Castle Maladil - RPG

[Mithadan]

Owner: Gandalf_theGrey

Membership in this RPG is closed, although there may be some short-term roles available later.

-------------

Late in the Second Age, Maladil forfeited his Elvish immortality to marry Adela, a mortal woman. They had a son named Kenelm, a daughter named Calimiel, and ten beloved servants.

All was well until Adela died. Then, Maladil bemoaned his earlier decision. One night after smashing glasses and bottles against the bricks of the fireplace in a drunken rage, he swore a mad oath that unless Kenelm sailed West and convinced the Valar to restore his immortality, his fëa would refuse to depart Middle Earth, but remain inside the castle through all eternity, though his body die. Maladil further swore that neither would the Valar take his children or servants the way his wife had been taken, and that Kenelm, Calimiel, and all his servants would share his fate.

That very week, Orcs raided the Castle and slew all the inhabitants in their sleep. But the Orcs stole away no treasure, for the ghosts of Maladil, Kenelm, Calimiel, and the servants drove off those who dared disturb the precious metals and other finery.

It is said the ghosts guard the dread fastness to this day. Maladil shakes the foundations of his Castle with angry pacing footfalls and the stormy shrieks of one gone insane. Kenelm plays a harp with missing strings and sings softly of his captivity. Calimiel tends the ancient herb gardens, reputedly containing plants no longer in existence anywhere else in Middle Earth in this Third Age. Some servants weep, while others resigned to their boredom pass the time with chores to take their mind off their horror.

A recent Council of Rangers held near Sarn Ford has determined an increasing level of peril in the vicinity of the Castle at Tharbad. Outlaws ... and perhaps worse creatures ... are taking advantage of the fell reputation of the area. Though fear prevents foul ruffians and brigands from setting foot in the Castle itself, they expand their territory ever nearer, even unto within sight of its walls. Gandalf the Grey has been asked to see what, if anything, can be done to lift the curse of Castle Maladil or at least drive out what other evil lurks nearby. Those who accompany the wizard may each have their own motives: duty, friendship, interest in rumored treasure, curiosity, seeking their own road in company with strong companions for safety in numbers ... But whatever the reason, it is hoped that all see the wisdom in banding together and combining their talents for the common good.

As a new day dawns, Gandalf and a small band of travelers make ready to leave the Trade Inn at Sarn Ford, to journey South to Tharbad.

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel strapped her pack on and looked over at Estelarion.

"Are you ready?" Menelduliniel said, smiling mischievously.

Estelarion sighed a bit, "I suppose so. But, why is it you insist on thrusting us into the heart of danger?"

"This is not as dangerous as some of our sojourns have been," Menelduliniel said, absentmindedly, as she finished checking that she had everything.

"Do not underestimate the danger involved with this," Gandalf said, as he passed by.

Estelarion gave Menelduliniel a satisfied look. She ignored him as she finished.

"Are you already?" Menelduliniel asked Estelarion.

"I have been ready since last night," he said, "I know not why you insist on waiting until the last moment to prepare yourself."

"Well, most of the others are packing," Menelduliniel said, defensively.

"That is enough of that," Gandalf said, "If we are to journey as we plan, I will need a little more decorum from you two. You cannot carry on like this when we are on the road."

The two Elves quieted down and prepared their packs for the journey...

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu rode back to the Inn in the early morning sunlight, her copper hair flowing free in the wind.

She tied her horse to a post outside of the Inn. Her horse, Mornen, was steel black and pools of silver showed in his coat by moonlight. He snorted and rubbed his muzzle against her shoulder.

Alearindu had just come from a morning ride around the area. She was already packed, and had been since the night before. She was looking forward to the journey, yet she also dreaded it slightly for a reason not yet known to her.

Alearindu patted her horse on the muzzle and then walked into the Inn where the other traveler's were. She sighed a little and glanced around the room. Her green eyes then landed on Gandalf and she walked over to him.

She bowed a greeting. "How long do you expect it will take us to reach the Castle Maladil, Sir Gandalf?" She queried him.

[ November 14, 2002: Message edited by: TheLadyAerowen ]

[ November 14, 2002: Message edited by: TheLadyAerowen ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aislan helped her father with one last horse. A beautiful one at that. She helped him take the lovely thoroughbred mare to the stables. Then she knew it was time to bid him good-bye, as she was to go on a journey to the Castle Maladil with the great Gandalf the Grey.

"Bye, father. I won't be too long, and you don't have to worry. I also hired a stable boy to help you a little around the Inn, and-" Aislan started, but was hushed by her father's embrace.

"No need to worry 'bout me, little one, you just take care of yourself. All will be fine, I trust you to come back!" He smiled at her, and Aislan smiled back at her aging father.

She walked out of the Trade Inn's stables, as her father was given charge of a steel-black stallion. Aislan did not look back, for she knew it would make it harder to leave.

She had been packed for a while. She packed the night before in her small room near the back of the Inn.

As she walked to the common area of the Inn, Aislan easily caught sight of the wizard Gandalf. Aislin waited a moment as a copper-haired woman near her spoke to Gandalf.

Aislan looked around at the company that had shown up by now. Gandalf, two elves, the female human, and a few hobbits. She was sure there were more to come.

[tangerine]

In a room on the second floor of the inn, Hinura opened her eyes and yawned after a good night's sleep. She blinked at the bright sunlight coming through the window, and reluctantly sat up to get dressed.
Pulling her tunic over her head, the young bard recalled the meeting made the night before, where she had encountered Gandalf the Grey-imagine!- and learned of the journey being made by his company. She had dreamed of making such a journey to this place as a girl, and was only averted by the reputation of the lands around the castle.
Hinura picked up the little harp that she had propped up against the wall by her bed and turned a few of the pegs; it was out of tune after being used the night before. She ran a hand across the strings to check it, and smiled; it once had taken her ages to get it to sound right, once upon a time.
She peeked out the door to see if anyone was out and about yet. Her eyes widened to see a small crowd aready forming downstairs. "Oh no," she groaned. "I slept in!" Incredulous that she would do such a thing on such an important day, she raced back inside. After carefully placing her harp inside her packsack, she hurried out of her room, holding her packsack with one hand and frantically trying to pat down her bed-head with the other, she thumped down the stairs, coming to a sudden stop to face her companions for the journey, who were looking over to see who was making such a racket. Hinura gave a bright, and slightly embarressed smile. "Hello," she said timidly.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

The true question, my dear Alearindu, is how long will it take us to leave Castle Maladil?

* Alearindu hadn't been in attendance during the Council of Rangers held two days ago. Instead, it was her lot to be on patrol that day, and to rescue two Hobbit lads fallen into the River Brandywine. Later that afternoon, Alearindu had been in the Rangers' secret log cabin on the outskirts of Sarn Ford when Bethberry had come capering in with a basket filled with wild turnips, carrots, mushrooms, asparagus, strawberries, and blackberries. And that night, Bethberry returned, this time with Gandalf bearing dinners of mutton stew, bread, butter, and ale for all the Rangers present. A much-needed feast, for there'd been no time to hunt or gather while the Council was in session. So Gandalf was of course previously acquainted with Alearindu, and Alearindu had been informed by Strider about Castle Maladil. *

* Meanwhile, Menelduliniel and Estelarion kept up their typical morning banter nearby, cheery enough in their own fashion. Truth be told, the wizard had grown sentimentally attached to these two Elves despite their flightiness. *

* Outside roving free and munching dew-tipped grass from the lawn was Midnight, a former war steed of Mordor whom Gandalf had befriended after defeating the wraith who rode it. *

* Meanwhile, the daughter of one of the Trade Inn's stablehands stood nearby. Ever since Aislan had overheard Gandalf tell the Tale of Castle Maladil that night in the Common Room, she'd been nearly as adamant about wanting to come along as a certain cheeky Hobbit named Podo Cotton. Fortunately, Gandalf had scared off Podo, sensing something not quite right about the fat merchant. But Aislan? While the wizard disliked the thought of her facing danger, she was free to share his road. *

* And hustling down the stairs came Hinura the Bard, whom Gandalf now bade a good morning. A fine chance meeting, this. For Hinura's wooden harp would well complement the singing of Meneli and the flute-playing of Estelarion. *

* Gandalf counted out silver with which to pay for his room and board, and settled accounts with the Innkeeper while waiting for the rest of the group to assemble. *

[ November 15, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

It was still dark outside when Andreth and her father caught their first sight of the Brandywine River. The pair had ridden hard and fast over the past three days to cover the distance from Michel Delving to Sarn Ford in as swift a manner as possible. Just last night they'd made camp beside the road and risen while the stars still twinkled in the skies, hoping to reach the Inn by dawn.

"Slow down, slow down," her father panted. "We're almost there. We can afford to give our horses a breather."

With great reluctance, Andreth pulled back on the reins, and sat squarely down in her saddle. If she had her own wish, she'd have gone galloping madly into town to arrive as soon as she could. But there was no sense in angering her father. Not when he'd finally agreed to let her go.

As the Inn at Sarn Ford loomed ahead of them, Dagnir shook his head and sighed, "And exactly what am I going to tell your mother?"

"Please don't start that again," Andreth begged. "Just tell her someone from the family had to go. Even she would agree with that. This is the busiest time of year for you. And Brandir is an apprentice. He can't just take off anytime he pleases. That leaves me. So here I am."

Andreth's younger brother had recently apprenticed to the Rangers. It was he who had brought the news to Michel Delving about the strange affairs that were afoot. Dagner and Andreth had been touring the Shire with their textile wares piled high in their cart. They'd unhitched the horses and left the cart behind them in the care of a friendly hobbit family whom Dagnir knew well. Then they'd raced over the hills to Sarn Ford as quickly as they dared.

Upon reaching the front of the inn, father and daughter dismounted. "Remember what I told you. I've contacted Mistress Bethberry to act as your chaperone and keep an eye on you."

"Father, I don't need any chaperone. I'm twenty-four years old."

"You can't be too careful these days." Dagnir countered gruffy. "Things seem to be going from bad to worse. Anyways, remember what I said to you. It's not the treasure. No good father would risk his daughter's neck for treasure. It's the honor and the rightness of the thing."

"I'll remember. I promise." She turned and planted a kiss on his cheek. But, to tell the truth, Andreth's mind was more on adventure and freedom than on any question of honor or rightness. Still, she understood what her father meant.

Dagner walked up to the innkeeper, and inquired if he might speak with Master Gandalf or, better yet, Mistress Bethberry with whom he was well acquainted. His daughter would be accompanying them on a journey. He did not want to leave her until he was sure that she was safely in their care.

[ November 15, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Holly followed Bird out of the common room and into the Inn’s courtyard. She watched her friend as she once again counted the eleven silver pennies she had won from Gandalf in the riddle game. Bird was just putting them into the small leather bag pulled from her skirt when the Hobbit approached her.

'So, my wealthy friend, where are you bound for now?'

Bird shrugged, and tucked the bag once more into her waistband.

'I'm not sure myself.' mused the hobbit, kicking at a loose stone in the courtyard dirt. 'Have you heard that Gandalf has plans to leave today? To that castle, I think. The one he scared the timid listeners with a few nights ago.' She looked speculatively at the folk gathered in the yard, and sighed. 'I do grow weary of being in one place for so long. My feet are itching to feel the open road again. I intend to leave soon, and probably with Gandalf and his companions as their way and mine travel in the same direction, at least for now.

She heard Perry's soft whinny come from the stables. 'Well, best go see to my travelling companion. She picked up her small back pack and strode toward the stables, to feed and groom her pony and make ready to go.

[ November 15, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Susan Delgado]

Anna began her day the same as she always did, by hovering high above the castle and watching the sun rise over the trees in the forest. After all her years of being dead, she could never make up for the time when she'd been alive and had no opportunity to watch the day be born.

Most days she stayed here for some time after the sun was up, simply because she enjoyed the fresh air (what could penetrate her icy form) and because lately the castle had seemed too small with too many people in it, though it was actually large and very few people lived in it. Anna snorted derisively to herself. Nobody lived in the castle at all. She stretched her long, thin arms out to allow the sunlight to beam through them. If only she could be alive again! Damn Maladil anyway! And Adela for good measure; she was the only one to have escaped this endless, lifeless place. She briefly considered consigning Maladil and Adela's children to the void as well, but she thought of Calimiel, who was her friend, and Kenelm...Kenelm. She sighed. She simply couldn't do it. She would go insane without those two to ground her.

A little shiver went through her when she heard the strains of Kenelm's harp. He was playing from the garden this morning...odd. But perhaps the morning's beauty had enticed him out as well. She floated down around the front of the castle toward the rose garden, noticing one of the second floor maids busily dusting a table as she went past. She snorted in disgust. Why did they even bother? No living person was ever going to use those rooms again, and it wasn't as if the ghosts needed them. To each her own, she supposed. Maybe the girl was just bored, and by the Valar, Anna knew how that felt.

She paused under the climbing vines just around the corner from the rose garden and hovered there, listening.

