what would have made her actually leave the Wood, though. What had she been thinking? And her lack of caution had proven disastrous. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Sultir quietly rose and left them to their thoughts. He could do little good here, but he might be able to help with the rescue mission.

Halfway to the Hall, he met Jemel coming in search of him. She didn't seem surprised to hear that Isolde and Milar were staying in their rooms. Sultir would be enough. She hurried him along to the meeting in progress.

[Garen LiLorian]

Garen was led for many miles through Lothlorien, bound and blindfolded as a captive. He felt and heard the gates of Caras Galadan opening before him, and many voices in the Elven tongue. He caught the words "prisoner," "condemned," and "criminal" in their talk. Then the blindfold was lifted. "Now you must climb, son of Man, for the Lady of the Wood desires to speak with you," spoke the ranger who had bound him, and gestured to a ladder up into the trees.

Never before had Garen been in the Elf-city, and wonder was plain on his features as he climbed past many flets on either side. He climbed until his arms burned and breath came dear to him. At last he reached the top. The ranger spoke quietly to an Elf who stood nearby. He listened to the reply, then spoke again to Garen. "No doubt, son of Galthun, you have heard of the misfortune that has recently occured." Garen did not reply, but his face showed his ignorance. "A young girl has been taken from us by Men. Even now our Lady is assembling a search party." He searched Garen's face keenly, looking for some flicker of knowledge.

Then he straightened up. "I do not deny it, there are many among us who remember now your house and lands, and the Men under your banner. There is feeling that you must be held accountable, indeed there is the opinion that your men have themselves commited this crime. However, I see no such deception in your face. I will therefore take you before Lady Galadriel. For what it is worth, I hope that she feels the same." He turned away, and led Garen by many paths to where the search party had assembled.

A motley crew it looked. Several Elves of woodcrafty bearing, rangers like his escort, one wearing the greens and browns of an Elf in the far northern woods. A woman, clad in a simple gown. And, strangely, an Elf that reminded him of Fester, Lord Galthun's fool. Although this one looked far too serious to be engaging his profession right now. Garen wasted no more time on the assembled Elves, but knelt before the Lady of the Wood.

"Lady Galadriel. I am Garen liLorian, son of Galthun. For many days and nights have I tracked this band of Men across my father's lands, and I come before you now bearing an apology. Never before has my bloodline failed in our oath to you and to the Wood, but grievously now have we broken trust. I have naught but my word to say that these criminals were not of my house, and offer you my life as forfeit for the breaking of our oath." He looked up for the first time into the eyes of the Lady of the Wood. He saw her smile, and it was as if a great weight had lifted from his heart.

"I think, Garen son of Galthun, that a better use might be found for your life than the executioner's block, even had I the inclination to rid your house of such a courteous tongue." Laughter sprung from her lips, and all were amazed at the change; since Nuhrive had been lost, the Lady had been pensive, thoughtful as few before had seen her. "I give you this doom; to aid these pursuers as best you can, being at ease neither in heart nor body until Nuhrive has been found. Is this acceptable to you, lord of Men?"

And Garen climbed to his feet, bowing deep in Dwarf fashion. "Lady, you give me too much credit. Gladly do I take this doom, indeed it was my intention to ask it if my life was spared." But Galadriel said, "then take your place among the rescuers, son of Man, and hope for your sake and that of your house that no harm comes to the maid. For I do not forget that your oath was broken, and many great deeds must be done before the Elves can forgive it."

Garen, thus chastened, took his place among the group, yet he looked about him eagerly, and eager he was to be off.

[ January 08, 2003: Message edited by: Garen LiLorian ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nura's eye caught Nuhrive's and once again the elf wondered what a young girl was doing with these men.

Night fell and to her disgust, Nuhrive was tied to a tree with a rope. She leant against the tree, trying to make herself comfortable although her hands were tied behind her with the tough rope. Hearing a sound behind her, the elf maid did not turn around; this was often a mistake.

"Vedui tinu en'edan." She said sleepily, not really registering that she had spoken in elvish until afterwards, and how fatal this could prove. But, as she had thought from the sound of the movement, it was the girl. Nura gasped.

"What...what did you say there-" She whispered curiously, before realising she was in charge. "-elf?"

Nuhrive gave her a 'look'. The girl looked slightly embarrased but didnt say anything so the elf, friendly as she was, answered. "Vedui tinu en'edan." She murmered back. "It means 'greetings daughter of man."

The girl gave a small sigh. She seemed about to say or ask something else but then one of the men, one who in some way looked like Nura- Nuhrive guessed they might be siblings- called, or rather bellowed, for her to come over and she scurried away, but not without a brief smile over her shoulder for the bound elf. Nuhrive smiled inwardly- she may have made an ally. She knew the girl would come to talk to her again, or at least she hoped so. The beauty of the elves attracted many, but in this case, it might be able to save her...

[Morai]

Harlon felt quite shadowed. Surrounded by warriors, captains, and other important people, he realised what he was, a fool. He glanced up at the man. This elf had seen mortals before, but long ago. Not a single weapon did Harlon own, for he was to young at the Last Alliance.

Desperatly he tried to keep a smile upon his face. Overwhelming sadness and fear slowly crept upon him. Harlon gulped.

"Who knows how many wild men are there. You fool, you won't last long out in the wild. All you have is your silly actions and cartwheels!" He thought. Harlon hoped The Lady wasn't reading his mind.

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros approached the man who had just arrived and looked him up and down slowly. "You do not appear to be of the wretched Easterlings," said the elf. "Are you of much skill with a blade or bow?"

"That I am. My sword is sharp and light, and I pray that it will serve its purpose as it has in the past."

Feadhros nodded. "I am sure you will yet do good for your house and for Lorien. What name are you called by?"

"I am Garen, son of Galthun," he said, beginning to bow. Feadhros stopped him.

"We do not greet each other so in Caras Galadhon," the young elf said before clapping his hand on Garen's shoulder. "I welcome you to our city and search party, Garen Son of Galthun."

Garen smiled and clapped a hand on Feadhros' shoulder in return. "I am glad of that. And by what name are you called, young elf?"

"I am Feadhros, in the service of Her Ladyship as a scout. I also am joining the rescue."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Feadhros."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Feadhros."

Jemel walked in with Sultir behind her, just as everyone was making acquaintances. She walked up next to Feadhros, and looked upon the faces of those who decided to help in the search. Feadhros had finished talking with the human, and Jemel walked up to Garen.

"As Feadhros has said, welcome to the Realm of the Lady. Fair are these woods. Wise and experienced as the Lady herself. I am glad that it is your footsteps that mark the ground, and that the easterling's prints will soon fade as you help us. Welcome, Garen son of Galthun, to Lothlorien. My name is Jemel Skyesong, and I have hope and trust that the journey will end well," Jemel smiled as she welcomed the son of Man.

"Lorien's welcomes are as warm as the sun itself," came Garen's response.

After talking with Garen, Jemel noticed towards the back of the small group was an elf-maid, clad in a simple, flowing dress and riding boots. Jemel walked over to her.

"What is your name?" Jemel asked.

"Thoriel," she softly but proudly replied.

"Well Thoriel, welcome to the search party. I am sure you will do as well as anyone else here. Certainly you are more equiped and skilled than most others for our journey. Even if such is not true, much can come from a woman looking for adventure," Jemel finished with a quick wink to Thoriel and strode back to stand next to Harlon.

"A good bunch you have brought. I have not met all of them, but the looks in their eyes are enough to tell all. Thank you Harlon," Jemel thanked the fool quietly.

Jemel could see fierceness in Lilebrian Longbow's eyes. Her bow ready, Jemel could see the restlessness on her face. Was this all they could manage, or were there others? If they hurried, there was at least some hope that Nuhrive would be found.

Jemel still wondered about Sultir. In his shoes, I would stop at nothing to go and save a best friend,she thought. Jemel still wished he could go along, and wondered what he would do. Staying in Lorien would be hard and would break his heart.

[ January 19, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Morai]

Harlon ran over to Garen.
"Greetings, Garen of man..." He trailed off as he tripped over someones foot. Most rolled their eyes, while other tried to stiffle their laughs. Noticing some she-elves he strode in their direction.

"Hello Miss, Harlon Nowane at your service." He greeted kissing Thoriel's hand.

" It may not be wise to be kissed by a fool." Jemel spoke, slightly laughing as she said it.

"Well, at least he's a gentleman." Thoriel replied.

[doug*platypus]

Into the Wild

As night fell, the band of kidnappers made camp at the edge of a small wood. Not far away now the land started to slope down towards the floodplains of the Great River. Skara the Woodsman had changed direction during the day, and shortly after midday they had found the tracks of their outward course. He was now leading his men back to the Great River to find their rafts. Skara was the greatest tracker of his village, and not for nothing had he been asked to lead this dangerous raid. Now he was returning with a great prize. A prize that the Elders would not get so cheaply! The men he had here were the most part of the best warriors of their village. We will sell her ourselves to another tribe, thought Skara, my men and I. She would not be the plaything of one of the lazy Elders, not unless he could raise the highest price.

After making sure the captive was bound, Skara set the fierce Blair to watch over her. He was, so Skara thought, too thick-headed to think of escaping alone with her. At any rate, Blair did not have the woodcraft to make it back east from here, and he was not the type to betray his fellows anyway. Some of the men however were already speaking up against this thing or that. Skara could hear them talking from where he sat on watch, his bow strung.

Some were saying they should have stayed longer in the Elvenwood, should have returned with gold and jewels, and more weapons. All of them had eyed Rû-Sahn's new dagger with a mix of awe and greed. There was also talk of not waiting to sell the Elf-maid. One of the Easterlings started to speak of needing 'entertainment' out here in the wild lands. Hoarse laughter erupted, but Skara was worried it would go beyond a joke and that their prize would be damaged.

Finally he could take no more. Checking to see that there were more watchers in place, he made his way over to where his men were, purposefully taking his bow with him.

"Enough talk! It's time to rest, or have you forgotten all of your complaints already?" it had been a long night and day of flight from the Elvenwood, with few stops. The men grumbled, some settling down for sleep. Skara turned to the one who had stirred them up with thoughts of the Elf-girl.

"Rogar, the girl is not for you, unless you be much richer than you look! She is going to make us wealthy. All of us."

"Hmmph!" the large man grunted. "She's just a girl. We should be coming back with riches already. What of the Elf-jewels and the trees made of gold?"

"Yes, and what of the Elf bows, and getting stuck like a pincushion?" Skara replied. "Did you forget we were attacked? Maybe Barold can remind you!"

He pointed to where the wounded man was turning and moaning in his sleep. His shoulder had gotten steadily worse during the day's march, and it was beyond the skill of Blair's young sister to heal it properly out here. Rogar looked over at him but was unimpressed by the smaller man's hurt.

"What's the matter Skara?" he asked. "Scared of a few little Elves are we?"

"Of course not!" Skara spat at out him, though it was a lie. He had never felt fear in a wood by night or light for many years, until he had glimpsed the Elvenwood. It held a power and a menace that he did not want to face for any longer than necessary.

"There's no sign of them yet, Rogar. We will escape them!" this part he said louder so that all could hear him. "We'll be home within a week, and the whole village will be feasting and drinking, and praising our strength. Then we will sell the captive and be well paid."

This said, he returned to keep watch. Soon afterwards one of his men returned from the wood with a boar he had skewered. Without heed of the danger, the starving men lit a fire and roasted it, feeling much better for their leader's words and their full bellies.

[Ivy of the Woods]

When Nura heard Blair being told to watch over the elf, she made a daring smile. She had been quite worried for the elf when the men talked of entertainment, but she knew Blair would never go that far. Especially with his child sister around. Nura almost resented being thought of by everyone as a child, she was after all 17 now, but more thankful. The men still scared her after all these years but they were quite used to her.

Jumping out of her thoughts, Nura realised the boar was quite well cooked and she would not want to burn it. Quitely announcing it cooked, the men leaped at the food wihtout second thought. Nura looked at them, a little disgusted, they hardly even bothered to chew. She walked over to Blair with his bit of the meat and the elven girl caught her eye. Hesistantly she ripped off a small piece of the meat and hid it in her little pouch.