[ November 15, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[The Fifth]

Kenelm sat on a crumbling stone bench, the one that had moss growing out of every crack in its marble-ish surface. His hands drifted flawlessly against the old instrument, carrying out a sorrowful, yet soft tone with his eyes closed. The 'beauty' of the garden consisted of rows upon rows of beautiful flowers, already opening to greet the sun and to exhale the air from this ghost-ridden castle, their leaves filled with drops of liquid silver that captured the reflection of all that it saw.

Then an odd thing occurred. Kenelm stopped playing his music, and looked up at the sun. He murmured, "I cannot play... Anor bears no music for me..." He slowly stood up, the old harp held carefully in his slender hands. He then looked in the direction of Anna. The wind rustled the leaves slightly, making a few petals drop off the venerable flowers. Kenelm lowered his eyes, then walked silently out, his tresses dragging 'on' the ground behind him, and if you'd look closely, you would see that his form casted no shadow. He retreated back into the dank castle, not caring if Anna followed him.

Once more, the music of the harp wandered through the halls and snaked about the pathway and Kenelm sung mournfully in a soft, quiet voice. The servants did not pause in their 'work', for this was a daily happening. Kenelm heard the crash of glass faintly, continued to play, and a servant-ghost drifted towards the sound. Father again... such a reckless one, always breaking things, like the way he broke my heart.. Kenelm thought in response, then sighed and plucked the strings.

[Birdland]

"You're cracked", said Birdie, "and the Wizard is even more cracked. Look at this!" Bird gestured around the Inn's courtyard, where which was filled with activity. Elves had been arriving throughout the morning, summoned who-knew-how. The Rangers were also to be seen, pushing into the commons room to help themselves to the breakfast supplied by the good Bethberry, sharpening swords and checking gear, or lounging in the sunlight, smoking their pipe-weed and looking inscrutible. The inn had never had so much business, and the innkeeper had never been busier. It seemed a small army had descended on Sarn Ford, all summoned by Gandalf the Grey.

Bird was in a foul mood. The rooms at the inn had filled up fast, and Holly's room had been let out to the couple of elves to share at the last minute. Bird had spent an uncomfortable night in the rafters of the stables, and had barely been able to snatch a hot bannock from the kitchen as the board was being set up in the commons room to feed the travelers. The whirlwind of activity was making her decidedly nervous.

"Why you would want to follow this mob to the castle is beyond me. And for what? Riches? If they do succeed in whatever they're planning, you'll be lucky to get a gilt cloak pin out of the deal. Any gold will disappear into Elven coffers in Rivendell, believe me. And just what do you plan on contributing to this little outing? Do you intend to "draw" the ghosts out? "Draw"? Get it?" Birdie laughed at her own joke, then shooed away a curious Elven steed that was sniffing at her bannock. "Get away with ye!" she muttered, as she waved her hand. "Dratted destriers. Where's Olo? He should be rounding up these horses, y'know. Anyway, if you do fall in with this bunch, who's going to watch your back? Not these Elven folk, that's for sure. They'll have no time for a Hobbit".

"Well, that's what you're for, Birdie." said Holly with a laugh.

"Me? I'm getting out of here, and you would be well advised to do the same. Get on the road soon as you can, before these 'questers' stir things up."

"I'd advise against that" came a quiet voice, and the two companions turned to see a green cloaked figure sitting on a bench near the stables.

"Volondil!" Holly greeted her new-found friend. "What brings you in from the woods? Are you to accompany Gandalf as well?"

"If needed", said the young Ranger cryptically. Volondil had learned cryptic from his hero, Aragorn.

And just why shouldn't we take to the road this fine morning?" Birdie asked saucily, hands on hips.

"Because you would not get more than a mile. The doings at Castle Maladil have drawn more than Rangers and the Elves, you know. No roads are safe now. Any lone travelers will be waylaid by brigands, or worse. No, the safest place for you two right now is right here. And you would be advised to do whatever Gandalf tells you. That is, if you want to get out of this alive."

Holly and Birdie looked at each other. "This is what you get for befriending a Ranger." said Birdie.

[ November 15, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Mithadan]

In the Elven enclave of Imladris, the morning dawned quiet and serene. The House of Elrond stirred as the birds trilled to greet the sun. A whisper of wind ran through the trees and in the pine woods to the North, several Elves burst out in song. But within the House the calm of the morning was disturbed by angry words.

In the common room, an Elf stood at a table over a fallen chair. The muscles of his jaw clenched and unclenched making a scar which ran across his cheek writhe like a snake. His shoulders were thrown back and his hands closed into fists. Across from him, Glorfindel sat calmly, looking up at the agitated Elf with clear grey eyes.

"What do you mean?" demanded the Elf. "Speak clearly, for I will not stand for baseless accusations."

"Calm yourself, Nardol," replied Glorfindel mildly. "I accuse you of nothing. I say only that the Battle of Five Armies has brought us but little respite and the days grow dark again. The Orcs of the mountains spawn in great numbers and Trolls wander the lands. It is as if some evil will not let peace lie upon the Northlands.

"We are growing few in number and have need of unity among our people. Too many now merely count the days ere they will pass into the West and grow disinterested in Middle Earth. But you at least claim that you have no wish to seek the Straight Road. You have often enjoyed the hospitality of this House and I merely suggested that you should consider repaying that hospitality with service and allegiance to our causes."

"Repayment?" cried Nardol. "Have I not traded with the Dwarves of the Ered Luin and has this House not seen profit from my journeys? Your causes? You would have me align myself with that rag-tag that call themselves Rangers? Far have they fallen yet never were they lofty to begin with for the Atani have never been trustworthy or deserving of my aid."

"You underestimate the Dúnedain," replied Glorfindel quietly. "And if you will not lend them aid, there are other ways to assist this House rather than wandering about at your own whims."

"Enough!" cried the Elf. "I shall pay for my room and board as if this were an inn if you wish. But my time is my own."

"Enough indeed!" came a voice from the door. Elrond entered the room and stood by Nardol placing a hand on his shoulder. "Put away your purse. I have no need of your silver. But the days rush along to uncertain ends and we will have need of your aid and that of many others besides. Your company is happy to rest here for a time and is welcome. But I will have no hard words in my House today. We are brethren and must act like it."

Nardol glowered at the Lord of the House. "Then what would you have of me? Would you throw me forth like Thranduil and bar me from this place?"

"Nay," said Elrond with a smile. "But you chafe at our hospitality like a horse spoiling for a race. I think that you would benefit from some space and some freer air. Your company is not ready to leave but you are. Thus, would you consent to undertake an errand for me?"

"To 'repay' my debt for your hospitality?" he answered with a glare at Glorfindel. "Yea. I would gladly undertake a short journey."

Elrond held up an envelope and handed it to Nardol. "This contains a letter which I would have you bring to Gandalf the Grey. You know of him, do you not?"

Nardol took the envelope. "The old fool who meddles ever in the affairs of others? Yes I know him."

A flash of anger appeared on Elrond's face. "If you know him, then you know he does far more than 'meddle'. You should learn to use gentler speech and contain your temper." Nardol stood silently and looked down. Elrond continued. "I have heard he may be found in the area of Sarn Ford. Bring this to him and, if your pride will allow it, perhaps you should accompany him for a time for it may be to your benefit."

"Very well," responded Nardol as he placed the envelope in a pouch. "You are right that I would see the open road again. I will find Gandalf for you and deliver this. I leave today." With that, he turned and stalked away...

[Birdland]

The Butler drifted through the walls of the castle - literally - and the keys at his belt kept up a soft jangle, though they did not move at all. The strains of Kenelm's harp could be heard faintly through a narrow, unglazed window, where a weak beam of sunlight lit up the dancing dustmotes.

He paused before a scullery maid, kneeling beside a beautifully carved table in order to dust its intricate legs. Silently he pointed to a spot she had missed, and she, jut as silently, polished the dark, dusty wood. Then the sound of breaking glass reverberated through the halls.

"See that the glass is cleaned up immediately" The Butler ordered, and the maid's form faded. The Butler walked on, patroling his territory, seeing to it that all within the castle stayed just as it was, throughout eternity. He knew his duties well, and would repeat them, day in and day out, for however many eons it took for the Valar to submit to his Master's demands.

"Where is that Anna?" he muttered angrily to himself. "She should be seeing to the linens now. And my Lady's chamber needs airing" He drifted on, going over and over in his head what needed to be done today. Over and over again.

[ November 15, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Susan Delgado]

Anna did turn when Kenelm entered the castle, but she wasn't following him. She too had heard the breaking glass and was curious what old Maladil was up to now. Of all the residents of the castle, he was the angriest, the most unsatisfied. He was constantly stalking the halls, shouting, breaking things, and generally getting in everyone's way. They'd all learned to ignore him as much as they could, but as the ghost hurrying by with the dustpan attested to, sometimes that just wasn't possible.

Anna came upon Calimiel when she reached the corridor leading to the kitchen and paused. What's he doing now? She asked silently. In the beginning, the ghosts had been able to speak in whispers if they tried hard enough, but they'd soon given it up as a pointless grasping of their lost humanity. They now spoke to each other mind to mind. It worked just as well.

Calimiel turned her head, acknowledging Anna's arrival. He's going through the kitchen breaking every dish he can find.

Anna nodded. She'd figured as much. She sort of felt sorry for Tella, the scullery maid, who was rushing back and forth with a dustpan, but not too sorry. She didn't have to clean up the broken crockery if she didn't want to, no matter what Maladil said.

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[*Varda*]

Poppy came down the stairs of the inn, and joined the group gathered outside. Her heart quivered with anticipation, she had never expected to find herself on a journey like this when she had left Tuckborough for the umpteenth time. She carried her small pack on her back, for she had not brought many supplies with her. She had a long dagger by her waist, but no other weapons.

As she walked into the main room of the Inn, she was almost knocked over by Hinura, who was rushing downstairs. Poppy smiled, trying to cover up her extreme nervousness. She had never been on a quest of such importance before, in fact she had never been on a quest in her life. Her years had been spent running wild throughout the Shire, sometimes further afield. But looking around her this morning, and seeing the mix of people, daunted her slightly, and for a passing moment she regretted her hasty decision to go with them.

But so spellbound had she been by Gandalf’s tale in the Inn a few nights ago, she was unable to resist. In any case, she couldn’t back out now. Pausing for a moment to compose herself, she went over to where Hinura, Menelduliniel, and Estelarion stood, considering the journey ahead. She smiled brightly and attempted to make herself feel more at home with these strange adventurers.

[piosenniel]

Olo was already in the stable when Bird and Holly entered. He stood in a dark corner and leaned on his pitchfork, having just mucked out the stalls for Midnight and Peri, and watched the two women step from the bright morning sun into the shadows of the stable. Their heads were bent close together, their voices low, so that he could not make out the words.

Holly was doing most of the talking, her hands punctuating sentences, emphasizing important points with their gesturings. Miss Bird looked unconvinced by the Hobbit's argument, and mildly irritated by something out in the yard, as her eyes strayed often toward it, and a frown crossed her face.

Peri whickered loudly, drawing Holly's attention. Pulling a wizened apple from her vest pocket, she held it out to the pony, scratching him absentmindedly between the ears as she continued her conversation with Bird.

' . . . and besides, if I understood correctly, there is more than enough treasure at the castle. The high and mighty Elves won't give a fig if a Hobbit and one small, insignificant woman wander about the castle and its grounds doing pen and ink studies of the architecture and landscape.' She paused for a moment, and a small smile played about her lips. Her eyes narrowed and a feral gleam flared in them briefly. Bird arched her brows, waiting for the Hobbit to go on.

'In fact,' she continued, 'I've been wondering where I might use this stock of old vellum I picked up.' She rifled through the contents of one of Peri's side packs and pulled out a ragged sheet of aged vellum from a small portfolio case. She held the dilapidated piece of kidskin up in the pale light filtering through the stable slats.

'Old vellum, eh?' remarked the unimpressed Bird. 'What's so great about that? Looks like the mice have been nibbling on it, if you ask me.'

'Yes,' smiled the Hobbit. 'Just the sort of nibblings an old map might have, don't you think? Just the sort of minor diversion two old grifters might use should they want to assure that others will not be looking in the same places they are. No need to be greedy, just find a little something to get us by for a while.'

'Grifters?' came the questioning voice from the shadows. Olo stepped out into the light and looked from one to the other. 'Maps? Just what are you two talking about? It sounds dangerous. I would advise you not to do it.'

Bird and Holly looked at one another. 'And that,' said Bird, shaking her head, 'is what you get for befriending the stable hand!'

[ November 15, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Birdland]

"Olo, dear, I do believe there are some horses wandering around the inn yard that need your expert care, m'dear", said Birdie sweetly, but Olo just thrust his pitchfork into the haymow and crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Those Elven steeds can take care of themselves, and don't appreciate the attentions of just any hostler. My attentions needed right here, it appears. Miss Holly, just what are you doing with that map, and where did such a thing come from, I'es would like to know." Olo talked to Holly, but his accusive glare was on Birdie.