Blair, being fully distracted by his food, did not notice when Nura approched the elf girl.

"I... my name is Nura" she said, kneeling down beside her and smiling cautiously "What is yours?"

"Nuhrive." replied the elf and Nura smiled broadened

"I don't know what they will give you to eat, Nuhrive." Nura whispered "Here."
Nura took out the piece of meat for the elf, side glancing at Blair who was scarfing down the boar meat.

[ January 10, 2003: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Ithaeliel]

Ru-Sahn ate quickly and wordlessly, not bothering to use any sort of manners, for he was too hungry. Not since that morning had he been fed, and they had since been many miles. As he bit off a chunk of the juicy meat, he heard a hint of a voice behind him. Not daring to look over his shoulder, Ru closed his eyes and listened intently.

"My name is Nura. What is yours?"

"Nuhrive."

Nuhrive. Such a pretty name, Ru thought as he continued to wolf down the boar. Suddenly he smiled, a sly look across his features. The girl, Nura, would earn Nuhrive's trust. The mousy little healer wouldn't dare defy the men of her tribe, least of all her brother, Blair, who at the moment sat across from Ru-Sahn. The weaponsmith's face broke into a grin. Nura would be the tribe's ticket to everything they needed to know.

After the meal, Ru-Sahn approached Skara, their leader. The man was sitting idly on a boulder, and he appeared to be thinking hard. Ru came quietly behind him, only stopping when he was at his shoulder. "Skara," he said, and the woodsman looked up, startled by Ru-Sahn's quiet entrance, not to mention the sound of his voice, which was not to be heard all that often. Interested, he stood. "What is this that is so momentous you should seek me out, Ru-Sahn? Or is it important at all?"

Ru's face remained stern and serious. "It concerns the girl," he said in a low tone. Skara's eyebrows raised as he nodded for Ru to continue.

"From her I have obtained the fine elven dagger which is even now at my side, that which has until now been beyond me to attempt in the crafting of such a thing. But no longer. I have reaped my benifits with the capture of the weapon," Ru-Sahn said, then leaning toward Skara. "Why should you not reap yours?"

Skara chuckled under his breath. "I very much like the sound of this, Ru-Sahn. Have you a way for me to collect my profit?"

Looking over his shoulder and back to Skara, Ru-Sahn smirked. "The little healer girl, Nura," he muttered. "She has earned the trust of the girl, even so much as to learn her name: Nuhrivë. She could learn more from the girl in her gentility than we could ever assume. She may learn the ways of her kindred, the weaknesses, a way to avoid their most deadly tactics for battle. It will be to your advantage- the Eldar will come for her, of that I have no doubt. We must be ready. And if we can defeat the immortal kindreds, we can defeat almost any army that the Valar may send against us. So what say ye to that, Skara?"

The woodsman's eyes were aflame. "I say that it shall be so!" He clasped Ru-Sahn's hand firmly.

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive slumped againgst a tree again, glad to rest her tires feet. The men had dragged her along for most of the day; it was now twilight. Her feet ached and her wrists, bound with tough rope by which her captors had dragged her along, which had sawed through the skin on her wrists, making them raw and bleeding. She had tried to hold onto the ropes, in an attempt to stop the pain on her wrists, so her fingers and palms were in much the same state. A cut across her forehead was stark against her pale skin, and a large bruise had formed on high on her cheeks; the easterlings had struck her several times, when they lost patience, or she somehow offended them by, ooh, I dont know, breathing in the wrong way maybe? Most were afraid of damaging 'their prize', but Ru-Sahn had struck out on her face. The big man seemed to have taken her living as a personal imsult to him.

Her hair, thankfully short, was none the less tangled with twigs and dirt. Even in the circumstances, she smiled slightly to think of most of the other elf maids in this way, with their long blonde hair that they were soooo proud.

Ru-Sahns blow had not been completely uncompensated and Nuhrive had to stop herself smiling widely as she felt the back of her belt where, under her robe, she had hidden her dagger. Ignorant human fool, did he think he would have been able to keep her precious blade away from her?

She watched the camps activity through a narrow gap between her eyelashes. Nura...where was Nura? She started to panic; without the kind human girl, the plan she had focused on all day to stop her from giving up would fall apart.

"Hello Nuhrive." The small voice was from behind the tree. Nuhrive would have jumped in surprise, was she not so shattered.

"Hello Nura." She replied through unmoving lips. "Listen Nura, I have a plan but...but I need your help.

Can you distract the men? I need to escape, I fear they plan slavery, or...worse. Please, I need to get away, and I cant do this without you."

There was a silence as the girl seemed to mull over this. The elf maid held her breath, biting her lip. Please Nura, please...

"I will do it." She said finally and Nuhrive had to stop herself leaping up with joy. She opened her mouth again but Nura got in there first. "But-"
But? Theres a but? Why is there a but? Nuras thoughts jumped around as the rest of her froze...
"But you have to take me with you. Back to that...that beautiful wood." Nura breathed. Nuhrive continued to not breathe. Take a human back to Lorien? Could she do this?

She turned her head slightly, looking at the girl by whom her life would be decided, hovering nervously just behind the tree, her face as bruised as Nuhrives own, but kindness and hope shining in her eyes. Oh what the heck about some old elves...

"Of course, sister." She replied. Nura smiled widely and Nuhrive wondered how she would have fully reacted if they werent possible being watched. Without another word, the girl slipped away.

Taking the dagger from her belt, Nuhrive started to saw quietly through the rope around her wrists. In a few hours she would be gone, back to her home...

[Ivy of the Woods]

Nura grinned and almost cried with joy. She, Nura, would see the elves, talk with them, live with them.... it was too good to be true! The thought hit her like a blow, what about Blair? She could not abandon him, betray him, he was her brother. Her only family. What would he say if he knew? She almost wept with shame. But then there was Nuhrive... the poor thing, Nura could not leave her to that fate.

She jumped suddenly, realising she had wandered away from the camp. She looked around with slight panic, taking a deep breath she stood still and listening to the sounds of the men. They were rowdy and loud so she found the direction of the camp without much trouble. Whilst heading back, thinking of a plan, she found herself faced with six wild boars between her and the camp.

Luckily they did not notice her and Nura stood perfectly still and her large brown eyes opened wide, not taking the chance to part her lips to breath. Her mind worked fast and she found these boar were a way out, a way to get to the elves. Carefully she bent over and picked up two good sized rocks. Taking a deep breath she cried out and banged the rocks repeatedly together. The boar, so startled, immediately ran from the noise, toward the camp. Nura ran after them, making as much noise as possible.

The boar reached the camp and all chaos broke loose. Startled out of their wits, the boars didn't not turn back but attacked the camp of men. The men, just as startled, jumped to get their weapons and yells filled the camp. Nura ran to find Nuhrive.

[ January 13, 2003: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrives already raw hands were now streaming with blood. The dagger had slipped more than once in her hand and she had always kept in well sharpened, for better and worse in this case. Gritting her teeth, so sawed steadily on...

"Boars! Wild Boars!"

Chaos broke out suddenly as Nura yelled the words. The easterlings jumped up and started garbbing weapons, yelling at each other in their harsh tongue and crashing into each other in their rush. It would have been funny if it wasnt so entirely perfect! Nuhrive smiled and continued to saw away. There were but a few strands left...

"Come on Nuhrive! Lets go!" Nura rushed up, her face flushed. She was smiling outwardly but the elf could see the clash of feelings inside. Why? They treated her so badly...

With a final extra hard attempt, she dragged the blade across the strands, her hands flying outwards, freed. Yes!

"Aye. Come on Nura." She stood, stamping her shaky feet a few times and putting the dagger in her belt. She could deal with her hands later. That is, if there was a later...Nura was still hovering.

"Nura! Please." She was getting desperate now. The girl seemed to come out of her trance and, taking a deep breath she followed Nuhrive into the wood, away from the chaos of the camp...

[Susan Delgado]

What was taking so long? Sultir was watching the adults stand around discussing things, and meanwhile Nuhrive could already be dead. But what could he do? If he ran off without them, he could get hurt and die, or be captured himself. He'd just have to wait, he supposed, though it did grate.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

When would they leave? It seemed they had stood idle for far too long. Who could tell where Nuhrive was now? If they waited any longer, they may not find her alive, if they even found her at all. Harlon was tripping over invisible objects and doing cartwheel after cartwheel.

Jemel counted. The searchers included Feadhros, Harlon, Thoriel, Gareth, Lilebrian, and herself. That was five. Was it enough? Jemel guessed that it was at least better than having too many. What would happen if they were to take the Easterlings by force? Surely there were at least twice as many of them as there were searchers. Still, they couldn't leave Nuhrive to fate.

"We should go soon, before the sun rises. We have still a few hours, we could cover some distance if the Easterlings are asleep or taking rest," Jemel suggested.

[ January 14, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[dragoneyes]

Thoriel tried to stifle her laughter as Harlon did a particularly elaborate trip while just walking from one side of the room to the other. She then turned her attention to Jemel who looked ready to make some kind of announcement.
"We shall be leaving as soon as we are ready, please assemble outside when you are ready to leave."

The company left the hall, by the time Thoriel had gotten outside, Lilebrian had already mounted her horse and looked eager to leave. Thoriel's own horse was a little way away, with a good supply of arrows and some food. She approached the stallion, he was as black as the night, she greeted him and jumped lightly onto his back. She urged him on and they trotted round to the doors of the hall. Soon they were all their except for Harlon who stubled in, followed by his steed. After a few failed attempts from him to mount his horse, gaining a laugh or two from the crowd, he clambered on and they were able to move off towards the outside world.

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros turned around and smiled with relief at Jemel's announcement. "So we are finally to depart," he said with a sigh. "I am glad." He turned to Galadriel, kneeling in reverence. "I vow my loyalty to thee still, Lady. I believe I speak for us all when I say we will go to the ends of the earth, if need be, to bring Nuhrive safely home." Feadhros saluted Galadriel before turning to depart and gather his belongings. On the way out he saw Sultir, who was close to tears at not being able to come. He stopped. "Sultir, I promise I will bring her back. We will not allow anything more to happen to her. I give you my word. Tell that to Isolde and Milar for me," he said quietly. Sultir merely nodded, his eyes cast down. Feadhros left then, breaking into a run as he went to the stables. His white steed neighed softly as he saddled him and fed him. "Come, Ithilion... we must go quickly. Nuhrive needs us. I fear for her."

Riding back in the direction of the great halls, Feadhros jumped off at a house beneath a great mallorn, throwing wide the door and entering without a second thought. A woman sat at a loom, weaving silvery threads into a fine grey cloth. She stopped and looked up as Feadhros entered. "You seem at unease. Has something happened that I should know of, Feadhros?"

"Indeed, mother; a grave sequence of events has taken place here: Easterlings came to the Wood, and they have taken Nuhrive," he explained as he stepped over his mother's work into the kitchen. "I have volunteered myself to the search party. We leave as soon as possible. It is a small group, but I think that with the strength of those we have, it will suffice." As he stuffed a few squares of lembas into his bag, he looked up at his mother, whose face portrayed shock and horror, now softening to worry for her child. Turning back to her work, she sighed. "You will want your bow, Feadhros. You must pack quickly if they are expecting you back."

Feadhros sighed. "Mother, I will not let anything happen. I'll come back safe and sound, as I have before. I guarantee it."

"You cannot guarantee your safety, Feadhros, my son," she said as she turned back to him. Her face was stained with tears. "You can only hope. I know I shouldn't worry; you'll do well... yet it is hard for a mother to let her son go to pursue such a quest."

Feadhros smiled. "I will return alive and well, and Nuhrive will return with us. We will not fail." With that, he shouldered his quiver and pack, lifting the grey bow his father had made for him off of its place on the wall. He gripped the wood as he hugged his mother and said goodbye. "Tell father what I've told thee, my dear mother."

Stepping outside and shutting the door, Feadhros mounted Ithilion and sped off in the direction of the halls. Upon his arrival, Thoriel, Lilebrian, Garen, Jemel, and Harlon were already there, waiting. Now they rode away to the borders of Lorien, soon to be far away from any haven as safe and welcoming as Caras Galadhon.