"Well, don't look at me, young Olo. I had nothing to do with this. Didn't even know she was carrying such a thing. And if I had known, I would have thrown it in the fire. But I'll echo Olo's question; just where did you get such a map. Don't hold it up like that!" Birdie hissed, "Someone might see you." Bird glanced around the stable. She suddenly suspected even the mice in the walls of having unfriendly eyes and ears.

[ November 15, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[piosenniel]

Holly laughed at the both of them - Olo for his overwrought concern for her and Bird for her overwrought concern about everything. She knelt down by one of the hay bales and spread the old vellum out in a pool of light shining down from the rafters. Bird and Olo crouched down beside her, as she ran her finger over the dim and fading lines on the skin.

'It was a few years back, as I recall. On one of my forays into Eregion to sketch the autumn shadings of the trees along the Hollin Ridge, and work my way south to capture the lights on the new snows of Caradhras. I had finished the studies I meant to do for that trip, and was just come to the place of Ost-in-Edhel, thinking to sketch the ruins there before heading home for the winter.

A small band of Wanderering Elves, passing down the Sirannon heading West to Nîn-in-Eliph, came upon me there, and we passed the night in pleasant companionship. They sang stories of the Elder Days and I sketched them as they sat by the flickering campfire, their grey cloaked forms almost fading into the evening shadows. In the morning they left, as silently as they had come. We had thanked each other for the company of the campfire, and I remember giving them a few of my group sketches, though I kept the individual portraits of the singers. In turn, they gave me several maps I had commented on, saying they no longer needed them and that I might find them useful in my travels. This was one of them.'

'I still think it's too dangerous for you two ladies to be traipsing off with it. We should tell Gandalf, I think. Or at least Volondil!' Olo stood up and hauled Holly to her feet with his hand. Bird stood, too, and grinned at Holly.

'I know, Bird. I know. By the One, he called us ladies!' She turned to Olo, still holding her hand, and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. 'No need to worry so, Olo. We'll have all the protection we need. You're coming with us, aren't you? You can take care of any dangers while we scout around.' Holly rolled up the map and tucked it into a safe place in her vest.

Olo looked at her, not knowing quite what to say. Bird nudged him with her boot. 'Better bring that pitchfork, Olo. Sometimes Holly's plans don't quite work out the way she means them to.'

[Gandalf_theGrey]

Meanwhile, in a rancid-smelling lair safe out of reach of the sun, the location of which was known only to its foul denizens, Morhâk the Looter sifted through spoils with Shagdug Darkspear:

"Still say we gots us a good deal goin', Shagdug, so quit yer whinin'. Sleep if yer wants." The hunchbacked figure yawned himself after a long night's work.

"Sleep? So yer can claim any good stuff what we don't deliver to the Dead? Tell me again, Looter, why we packs up fine crockery and bottles and brings 'em to those what can't eat or drink?" Shagdug rubbed bleary eyes against the weariness of morning.

There came a grudging conspiratorial growl. "Handin' over them tall, fancy prisoners last time is what gets me. Better not get to be a habit. But the Butler's right, benefits us all to keep Master Maladil distracted."

Shagdug uncorked a wine bottle, drained the contents, and belched. "Well let 'im throw empty bottles. I could use me some distractin' meself."

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth stared at her father and sighed, "I'll be fine. I really well. The Innkeeper says Gandalf won't be back for a few hours. Plus, he's not even seen Bethberry yet."

"You have lots to do. Go on back to Michel Delving. I promise to introduce myself to Mistress Bethberry. You know Brandir talked to her. You've got nothing to worry about."

Andreth was slowly herding her father towards the door of the Inn, trying to prod him into leaving. Several of the other travellers were turning around and looking in her direction. She was uncomforably aware of their gaze and wanted to sink under the ground.

Her father turned towards the door. "Alright, since you are so anxious to get rid of me."

No, father, that's not true. I love you. Only I don't see anyone else here with a parent." She glanced nervously from side to side. "And I do promise to be good."

She put her head down on her dad's shoulder and whispered, "I'll do what you say and be very careful. You'll be proud of me, I promise.

Then the two hugged each other and said their goodbyes. Andreth sat and watched as she saw her father disappear down the road. She leaned against the wall of the Inn and breathed a sigh. I'll miss him, I'll miss all of them, but I'm free. I'm really free, and Bree is behind me. She felt relieved and pleased with herself.

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu glanced at Gandalf and smiled a little. "First, we have to leave here, though." She laughed. "And that just might be a while."

Alearindu looked around again and noticed that most of the people in the Inn were talking, and almost ready. She didn't know the exact way to the Castle, and therefore hoped someone else knew.

She sat down in a chair and pulled out her sword, Megildu, 'Sword of the Night'. She took a cloth from her belt and cleaned the sword again, though she didn't need to.

Alearindu placed her sword over her knees, stretched and looked at Gandalf again.

"I just hope that we can all leave the Castle Maladil, no matter how long it may take us."

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel began humming to herself while she sat, waiting for the others to prepare themselves. She looked over to see Estelarion staring at her.

"What is it?" Menelduliniel asked.

"Are you thinking the same thoughts that I am?" Estelarion said, a twinkle in his eye.

"I do not think this is the time to sing, if that is what you mean," Menelduliniel said, "None will be listening and many are out of earshot. We will be a hinderance."

"That has never stopped you before," Estelarion said, "And, with your voice, all will hear. And people can always use a song."

Menelduliniel sighed and thought a minute. She broke into a smile, "Why not? We may as well give people a warning of sorts of what they will be in for when we begin this journey."

She stood up and Estelarion got out her flute. They began to play.

Na haer a
Na haer a

Randir tri in'rys
Gelnnir tri in'rys

Na haer a
I'wain an in'rys
Na haer a
I'wain an i'methed

Penio hûn le.
Randir tri in'rys.
Penio hûn le!
Glennir tri in'rys

Randiron
Annir ben in'rys

Randiron
Tirir ben in'rys.

Hinura, by that time, had joined in, the gentle heart complimenting the other two beautifully. They stopped and all smiled at each other.

"Suilannon," Menelduliniel greeted formally, "I am Menelduliniel."

"And I, Estelarion," Estelarion said, smiling at the new member of their group.

"And I," Hinura said, "Am Hinura."

"It will be a great pleasure to travel with you," Menelduliniel said.

"And I with you fine players," Hinura responded.

The new companions all smiled at each other.

[Bêthberry]

Although the sun was warming the air now and the dew and mist of the chill night had almost disippated, Bethberry's fingers were still numb with cold.

She had risen far before dawn, packed her bag and leather satchel, taken a quick breakfast of bread, honey and tea, and then sought the secluded path into the wood which she and Gandalf had trod two nights earlier. In the dark, with but the stars and moon to guide her, she shivered as she searched for the patches of borage which she had seen while delivering the meals to the Rangers in their cabin.

Stepping lightly and swiftly, she was careful not to be seen, for she did not want to attract any more attention to the Rangers' cabin than the several meetings had already done. Feeling the leather and wood pendant which Strider had placed around her neck a short two days ago, she then wrapped her heavy cloak more tightly around her for warmth as she stepped around yew and cedar, ducked the low branches of elm and oak, occasionally getting the hanging mosses tangled in her hair. The moonlight barely penetrated to the forest bed, illuminating small, shifting patches of the leaf debris with a silver sheen, for Bethberry had left the small beaten path soon after entering the forest.

She was searching for the tall elderberry shrub, its leaves a mottled cream and green which was the sign she had marked. She thought she had found it when a voice spoke quietly to her out of the dark.

"The woods are dark and deep with strange goings on. Are they safe for a Bombadil, even one who is an Honorary Ranger?" Strider inquired of her.

Bethberry was startled, for despite her woodcraft, she had not heard him approach. She looked at the tall but slightly stooped figure who came to her side, cloaked and hidden, and she would have become uneasy had not the voice given away his identity.

"You have given me a valuable lesson, Strider. I was so intent on attaining my goal that I listened not for others."

"You trod quietly and lightly; none would have seen you save any looking for you. What do you seek that you must come by starlight and moon?" A rustling overhead drew his eyes up, and he noted Wyrd had come to perch on a nearby branch.

"A patch of borage that I marked the other night, delivering the supper. It is hard to come by and I would have a goodly supply of it, if I may, notwithstanding the bag you have already given me."

Though it was dark, Bethberry sensed the Ranger smiled. "So your keen eyes discerned it, River Daughter. You alone are the only one other than myself to have found that patch. You are almost upon it. Here," he said, as he drew her around the elderberry shrub to the west side and pointed to the herbs almost hidden under the leaf fall. "Take what you need; the patch is large and tended by me. You fear you and Gandalf will have much need of it?"

A gentle smile rounded Bethberry's face. "I do not fear, as you say, Strider, for a light, nay a song, guides me that gives me hope. Yet I worry that we might. Unease grows these days even among those who watch not."

The Ranger could not help but warm to the calm declaration and be comforted by the light which glimmered even in the dark from those hazel eyes.

"Merry met, daughter of Tom and Goldberry. I stand corrected in the gentlest of ways. Do you want help or my company back to the Inn?"

"Unless you know of greater trouble than that I am aware of, I would not disturb your work here, Strider.And I have Wyrd."

"So be it. Good night, nay, good moonlight to you, Bethberry, and good chance to you and Gandalf on your journey."

With a short bow, Strider then retreated into the forest shadows and Bethberry turned to her task.

"Spirit of the elderberry, allow me trespass and forgive what branch or twig I might need break to gather the borage." She spoke the petition softly as she knelt and quickly picked a goodly supply of the fragrant leaves, nimbly at first but as the night wore on the cold crept into her fingers, her knees and her feet. She was glad when her harvesting was done and she could chafe her hands repeatedly.

A quick and uneventful return brought her back to the Inn, where she spied many gathered around Gandalf.

"Forgive my delay. I will quickly seek my room and be ready to depart."

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Birdland]

"Best keep that map safe, and secret, Holly."

"What!" cried Olo, "you're not going along with this cracked scheme of hers, are you Miss Birdie?"

"No, I am not "going along" with the cracked scheme. I am, however, going along with Holly. She has been too good a friend to leave her to go wandering into this by herself. She will need someone to pull those furry feet out of the fire before long, and I intend to be there when it happens."

The thought of the flighty skinchanger "protecting" Holly did little to comfort Olo. "That's the trouble with these times," muttered the Hobbit. "To many women-folk getting themselves involved in things that are best left to their betters. Should be staying at home and tending to their hearths.

"Their hearths?" Birdie snorted. "Listen, you insulated, isolated young stablehand. I've had two 'hearths' burnt down around my ears, and I owe it all to the actions of my 'betters'. Oh, I know, 'grave forces are at work. Evil must be thwarted'. But while the lofty Lords of Elves and Men are doing the battling, they have little time to care for us lesser folk. We can only get out of the way and take care of our own."

Bird couldn't believe that she was defending Holly's plans, but Olo didn't know what things were like out in the wide world, and how many poor women, and men, had lost all due to the ravages of Sauron's forces, and the resulting battles conducted against them. The Wilderness was full of refugees and fugitives. It could only get worse in these lawless times.

"A little gold can go a long way, when it comes to keeping a person safe in these times. Though again," and here Bird looked at her friend, "I don't think you'll see much of it from this Castle Maladil. Not after the Elves and the Wizard have been through it."

"Elven maps", Olo grumbled in disgust, "Those things should be handed over to Gandalf, straight away. Maybe he would pay you for them, and then you wouldn't have to be going off seeking treasure."

"Not likely", said Holly, "he'd probably give me a pat on the head as he flew off to pore over them, and forget all about the source. No, this map is mine, to do as I see fit." Holly patted her pocket where she had hid the map, and looked at both of her friends. "So, are you with me?"

[ November 16, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[piosenniel]

'With you on what?' came a voice from the doorway of the stable. Backlit by the morning sun, the person's shadowed features were indistinguishable. Holly groaned inwardly when she recognized the tall,lean figure and the authoritarian way in which he stood.

Olo stepped forward to speak, and the Hobbit grabbed his hand, pulling him back beside her. 'Volondil!' she said warmly. 'We were just discussing whether Bird would be joining us or going her own way. You'll be happy to know she'll be in safe escort with the rest of us.'

She saw Olo frown at her, and she turned to him, smiling sweetly. 'I haven't had my breakfast yet. What say we go find a little something and go down to the river's edge to eat. Perhaps enjoy a pipe before we have to be on the road.' She turned back toward the Ranger, noting the small smile that played along his lips. 'And no, Volondil, you don't have to shadow us. We won't go far. We'll be fine!'

She winked at Bird as she hurried Olo out the door.

'Miss Bird'll keep you company for a while!'