[ January 15, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Susan Delgado]

Sultir felt little comfort at Feadhros' words. How did he know what condition Nuhrive was in? He couldn't. He started to follow, so he could watch the searchers' departure, but felt a restraining hand on his shoulder. He looked up and met Lady Galadriel's gaze. He held it for a moment, then dropped his eyes. She knew. She knew his plan, and she would stop it, he knew it. Well, he'd snuck out before an he'd do it again! She may be the Lady of the Golden Wood, but she couldn't be everywhere. He frantically began revising his plan and was thinking so hard that he nearly missed her words. He paused his thoughts for a moment, and in the ensuing silence, he heard her.

"I think you should go and console the girl's parents, young wind-watcher. Afterward is not my concern, as I have many things to do and can't be everywhere. Now go. I believe their quarters are that way." At this, she dropped her hands and walked away without a look back.

He stared after her, disbelieving. Had she just all but given him permission to follow the searchers? Surely not, but the way she'd echoed his very thoughts! Well, he'd go anyway but it was good to think that she might understand.

When he spoke to Isolde and Milar, they were comforted by the fact that Sultir was going on the search party, though surprised because of his age. He'd conveniently forgotten to mention that his presence there was not exactly licensed. they didn't need to know that; thee information would not help them in any way.

He considered going on foot, because it would be quieter, then realised that since the others were on horseback, they'd be much more likely to leave him behind. So, he borrowed a horse and started after the searchers.

[ January 14, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[doug*platypus]

"The Eldar will come for her, of that I have no doubt."

The words echoed in Skara's mind, as he thought on his companion's words. Rû-Sahn the Weaponsmith was talking about wheedling information out of the Elf-child before they passed her on. Skara had not heard the strange word Eldar before, but it was plain that his fellow spoke of the Fair Folk. Rû-Sahn seemed sometimes of a slightly different breed himself. He fitted in well enough with his people, but there was a certain air about him. Skara was not surprised to hear strange words coming from his mouth, and easily concealed the fact that Rû-Sahn had let this slip.

"I say that it shall be so!" Skara said as he clasped Rû-Sahn's hand firmly. Truly enough, for to learn of the Elves would surely extend Skara's influence. Knowledge was power, and if he was careful he could use this to his advantage. Perhaps a weakness could be found, and Skara could return with more men, search for more treasure. An Elven bow, perhaps, to match Rû-Sahn's dagger!

As he was mulling these fine plans in his head, suddenly Rû-Sahn stood erect and stared out into the darkness. Listening intently, Skara could hear the swift approach of several animals. He got to his feet and pulled an arrow from the quiver on the ground next to his seat. Fitting it loosely, he stood next to Rû-Sahn and looked out. The weaponsmith started shouting to raise the camp, just as Skara saw what he had heard - a pack of boars was attacking them - a camp of armed men!

What strange Elf-magic is this? Skara thought as he closed one eye and sighted down his bow. Behind him he could hear a great noise of confusion as men struggled out of their beds and went for their weapons. Skara kept his eye fixed on his target as it came charging towards him, though he was aware now of two more boars out of the corner of his eye. The beast was out of the firelight still, a heaving mass of flesh and sinew flying out of the dark at him like a primeval nightmare. The speed of the lead boar was magnificent. He was near enough now for Skara to see the steam coming from his great nostrils. Willing it closer, willing it not to swerve at the last second, Skara let his breath out and steadied himself. Twang! As soon as the boar could be clearly seen, Skara loosed his arrow. In its headlong flight the boar hastened his own destruction, as the arrow pierced through his snout and deep into the head. The boar without so much as a squel careered into the ground, as the rest of its pack drove in upon the Easterlings. Five or six the Woodsman counted running past him and into the camp.

Whipping out his short sword, Skara turned back to where his men were fighting with the boars, now amongst them and creating havoc. Only to trip on a stone and fall headlong into a puddle of mud. Cursing, he looked up and saw that his men were running here and there, some bumping into each other in the confusion, one or two still struggling into their underclothes to put up a more decent fight. This was madness!

Rushing in, his mind on killing the filthy pigs and stopping his men from hurting themselves, Skara did not think for even a second about the fate of his prize captive.

[Morai]

Harlon struggled to stay on his horse. He pulled tighter on the riens, hoping to regain his balance. Unfortunatley this startled the horse and it reared. Holding on for dear life, Harlon looked desperatly for help. Everyone seemed to be roaring with laughter.

"They can't believe I'm doing this on purpose, can they?" He thought.

Being a fool most of his life, Harlon never learned to ride a horse. He never realised they'd be riding horses on the search! Then Harlon mentally slapped himself. Of course they'd be riding, it was the fasted way.

[ January 18, 2003: Message edited by: Morai ]

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros suddenly stopped laughing when he saw the resentment on Harlon's face. He dropped back beside the fool, gently touching the muzzle of the nervous horse. "Sîdh, roch o Lorien, sîdh! Beriad lîn hîr.." The horse stopped rearing and stomping and began to ride more smoothly. Feadhros looked at Harlon and shook his head, smiling. "Don't pull on the reins when you want your horse to move forward, Harlon," he said. "Try and take a little more caution, though I'm sure you'll be fine soon. After all," Feadhros finished as Ithilion trotted forward again, "we'll be riding these horses the entire journey, if luck is kind to us."

Harlon's eyes became wide at the statement. "The entire journey...?" he squeaked.

[ January 19, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Susan Delgado]

Sultir watched Garen approach and could see the Man's thoughts clearly on his face as he searched fruitlessly through the brush. Garen had seen him at the meeting before the group had departed and now hoped to find a stow-away. Sultir shook his head; astonished at how close Garen's musings were to the truth. However, Sultir had been paying close attention to the group and had known what it meant when Jemel stopped them. He'd quickly hidden his horse and climbed a tree and it was by the grace of Yavanna that it hadn't been an Elf who went to investigate. Well trained as Garen might be, he didn't know how to find an Elf who really didn't want to be found.

After several minutes of poking into the bushes, Garen gave up and returned to the Elves, very disappointed not to have found anything. He remounted and they continued on down the road. Faedhros gave a last look into the trees and his eyes met Sultir's. The boy heaved a sigh of relief that Faedhros was on his side. He'd have to be more careful in the future, though.

[ January 20, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Jemel was glad when they were able to continue on, and tried to ignore the rustling of bushes and rare snapping of twigs behind the company. If it was something important, Feadhros would know and would stop them.

A scream of a bird echoed through the air as they traveled, and everyone turned their heads to see what it was. Aniram glided gracefully through the air, and came to a rest on Jemel's shoulder. When the group realized it was only Aniram, they went back to riding.

"Inyë harya lá atta quetequë," Jemel told the hawk, as she held out a few bread crumbs for him. It was true, she had no message for Galadriel, the rescue mission had been so peaceful and uneventful thus far. Except for that rustling in the bushes. Jemel rode up next to Feadhros.

"Mana ne sinomë i aldan?" Jemel asked him, wondering what was in the bushes. Feadhros looked at her, as if saying What do you think is was?

Then Jemel remembered what she had thought...In his shoes, I would stop at nothing to go and save a best friend. Sultir! Sultir was following them!

"Don't say anything!" Feadhros whispered this warning. Jemel nodded. Of course she would not say anything. She would be doing the same thing if she were Sultir.

[ January 19, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive ran on through the underbrush, willing herself on. She could hear Nura's ragged breath beside her under her own panting. Suddenly she skidded to a halt, peering closely at a tree nearby.

"That tree...notice anything about the marks on the bark?" She asked Nura.

The girl peered at it for a moment before realising the same thing as Nuhrive and groaning. "No! We passed this about half an hour ago!"

"Indeed." Nuhrive flopped down on the ground beside her. "Who would have thought something with the translation 'Anroa and Shalsran will love each other forever' could be so forbidding?" Nuras eyes widened as she looked back at the tree and they both laughed, despite the situation; in fact, as much because of the situation.

Nuhrive handed the human girl a piece of lembas. "Sorry, I didnt grab any water."

"My fault as well." Nura replied, accepting it.

"I-" Nuhrive started, before ducking down and pulling Nura with her. Voices....human voices. The one she recognised as Skara's was strongest, angrily ringing out. In a few seconds they would come into view...rolling away, the elf girl crawled away as quietly as she could, with Nura following her.

"Pleas let us get away, please..."

[Ivy of the Woods]

Nura heartbeat raced so, she thought it just might burst. She prayed they would not find her, they would be so disapointed to find she had helped Nuhrive get away, they would be very angry.

Following as quietly as she could behind Nuhrive, wasn't quietly enough. Nuhrive went along almost without a sound but they would surely hear them with Nura tramplings. Nura swallowed, stopped and gave Nuhrive a worried look when she looked back.

"I will stop them," she whispered "you go on without me."

Without waiting for a reply Nura turned around and went back. As their voices approched Nura took a few deep breaths, knowing even if she was not to be found with Nuhrive, her story of running from the boars would still cause her pain. But Nuhrive would get back to her people, unless she was caught later then Nura would just have to think of something else to get her free.

"I am here!" she cried out her own people

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

"I will stop them. You go on."

The human girl started crawling away before Nuhrive could stop her.

"No!" Nuhrive hissed desperately after her. "No, come back! Oh, Eru!" She said a word her parents would be shocked she knew. She started crawling after Nura, just in time to see the girl leap up.

"Im here!" She yelled. "Im h-mmmph mmph!" Nuhrive had grabbed her with her hand over the other girls mouth as she dragged her back down into the bushes. Too late. The men had already seen and were looking over in their direction.

"There! They are there!" Ru-Sahns voice came out harshly. Nuhrive froze, even in that moment.
He had not spoken in the common tongue.
He had spoken those words in her own language.
The other men were creeping towards them now as they crouched frozen, Nuhrives hand still over Nuras mouth- she wasnt about to let her only friend at this moment give them both away, however noble the reasons. Skara was now peering into the bushes as well and their time was up. With a yell, Nuhrive sprang from the crouch she had been in and started sprinting. She saw Nura hesitate for a moment before, to her relief, the girl also started running after her. The men had paused, but only for a moment.

Nuhrive Fleetheart ran for her life.

[Ithaeliel]

Ru-Sahn tore after the shadow of the running girl, leaving Skara and the others to deal with the traitor, Nura. He soon discovered the girl was quick, but slowly, slowly he gained on her, his breath coming in hisses through clenched teeth. Following her through the dark labyrinth that was the forest, his sinews pushed to their extent, he sped onwards, only a little behind his target, who weaved and leapt through the wood, until finally he came within reach. Lunging forward, Ru-Sahn grabbed Nuhrive's shoulder, pulling her back. She yelled in fear and surprise as she fell to the ground, and reaching for her dagger grasped cold air. Turning back over she found its point at her throat. She stared up in surprise at Ru-Sahn. His face remained neutral.

"Tyulya, anyatimë," Ru-Sahn commanded the fearful girl. "Yes, I know your tongue well," he added when her eyes went wide. "Tyul!" he yelled, and Nuhrive stood. Ru-Sahn glared as he took her arm and led her back to the camp. "I never should have let you out of my sight," he muttered.

[ January 22, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Ivy of the Woods]

"Yer wench of a sister as been betraying us Blair" said one of the wild men and threw Nura at her brother's feet.

Nura almost whimpered as Blair grabbed her by her hair and pulled her to feet. Pulling her head back Blair stared her coldly in the eyes.

"Is this true Nura?" he growled, spitting on her face

"No, Blair, no..." no more than whisper came out of her and she was shaking with fear of her older brother.

"I hate it when you lie Nura..." Blair warned pulling her hair harder

"I'm sorry brother..." she pleaded, tears brimming her eyes, "I wanted to see the elves"

"The elves?!" yelled Blair, wiping saliva from his mouth. With a growl her threw her back onto the ground and she made not a noise.

"What are we going to do with her?" asked one of them with a cruel tone in his voice.

[Amanaduial the archer]

How did he know her tongue? How could an easterling know elvish? Nuhrive was dragged along in a daze, her own dagger point still at her throat, held in the grasp of Ru-Sahn. As they reached the others she was spun out of his grasp and thrown to the floor. She began to get to her knees but a blow from one of the mens hands knocked her back down.

To her surprise, none of the others stopped Ru-Sahn, nor complained as he hit her again. She realised with fear that her hope of protection, her hope of not being hurt because she was so precious was gone. She backed away, scrabbling to her feet and saw that he was still in front of her. She kept backing away before feeling the rough bark of a tree behind her. She gulped and looked up into Ru-Sahns face. His eyes were cold and now cold steel was once again at her throat. She gasped slightly as she felt her own blood trickling down her throat. She looked once again into the tall mans face, fear stopping her even from thinking...

[Ithaeliel]

The searchers had rode all day, until they finally reached the southern border of Mirkwood, and there they decided to rest and make camp. The moon was high in the sky, and near to their campsite was a steep, high hill that climaxed as a precipice. Feadhros, feeling restless, decided to climb to the top and survey the land. Springing up the side, he looked about at the moonlit tops of the trees of Mirkwood. Looking for a higher perch but finding none, Feadhros strained his eyes at what he thought might have been a glimmer of light, many leagues off in the distance. When he was sure he saw a faint whisp of smoke coming from the trees, he shouted to the others, who waited below. "My eyes have indeed served me well! I have descried a fire yonder, fifty and some leagues off into Mirkwood. It is likely a sign of our quarry!"

The entire camp seemed cheered at the news. "We must leave before sunrise if we are to gain speed on them," Lilebrian said.

"I might send Aniram to see if it is indeed the Easterlings," Jemel offered. Speaking to her hawk, the creature cocked his head, and soon he flew away north, toward the smoke that rose from the trees. Jemel smiled. "He will bring back a sign if it is them."

[ January 23, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Jemel watched as Aniram flew out of sight. Some of the company was already resting, though Jemel could not sleep. The trees held shadows as the bright light of the moon bore down upon the travelers. Jemel took a seat on the grass, listening closely for any noise from the direction of the rising smoke.

"You people are a tough crowd!" Jemel turned to see Harlon cartwheeling and tripping. Throwing imaginary rocks as he stumbled over any invisible stones he may have forgotten. Thoriel chuckled, while Lilebrian remained serious and unmoving. Garen smiled and shook his head at Harlon's joking antics.

In the distance, a very slight noise was heard. Jemel could sense the confusion in the sound, and Feadhros was immediatly stirred from his spot. He rushed to the top of the hill, Jemel at his heels. The rest of the company stared questioningly. Jemel motioned for them to stay.

A loud caw! sounded through the still night air. The flapping of wings and the dinstant shouts of burly men pierced the silence as well. Aniram's figure appeared over the hilltop, and carefully grasped in his beak was a dagger. A long dagger, well crafted with a beautiful green gem set into it.

"Mára mahta, Aniram?" Jemel called to the bird, smiling as the hawk gracefully soared and came to land on Jemel's outstreched forearm. Feadhros joined in, and held out a hand. Aniram let the dagger drop harmlessly into Feadhros's hand.

"Is it Nuhrive's?" Jemel asked as the two walked back towards the camp. Feadhros nodded as Jemel looked for some water or some bread for Aniram.

[ January 23, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[doug*platypus]

The Great Wood

The leagues were long indeed from the Elvenwood to the Great Wood. Skara, Rû-Sahn and the band of kidnappers had now covered half the distance back to their homes. For the first time since they had captured the elven girl, Skara felt that they had covered enough ground to rest properly, for the rest of the day and night.

The elfmaid, whose name Nu-Reif had been learned from Nura, had caused them no end of trouble. When the men had been attacked by a pack of crazed boars, she had escaped with the aid of Blair's sister. It took quite some time before they were both recaptured, and the sun was coming up before the camp was in order again. The wounded man, Barold, had been gored horribly by one of the boars. If those fools had only stayed calm, thought Skara, it might not have happened. To think, they were overrun by a pack of swine! In the confusion, Barold had been surprised and defenseless. With his wounds he would never have survived the trip home. He was barely conscious, panting and gibbering, when Rogar had to take the knife to him to end it. Skara put Rogar and two others to task to dig Barold a grave in whatever way they could find. When Rogar rejoined the rest of the group he was in a foul mood. Skara saw him watching with delight as Blair beat and scolded his foolish sister. Skara did not stop Blair from doing this - such behaviour had to be punished, and she should never have come along anyway.

"What are we going to do with her?" Rogar had asked with an evil tone in his voice.

Throughout the rest of the journey, a close watch was kept on Nura by both Blair and Rogar. Skara also kept one eye on Rogar. As if the captive was not enough to deal with! Now Skara had to worry about Blair's wench of a sister freeing her again, and also about what was going on in Rogar's twisted mind. He had begun to question almost every lead that Skara took, and he was often caught staring at Nura. He was the only man in the group bigger and stronger than Blair, or there would have been no concern. It would take several of the Easterlings to fight Rogar, and if he had some of his friends on his side it could prove very bad for Blair, and for Skara. Fortunately the weaponsmith Rû-Sahn still seemed loyal, and apart from Rogar only Bór, the brother of poor Barold would openly speak against Skara's advice. Since he was only young, however, noone paid any attention to him.

Nevertheless, in spite of their squabbling the men of the east had covered a good distance now without sign of pursuit. The girls now seemed too frightened to try and escape, after being recaptured last time. Skara had taken their elfcakes and trod them into the ground as a further punishment. The elf would now share what they ate, even if it made her retch, and she would be given only enough to keep her walking. After finding their rafts and crossing the Great River, the men with their captive had skirted the eaves of the Great Wood, heading north. Game was now plentiful, and there were even mushrooms and roots to gather. This was now Nura's job when at camp, with her brother guarding her.

They had then turned directly east into the forest, and now made straight for the morning sun. By entering so far north, Skara had hoped to throw off all chance of pursuit. Now fifty leagues from the southern edge, he doubted that even elf eyes could spy them from afar. The more Skara thought about it, the more he relaxed. For the Great River had done them a huge favour. There were no fords that he knew of, and the river was so wide that surely only the gods could have bridged it. Unless they used their wicked magic, the miserable elves would have to swim across, hopefully losing all trace of his men. Skara smiled, feeling better than he had for weeks. After throwing more fuel on to the fire from where he was sitting, he leaned back and began to doze.

[Ivy of the Woods]

Nura silently bent over the cluster of mushroom next to their camp and began to gather. Her eye was swollen and she was hurting all over from Blair beatings but she stayed close to him, mostly because she had no other choice. She was feeling the full force of her actions and Nura didn't think, even if they left her alone with her elven friend, that she could free Nuhrive. Blair was so disapointed and angry with her, she couldn't let him down again. Hoping to please him, Nura worked as hard as she could without falling over.

But Nura paused in her work, feeling some one's eyes on her back and they were not Blair's. She looked over her shoulder to see who. Her eyes met Rogar's and she shivered. He watched her too often and it scared her out of her wits, Rogar was her other reason to staying close to Blair no matter how hard he hit her.

A shadow fell over her, Blair's, as she turned back to the mushrooms and heard some one approching.

"I'll watch over her Blair, ye can go and rest" Nura heard Rogar's voice and all the muscles in her body seem to clench.

"Nah, I'm fine Rogar." replied her brother with a surprisingly commanding tone for some one who was smaller than the man he talked to.

Nura could feel Rogar's stare as he smirked and after a silent moment, walked away. Breathing a sigh of relief, Nura looked up at her brother.

"Get on with yer work, Nura." he commanded and she did.

[ January 26, 2003: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Ithaeliel]

Ru-Sahn was bitter the morning after. On top of Nuhrive's near escape and Nura's betrayal, he now bore a great gash on his right palm from when a hawk had suddenly swooped down from the sky and taken the elven-dagger from his hand. He knew more was afoot; no hawk flew by night, and few cared for the creations of the Children of Iluvatar. It was likely that the bird had been a spy for the girl's people.

Ru-Sahn chose not to bother with Nuhrive, for he knew that the speed of her recapture had frightened her into sumbission. Besides, she had caused him enough trouble. There were others who would watch her. Instead, he turned his attention to his craft, attempting to whittle knife-hilts and arrowheads like to the elves'. Now, as he chiseled the last letter of elvish script into the handle of one, he held it up in the sunlight, grinning as he prided himself on his improvement since he had had that elvish blade of Nuhrive's. It hardly seemed a loss now. But he would not show his work to Skara or any of the other men. He had come too close to revealing his origins already.

Later, Ru-Sahn sat on a boulder, polishing the hilt with an oiled rag, when he noticed the wearied elf-child sitting across from him. He smiled a little despite himself. "Look at this beautiful hilt," he spoke in the common tongue. "Not for nothing was the taking of your blade, young Nuhrive; I must say I am grateful."

The young elf glared at him before turning her head disdainfully. Ru-Sahn chuckled and went on with his labors. After a few minutes, Nuhrive glanced at him again. "How do you know my tongue?" she asked him suspiciously.

Ru-Sahn did not look up. "I've had experience with your kind before," he said simply. But Nuhrive shook her head. She knew there was more to it, though she did not care to meddle.

********

"Is it Nuhrive's?"

Feadhros nodded. "Look... there is blood on its edge. It is that of an Easterling."

Jemel smiled. "Nuhrive must have slain her guard and escaped!"

"Nay. There is too little. Someone was holding it before it was taken out of his hand. But it's still wet. We're very close to them."

Jemel stroked Aniram's head. "Mae carnen," she said to him. Then turning to the rest of the camp, she showed them the dagger and repeated what Feadhros had said to her. "If we leave before the sun, we may catch them. They are not as quick as we, for they have no horses."

[ January 25, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Everyone prepared to leave, for if they left before the sun rose, they should catch up to the kidnappers. Every few minutes, Jemel heard a rustle of leaves, and would lift her head. Just before she could see what it was, all was silent. Jemel sighed and walked over to join Feadhros.

"We can't keep Sultir following forever. There's no point in it, really. He probably could use a little walking without having to worry about us hearing him," Jemel turned a litte to face a small bush nearby. Sultir hid behind it, though he was probably trying hard not to rustle the branches.

Feadhros nodded and the two went to get Sultir. When they got to the bush, Jemel pulled back a few branches, and Feadhros smiled. Sultir was facing the other members of the rescue company, laying on his stomach.

"Mae govannen, Sultir," Feadhros interrupted the silence. Jemel shook her head and turned back to join the rest of the group, leaving Feadhros and Sultir by the brush.

Aniram came flying into the small valley, back from his hunt. Jemel planned on letting Aniram scout and follow the kidnappers, and returning to inform the pursuers of their position.

"I trust you remember the system?" Jemel inquired, though certainly not expecting an answer in words. Aniram nodded. The two had come up with a 'system' of sorts. Aniram would cock his head or make a noise for every mile that the kidnappers were ahead. Then he would turn towards the direction that they were headed.

"Lle ume quel, Aniram. Lle astalder," Jemel complemented. Aniram had done well, and he was a valiant hawk, if there ever was one.

"When will we be ready to leave?" Jemel asked aloud.

[Garen LiLorian]

Garen had woken early that morning, the thrill of the chase having revived in his blood after so many fruitless days of following. Now, surely, they were close to the prize. It was in the bearing of the hunters, in their likeness to the majestic bird of prey which sat briefly on Jemel's wrist before flying off on Garen knew not what errand. These treacherous men were near, and soon would be caught, and the honor of his house restored. This thought consumed him, brought fire into his limbs, worn weary by the passage of many leagues.

"When will we be ready to leave?" Jemel asked, and Garen answered her on behalf of all the company. "Now, or perhaps sooner. We have them as the hounds the hare. They cannot evade us for more than a day, weary as they must be, and on foot! Let us make an end of this, and so return in triumph to my house and yours!"

[doug*platypus]

The Passage of the Plains

Skara had woken early that morning, his head heavy. He felt as if he had been asleep for days, and quickly roused himself and his companions, eager to be up and moving.

It was now late morning, and finally after days of the stuffiness of the Great Wood, the trees were beginning to thin out. The last few days had been uneventful, though hardly pleasant. The situation with Rogar had become worse. He talked seldom to anyone but Bór, Barold's brother, and only grunted if Skara commanded him to do anything. Blair did not trust Rogar at all, and never let his sister out of his sight. Which was as well, thought Skara, since he would not allow Nura to escape. Likewise, Rû-Sahn kept a close watch on the elf child, although this duty was also shared around some of the other more trustworthy men.