[ November 16, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Belin]

Celumëomaryu carefully made her way up the stairs. She had some private rules that prevented her from disregarding the architecture of the castle as some others did. Specific spaces were designated for her pacing; eliminating the walls as barriers would have left her wandering through the building with no aim and no chance to turn around, either physically or in her thoughts, and that way madness lay. At this time of day, she ought to be threading her way around bookshelves in the library, up one aisle, down the next, left at the window and right at the door, but the sound of breaking dishes had lured her downstairs. Real work came seldom, and pacing could wait.

Tella was taking a moment to rest, staring down at all the shards that were left. Celumëomaryu peered into the dustpan, only to find that the foolish girl had emptied it already.

“Tella!” she said. She clung to the use of her voice as much as possible, and even now, when, for all practical purposes, it didn’t work at all, she insisted upon moving her lips as she mind-spoke. Her envy of Maladil’s ability to scream, moan and wail was boundless, but mind-speech was effective in any case. The girl turned.

I’m cleaning, Celumëomaryu.

“A commendable occupation.” The slight overtone of irony was lost on the girl, but maybe that was just another unfortunate side-effect of mind-speech. “How much have you cleaned?”

I’ve been busier sweeping the dishes than counting them, if that’s what you mean.

Celumëomaryu sighed, and drifted grandly to the other side of the room. She kept a record of all the dishes the castle had ever ordered in her evidently infinite memory, and was prepared to count them herself. She was satisfied, in a way—here was a task that might keep her busy for hours. However, after only a moment, she turned in astonishment.

“Is there a whole set missing?”

Tella stared at her as if she were raving. What are you doing?

“What does it look like? I have to calculate the costs of this for Maladil.”

Do you suppose he cares? He broke these dishes himself, you know. It’s just as likely he’ll break more tomorrow, costs or no.

“And what do I care what he cares? Somebody needs to make sure that things are done properly, and if Maladil is too---well. If Maladil won’t do it, I will.”

Tella sighed.

“He’d better not break any more dishes, either. What are we to eat from, I ask you?”

And she buried herself in her task, ignoring the fact that the provoking girl seemed to be laughing at her.

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[ November 19, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[Susan Delgado]

At Celumëomaryu's entrance, Anna was prepared to go elsewhere, but she stayed to watch the Elf's abuse of poor Tella. The girl was just doing her job, however misguided it might be, and didn't need to be mocked for it.

Leave off, Celumëomaryu. She's only doing what she's told to do.

Celumëomaryu rounded on Anna. She considered her little more than a chambermaid, though she'd had as much power as the Elf had, when she was alive. "What do you mean, 'leave off'? Who are you to tell me what to do?"

I'm a resident of this castle, just as you are, and she is.

Celumëomaryu snorted silently. "That means nothing. You have no power over me."

Of course I do. I have as much power as anyone. Even him. She gestured toward the kitchen when a poorly aimed butter dish flew through the doorway. It impacted with the astonished Elf's chest and smashed into the wall behind her. With a "Haaah!" She vanished. Anna turned at the sound of Tella's giggles in her mind and smiled before she wandered off up the stairs. Discomfitting the accountant was always an accomplishment, and though it was really Maladil who'd done it this time, she doubted he knew or cared, and she felt no compunctions about taking the credit. She turned back in time to see Tella kick a shard of glass back into the kitchen and fade out. Two major accomplishments already and it was still early morning! Anna sensed this would be a good day.

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[*Varda*]

After a while standing in the common room in the Inn, Poppy started to feel a little out of place. She wandered outside in search of fellow travellers, and once more saw a small crowd gathered around Gandalf. Although not yet there, she remembered that Bethberry, the River-daughter was also coming on this journey with them. She had felt instantly curious about this strange character, having seen and heard rumours of Tom Bombadil and Goldberry on her numerous journeys.

Thoughtfully, she strolled over to the group, and greeted them warmly. She puffed on her pipe, and a grey, wispy, smoke ring floated up into the clear sky, bright in the early dawn.

“All ready to set off, Poppy?” asked Gandalf.

“Yes, master Gandalf,” Poppy replied. She noticed Menelduliniel, Estelarion, and Hinura sitting a little way off to the side, and singing. Alearindu was standing in conversation with Gandalf, and all of a sudden Poppy felt very left out of things, being the only hobbit in the crowd. She stood there unnoticed, until she spoke up, and asked Gandalf and Alearindu when they were leaving. Gandalf looked up into the sky.

“Soon, I hope. Who are we still waiting for?” he said, peering about him. Poppy looked around at her surroundings, a little pang of guilt eating at her heart for disappearing in such a way. She had asked at the inn for tidings to be sent to her family that she had set off, and would not return for a little while, but still her parents would be worried. Poppy reminded herself of the adventures and the treasures at the end, and tucked the feeling at the back of her mind. All that remained now, was to set off.

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: *Varda* ]

[Bêthberry]

The hot bath had been an indulgence, but a needful one. The warm waters had taken the dirt out of Bethberry's nails, the moss out of her hair, and, more importantly, the chill out of her bones. There was no sense beginning the journey ill, sick, or ailing.

Yet Bethberry scrambled to pack and organize this new batch of herbs in her satchel, pay her bill with the Innkeeper, and begin her accepted role on the journey. She had wished Dagnir had not been so set on Andreth having a chaperon, but she knew fathers and their solicitude for daughters. Hadn't she herself fought that argument many years ago? She chuckled to herself, wondering if Andreth had made that connection yet.

Throwing her bed roll over her shoulder, lugging her bag, and hefting her precious satchel of herbs and salves under her arm, Bethberry made her way through the Great Hall to the bustling group outside. She spied a shy looking hobbit and, a little ways in front of her, the young women who could only be Andreth.

"Well," thought Bethberry to herself, "if ever we need someone to mark a spot, Andreth would be the likely one, her flaming red hair easily visible at great distance." She positioned her self and began her somewhat unusual approach to the recalcitrant young woman.

Her bags provided a ready prompt as their weight caused her to shuffle them around and wobble ungainly. On cue, Bethberry tripped and fell against Andreth, her bedroll unrolling and her satchel partially spilling open, revealing a tantalizing small bag of chocolates and sweets, the two of them then tumbling into the young hobbit.

'Twas an entrance designed to break the ice if not a limb or two.

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[piosenniel]

Child of The 7th Age Post

Andreth felt her feet give as the Lady and her bags came crashing against her side. The young maid tried to jump out of the way, but to no avail. She found herself down on the ground with the small hobbit, the one named Poppy, pinned underneath her skirts.

"I'm so sorry," Andreth blurted out to Poppy's wiggling form. She quickly got up and began trying to untangle the hobbit girl who was still trapped beneath her own pack and all of the belongings of the other lady.

Poppy giggled and rolled out from under the baggage, sitting up and extending her hand. "I'm fine. My name is Poppy. You must be the girl from Bree."

Andreth nodded yes and shook her hand.

"Are you alright, Mistress Bethberry?" Poppy asked.

The woman responded by laughing merrily. "I think that's the question I should be putting to you two."

She quickly checked the girls over to make sure they were in one piece, and then introduced herself to Andreth. "I am Bethberry, and I'm glad to see that no damage is done. I do apologize. Next time, I'll winnow out a few more of my belongings, or get a better hold on the load."

Andreth said nothing for a moment, but looked intently at the older woman. So this was Bethberry. She looked a bit different than she'd imagined. Her eyes were fresh and clear like leaves of spring rustling in a forest. Andreth had expected a wizened prune. This at least seemed better than what she'd feared.

Andreth reached out her hand to offer a polite greeting, but then froze. Half of the contents of her pack had spilled out under the table. Andreth could see a spare jacket, her tiny hand loom for weaving small items, plus a few balls of yarn rolling here and there. And then she spied what she most feared. There it was, clearly visible to all, if they just craned their necks a bit. This was not good. She'd better do something fast or everyone in the room would be asking questions. Plus, she didn't want to think what her father would say about this blunder.

She hastily crawled under the table and scooped up her loose possessions, stuffing them back in the sack. Andreth took special care with one very old item, making sure that it was safe and well hidden again.
Then Andreth quickly pulled herself up, and cordially greeted Poppy and Bethberry.

Bethberry gave her a puzzled look. For one moment Bethberry seemed about to comment further on what had happened, but thought better of it and went on instead to other things.

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

Piosenniel's Post

Breakfast by the river had been foregone when Holly and Olo passed through the yard and noted how their fellow travellers had begun to gather about Gandalf.

'Won't do to be late on my first time out, will it?' said Olo. He put his hand on Holly's arm and brought her to a stop. 'I'll just grab my pack and walking stick, then pop down to the kitchen and get us something to eat along the way. You see to Peri, get him all packed up. And I'll meet you in the yard.'

It was an agreeable plan and Holly waved him off. She strode back quickly to the stable, and brought Peri out from his stall. 'Well, old friend, we're off again.' She scratched his ears, then offered him another apple. He munched on it contentedly as she threw the small blanket pad over his back, followed closely by the packs, buckled securely round him.

'So, how does that feel?' she asked him, as she stepped back to survey her handiwork. He raised his head up, then shook his neck and withers, testing the feel of the packs on him. He shook his head back and forth at her and snorted, then looked to his left, eyeing the pack there.

'Hmm! Let me see what I can do.' She shifted the items in the offending pack, putting the smoother sided ones nearer his flank and the odd shaped ones to the outside. 'And now?' she asked, when she had finished. He shook himself once again and took a few steps. Then with a whinny and a light step, he led her out the door of the stable and to the crowd waiting in the yard.

Olo had not yet appeared. Holly stood leaning against Peri and surveyed the group. Volondil had been right, many more travellers had joined them, trusting to strength in numbers.

A lone Hobbit caught her eye,standing not too far from Gandalf. Leaving the pony to forage in the sparse grass at the side of the courtyard, she walked toward her, and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

'Begging your pardon, Miss,' she said as the startled Hobbit turned to face her. She held out her hand in greeting. 'It's good to see another Hobbit among the travelling companions. That is, I assume you are going with Gandalf when he leaves.' She looked questioningly at the still startled Hobbit, and laughed. 'I'm sorry. Where are my manners! The name is Holly, and I'll be going down the road with this group at least as far as Tharbad.' Peri had, by that time, wandered over to where Holly stood and now nudged her in the back for attention. 'And this,' she said, laughing once again as she drew him up beside her, 'is my dear companion, Periwinkle.'

The pony stepped forward and nudged the unsuspecting Hobbit in the arm, then blew out a gentle, hay scented breath at her. He stepped back and stamped his front hoof once in approval.

[ November 18, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[*Varda*]

Poppy, startled at first by Holly coming up behind her, then laughed.

“I’m sorry, my manners escaped me at first as well!” Poppy shook Holly’s hand. “My name is Poppy Took.” She smiled with relief. “I must say, I’m relieved there’s another hobbit coming along on this journey! I was beginning to feel a little out of place, height wise.” She smiled wryly.

Poppy stroked Peri’s mane. “I love horses,” she said, looking for a conversation opener. “I’ve always wanted to learn to ride, but I never really had the opportunity back in Tuckborough.” Poppy felt anxious to make a good first impression, she didn't want the journey to get off to a bad start because of her.

[Birdland]

With the soft jangling of keys wafting before him, the Butler inspected the work of the servants. The stage had been cleared, all signs of his Lord's handiwork had been swept away; to where, he had no idea. He trusted that the maids had an suitable place to dispose of the remains of the broken crockery and glass.

The table and shelves had been reset, ready for the moment when Maladil relived again the torment of his drunken rage and his defiance of the Valar. As it had been, night after night, through the long years.

"Hmmmmm, we shall have to restock soon. Our supplies of breakables are running low." The Butler expected another delivery soon though, and hopefully, this would be the last. Soon, if all went well, Lord Maladil, and all who served him, would be free of their ghostly charade. Soon, hopefully, The Oath of Maladil would be fulfilled.

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[piosenniel]

Peri shook his head at Poppy in a most decided manner. Holly chided him, saying, 'Don't be rude! She didn't mean she was going to ride on you.' She searched the sidepocket on her rucksack and handed the other Hobbit a small carrot, indicating she should offer it to Peri.

'He's never actually been ridden.' said Holly by way of explanation for the pony's behavior. 'From the look in his eyes when he sees another horse being saddled up, I'd venture to say he thinks it something just this side of contemptible.'

Olo had come out the door by this time, his pack on his back, a plate of fruits and hot buttered scones spread thick with gooseberry jam in one hand and two mugs of honeyed tea in the other. She introduced the two briefly. Motioning for him to follow her, Holly led him and Poppy to a small table in the yard.

She invited Poppy to sit with them and have a little something. 'Olo and I can share this mug.' she said, placing the other in front of the now seated Poppy. A few moments of comfortable silence passed as the three tucked into the food before them.

Holly licked the last stray dribble of jam from her fingers and washed it down with a swallow of tea. 'You know,' she said companionably to Poppy, as she held out on the flat of her palm a stray morsel of scone to the patient pony, 'if you want to learn about horses and how to ride them, this is just the Hobbit to talk to.'

Olo blushed to the roots of his hair, and stammered that he would be more than happy to give Miss Poppy the benefit of what little he knew.