Blair, Skara and Rû-Sahn were usually at the front of the line now, with the rest of the men strung out behind them. There was the odd grumble or two, and Skara was not certain where the loyalties of most of his men lay. Fortunately the trails were good and the game was plentiful. Skara himself had brought down a fair-sized hart the day before. He had been in fine mood that night, jesting with the men and telling of his past hunting glories. But at the back of his mind, always Skara worried that there would be strife before they reached home. With Rogar and Bór acting up, he could have a fight on his hands even if the elves had not followed them through the forest.

After another hour or so, the trees failed altogether. Skara breathed deep and looked out across the plains. He would be home, soon. He smiled wickedly at the elf girl as she looked out, terrified of so much open space. Next to him, Skara could feel Rû-Sahn tense up.

"What is it?" he asked, knowing that the weaponsmith was a man with strong senses.

"I do not know," Rû replied. "I feel... something. I fear that danger approaches."

As he said this, he was rubbing the palm of his bandaged hand. Skara looked at it nervously. He had of course noticed Rû-Sahn's wound, and questioned him about it in private. He did not believe the story that Rû-Sahn had told the men, and eventually learned from him that his wound was given by a spirit in hawk form. A spirit that was probably aiding the Fair Folk. It had also taken the child's fine dagger, at which Skara had laughed. It seemed as if Rû-Sahn's luck had not lasted.

"We must press on," Skara said to the Easterlings, who had now all gathered around the leaders. "Let us reach cover before we rest again."

They hoisted their burdens and continued east, with Skara looking cautiously back over his shoulder. He tried to shake his newfound uneasiness off, but found this more difficult than he would have thought.

[Ithaeliel]

Spirits lifted from the evidence that they had found the night before, the searchers slung their packs across the backs of their horses and rode on toward Mirkwood. Galloping as quickly as they were, the horses ran as though in a herd, occasionally shifting positions through the day. On one of these, Feadhros dropped to the rear of the travellers, and he noticed Harlon, who had his eyes squeezed shut and whose teeth were clenched in anxiety. Feadhros shouted to him over the noise of hooves on the plains. Harlon opened one eye. "Come again?"

"You're doing well," Feadhros told him. "You're keeping your balance!"

Harlon, as though amazed, looked at himself with raised eyebrows and grinned. "I am! I'm riding a horse!"

"I told you you could," Feadhros replied.

Reaching the very outermost trees of Mirkwood, the searchers stopped their horses. Aniram landed on Jemel's arm, gave a slight cry, and stretched his wings a bit. Jemel nodded. "Yes, my friend. We are getting closer."

Feadhros, knowing well the regions surrounding Lorien, came up beside Jemel. "I think it would be quickest to cut through the southern part of the forest and then turn northeast toward Rhun; we will intercept the Easterlings faster."

Jemel nodded. "Aniram tells me we are less than fifteen leagues behind them. By nightfall the victors shall be decided, if all goes according to plan."

Now the searchers trekked through the dense forest of Mirkwood. The air was thick, and if one waved their hand about in the forest, they could feel and almost see it move. The horses went a little slower than planned, seeming apprehensive of the wild wood and the shady creatures that seemed to creep about in the trees.
Everyone was frustrated with the horses. Feadhros constantly spoke to Ithilion, urging him onward through the dark. Eventually, Thoriel had worked her way up beside him, having a bolder steed than others of the company. "It's the spiders, is it not?" she whispered to Feadhros. "I have seen several remnants of cobwebs along our route through the forest."
Feadhros glanced to the side as they passed another silken thread strung through a tree. He thought he saw a brief black shape pass overhead. "It is the spiders," he answered Thoriel cautiously. "They are all about. They reign over this region of the forest."
Garen shuddered behind them as he heard a skittering in the bushes nearby. "Will they attack us?"
"I don't believe they would," Lilebrian answered. "We are too large for prey; rather we are the predators. We are armed as well."

Ithilion neighed softly and backed away as a shadowy creature ran in front of them, paused, and ran off in another direction.

[ February 24, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

"We must press on."

Nuhrive cursed silently. No! If they went again, she was going to have no chance to get away again! Surely others of her kind should be coming after her, if she could only get to them. I mean, they would be coming, wouldnt they...

Nuhrive shook her head, telling herself not to be so stupid. But to get to them (They would be there, she told herself fiercely) she had to get away again.

She didnt even think about it this time. They were all picking up their burdens, preparing to leave, to go east where...well, she had no idea what would happen to her then. As they were getting up, one easterling came over, pulling her to her feet and, spinning her around, he began to untie her arms; Ru-Sahn had insisted they would be going to slowly if she kept stumbling, and he was adamant someone was following them- something Nuhrive was counting on. She felt the ropes loosen around her wrists. Her fingers were clasped to form a hard knot of fingers and she hit backwards with this knot fast. The easterling doubled up as she hit a very sensitive spot. Without a seconds hesitation, she ran.

Hearing the easterling shout, having got his breath back, she turned her head, still running. She caught Nura's eyes. Her brothers hand was tight on her shoulder, but she wasnt even trying to run. Tears gleamed in her eyes. Nuhrive wished she had a chance to say sorry, or at least goodbye. As it was she could only hope the girl would take a chance, and maybe run after her...

Turning she put her head down and sprinted into the trees. But after a few minutes she was tiring, despite the adrenaline pumping in her veins. She knew she couldnt keep going for long. Taking in a deep breath, she yelled, calling some of the familiar names from Lorien, whos owners she hoped would be coming after her.

"Feadhros! Sultir! Harlon!" She didnt know what made her call the fools name, but she didnt have time to muse on it as she continued running, now tiring. She knew the easterlings were gaining on her and this time she just yelled meaninglessly, as loud as she could, as she felt hands close around her waist.

"Nooooooooo!"

[Morai]

Harlon heared the nearby cry. With a sprint he cartwheeled in the direction of the noise. Taking his performance, he shouted in Common Tounge:
"Greetings, I am a fool of sorts. The Lady of the Wood sent me here herself. I am Harlon, the greatest fool that ever...." His introduction was cut short. The easterling's leader grabbed his wrist. Wincing, he said:
" But wear is my lovely assistant? Bending down he checked the grass. Skara, Harlon's captor, had to bend over with him.

"Oh, where that silly creature!" Harlon pulled a dirty rag from Skara's pocket. "This yours? My, it's lovely. I think I'll sing a song about it." Tearing himself from the easterling's grip, he skipped away. Harlon started singing in elvish:

" Oh my, oh my
A peice of cloth for me,
It's so dirty, so dirty
I'll have to wash it
And dry it,
And hang it in a tree!" Dashing throught the camp he continued:
"Oh my, oh my,
Where is my assistant?
Where is that creature
In the distance?
Under this bush?
Behind this tree?
Oh well, a dirty cloth for me!"

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros watched intently from the high branches of a tree as Harlon cavorted about the camp, singing a song about the dirty rag that he had found on the ground. The scout was surprised that they had caught the Easterlings so early, for that very morning they had been many miles away, deep into Mirkwood. Now Feadhros crouched over the head of one, an arrow fitted to his bow, waiting for the right moment. Glancing above, he saw Lilebrian eyeing the men individually, looking for the best target. Jemel was flattened against the trunk of the same tree, her knives drawn, and Aniram circled above, waiting to dive. Thoriel and Garen lay on their stomachs behind a nearby bush. Feadhros looked at each of them while trying to keep an eye out for Harlon, who was now tumbling in the midst of the Easterlings, throwing out sarcastic compliments to each of them. One of them ran for the fool wielding a spear, but Harlon somersaulted out of his range. "Why sir, there's no need to be hostile! Can't you Easterlings handle a bit of foolery and fun?"

The man ignored the comment, still running at the fool... who tripped at precisely the wrong time. Falling flat on his face, Harlon did not see the man raise the spear above his head, about to bring it into his back. But Feadhros did, and he knew the moment was right. Releasing the arrow, he winced as it hit his target right below the shoulderblade. The man froze for a moment before he slumped to the ground and lay still.

**********

Rû-Sahn looked about in surprise as one of the men fell in a heap on the ground. His eye caught a glimpse of a winged figure in the sky, and he did a double-take. "The hawk spirit..." he gasped. "The elves are here!" he shouted for the entire camp to hear, running for his knife. At that moment Feadhros and Lilebrian, who were acting as backup distractions, leapt out of the tree. Feadhros looked back toward the remaining three. "Find Nuhrive and get her away from here... hurry! Good luck!" Now turning back to the angered tribe of Easterlings, Feadhros strung another arrow and readied himself for battle.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Watching the events from her place behind the tree, Jemel knew it was time. Time to get Nuhrive out of here. Looking up into the air, Jemel knew it was time for Aniram to make his presence known to all, as one clever Easterling had done so already.

“Wanya Aniram! Kara lyaa sana hanya, mellon! Aruaka, fion mellon!” Jemel called to her hawk. Time to get this over with, Jemel told herself.

Turning to the other side of her tree trunk, Jemel located the burly and strong Easterling grabbing Nuhrive’s shoulder. Throwing the dagger in her right hand, it spun through the air creating a great whistling sound. Hoping for a hit, Jemel’s hopes were dashed as the Easterling lifted a sword quick as lightning to deflect the Elven weapon. Cursing her luck, Jemel rushed forward to attack on closer grounds.

Aniram bolted down from his spot in the sky and dove to the ground, carefully and skillfully grabbing Jemel’s lost dagger by the hilt. With a loud caw! Aniram flipped the knife into the air, and Jemel grasped it by the hilt when it reached her.

Let her go, fool. I don’t want to have to fight around her to kill you! Jemel thought. Jemel advanced on the Easterling, and he craftily pulled his shoulder back, hiding Nuhrive from view, but still leaving an arm open for combat. Think you’re that good, eh? Fight me one-handed if you want!

Jemel dashed forward, and drove in with her daggers at every open chance with the Easterling, but he easily deflected each blow she delivered. It became like a dance of sorts, as Jemel dashed and struck forward, and was driven back again by the huge and heavy sword of the Easterling. Every now and then Aniram would divert from his other fighting efforts and assist Jemel, but would be soon busied by another mini-battle going on in the very small clearing.

Losing her temper, Jemel risked the use of kicks. Any kicks she knew of she tried to use on the stout being in front of her. A spinning kick angled to the neck barely missed as his muscular arm blocked her attempt. A kick swung up and straight down like a hammer struck the man’s shoulder, but he only grunted.

Okay, so maybe he is that good. Jemel thought grimly, frustrated.

Now she decided to multitask. Using a pushing front kick, she shoved the Easterling backward with her foot, and used her dagger to disarm him. His sword flew to the side, gathering moist and muddy dirt. Perfect. As the Easterling went to grab his sword as quickly as he could, Jemel slashed at the Easterling’s arm that held Nuhrive hostage. His arm retracted in pain, and Nuhrive was free.

[Garen LiLorian]

At Feadhros' arrow, the camp exploded into action like a kicked anthill. Men scrambled for weapons, shouting in fear and anger as the ambush party of Elves erupted from the undergrowth. Garen rose from behind the bush, sunlight glinting off his spear and helm. The battle cry of his house rent the morning air; "Amrûnadan! Adan i Lórien!"

Garen moved swiftly towards Harlon the fool, who looked frightened and out of place amidst the fighting and dying. "Remember the plan, fool!" He shouted, parrying a wild thrust with the haft of his spear. "Find the lady, and get her away! We'll follow as we can." Harlon nodded and bounded away across the battlefield towards Nuhrive and Jemel.

Garen moved across the battlefield again, seeking the captain he knew must be there. Again he shouted his challenge, and again was met with the weaponry of the Easterlings, but these men were thieves and brigands, not warriors, and Garen wasn't interested in wanton death. He drove his man away with a quick flurry of spear thrusts, than reversed the weapon, bringing the haft down hard on the unprotected head of the man, who sighed and went limp.

[Morai]

Harlon dashed towards Jemel's tough situation. Weaving in and out of battle, he barely missed an easterlings dagger. Feeling worn out, Harlon nibbled on lembas. Desperately trying to catch his breath quietly,he stood behind Nuhrive.