Holly gathered up the plate and mugs and left the two of them to talk horses. She strolled to the kitchen and rinsed the dishes out, leaving them in the sink for the kitchen boy to scrub later.

As she passed through the common room, she noted a young woman waving good-bye to someone just departing. An interesting look of relief mixed with a small measure of guilt briefly cross the woman's face.

'Who's that?' she asked Blossom, a sharp eyed serving girl who kept close tabs on the who and what of the Inn's business. Blossom paused and looked toward the doorway, running the roster of guests and arrivals through her head.

'She's from Bree, I know that.' Blossom's brow furrowed as she searched her memory further for a name. 'Andreth!' That's the name. From that Man family there - the ones who do the weavings.' Blossom smiled, satisfied at her answer and turned back to resume her duties.

Holly stood for a few moments watching the young woman. Would she be coming on this journey with them, she wondered. And where was she really bound for and why?

The young woman had stepped back from the doorway, and Holly stepped through, on her way out to the Inn yard. She smiled at Andreth as she passed and nodded her head in greeting. Her fingers strayed to the vest she wore, and ran softly down the familiar patterns woven in it. It had come from Bree, she knew, a trade she had once made with some passing wanderer on a long ago journey. Now she wondered if this new companion's family had woven the cloth from which it was made.

'Small world.' she thought to herself, smiling. She could see that Poppy and Olo were still engaged in conversation, and she left them to their talk of horses.

Gandalf was near, watching the ebb and flow of peoples in the courtyard. She walked up to him and took out her clay pipe. Offering him some of her stash of Southern Star before she filled her own bowl, she asked him, 'Think this group will get itself together soon and be on its way?'

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Birdland]

Volondil approached in the gloom of the stable as the laughing Halflings retreated into the sunshine. He walked towards the strange, small woman slowly, as if he were trying to invade the space of a woodland creature, ready to bolt.

Birdie didn't bolt, but she did put the comforting warmth of Peri between her and the Ranger. A handsome man, but she had seen his like before. The troubles of Middle Earth surrounded him like a shroud. He was part and parcel of it, sworn to cause against an ancient enemy, bound to a path whose end was known to only a few. Except Death of course. Death knew the end of all paths.

"So you have decided to accompany your friends on this "mad quest" then?" said Volondil with a small smile.

"Ha! Not I. I want no part of this mission." Bird stuck her chin out, but her fingers fumbled with the thick hair of Peri's mane.

Volondil frowned "But your friend seems to think you are coming with her. Surely you don't plan to desert her." The Ranger admired the woman's sense of self-preservation; it was a skill best-practiced in these hard times, but he didn't like to think of her as backing out on a promise.

"I made no promises." Bird blurted out, as if she could read the Ranger's thoughts. "She knows how I feel about all this. Holly will be fine, with so many noble folk surrounding her. I'm away."

"And I say you should not be taking off on the road by yourself now. It is perilous. And I would have you stay here..." Volondil caught himself at the last minute, and added, weakly, "where it is safe."

"I'll be fine. I'll travel by daylight, and cut across country." said Bird, picking up a very small pack, hardly large enough to carry the things necessary for the usual traveler.

"You have no horse?" questioned Volondil

Bird laughed, "Nay, I don't need one of those bothersome beasts. The burden they bring is hardly worth the burden they bear." This was such an outlandish statement that the Ranger hardly knew how to reply, though his face said all that was necessary. Bird looked down, caught in the lie, and started to stroke Peri's nose in apology.

"I had a horse once. He died." She didn't look up, and she continued to stroke the good pony.

"It's hard to lose a noble friend, I know." said Volondil gently. "I've felt that grief myself."

"Well, I won't. Not again." Then she shrugged and laughed. "Shank's mare is good enough for me. And now, good Ranger, I bid you adieu. May you find your fortune at Castle Maladil."

"I go not for fortune, but for duty. Surely you know that much about a Ranger's life." said Volondil angrily, as the woman brushed past him and made her way to the stable door.

Bird stopped, and slowly turned. It seemed that she was ever saying the wrong thing around this young man, and having to explain herself, instead of exiting with a laugh and a flippant reply. It made her very uncomfortable.

"I know." she said, then asked quietly, "You'll look after Holly and Olo? When you can?"

"Of course, though I would rather they did not take this journey, and I wonder that Gandalf would even allow it."

"Well, a Wizard always has his reasons, though he seldom explains them. Good-bye, Volondil. Perhaps we'll meet again." Then she turned and was gone, walking away from the crowd gathered in the courtyard. Volondil sighed, partly in exasperation, partly in resignation.

Bird turned away from the swelling crowd of people around Gandalf, quickly ducking around to the back of the stables. Looking to see if anyone watched, she then quickly buried her pack in a shallow hole and covered it with straw and dirt, saying a small blessing on her few worldly possessions, that they might lie there safely until she returned. Half her silver pennies remained in her pocket. Then, checking again for unfriendly eyes, she raised her arms.

A small black and white crow flew over the roof of the stables, and landed in the branches of the oak tree that shaded the courtyard. It watched the proceedings of the meeting with curiosity, and kept its shiny black eyes on the forms of the Hobbits. And every once in awhile, it would follow the movements of Volondil the Ranger.

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel and Estelarion moved towards the barn. The saw a group of people already. They silently went to the corner and sat down together to see what was going on and whether they could hear an approximate time of departure.

When they heard of none for a time, Estelarion got up. Menelduliniel reached up with a hand, and he pulled her up. They approached some of the party that was near a pony.

"What time do you think we will be leaving?" Estelarion addressed one of the members of the party.

"When all is ready," the person said, not being of much help.

"Why don't we go see how everyone is doing? And meet new people?" Menelduliniel asked Estelarion, elbowing him a bit.

"All right," he sighed. They made their way back towards the Inn. They entered and they soon found Holly and Gandalf smoking some pipe weed. They walked over and sat next to them.

"Is everything practically ready? Who is coming? How many are coming? What can you tell us of the journey? How long should it take?" Menelduliniel asked, firing off questions. Estelarion laughed and patted her on the head.

"Easy there," he said, "How about we try one at a time?"

[ November 19, 2002: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[piosenniel]

Holly had finished her pipe, and felt the need to stand a stretch a bit. The two Elves, Meneldulineal and Estelarion, had come over to ask questions of Gandalf about this proposed trip. She said hello to each of them, and said she was sorry but knew nothing about the trip other than that she she was indeed going. She made her excuses to Gandalf,leaving him to answer the Elves questions, and got up to walk about the yard. Poor Peri stood beneath the oak tree ready to go, looking quite forlorn that they had not set out as yet.

She went over to him and unbuckled his side packs, removing them and his underblanket. Piling them against the trunk of the tree, she led him over to the grass sward just beyond the stable, telling him to make himself comfortable, she would call for him when it was time to go.

The sun was growing bright and hot in the sky, and she sat beneath the oak, her back resting against the pile of packs and the folded blanket. She watched the comings and goings of the Inn’s patrons, until her eyes grew tired. Her head lolled back, and her heavy eyelids were just on the verge of closing when she felt a warm splat on her outstretched arm.

Her eyes flew open and her eyes focused on the offending small white patch now clinging to her forearm. She wiped it off with a fallen oak leaf, and standing, looked up into the branches of the tree for the culprit.

A jackdaw hopped back and forth on one of the lower branches, and she could swear she heard a small chortle escape it. ‘Bird!’ she thought to herself. ‘Now what’s got her so spooked she’s gone and changed into another form.’

Holly sighed and sat back down. ‘Bird, you coming with us on the wing, then?!’ she said out loud. She looked up at the bright eyed creature staring down at her. ‘Let me know if you want me to put your belongings in one of Peri’s packs. There’s plenty of room, just show me where they are. And please, if you really don’t like my plan, just leave me a note next time!’

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[tangerine]

Hinura walked a little ways off from the crowd, lost in her own thoughts. She was truly glad that there would be at least two in this company who share her passion for music and for song; it would help the long hours on the road pass by quickly. She studied the sky; though it was still early, it was likely to be a fair, warm day, the only visible wisps of cloud visible high up.
To pass the time while they waited to be underway, the young bard sang softly to herself, remembering a story she had heard early in her travels.

Fonn: Ó a iù nach till thu Dhòmhnaill ?
Ò a hì nach till thu Dhòmhnaill ?
Ó a iù nach till thu Dhòmhnaill ?

Là dhomh 's mi 'siubhal a' mhonaidh

Có thachair rium ach Dòmhnall

Thòisich sinn air beadradh spòrsail

Thànaig am beadradh dhuinn gu dòruinn

Bhagair e mo léin' a shròiceadh

Chuir e falt mo chinn fo bhrògan

Thug e sgian bheag às a phòcaid

Cha b'e siod a gheall thu Dhòmhnaill

Ach réiteach agus banais 's pòsadh.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Gratefully inhaling the last bit of Southern Star gracefully offered by Holly, Gandalf spoke aloud as if to himself. In a musing tone of contemplative distraction, he answered the inquisitive Elves Menelduliniel and Estelarion while counting heads. *

Counting myself and not counting animals, so far there are twelve of us here:

One Bombadil: Bethberry, Singer-Healer and Honorary Ranger.

Two Elves: Menelduliniel and Estelarion, both Warriors and Bards.

* peering at Andreth * The light of the Fair Folk shines in your eyes, too, Andreth, Elf-friend. And yes, I know your name, though we haven’t been formally introduced. But I know not what you bring to this company.

Three Hobbits: Holly, Artist; Olo, Hostler; and Poppy, who perhaps might be persuaded to serve as a Scout.

* Gandalf was careful to avoid mentioning the term "burglar" or supposing out loud that Poppy might follow in Bilbo Baggins' footsteps, for it was only almost a year after Bilbo's disappearance, and there were certain Hobbits who whispered amongst themselves that Gandalf had spirited Bilbo away to an uncertain end in a suspicious manner. *

Four of the race of Men: Alearindu and Volondil, Rangers; Aislan, Hostler; and Hinura, Bard.

Then there’s myself.

We appear to be missing one: Birdland. Were she here, we’d have thirteen, to match the thirteen ghosts at Castle Maladil.

* At this point, Holly spoke up saying that it was all right to leave, assuring that if Bird wanted to join, she’d be able to catch up on her own, with no trouble at all. *

* The roll call taken, Gandalf took to the road and settled into a comfortable walking rhythm with his staff. Some of the company marched behind in ones or twos as if they were on parade. The more eager of the company dashed on ahead as if they were in a race. Still others drew up easily alongside the wizard, or alongside those who followed him. The black steed Midnight strode along behind at an easy gait, willing to follow Gandalf, yet poised to break into a full gallop and match the Elven steeds, should they offer a competitive challenge. *

* Just then, the sun came out from behind a cloud to act as escort as they travelled South from Sarn Ford to Tharbad. It was 10:00 o'clock in the morning by Shire reckoning. *

[ November 18, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Elenna]

Eirian began to hum softly to herself as she walked. The sun was shining warm on her shoulders, and by all signs, it was going to be a beautiful day. She started to sing quietly, a merry song.

Long the road
Bright the sun
Bread and sleep
When the road is done
Yet to the road my feet must keep
Down to the Sea or river deep

Suddenly a voice called out from behind a tree.

"You there! Who are you?"

[*Varda*]

Poppy remained close to the others as Gandalf took the roll call. The last thing she wanted was to be left behind. She shivered at the thought, she longed for adventure. On the brighter side, at least she had broken the ice with a few people, even if it had involved being squashed slightly under Andreth and Bethberry. Thankfully, the only thing that had been dented was her dignity, and that little.

As the group set off, Poppy felt a surge of excitement rise up and bubble in her heart. This was indeed very different from her wild roaming about the Shire. This was a true adventure. And to a hobbit just out of her tweens, the experience was exhilarating, to say the least.

She looked with interest at the members of the group that she had not yet spoken with, Alearindu, Volondil, and a few others. She hoped to have the chance later in the journey, but at first wanted to find her feet and strive not to make mistakes that would have consequences for the rest of the group.

[ November 18, 2002: Message edited by: *Varda* ]

[ November 19, 2002: Message edited by: *Varda* ]

[Bêthberry]

SAVE

[piosenniel]

Holly whistled for Peri. Gandalf had assembled his ragtag troops and was preparing to start down the road. The Hobbit stood up from her seat beneath the oak tree, saddle blanket in hand, waiting for the arrival of the pony.

She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled again. Where was he? It was not like Peri to go off when he knew they would soon be on the road.

Holly walked toward the stable, thinking he might have gone in for a few more bites of hay, but there was no pony to be seen. She whistled once more and heard a muffled whinny come, it seemed, through the rear wall of one of the stalls.

She ran quickly to the back of the building. There was the Peri, digging furiously at the edge of the foundation with his front hooves. Straw and dirt were flying. 'Hey!' she shouted, as a clod of dirt hit her thigh. 'Watch what you're doing, you crazy pony!' She stepped a little closer, avoiding the flying debris. 'And what are you doing?'

Peri had ceased his digging, and had something secured in his front teeth, tugging mightily at it. Holly reached down to help him, her hand closing round some sort of leather strap.

'What's this?' She held up a familiar looking pack, and brushed off the dirt clinging to it. Inside she recognized the tumbled clutter of belongings. 'Good work, Peri! Now let's get this into your packs and you loaded up. Gandalf and all are already legging it down the road.'

By the time they reached the oak tree, the companions had long left the yard, making good time down the road. Peri was soon re-packed. Holly reached into the pack they had dug up and took out a small, light purse that jingled faintly when she shook it. 'I'll just keep it safe here.' she said to the attentive pony, placing it in the same inner pocket as she had the folded map.

Staff in hand, rucksack swaying gently at her back, she strode down the dusty path. If anyone had watched her, they would have thought it odd that she held an animated and ongoing one-sided conversation with the pony, and gazed often into the sky and trees above her, as if seeing something there.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Hearing a genteel voice cry a challenge from down low behind the trees, Gandalf stopped, though with a posture as forward-craning as Midnight's determination to reach any finish line before the race has started. *

Your song and question reveal your hiding place, bard-maiden. Well met, methinks, though there's no time to spare for introductions. Share our road if you wish, for 'tis better than walking alone among the trees.

* Eirian's curiosity drew her out to the edge of the road, as Gandalf had hoped. The wizard lobbed a coin into the air, saying .. * I'll toss away silver for another song. What you catch is yours.

* The silver piece zinged up into a patch of overhanging leaves. Bird made a deft grab. She smiled gingerly at the small unexpected windfall, taking care to not drop the coin from her beak. *

* Meanwhile, unawares below, Gandalf made ready to envelope the silver piece in a cloud of lilac smoke. The silver, of course, never fell back down. His dramatic pause lasted overlong, until showmanship was about to crumble. But a good wizard always leaves himself more than one way out. Gandalf smiled and bowed, saying ... * I meant to do that.

* Reaching over, he mysteriously pulled a new coin from behind Eirian's left ear. Then came the burst of lilac smoke. Gandalf showed empty hands, took another bow, rose, and presented Eirian with a bouquet of lilacs. *

* The momentary diversion over, everyone resumed moving down the path to their fated adventure. *

[ November 18, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu shoved her pack onto her back after checking her contents, and followed the others onto the trail.

She first called for her horse, Mornen, and patted him on the muzzle as he came to her. Alearindu started walking, and Mornen followed on her right side.

Alearindu stayed back a bit for a while, and then strode forward to walk on Gandalf's right side. She nodded a greeting at those she passed whom she didn't know.

"So, Master Gandalf? Where do you hope to rest tonight?" Alearindu queried him.

[Elenna]

Eirian laughed and dipped a curtsy at the wizard.

"Thank you, kind sir. Your performance certainly tops mine. As for joining your road, if you are the same Gandalf the Grey as is setting out for the Castle Maladil, I believe I shall join you. After all, you shall be in need of my skills, unless I am much mistaken."

One of Gandalf's companions asked, "And how shall a bard's skills help us?"

"I am not just a bard, friend, but a healer. And if you are travelling that dangerous a road, a healer would be able to help. Unless you don't wish me to come."

They all denied having ever said such a thing, and Eirian smiled again, humming a joyful song to herself.

[Birdland]

Holly looked up at the sound of a low, ratchety chuckle, and watched as a flash of silver fell at her feet. The little crow gave her a wink and a nod. Holly silently picked up the coin that the crow had dropped, then turned and walked back down the line to the strange little singer.

"Eirian, I think I heard the wizard call you? Here, I believe this coin belongs to you." And Holly held out the silver piece to her.

Suddenly both girls looked up as a crow in a tree set up the most outrageous racket, cawing and flapping it's wings as if it were in the greatest of distress.

"Why, what has upset that bird in the tree?" wondered Eirian. "it shrieks as if someone had robbed its nest."

Holly merely smiled, and returned to Peri.

[Susan Delgado]

Anna wafted up the stairs to the second floor, listening to the music drifting through the castle. It was nice and all, but so sad, and always the same. Even after all her centuries as a ghost, she still wished Kenelm would play a different tune sometimes. As she reached the top of the stairs, she began to sing the words she'd devised to fit the tune so long ago. That always brought him out of himself, at least briefly.

Sometimes, in the night I feel it
Near as my next breath and yet, untouchable
Silently the past comes stealing
Like the taste of some forbidden sweet

Along the walls; in shadowed rafters
Moving like a thought through haunted atmoshperes
Muted cries and echoed laughter
Banished dreams that never sank in sleep

Lost in love and
Found in reason
Questions that the mind can find no answers for
Ghostly eyes
Conspire treason
As they gather just outside the door...

Every ghost that calls upon us
Brings another measure to the mystery
Death is there
To keep us honest
And constantly remind us we are free

Down the ancient corridors
And through the gates of time
Run the ghosts of days
That we left behind

Down the ancient corridors
And through the gates of time
Run the ghosts of dreams
That we left behind

Not today however. Usually he came out and listened to her song, as she listened to his harp, but today he only continued without interrupting himself. With a shrug, she turned away and wandered up to the third floor. This was the dungeon, and she didn't normally come up here, but something had compelled her today. On her way, she noticed Tella watching her, so at least she'd had some audience. She nodded as she passed and Tella nodded back.

When she came up through the third floor corridor, she saw several former servants busily scrubbing the walls. The Butler was also there, supervising. She managed to duck out of sight before he saw her and there was a fracas over whether she would help with the chores.

[ November 22, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Mithadan]

After fording the Bruinen, Nardol rode steadily along the East Road and crossed the Last Bridge as evening fell. Moving on for a mile or so, he turned off the road and found a familiar clearing where he camped for the night. He built a small fire, then brushed and fed his horse, Rustal, before bedding for the night.

The next morning, he proceeded west until the top of Amon Sûl came into view. Then he sought and found a little-used path which veered off to the south and followed the track as it skirted around the edge of the rugged lands to his right. The South Downs were passable but difficult and he did not wish Rustal to injure a limb. So instead, he intended to pass to the east of the Downs before turning west again towards the Greenway and Sarn Ford.

Late in the afternoon, the hills of the Downsstill rose to his right and their shadows dimmed his path amidst the trees. Nardol was nearing a small clearing when he heard a sound like the trill of a bird. He scowled and Rustal stopped and pawed the turf. Urging him on, Nardol approached the edge of the clearing then stopped again. Looking left and right, the horse and rider entered the green but moved off the path, edging towards the east.

Just as the trees bagan to close around the track again, a Man stepped from the trees to the west and blocked the way. Nardol took note of the Elvish spear which complemented the torn Elven cloak which the Man wore. Rustal stopped and stood motionless as the Man raised a hand.

"Well met, Elf," he cried. "Well met indeed. I am glad you have come to visit me and my friends." As he spoke two Men emerged from the trees to the west and two more stepped out to block the path upon which the Elf had ridden. With his left hand, Nardol drew a throwing blade and with his right he pulled forth his sword.

"Oh, we're tough, I see," laughed the Man. "Now play nice and we'll let you on your way...after we relieve you of your horse and any valuables you may have. Be sweet and we may even leave you your boots and a knife. But no promises..."

The two to the west were joined by a third. Each bore a long knife and a club. A fourth emerged carrying a long sword. Nardol bent and whispered to Rustal, then straightened and raised the throwing knife. He turned quickly and let the knife fly not to the west but to the east where a thief had crept out of the bushes with a spear. Even as the Man fell with the blade in his throat, Rustal leapt towards the east and rushed past yet another Man who had stepped from the underbrush.

Rustal galloped along for a few minutes, dodging between trees with an uncanny judgment of space, then halted at Nardol's urging. The horse and rider turned to the south, then to the west, crossing the track, then back towards the north. They neared the clearing again silently. When he could here the sound of cursing, Nardol sheathed his sword and swung a bow from his shoulder.

Dismounting, he approached the bandits from the west even as the shadows began to darken towards night. The leader, stood above his fallen comrade while the others stripped him of his weapons, boots and money. Nardol whistled. As the leader turned, an arrow caught him in his left eye. Another of the thieves fell even as his fellows turned and ran screaming into the trees. Nardol entered the clearing quickly and scooped up the Elven spear. "This is too good for the likes of you," he snarled. Then he spat and turned away. Mounting Rustal, he continued along the path...

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel turned to Estelarion as they moved along.

"We seem to be joined by many musicians on this journey. We will have to give up some of our time, I feel."

"Give up our time? Nay, it was never ours to begin with," Estelarion said, "And I am sure that you will have plenty of time to use your voice along the way."

"That comment," Menelduliniel said quietly, referring to the anonymous companions questioning of Eirian, "Was certainly not very nice...to any of us."

Estelarion chuckled. "Menelduliniel, I am sure that they meant no harm by it. I guess it is somewhat odd for bards to engage in adventuring. Although, none on this sojourn are merely bards."

"What do you mean?" Menelduliniel asked.

"I do not know," Estelarion admitted, "But I think that the Fates would not give us anyone that would not be of any use to the party. And Gandalf would not bring them into danger either."

"Ah," Menelduliniel said, absentmindedly. She turned and went to Eirian.

"Why, what has upset that bird in the tree?" wondered Eirian, as Menelduliniel approached. "It shrieks as if someone had robbed its nest."

"What bird?" Menelduliniel asked in a friendly tone.

"There," Eirian said, pointing.

Menelduliniel looked, "Ah. I am sure it is nothing."

She saw no others looking at it curiously.

"No, it is nothing," Menelduliniel said, "The others would have sensed something. The people here that I am familiar with would have noticed something greatly out of the question and would have pointed it out, had it been a threat."

"Ah," Eirian said, still not looking completely sure, "And what, may I ask, is your name?"

"I am Menelduliniel," Menelduliniel said, smiling, "And what are referred to as?"

"Eirian," Eirian replied, "And what do you mean 'referred to'?"

"Well," Menelduliniel sighed, "Many here conceal their identity for their own reasons."

"Do you?" Eirian asked.

"Nay, I am not ashamed of my name. I suppose I have reason to, but I am not. Well, I am proud to have met you, Eirian. May your experience with us be worth your time."

"Thank you," Eirian said, "May it be the same for you."

Menelduliniel turned and fell back in step with Estelarion.

"So?" Estelarion asked, "What was that about?"

"We do not meet as many females as I would like on the road," Menelduliniel shrugged, "Far too many men control the roads. Do not blame me for wanting to speak with those of my own gender. Anyway, I still must keep my eyes open for a woman for you!"

Estelarion laughed and they walked on, listening to conversation around them, as they frequently enjoyed doing...

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth had been walking along the road in silence for some time. She had decided to proceed on foot, with her belongings tossed over Whinney's back. Every so often, she stared over at her pack to make sure that it was still tightly fastened. Most of the time she listened to what others were saying, or looked about at the changing kaleidoscope of light and color, trying to get a good idea for her next tapestry from the scenery that was passing. She held a small sketch pad, and occasionally jotted down notes, or even a very rough drawing to remind her of something she'd seen.

Andreth had thought long and hard on what Gandalf had said to her before they departed. He had called her an 'Elf-friend.' That was indeed a compliment, although she was puzzled as to its exact meaning. Perhaps, she'd learn more on this journey.

To be truthful, she'd never even seen an Elf until this very day. But Andreth knew she herself was named after an Elf-friend, a woman of the First Age who had been close to Finrod and his house. She'd heard plenty of Elvish lore from her father, and had defended Elves against the aspersions of her more suspicious neighbors time and time again. She'd even heard an insult or two hurled in her own direction when she spoke out on their behalf. She wasn't sure if that qualified her as an Elf-friend.

Just at that instant, the sun came out from under a cloud. With the bright sunlight streaming down on the road, she got her first close look at Holly, one of the hobbits who seemed to know Gandalf quite well. She'd noticed her once early on at the Inn, but had been afraid to approach because of that crotchety-looking woman who'd stood close to her, staring down her nose at Andreth. But the ill-natured woman was evidently gone.

Then Andreth saw that Holly wore a fine woolen vest. Its bright colors, so beloved by most hobbits, looked familiar. So familiar, that she couldn't resist saying something, "Holly, I wanted to tell you a secret," Andreth sidled over towards the girl. "I wove the material for the vest you have on. It was a long time ago, one of my first pieces, so I never forgot it. I'm from Bree. That's where our shop is. Have you ever been there?"

[ November 20, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

The First Pitfall: Unforgiving, Giving Ground

No one saw it coming, for not even a Ranger's keen eye could detect a trap so carefully concealed. And so danger uncovered itself after half a day's march. The mat of woven reeds and grasses packed and hidden underneath a cover of mud, twigs, and stones crumbled like a soft indrawing of breath into a stagnant, yawning mouth.