"Come on, lift your weapon up. What are you waiting for! Attempt to injure my friend already!"Harlon thought impatiently.

Finally the easterling reached his sword up high. Harlon tickled his victim until he loosened his grip on Nuhrive. Noticing the elf girl was gone, the easterling spun around. Seeing Harlon, he swung his weapon in anger. Unfortunately, the sword was no longer in his grasp.

"My, this is shiny. I should have been a warrior instead of a Jester. Do you think I would be good at it?" Harlon sang so the easterling could understand.

The easterling growled. The elf took off. Running with a weapon proved harder than without. Harlon stumbled about bumping into fights. He was loosing speed....

[ March 04, 2003: Message edited by: Morai ]

[Ivy of the Woods]

"The elves!" Nura exclaimed with too much excitement for Blair's liking as his pulled out his sword and tightened his grip on her shoulder “Let go Blair!”

Nura elbowed him in the ribs hard making her brother gasped and fall forward. As he lay on the ground, Nura realised it wasn’t her elbow that made him fall, but the arrow in his back. He cried out in pain and Nura dropped to her knees beside him.

“Oh Blair” tears welled up in her eyes “I’m sorry, oh this is my fault. Oh my brother.”

She called for one of the Easterlings to help her, but they all had much else on their minds. A shadow fell over her and Nura looked up with relief in her face. Her expression quickly turned to fear as Rogar grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet with a smirk. His cruel eyes locked on hers and she did not want to know what ideas were going on in his head.

“No!” she cried as he tried dragged her away from Blair “Help! Nuhrive! ”

Nura could not see her elven friend among the Easterlings and grew more afraid for Nuhrive than for herself, praying that she hadn’t been killed. “Nuhrive, why didn’t I help you?”

As she fought Rogar’s gripped he growled and struck her across the face painfully. Nura kicked his shins but to no avail.”Little wench” he grumbled and threw her over his shoulder.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive heard sounds of violence from behind her and, confused, she looked over her shoulder and saw the easterling was no longer pursuing her! She stopped, trying to catch her breath and listened harder for the sounds from the place where she had just run from. A smile crept over her face; the elves! She was now grinning madly, but then she heard the sound of feet coming fast in her direction; two sets of feet! Nuhrive didnt try to run again; she was far too out of breath. She ducked into some thick bushes and moments later her the first 'pursuer' bound into view, lugging a sword too big and too heavy for him, his cheerful outfit rather tattered now, his round face flustered.

"Harlon!" Nuhrive almost shouted, then lowered her voice. "Harlon! Psssst!" She hissed. The fool turned and spotted her, Nuhrive darted forward, grabbing the fool and dragging him into her hiding place.

Moments later a huge easterling ran into view, his sheath notably empty. Harlon grinned sheepishly as Nuhrive glared at him. She lifted a moderately large stone and threw it into the bushes further back. The dim witted easterling immediately took off away in that direction. But Nuhrive was going to make sure the easterling didnt come back; she took her dagger out of her sheath. She murmered a small prayer over the elegant weapon, then hurled it accurately at the easterling.

The dagger struck his back and went in up to the hilt, but Nuhrive looked away. The huge man roared in anger and pain, staggering about before falling with a crash into the bushes. Nuhrive breathed a sigh of relief and, walking swiftly over, took the dagger from his back. But he wasnt fully dead, but dying slowly. Nuhrive gritted her teeth; she knew what had to be done in cases like this, to stop someone suffering, no matter who they were. She lifted his head with a firm hand and slit his throat. Immediately the man slumped, completely dead. Nuhrive wiped her dagger on the grass with a shudder and walked back to Harlon, trying not to show her distress.

"Come on." She said, taking off towards the camp.

"Where are you going?" Harlon was still out of breath. "I have to take you back to safety."

Nuhrive smiled at him, but there was a grim edge to it. "Thank you Harlon, but I will not simply sit in a safe place. I have a friend back there." She remembered Nura's face all too well. Without another word she ran off in the direction of the battle. Harlon stared after her in a depressed way, then sighed hopelessly and followed, huffing and puffing.

[Morai]

Harlon dashed after Nuhrive. He shook his head at the elf. "Eru! Why doesn't she ever listen! I may be a fool, but I know when to stop being foolish. I think..."The Fool thought. As Harlon sped up, he felt his second wind coming on.

When they neared Nura and the easterling, Harlon climbed a nearby tree. Examining the situation, Harlon sighed. Sure the fool was an excelent acrobat, but never had he encoutered such danger.

Spotting Nuhrive about to attempt a rescue, he hung himself from the tree by his knees. Pulling Nuhrive up he scolded quietly:"Patience my assistant, we'll rescue her soon enough. Can you lift more than your weight?"

Nuhrive didn't appear to be listening. Her focus was on Nura. Harlon rolled his eyes as shook her for attention.

"Hey! What are you doing, I have to rescue Nura!" She whispered.

"Trust me, this fool knows what he's doing. I'll ask you again, can you lift more than your own weight?"

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive fought against being angry at the fool. She had to get Nura...

"Is that an actual question? And how is it relevant?" She whispered back.

Harlon still wouldnt tell her. "Ill ask you again, can you-" He started again. By the Valar, he could be infuriating! She glared at him. He was asking silly questions when Nura was probably in danger...

"I dont know, I dont think Ive really tried." She answered his question at last. "Why, what do you have in mind?"

[Morai]

Harlon tried hard not to laugh as he noticed Nuhrives frustration. Her eyes were burning, molten silver slipping from them. It seemed as steam was rising from her ears.

"Allright, me dear, I'll jump down there. Then I'll get that man so angry, he'll have to chase me away. After that, if you can, you'll pull Nura up into this very tree. If my plan works, you two flee from this place as fast as those immortal feet will carry you." Glancing down one last time, Harlon asked: "Now, how does that sound to an infuriated elf, eh?"

[ March 10, 2003: Message edited by: Morai ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive tried to continue glaring at Harlon as he mocked her gently, but couldnt and grinned back at him. "Thats your plan?"

Harlon shrugged and grinned a little more ruefully. "Hey, Im a fool, not a general."
"Well, tis better than my plan."
"Whats you plan?"
"Havent got one."
There was a small pause.
"Yeah, I win." Harlon doffed his cap to her and got ready to jump, before Nuhrive grabbed his arm. "Wait...how will you get out?"

The fool simply smiled, then jumped...

[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros spent arrow after arrow against his foes. Many Easterlings fell who rushed him, and the scout was surprised at their numbers. He had to run and grab used arrows out of the bodies of the dead in order to have enough to fight, for he carried no melee weapon at all. Looking over at Garen, Feadhros watched the man as he swiftly killed a man who seemed twice his bulk. The elf gave a small smile. He had expected the lame man to be of little use in battle, but he was wrong. Garen had certainly proved himself and his house a worthy ally of Lorien. He had carried out his word to protect and aid the people of the Golden Wood. Feadhros admired his nobility and valiance, thinking he was a valuable companion and a great ambassador of his house.

A vicious yell went up as a large Easterling warrior ran at Feadhros, his saber flailing. Thwip! The young elf strung and arrow, pulled it back and let it fly in one swift motion. The Easterling gave a yelp as the arrow pierced his heart and fell onto his back, never to rise again. Feadhros relaxed, and looking around saw that there were few potential adversaries left in the camp. He glanced again at Garen, who drove his sword backwards into the knee of a man, turning around... only to lock his blade with another Easterling.

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

Ru-Sahn glared menacingly at his opponent through their locked swords. It was a man, like him, but dressed in Elvish fashion. Looking down, he saw the man had only one good foot. His eyes met his enemy's, and Ru-Sahn came to a shocking realization. "No... it cannot be," he whispered. Their blades lowered between them almost unconsciously. "Garen LiLorian?" Ru-Sahn said, unsure of what to believe.

Garen looked at him in a mix of terror and confusion. "Telegar...? After all these years... what has happened to you?"

Easterlings and Noldoli alike looked on expectantly as Ru-Sahn and Garen stepped away from each other. There had to be a story behind this. Perhaps they would finally find the truth about Ru-Sahn's elusive past.
The weaponsmith's eyes shifted anxiously around at all the spectators. He glared as he began to back away. "So here it ends," he muttered. "No more am I an Easterling." He threw down his sword and looked about again. Then his tongue spoke again the Quenya language. "You've always wondered where Ru-Sahn the silent one came from," he called out, so that the elves understood and the Easterlings did not. "Now you will know."

[ March 17, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive tried to grab at Harlons arm as he jumped down, but missed the fool narrowly. However, she did put him off and, his concentrations spoiled, his landing went awry; as Harlon hit the ground his ankle crumpled beneath him and he fell awkwardly. The effect of having an elf garbed in the bright, if now rather more tattered than usual, fools garb was enough to stop the easterling in his tracks.

Rogar looked puzzled for a moment before continuing forward, raising a foot to kick Harlon out of the way like an angry master at a bad dog, but the fool leapt to his feet and out of the way. His movements seemed graceful, but Nuhrive spotted the slight grimace of pain before it was covered by his wide, infuriating grin. Harlon stretched the corners of his mouth down with his fingers, making them turn down in a comically sad expression before wagging a finger at Rogar, a stern face like that of a school teachers now taking preference over his sadness.

"Now now, young master, tisnt nice to kick old gentlemen like myself. Your mother wouldnt be proud of you, now, would she? But behold!" He leapt back, pretending to catch sight of Nura for the first time. "Could that be your dear old mother slung over your shoulder there with such little grace? To be sure, young man, tis a disgrace, I say, tis a-"

Harlon didnt finish his sentence as he ducked the hand of his victim, swinging towards him like a christmas ham. "-a disgrace." He finished from his new perch on a log to the side of Rogar. The easterling was getting annoyed now at this puny and infuriating elf, whom he fully suspected to be mocking him, and decided to deal with him more fully. With little ceremony, he dumped Nura on the ground, giving her a warning glare to tell her to stay where she was. Then he turned back towards Harlon...or where Harlon had been, for the fool had now moved again, jumping from place to place like a jack-hare. Nuhrive continued to stay quiet, not wanting to attract attention; the plan was that Rogar wouldnt even see her if possible. So to get Nuras attention she threw a small twig down, hitting the girl on the head. Nura flinched almost out of habit, used to her brother and his companions, then looked up. Nuhrive leant down out of the tree, holding on with one hand and reaching down to her friend with the other.

"Come on- we're getting out of here. Coming to see the elves?" She hissed, grinning. Nura was speechless but took the offered hand and between them, the pair managed to get Nura into the tree. But as Nura was just getting her breath, a sound attracted Nuhrives attention. She looked over sharply and saw Harlon wince in pain and stumble backwards as he landed badly once again on his painful ankle. Harlon was still advancing on the elf and he swung at him once again with a huge fist, knocking the elf to the ground. Then, in front of Nuhrives horrified eyes, Rogar unsheathed his sword...

"No! Harlon!" She couldnt help herself and the cry was out before she could stop it. The fool looked up...and so did Rogar! Nuhrive saw him trying to struggle to his feet, but having a little trouble. The fool was waving at Nuhrive to get out of here, but the elf knew she couldnt do that. She would do a little attention seeking herself... She stood up on her perilous perch in the fork of the tree and waved both arms at the easterling man.

"Yes, thats right, bozo!" She yelled at Rogar, trying to cover her fear with her loud words. She made an obscene gesture at him. "Come on then, come and get me! Or will you let a little elf maiden get away from you!"

Rogar growled in an almost animal manner and, to Nuhrives equal horror and satisfaction, he started towards the tree. But still she persisted with infuriating the brute. "Yeah thats right, you son of an orc and a donkey! Up here!"

Rogar now stood at the bottom of the tree and, placing his feet firmly apart, he got a solid grip on it. And began to shake the tree! Nuhrive grabbed Nura as she started to fall, as the girl still seemed to be in a form of shock, and both of them clung onto the tree for dear life. Nuhrive muttered under her breath, wishing she knew some of the elven tree magic her tutors were always trying to force into her, wishing she had her dagger, wishing the other elves werent so busy....