Estelarion, Poppy, and Volondil fell in before they knew what was happening to them. Alearindu's horse, Mornen, stumbled after, head and forelegs dangling down into the hole, the rest of the horse kicking and flailing above ground as muted neighs rose plaintive in the afternoon.

Estelarion, by virtue of his being a nimble Elf whom fortune had smiled on, fell onto straw-covered dirt. He brushed the dirt off himself to find purplish bruises on his arms and legs, and a sprained left wrist.

Poppy, though being a hardier Hobbit lass than her friendly shyness showed, was sorely hurt. She brushed against a pointy spike of iron that opened a deep gash in her leg. With a startled gasping cry, she fell unconscious.

Volondil too plunged downward onto a rough-edged spike laid at an odd angle. The iron scraped into his side like a sword, drawing blood.

After the shock of the event, the pit was observed to be 15 feet deep, and on the surface, 5 feet long by 5 feet wide.

There were calls of "Anyone have a rope ready to hand?"

[ November 20, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Andreth had dropped back to speak with Holly, her sketch pad in hand. She seemed a nice young woman, though unschooled in the finer points of traveling. She wore a long skirt, not the best for making it through the brambles and brush alongside the road. And her shoes were serviceable enough, but looked to Holly as if they might pinch after a long day or two of tramping down the road.

The Hobbit looked down at her own bare feet and wiggled her toes. She was dressed in short black stout-cloth breeches which reached to mid calf, and a soft, well worn long sleeved shirt of light grey wool. Her vest, the one Andreth had spoke of, was buttoned securely about her torso. She patted the area over the inner pocket and felt the bulge of the folded map and birds pouch of coins.

The two of them had stopped for a moment, while Holly searched through her pack for some sketches she wanted to show Andreth. The rest of the group had pulled out in front of them, as the two women talked and shared opinions of each other’s works.

Andreth gasped when a small black and white bird came hurtling from the sky, squawking loudly and in some agitation, to land on Holly’s head. The mad bird, or so she thought of it, pulled at Holly’s curls, tugging them as she flew upward as far as the strands would allow. It was as if the bird were trying to move the Hobbit along.

Olo came running back pellmell down the road, shouting something about a trap and did she have some rope. Once he had calmed a bit, and they had gotten the story from him, Holly bade him bring Peri along while she and Andreth ran forward with two ten foot coils of sturdy Hobbit rope.

Reaching the rim of the unnatural crater, they looked over the side to assess the problem. Holly called down to Estelarion. ‘You! Elf! Check on those other two and give aid as best you can. Gandalf, come listen to what he reports to you.’ She left him a coil of rope and bade Andreth assist him.

Olo had arrived with Peri in tow. Holly and he lowered one of the ropes in tandem, standing on each side of the struggling horse, Mornen, and secured the bow of it behind the forelegs and pulled tight against the swell of the horse’s belly. Alearindu spoke quietly, calming its fears with her gentle stream of words.

‘Come help!’ she called to Aislan and Hinura. Hold these ends of the rope while Olo and I bring Peri and Midnight closer.

The two Hobbits secured the ropes, one to the pony and one to the black steed. Then, each putting their shoulder to a horse’s chest they urged them backward, slowly easing the downed horse back from the lip of the trap. Once on solid ground, they left Mornen to the ministrations of Alearindu.

Olo gathered the rope they had used and both ran back to the others who were gathered by open pit, near where the wounded lay, to see how they might help

[ November 21, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu stood shocked for a moment, and then reacted. She dropped her pack on the ground and lunged forward, grabbing a hold of Mornen's mane and holding tight, bracing her feet into the earth. She was hoping to prevent him from falling on the others.

She held tight to Mornen's mane, the coarse hair slicing into her slender fingers and drawing a small amount of blood.

Aleaindu helped as much as she could with the people who were helping Mornen. She whispered soothing words and waited anxiously for them to get him up.

Once he was, she thanked the members, and then led him away slowly from the group. She flexed her stiff fingers which little streams of blood poured from.

Alearindu crouched down and ran her hands gently over Mornen's forelegs. She winced a little and sighed, not being able to do anything at the moment. She patted his chest and leaned against him.

Alearindu glanced back at the others and then called out:

"Master Gandalf! There should be a length of rope or two in my pack if it's needed. I'll be over to help in a moment as soon as I calm Mornen."

Alearindu put Mornen's muzzle between her raw hands and muttered more soothing words to him, until he stopped shaking and the whites around his eyes lessened. She wasn't sure if his legs were injured, so she told him to stay there, and then she walked back over to the group, and towards Gandalf.

"Of what help can I be, Master Gandalf?" She asked him.

[ November 24, 2002: Message edited by: TheLadyAerowen ]

[Belin]

Celumëomaryu's mind did not resolve itself into the usual blank clarity that pacing should have brought her. She would not, under any circumstances, have admitted to sulking, but anyone else would have said that she sulked freely when an opportunity arose. An opportunity had arisen, and she wandered around the library in way that bore no resemblance to her usual strict pattern.

That Anna! Celumëomaryu was just about to make up her mind that she'd never liked the girl in the first place, or her airs, either musical or social, as she rounded a bookshelf and came up to the window. With the change of light, her thoughts shifted suddenly, and she realized that the cause of her distress was not Anna at all.

She couldn't calculate the number of dishes missing. How long had they had that set?

Her feet stopped. It was almost identical to a set they'd bought at Calimiel's birth, but the last of that set had been destroyed some years ago. This was another, and one that she was quite certain she didn't remember at all. Celumëomaryu had hidden a shard of that last bowl behind the shelf, and here it was. She turned it over and around in her hands as she turned the new set of shards over and around in her mind.

[ November 21, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel stood, looking into the hole. She tried to think, but nothing would come. She froze completely.

"Menelduliniel!" she heard the others shout, "Menelduliniel!"

She did not respond, however. She looked helplessly into the pit at the injured companions. What could she do? Nothing, she thought, she could not think to even move, so how could she do anything at all?

**********

Estelarion rose and looked at Poppy and Volondil. Poppy was unconcious and Volondil was at least badly injured. He checked his own injuries and found them to be minor.

He went over to the side of the gaping hole. He shouted up, "Rope! We need rope!"

He heard the people scramble around up top. The poor horse that had nearly fell in had been pulled up. People's voices shouted.

"Menelduliniel! Menelduliniel!" Estelarion heard someone shout. She seemed to have frozen again. She had to stop doing that. One day it would be the death of her.

Estelarion shook his head to clear his mind and looked around, trying to plan a way out. Once they got the rope, if any had some, they needed to find safe footing on the sides to pull themselves up. They could probably manage without the walls, but it would be much easier.

Estelarion ran to Poppy and gently pulled the poor unconscious Hobbit into a sitting position to give him more room. He looked over to Volondil. Volondil had a massive spike piercing his skin. Estelarion ran over and pulled him off the spike, wincing at the blood that kept pouring out of the wound.

Estelarion sat Volondil next to Poppy and turned back around to inspect the walls. They seemed sturdy enough now. It seemed almost as if the pit had been dug just so one would be caught if he so happened to misfortunately step on the area.

"Hurry with the ropes!" Estelarion shouted up. He heard commotion still from above. He hoped that they would find the ropes soon. He did not know how they would be able to climb out without them...

[Mithadan]

Though Nardol did not expect further trouble from the bandits, he rode on in darkness for nearly two hours before making camp. As a further precaution, he lit no fire that night and slept under the dim light of the stars flickering between the branches of the trees.

For another full day he rode south until the hilly Downs was behind him. Then he turned and made his way southwest. In this way, he hoped to reach the Greenway where it intersected with the Old South Road. After another day's travel, the South Downs were directly to the north. He estimated that he had reached a point where the distances to Sarn Ford to the west and Tharbad to the southeast were nearly equal. Perhaps Tharbad was a bit farther.

He noticed that an uncomfortable silence seemed to blanket the land. Nary a bird nor and animal had he seen for some time. Nardol was discomfited by the silence and was watchful as he travelled. That evening as the sun set a flock of crows passed overhead, circling once above where he had made his camp. Again he lit no fire, and he slept little, kept wakeful by his unease. He heard the howling of wolves in the night from someplace to the south, but they did not draw near. Before dawn, he broke camp and mounted Rustal, eager to put these eerie lands behind him...

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Hurrying to peer into the gloom of the pit, Gandalf called over his shoulder to Alearindu to please bring all the rope she could spare, and more if possible. *

* Bethberry was already there, healing with words and voice what lay beyond her physical grasp. * Estelarion! Staunch first the blood flow of the most grievously wounded, and then do the same for the other. They need be brought up for me to treat them properly. Meanwhile, use any cloth at your disposal.

* At these words, a spark came to Andreth's eyes at being able to lend assistance. She bounded over to Bethberry. * I've come well prepared, and glad to put some of these extra skirts and underskirts I'm wearing to the service of others. * No sooner had Andreth spoken of her generosity than she turned to deed, depositing several clean wearables into the hole until Estelarion was well supplied with linens. *

* When Estelarion called up with muffled voice that the wounded were bandaged, it was Gandalf's turn to provide guidance. * How many spikes stand in the ground unbloodied?

Three, * replied the Elf. *

* Gandalf sighed before turning businesslike. * 'Twill have to do. Uproot them from the ground, to plant them firmly in the wall, as crude steps or handholds. Standing as high up as you can get with the help of such cruel iron steps, lift up the Hobbit, Poppy Took. Hold her arms outstretched so we can slip a rope under them and around her middle, thus lifting her to safety. Volondil being heavier, we'll have to make due without the iron-spike stairway, toss the rope further, and haul him a bit longer.

* Peri and Midnight were once again called into service, with Holly and Olo again guiding the pony and horse, while Hinura and Alearindu (despite her hands burning with pain) held fast the ends of the rope. *

* Once Poppy Took was carefully placed on solid ground, Bethberry touched three drops of River Water from the Old Forest to the unconscious Hobbit's lips. Then, using water from another flask and some agrimony, Bethberry washed the leg wound and applied a poultice of horsetail to coagulate the blood. Volondil was tended in similar fashion. *

* At the last, Estelarion lightly sprang up out of the hole, aided by the iron-spike handholds. *

[ November 22, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Volondil lay on the ground, still as death. Blood, like a bright red flower, spread open its petals and grew large upon the outside of his tunic. He moaned, a low, weak sound that made the small black and white bird perched on a low limb above him, frantic with worry.

'Stop squawking so!' cried Holly. 'I'll need your help if we are to save him.' She held up a small bunch of sphagnum moss pulled from her small medicine kit. 'He has a large, deep gash in his side. We need to clean it, then lightly pack it to let it drain out any infection. Can you find some more of this moss for me to use? i have enough to take care of it now, but in about eight hours, we'll need to clean and pack it anew.'

The jackdaw flew down to take a closer look at the required moss. Holly indicated where in this area she might find additional patches of it in the wild. 'Take Peri.' she said. 'You can pack quite a bit of it into one of his side packs.'

She held out one other slender stem with a few silvery leaves on it. Try to find some of this, too, while you're at it.' The jackdaw arched her feathered brows and focused a beady black eye on the hobbit. 'It's King's Foil, good for wounds of all sorts, among other things.'

She turned back to the injured Ranger who lay before her, and cut open his shirt to fully expose the wound. 'Hurry!' she urged the jackdaw. 'Bring me what I need that I might help him.'

She took a flask of clean river water and sluiced the debris and clotted blood from the long wound. It was gaping, about 2 inches at the widest point where the spike had first touched flesh and then tapering down as it gouged itself along his mid ribcage. A rough poultice of aloe and King's foil was laid lightly along the length of the wound, which was then packed with moss and bound loosely with wide strips of cloth from Andreth's petticoat.

She sent Olo to fetch Mistress Bethberry and Gandalf. He cannot be moved right now.' she told them. 'Even a wagon would jolt him as it went along the bumpy road, and I fear his wound would open, and he lose more blood.' If you will, Olo, Bird and I will stay here and care for him until he is ready to travel. I have no doubt he can do some travel over short distances in two days time.' She looked directly at Gandalf. 'We will catch up to your group as we can.'

'Bethberry, if you will leave me some small supply of willow bark to keep his fever down, I would appreciate it.'

Volondil moaned once more, his eyelids fluttering under the burden of painful dreams. Holly turned back to him and propped him on his uninjured side as best she could, pulling his limbs into a position of comfort to him. She put her hand to his forehead, and leaned in low near his ear, murmuring words of comfort and rest.

[ November 23, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth was only too happy to be rid of her extra petticoats and skirts so that she could run and roam more freely, But these sad circumstances were a long way from what she'd been wanting or expecting. It looked as if Poppy and the Elf would make it through. But Volondil was another matter. Andreth was amazed at the quiet skill which Holly showed in healing and calming the injured man.

She heard Holly speaking about staying behind with him until he was able to travel again. Perhaps, there is something I can do, she thought. I know nothing of healing, but I do know a bit about transporting things because of going with father so much when he makes his selling rounds. Father wants me to go on this journey, but he would never tell me to turn my back on an injured companion.