[Morai]

The fool found it harder than ever to think clearly. A raging headache captured his senses. Ridding himself of the growing pain was all Harlon could think of.

Taking one last glance at Nuhrive, Harlon shouted:
"When one plays games with a fool, he neither wins nor looses. He only gains a strange ending which only the wise can ponder." With this, he stole the nearest weapon and chopped the branch above the easterling's head. "Run Nuhrive, flee to the Golden Wood, tell m'lady I wish her well." The fool said in Quenya.
His last words ended with the limb knocking Harlon and his foe unconsious. The easterling was clearly dead, but Harlon still had a shallow breath....

[Ithaeliel]

Ru-Sahn drew a breath and sheathed his sword before he spoke. His voice became softer than most had ever heard, and his hands shook as he began in the Westron tongue so all could understand.

"I was not born an Easterling. Many of you have known that for years. I was born into a noble family; of the greater divisions of men, said to be descended from those of the Rohirrim and mingled with the blood of the elves," his voice strained to say the word. "We were the men of the House of Lorien... the same house that this man, Garen LiLorian, hails from. Yes, once we were happy. My family had great expectations for me. They told me I would be an honored man of our house, if I only kept my feet on the ground. I was raised knowing this, and told myself I would become this man they envisioned me to be. My birth name was Telegar Linrethil.
"I was of the House of Lorien, and therefore I know Garen from my youth. I knew that one day he would be my superior, for his father held lordship of the House. We were both expected highly of, and we were the best of friends with much in common. Nothing could have separated us," Ru-Sahn continued, smiling sadly.
"There was but one thing that separated us from the remainder of our House: my father secretly feared and disliked Galadriel, your Queen," he said with a nod to the Elves. "He had met her as a young man, and she had stripped him of all his resistance... and she read his mind. I do not know what she saw, but Galadriel sent him away and told her guards never to allow him into her halls again. She tried to persuade our lord Galthun to banish him from his house, but Galthun refused. From then on my father bred an intense hate towards her and her people. He told me that the Elves of Lorien were nothing but dictatorial thieves and plotters. I did not want to believe him, but he said it so often that it was embedded into my thoughts. Still I tried to see the good in the elves our House was so closely related with.
"Galadriel and her court sometimes took authority to make laws and acts over our house. These were mostly fair and actually benifitting, but there was one instance in which an unfair act was put upon us. It was shortly before my twelfth spring, and I remember my father's rage. He swore he would slay any elf who crossed before his sight. My mother brought word to Galadriel in secret, and Galadriel sent guards to arrest my father for his threats and for treason. They were also ordered to imprison his family- myself and my mother. My father was arrested, but my mother and I fled madly away from the House of Lorien. We brought few provisions.
"We reached southern Mirkwood, and my mother could no longer walk. I offered to stay with her, though we had nothing left with which to help her condition. She shook her head. "No, no, Telegar!" she said. "Nothing will save me now. You must walk on and leave me to die." However broken my heart was, I knew that she was right. And so I left her. Two days later, I was found half-dead by Skara and his tribe of Easterlings. And that is where it ends," he finished, his voice shaking in anger and grief.

[ March 26, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive jumped backwards, scrambling across to the tree beside this one. All
around Lorien there were networks of close knit trees, and Nuhrive could move
pretty fast between them from practise.

"Run Nuhrive, flee to the Golden Wood, tell m'lady I wish her well."

The limb crashed down with a sickening crack on the heads of the two below it.
As Nuhrive ran, with Nura beside her, she heard the fool fall, and heard the
easterlings last cry. She couldnt just run on and leave him. She paused, unsure for a moment, then made up her mind, turning back and running back to the fool. Nura realised a moment later and turned.

"What are you doing?" She called after her, her voice s little hushed still, aware there were others still nearby.

"Im not leaving him here!" Nuhrive climbed swiftly down the tree. She winced at the sight of the fools now bloody head but placed a blade of grass under his nose. Sure enough, he was breathing. She sighed in relief and hooked her arms under his armpits. By Yavanna, he weighed a ton! She looked up to the incredulous and nervous Nura. "Come on, give me a hand!"

[Garen LiLorian]

"Not where it ends, my friend." Garen's sword point drooped, and tears glittered bright and unshed in his grey eyes. "Not where it ends. Long I searched for you, following the trail you had left in your haste. Disobeying both the elven scouts and my own father I followed your trail, hoping against hope to bring you back to Lórien. Yet it was not I who found your mother."

Garen closed his eyes in memory, a single tear escaping to flow down his cheek. "Other scouts, fell and wicked, had caught your trail. Wargs they were, a pack of the evil creatures. They came upon her before I could."

"From far off I heard her cry, and a great shadow o'erfell my heart. Quickly I rode to where she was, but not quickly enough. The demon-wolves reached your mother before I did, and she lay motionless on the ground. I drove them off, killing two and maiming a third, though I was not unharmed in the doing, but even then my heart was heavy, for I feared what I would find at battle's end. This which you see," Garen indicated his bad leg with a small gesture, "is the token I retained from that battle, but mine was not the worst hurt."

"Then was I faced with an evil choice. Your mother yet clung to life, though it was by the slenderest of threads. I could not abandon her, so I gave up my chase. I had to hope that you would return on your own, for now there was no chance of catching you, wounded and faint as I was with the life of one so precious in my hands. I returned to Lórien, and delivered her unto the healers. But my toil was in vain." Garen looked up into Telegar's face, and his own was a mirror of the anguish he saw there. "Telegar, my friend, your mother died of a fever three days after we returned. I am sorry."

The two friends stared into each other's eyes, oblivious to the battle still raging in the clearing. Telemar's face had crumpled at Garen's story, but he had one question left. "What of my father?" He asked in a voice thick with grief.

"He is yet with us," Garen replied carefully. "My father defied the will of the Golden Wood, and demanded Lord Linrethil be returned to us. If he had transgressed, then the right of punishment belonged to my father, and not to the Wood. Lord Celeborn agreed with my father, and Linrethil was sentanced to hard labor, but nothing more. He still retains hope that you might return, Telegar." Garen stared hard into those eyes, trying to gauge a reaction. "As do I. Lórien is your home and your house, and I would see you restored to it." He held out a hand.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Nura, please, give me a hand!"

The human girl appeared to snap out of her daze and register the scene for the first time. She looked down at the fool, appearing to piece together the jigsaw puzzle of the last ten minutes, and grabbed the fools feet. Together, they managed to manhandle him into a position whereby they could prop him against a tree. Nuhrive crouched down beside the fool and inspected his head, wincing; there were large splinters and dirt embedded in the wound. She dared not touch it; best to leave it to the elves at the Lorien Infirmary. But how to get there...

Standing, she looked around, and listened with her keen, pointed ears for sounds of other elves, or even humans. After a minute she heard low, muted voices carried on the wind, but could not distinguish what they said, muted as they were by the forest. She nodded, satisfyed; the voice sounded like that of Garen, one of the men living nearby Lorien. There was no way she and Nura would be able to get Harlon all the way back to Lorien, but with the help of others...

Once more she fixed her arms in a sturdy and practical position looped under Harlons arms, her fingers linked over his chest, with Nura holding his legs. On the count of three, they set of at a ragged but fairly steady pace in the direction of the voices...

[Ivy of the Woods]

Nura clasped the stranger's legs in shaking hands. Her whole body was shaking, almost uncontrolably as she looked back at Rogar's body. After all of his harassment, Nura could not believe that he was really dead and had to keep looking back to be sure he was still dead, not following them. When she could not longer see the corpse, Nura turned to where they were headed. She knew not where, but Nuhrive seemed to and Nura trusted her new friend's judgement.

Memories of what had happened filled her mind and she looked down at the odd fellow who might die because he helped saved her life. He did not even know her name. Guilt filled her and Nura made sure she handled him carefully and was careful not to not let her trembling knees colasp. She saw a body of her kin and sighed. Nura knew her brother was dead. It was possible for him to have survived the arrow in his back if it was seen to quickly but she knew Blair lay just where she had left him and there was nothing to stop her now from a new life.

"Thank you" she said to Nuhrive, fighting the tears threating to blur her vision.

[ April 11, 2003: Message edited by: Ivy of the Woods ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Nuhrive turned back to look at Nura as she whispered, about to ask her to hurry up, but softened. The girl seemed so young, but she couldnt truly be much younger than the elf. Nuhrive wondered how old she actually was, and resolved to find out later. Now was not the time. She smiled back at the girl and nodded. "You too, Nura, you too."

They continued to make their way through the forest, always coming closer to the sound of voices. A while before there had been the sound of metal on metal, swords no doubt, but now there was just the calm, quiet, reasonable voices. Nuhrive was thankful that they were getting closer, for from their original position she would not have been able to hear them at this volume. She felt a little dubious though; the voices were those of men. And men were the ones who had kidnapped her in the first place...

The sound of a familiar voice almost made her yelp in surprise as it spoke, just a few words. The voice of Ru-Sahn. But these few words were muffled with grief and, although the pain with which Ru-Sahn had addressed Nuhrive before was still there, the anger was not. Just pain and grief, tumbling emotions in his voice. The solemn voice of Garen followed this, but Nuhrive knew not what it was that he talked of. And hard labour? Ordered by Lord Celeborn? In the Golden Wood? Surely this couldnt be right...

She wanted to know what would happen, but after a few moments, she couldnt wait; she had to get Harlon help, and quickly; she had no idea of how bad his wound truly could be. Taking a deep breath she pushed through the bushes into the clearing, and saw heads, elven and human, turning towards her, their expressions all mirroring each others in their surprise. The elf maid knew she was interrupting something here, but she gently laid Harlon on the ground and, straightening, gave a shaky smile, staying well away from, Ru-Sahn.

"Yes, Im back." She murmered.

[Morai]

Harlon himself found his long life flashing before him:

In a distant past, there appeared an image of a elf that looked no more than the age of five. Dressed in the usual elven outfit, but he had rare carrot colored hair. Running among the Golden wood, he tumbled into a nearby tree. Suddenly the dizzy lad found himself in the arms of his mother.

Her words could not be heard, but they seemed to be chastening. The young elf hung his head as his mother dragged him home. Then he looked back, and the dreaming Harlon realized he was seeing himself.

The image blurred, and it was replaced with a slightly older Harlon. He was kneeling before a grave. Alone, the elf let his tears flow from his eyes. Tracing his long fingers on the leaves of a flower growing the displaced dirt.

Once again the image changed. It was Harlon the Fool enertaining the elven children. He danced among them, often pulling himself into the trees. They would laugh, and beg him to sing too. After Harlon finnished his performance, every young one ran to their parents, begging them to give the fool his meal.

Mist flowed before his eyes, as Harlon felt water. It was an endless gray ocean, with a dim sky above. His body was numb to all but the flow of the sea. The water was surprisenly quiet. Out of sky, or perhaps the sea, a voice bellowed

"Harlon Nowane, it is not your time. Fight, fight for you life. It is not your time. Let only your body rest now, but force your soul to live. It is not your time." The voice vanished, leaving him to float on an endless grey sea.

[ April 11, 2003: Message edited by: Morai ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Jemel fought on after hardly listening to the Easterling man’s speech, though she killed none of the easterlings. She couldn’t, she just never found the second or found the place to kill one of the kidnappers. Jemel certainly was no warrior. The scribe had been sent on the rescue to help navigate and to inform the Lady of the Golden Wood if worse came to worse. When she joined the company, Jemel had had no intention of actually fighting, but there was no turning back after she started fighting the easterlings.

Jemel continued her fight with the same Easterling. The same dance they danced, as one struck the other and the defender parried the blow. Both of the fighters tired as their little battle wore on. Jemel knew she couldn’t fight much longer with the risk of certain death looming as each minute and second wore on. Jemel, too tired to go on any longer, gracefully pulled her wooden flute from the pack on her back, and held it high above her head. The stupid Easterling looked up at the flute as she raised it, and Jemel finally got her hit. Stabbing the Easterling in the stomach, Jemel watched with a tinge of disgust in her eyes as he fell. The elf rolled her eyes at the sight of the crumpled man, and turned away, hiding in the trees. She wanted to find Aniram.

~*~

Aniram soared through the sky, above the treetops of Mirkwood as the small battle raged on. Every few minutes the proud hawk would let out a war cry of the loudest measure, urging the peoples of his mistress to continue on. The hawk flew through the forest on more than one occasion to help one of the Elven kind, lending his help by clawing at the dirty humans of the east.

Aniram would then fly back up above the tree line and let the wind carry him in a circle above the battle arena. It was on one of these short breaks that Aniram met his fate. Without warning, the medium-sized predator bird felt a sharp and distinct pain in his wing and side. Someone from below had shot him with an arrow! Aniram tried to stay aloft in the air, or enough in flight for him to soar and not fall down to the trees. This attempt failed as the bird went spiraling down with the weight of the arrow. He fell through the trees, their branches and dry leaves scratching the fallen at every opportunity.

When Aniram finally landed, he became lodged between a thick branch and the trunk of a strong tree. His wounded arm was caught under the weight of the rest of his body, and with the pain wheedling through his veins he could not lift even his light-boned body off of the horrible wound. Aniram sent a panicked squawk through his beak when the distinct realization that he could barely breathe became evident.

~*~

Jemel lifted her flute to her lips, and played three simple notes. The sound floated through the air, and Jemel fully expected them to be returned by a hawk’s call. They were, only the calls were not made in the same tune as the flutes’. Jemel knew what those notes meant, and an expression of fear immediately registered on her Elven face. Jemel sprinted through the trees, calling “Palu ata, Aniram!” bidding Aniram to let her know where he was. A few mangled, choppy bird squawks weaved through the air, until Jemel found the location of her feathered friend. Aniram was stuck in the crook of a tree, between the beginnings of a branch sprouting from a dark trunk. Through his left wing and towards his chest cavity was an arrow, and it had gone straight through his wing and shoulder. Jemel gasped, and climbed up the damp, rotting tree and gently pulled Aniram from its grasp.

Sitting and laying Aniram in her lap, Jemel rocked the small, now weakened body in her hands. She felt tears form behind her eyes, but promised the dying Aniram that she would not cry. Jemel could feel her friend fading, and she stroked his head as she tried to comfort him.

“I pray you always soar through the air where Manwe dwells.” Jemel spoke softly to the loyal hawk, and laid him down in front of the tree. She didn’t know what else to say. One last time, Jemel stroked the soft feathers along Aniram’s neck, as she always had before. “Rest peacefully, valiant and brave friend. You deserve as much.”

Jemel stood and left, and sprinted through the maze of trees away from Aniram’s resting place. Coming to another clearing in the woods, Jemel came to a halt as she ran into Garen, who was speaking to one of the kidnappers, it seemed. Just next to that strange sight was Nuhrive laying Harlon the Fool on the ground before the warriors.

“Yes, I’m back,” Nuhrive spoke. Jemel was utterly shocked. She opened her mouth to speak several times in the seconds that followed, but nothing came out; Jemel the scribe was speechless for the first time in her life.

“What is going on here?” was all Jemel could get out in that moment.

[Ithaeliel]

An Easterling with a newly unveiled past gazed long upon his old friend's welcoming and pure hand, the hand that reached out to him and offered him a new and better life, as a great silence hung about all onlookers. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on the backs of all who yielded to it, and it illuminated Garen's hand so that it seemed fairer, as fair as the hand of Manwe himself. Telegar was moved by this offering, and he did not move as a tear escaped his once-emotionless eye. The world seemed to tilt and blur, but all in it stood as still as stone figures, their shadows forming ominous patches of night on the bare earth. All did not stir, and every ear was turned to Telegar as he stood weeping, his mouth open as if to speak. He choked out a word in a bare whisper. "Restored..."

Garen's anxiety grew as he awaited an answer.

"Restored," Telegar repeated, more audibly this time. "Restored to my house and thine? If it will be allowed, I would gladly go back with thee now, Lord Garen. I would erase the scars that these foul rogues have laid upon me, and repent for all the innocent lives that I ruined. But I cannot. I have become one of these murderers, and it can't be undone. My heart is hardened, my hand blood-stained; I dare not go back to a place of peace, lest I harm another man. Forgive me, Garen," he begged. "It is for the good of you and your people that I go not back. Tell my father I miss him and am glad to know he is well."

Garen looked at Telegar in shock for a moment, then let his hand fall. "I do not believe you are become so ruthless, Telegar," he said gravely, "at least not incurably. Yet this is your choice, and, though I grieve for you, friend, I will not hinder it." He backed away, a tear marking the spot where he stood.

The quiet was broken by the sinister ring of Skara's voice. "Treacherous rogue," he rumbled, "Insolent coward, traitorous fiend! And I thought that you were an ally of mine, Ru-Sahn! You will die for keeping such secrets from me, you beast from an enemy house!" Skara howled, taking up a longbow and releasing a deadly arrow. An Easterling woman screamed as Telegar felt something hit his chest. Looking down, he saw a long shaft protruding from his heart, ringed with a mess of blood and skin at his breast. The slain man felt no pain as he crumpled to the ground, squinting up at the sun. In his last moment of sight he saw Garen LiLorian's face, and a white star outshone all as his body became no more than a shell that lay useless on the earth. Telegar Linrethil was dead, and his childhood friend left to bury him.

In his rage, Garen looked up at the murderous Easterling, his hands shaking violently. "You have slain a man who was naught but noble to anyone," he cried, "and in turn you will die this day also!"

Pulling his sword, Garen rushed Skara, slashing the Easterling's arm. Skara cried out in pain and backed into a heavy club, which he picked up and swung at Garen, forcing his opponent back. Several Easterlings grabbed Garen at once, and as he struggled against them, Skara signaled for the rest to move out. Thwip, thwip, thwip, all three Easterlings that held Garen were dead at once by Feadhros' skill with a bow, but it was too late. "The spirits forbid we ever meet again," Skara called back before all the Easterlings disappeared swiftly into the woods.

[ April 30, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]

[Morai]

Harlon lost count of how long he had floated on the waves. The voices kept sounding, their words not audible. He didn't mind, it was a nice change, from all the pain. This colorless ocean gave him peace, but it wasn't enough. A longing came from within Harlon. Struggling to escape, he found himself sinking. His head below the surf, Harlon gurgled water.

Suddenly he found himself dry. Harlon opened his eyes. Instead of being surrounded by water, it was Harlon's companions. He was back Lorien. Nuhrive, Feadhros, Jemel, Nura, even Galadriel herself were there. Sultir was standing in the far corner. Relief were in their eyes.

Standing up, Harlon painfully remembered his injury. Then the fool glanced down at his broken arm, and found it in a sling.

"It will heal in time." The silence broken by The Lady herself.
"What happened after this fool injured himself?" Harlon said quizically.

Each of them related the events, including Telegar's death. Within a few weeks Harlon's injuries healed. Imeadiately Galadriel's fool went about his silly business. For the rest of time, Harlon Nowane was known as the Jester who could make anyone smile.

[ May 01, 2003: Message edited by: Morai ]

[Ivy of the Woods]

In the woods of Lorien, Nura sat among the trees alone and took a breath of the sweet smells in the air. With a timid smile she glanced at her reflection in a nearby pond. The elves had combed and washed her dark hair, Nura had been so pleased with it that she let it fall loosely about her shoulders. Her old dress, shawl and shoes were gone and they had given her beautiful robes, she was sure she had never worn anything so comfortable in her life. With all the grim and dirt of the harsh years with the Wild men had been washed away with the girl Nura. She looked at her watery reflection and smiled at the woman smiling back at her.

After having told her story, Nura realised from the outraged of some of her new elven friends how wrongly she had been treated, though it did not stop her from mourning. She would remember Blair with sadness and she had forgiven him easily. Rogar, on the other hand, always came to her mind with a shiver, along with the blood and violence of that battle. On the other side of the pond, Nura saw another reflection on the water, Blair's face shimmered with a sober expression but when she looked up there was no one to be found.

Blinking, Nura rose from the edge of the water and headed back to the halls of Lorien. Her wish had been granted but already Nura felt a yearning for more. She had heard the tales of glorious cites and places beyond, the plaines of Rohan and the beauty of Imladris, and once again had her sights set further than she thought she could reach. For now, however, she would be content to learn amongst elves and smiling Nura went to find Nuhrive.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Looking for someone?"

Nura turned as she heard the voice, looked puzzled for a moment, then looked up. Nuhrive smiled down at her, came down a few branches, then extended a hand down to her, helping Nura up. She beckoned, anot speaking, a finger to her lips to indicate Nura should so the same, so as not to disturb the birds at the prescence of a near-stranger, although Nuhrive didnt think of her like that; Nura, Sultir and Nuhrive had become fast friends. They climed to the top of the tree, helping each other.

"Close your eyes." Nuhrive whispered quietly to her. Nura looked puzzled once more, then did as she was told. Nuhrive guided her a little further, then tapped her to indicate she should open them now. Nura gasped, speechless.

Nuhrive knew how she felt. It had been Sultir who had showed her this first, several years ago, when the quiet elf boy had taken her up here in an attempt to make Nuhrive take more notice of him. She smiled fondly as she remembered; how the wind had tugged her hair back, making her fell unsafe, but then she opened her eyes and all fears were forgotten. For what they looked out from was the highest point in Lorien, and they looked out as far as it was possible to see, scores of miles in each direction. Nuhrive grinned at her friend.

"Pretty good, huh?"

The girl turned back to her, still beaming and kept looking out over the view, turning more than a little unsteadily to be able to see in all directions. She gave a small laugh.

"So all this too is what people talk about when they speak of the glory of the elves." She said softly, her voice joyful.

Nuhrive smiled back. "And you will be happy to live with this glory?"

Nura turned and saw the anxiety in Nuhrive's eyes. She smiled back and, carefully, higged her elven friend and her voice when she spoke was satisfaction made into a sound. "Aye. Certainly."

They looked out over the view in silence, and Nuhrive glanced at her friend, guessing that she was thinking about her brother and her countrymen and women, so she wisely stayed quiet. Then, after a moment, Nura's face cleared, and she sighed. She seemed to have reached some sort of decision within herself, and Nuhrive was glad of it.

"Come; the Lady holds a meeting tonight, and there is much I must tell you." Nura had been very anxious to learn the ways of elven ettiquette, for she did not wish to be looked down upon by the elves. Nuhrive, of course, had never been the perfect lady of the court, but in taking her friend to this meeting as an honourary and equal guest, and in teaching her the ways of the elves, she felt it was also her duty to make an effort herself. Her parents had been so glad to see her back, more than she had thought, for foolishly she had thought the cared more about work.

"Oh course not, darling," Isolde Fleetheart had assured her with a laugh. "Your father and I have stayed in the wood all the time you were away. We weren't allowed to follow- regulations of never having an entire family out in a dangerous situation at once. I tried, and I rather think I may have annoyed a few people..." Isolde's face had become thoughtful and a little bemused. Nuhrive had just laughed, and hugged her rather vague mother all the tighter. Since then, her and her parents had become closer than they had been before, and although her father would be going out on another scouting party for a while in a few days, her mother had decided to stay, and Nuhrive was glad of this. They were making up for lost time, and not just the time when Nuhrive had been kidnapped.

She turned in the direction of the lands where the men had come from, and her thoughts turned to the strange man, Ru-Sahn. He had never seen the land of the people he proffessed to come from, never seen their people together as a nation. Yet he had fought for them, until a voice from his past called him back...and he had refused it. Nuhrive wondered if she would ever truly understand men; but then, were they really so different from elves? Nura certainly wasnt.

"Are you coming, Vay?" Nura called up, using Nuhrive's nickname. She looked down to the forest floor where the human stood, and grinned and begn to climb down slowly. Well, if humans were so different, she intended to solve the differences. Although Nura had not said as much, Nuhrive guessed she would not always be content to remain within the wood. And although Nuhrive's heart lay within Calas Galadon, in every tree, in every elf, in every building, although the voice of her mind was represented within the very songs sung by the choir, and although all her friends and family were in this very wood, she would accompany Nura. For in leaving something for a while, the pleasure is only intensified. She had come back from the whole experience of being abducted different, a little wiser in thought and deed. As she had found out, no matter where she went, her heart would always remain within the Golden Wood of Lothlorien.