Andreth got down on the ground to be closer to Holly and whispered some words in her ear. "I have an idea. Once, we were traveling to a distant town that had commissioned a tapestry, my brother broke his leg and couldn't ride. We were stranded in the middle of the forest without a wagon, so my father used twigs and young saplings to make a kind of stretcher or sledge to drag behind the horse. He showed me how to do it. It's not that different than weaving cloth, and I'm good at that."

"If you'd like, I'll stay behind with you and make one of those while you tend to the Ranger's wounds. I can also help you lift or turn him if you'd like."

Andreth did not want to point out the obvious fact that the man easily weighed twice as much as the hobbit, but she did want to offer assistance.

"Or, if you'd prefer not to do that, I can at least leave my pony Whinney with you. She's a very gentle beast to ride or can pull a cart if you manage to find one."

[ November 23, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Susan Delgado]

Anna had ducked into one of the cells so she was out of sight of the Butler, but she peered through the bricks, watching. Why was he up here, making the maids clean the cells? It seemed even more ridiculous than cleaning downstairs; at least that part of the Catle was occupied. The Dungeon had never been much used even when the Castle had had living people in it. She continued to watch. He seemed most focused on the two cells on the North wall, the larger ones reserved for more important prisoners.

She watched for a few minutes more, until he released the maids back downstairs. She watched them float down the stairs and thought, Now what?

He went into the corner cell and vanished. Vanished!

She hurried over. How could he have disappeared so quickly? Nearly frantic, she searched everywhere in the cell, but found nowhere he could have gone. Eventually she gave up in frustration and went back downstairs, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. Where had he gone?

She was so focused on finding the Butler that she didn't even see the two prisoners in the adjoining cell, but a few seconds after she reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor, the Butler nonchalantly came out of his room. By the Valar, how had he gotten there so fast?
Hello, she said to cover up the fact that she'd just arrived. The Butler gave her a suspicious and exasperated look, but only responded with his own perfunctory greeting before whisking down the stairs. She watched him go. She'd have to start being a little more observant around him...

[ November 23, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel watched, helpless as Estelarion climbed out with the small Hobbit and the others aided Volondil. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words would come out.

"Menelduliniel?" Estelarion said, standing close to her and putting his hand on her arm. She finally turned and looked at him.

"I...you...it..." Menelduliniel studdered. She finally took a deep breath and managed to say, "That could have been the death of all three of you. Y-you could have died."

"Menelduliniel!" Estelarion said, surprised, "You have been in greater danger than this. Why do you fear this small mishap?"

"Look at Volondil," Menelduliniel whispered. Estelarion turned and looked at Volondil on the ground, being comforted by Holly as he turned in a feverish sleep.

"Yes, it was a great fortune that he did not perish in that pit," Estelarion said.

"That is what I mean," Menelduliniel said, desperately, "He could have met his death. You could have done so as well...I could not bear to lose more friends."

"You must not let this be your undoing, Menelduliniel," Estelarion said, comfortingly, still a bit startled that Menelduliniel was acting so strangely, "We will meet more peril along the way on this journey. You must not let this happen to you each time we face danger."

"Ai!" Menelduliniel exclaimed, looking at poor Poppy. The small Hobbit stirred a bit.

"She should soon wake," Estelarion said, "She was not badly injured. Why do you not go to her? A comforting face would be most helpful in her recovery if she woke to it."

Menelduliniel sighed and went over to the small Hobbit. She looked at the small figure and silently lamented that such innocence should be brought into such danger.

"Why could Hobbits not be content at home?" Menelduliniel whispered aloud to the slumbering Hobbit, "Why did you need to travel abroad? You are so precious to this Earth...why could you not just be happy with the lifestyle you led? Why did you need more."

As she spoke, Menelduliniel realized that she was sounding more and more like a hypocrite. All she was accusing Poppy of had been her downfall as well. She silenced herself and sat by the Hobbit, waiting for her to awake.

*****

Meanwhile, Estelarion went over to Holly. He was happy his diversion had worked. This would quiet Menelduliniel down for a while and keep her out of their way while they had a chance to heal Volondil, who obviously had the worst injury.

"Is there nothing I can do?" Estelarion asked, worried.

"All we can do is wait for supplies," Holly replied, not letting go of poor Volondil or taking her eyes off of him, "We should be able to save him if they get here in time. If not..." she trailed off.

Estelarion sat on the ground next to Volondil and prayed that supplies would arrive in time.

[*Varda*]

Poppy stirred restlessly in her sleep, and slowly her eyes began to flutter open. She heard a voice, from far away it seemed, and as her eyes opened a face seemed to appear, although blurry and hazy. She blinked once or twice, and felt a dull pain in her leg, which soon passed.

As the blurriness disappeared, she realised the face and voice were that of Menelduliniel. Poppy tried to sit up and look around, seeing Volondil lying on the ground, people gathered around him, trying to heal him. She saw Estelarion standing nearby, slightly bruised. She frowned for a moment, trying to remember what had happened. They had just been walking along…her memory awoke. They had stepped onto nothingness, it had seemed, and fallen. At that point her mind had gone blank.

“Poppy, you’re awake!” gasped Menelduliniel. Poppy nodded, but looked away over to Volondil. She tried to remember what it was she had heard while waking up…”You are so precious to this Earth...why could you not just be happy with the lifestyle you led? Why did you need more." Poppy felt there was a lot more to Menelduliniel than first met the eye, something strange. But what, she didn’t know.

[ November 23, 2002: Message edited by: *Varda* ]

[Birdland]

With a slap on her withers, Holly sent her precious pony off the trail and into the woods. The jackdaw fluttered down into the saddle and as Peri disappeared into the trees, Bird morphed into women's form and seized her reins.

"Oh, this is what adventures lead to." Bird said in an angry, anguished mutter to the pony. "Injury and pain. And it's a lucky thing it didn't lead to worse. Who could have placed such a wicked trap on the trail? How could such a thing happen?"

Birdie thought of the brave, teasing Ranger, and the innocent young Poppy, both lying bleeding on the ground, and gave a shudder which caused the pony to flinch and pause. Why did no one see this pitfall? Why, even she didn't see it, high above the trail as she was.

Bird clucked to the reluctant Peri, and sent them both farther into the woods, searching for moss and the elusive Kingsfoil.

[ November 23, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[piosenniel]

Holly looked up at the red-haired woman who stood near her. ‘I really would appreciate it if you felt that you could stay with me while Volondil gains his strength.’ She motioned the woman to crouch down beside her. ‘What I will need you to do, first of all is to put together some shelter for us.’ She pointed out a place under the trees to the side of the road.

‘If you look in that heap over there where I piled the packs and extra supplies from Peri, there is a large tarp we can use for a lean-to shelter. Do you think you can get that set up with the aid of some of the other comapanions, and then see if you can find Volondil’s bedroll and perhaps borrow an extra blanket that we could use for padding.’

She checked his wound as she talked and noted that it had already begun to ooze a little through the packing. ‘My hatchet is there on the side of that first pack, cut some fir bows and we can use them for cushioning under his blanket.’ She put her hand on Andreth’s arm. ‘Thanks again, for offering to help. Now that I’ve thought on it, I’ll need help getting him to the shelter and in turning him. It will also be good to have two of us, so that we can keep watch – not just on him, but on the road also.’

Andreth stood and headed toward the piled packs. Holly called out to her. ‘Oh, and about that device for when we want to travel with him – it sounds like a good idea. But, still we’ll have to let his wound heal enough so that the slightest motion does not bring on bleeding.’

‘Bird,’ she thought to herself, looking in the direction the jackdaw and Peri had gone, ‘please, hurry back!’

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* On observing Andreth commence plans to build a sledge for Volondil, Gandalf exchanged a careworn glance with Bethberry, a look that encompassed both present and past ... The first day out on a quest, the company was beset by injury grievous enough to require a sledge. They'd started from Rivendell in that other distant time of memory, not Sarn Ford. * "Haidan" * murmured Gandalf softly to the River Daughter's daughter. * "We did not leave him behind, but alas, he too soon left us."

* Addressing Holly now in a voice loud enough for all present to overhear, Gandalf spoke again. * The courage and generosity that you demonstrate in volunteering to stay behind with Olo, Bird and Andreth are noble traits indeed. Well spoken, Holly! ... But the ruffians responsible for the pit and its spikes undoubtedly count on such kindness as a secondary trap, should the first not fully accomplish its gruesome end. There's a saying along the Southern coasts: "Let the fish that escapes the hook beware lest the net ensnare him." Volondil cannot be moved, Poppy ought not move. And the urgency of Castle Maladil itself remains but a portion of the urgency of our road as a whole.

* Alearindu got to the heart of the matter with the keen common sense and practical brevity of a Ranger. * We'll camp here for a day or two, all of us.

* Bethberry nodded at once. * Though there be nightly noises, I'll bring to bear against it what song and light travels with me from the Old Forest.

* The wizard then let all Time stop around him while he smoked a pipe in Haidan's memory. *

[ November 24, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* The last embers of the wizard's pipe having now fully faded and gone out, Time resumed its normal course. *

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu sighed softly and walked away from the group back to her horse. She patted his neck gently, and inspected his legs again. She couldn't tell if anything was, wrong, save for some small cuts and bruises.

She got her pack, and lead Mornen back over to where most of the company was.

"Are any of you more or less experts in horse care? I don't trust my judgement upon Mornen right now." Alearindu let out a small laugh and set her pack by a nearby tree, and resumed a position on the right side of Mornen.

[piosenniel]

Mornen nickered softly as Olo approached. 'Begging your pardon, Ranger,' said the Hobbit, 'but if you will allow me, I will see what injuries this fine creature might have.' He held his open left hand out to the horse, and felt the warmth breath from Mornen's nostrils as the horse lowered his head and took in his scent. He stepped closer and his right hand reached up to scratch the steed between the ears.

He moved his hands down the neck of Morwen, speaking quietly to him, and over the withers feeling for any lumps or cuts. Finding none, his hands moved gently down the horse's chest, checking for tenderness from forearm to fetlock on each front leg. Only a few small scrapes and tender spots were found, at the rear of each of the front legs, as the horse had slid down the side of the pit.

Of most concern to Olo was the barrel, that great part of the horse just behind the front legs. It had taken the brunt of the horse's weight as it hit the ground. He watched the horse as it breathed and saw only the regular rise and fall of the rhythm - no irregularities of breath as the lungs expanded against injured bone or muscle. A small area of tenderness on the left brisket was all that he found.

He bade the Ranger walk the horse about in a circle around him, and watched the legs closely. Motioning Alearindu to come to him, he smiled and said, 'He's a lucky one! A little sore, but nothing broken or torn. There are some scrapes and bruisings at the backs of his forelegs, just keep them clean. They need no ointments or special care.

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

Holly took a deep breath when she heard Gandalf's words. She mouthed a 'thank-you' to him, and turned her attention back to Volondil. She and Bethberry rolled him gently, side to side, placing a sturdy blanket beneath him as a sling.

Then she waved over a couple of the Bigger Folk and asked if they might help her move the Ranger to the shelter which Andreth had set up for him . . .

[Birdland]

Bird finally came across a small seep, a trickle of water oozing out of the ground, which flowed over a tumble of rocks before disappearing back underground. There was plenty of moss around, and she got down off Peri, taking a small knife out of the pack to loosen the green velvet from the loam.

She had gathered several handfuls, stashing them into the pack, when, brushing off her hands she looked around her and realized that she wasn't quite sure which direction the trail lay. Bird wasn't too upset about this, just put a little off balance that her sense of direction seemed to have abandoned her. But in the tension and worry of the moment, she had not stopped to check landmarks and the direction she was going. She had just plunged off the track into the forest.

"But Peri will know the way back. That pony is probably the most sensible one in the whole party anyway." Bird could have just morphed into bird form and circled until she located the trail again, but she knew Holly would have her neck if she left Peri alone, even for a moment, in these deep woods. So Bird bent down to gather a last handful of moss before turning back.

And it was then that she heard the twig snap...

[ November 25, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[VanimaEdhel]

"Shhh...stay," Menelduliniel whispered as Poppy tried to get up to go to the injured horse and quickly and found she could not do so, "We will most likely be staying at least nearby for the night. Volondil is in no position to travel. We must also wait for medicine. If we move, they will not know where we are. Do you feel well? Do you hurt anywhere?"

"Well, my head aches a bit, but, other than that, I feel pretty well," Poppy said, sitting rather than laying down fully.

"Well, at least you can sit," Menelduliniel smiled. She got to her feet and called to the others. "Poppy is awake! And she is well!"

The others mostly smiled briefly, but everyone's attention seemed mostly drawn to more serious injuries and planning what to do for the evening.

"Well, I am glad you are awake," Menelduliniel said, sitting next to Poppy, "What do you propose we do to pass the time, as I am not permitting you to stand for some time? At least not until you get your wits about you. Why not tell me about your life?"

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth tried to help Holly as best she could. She did not have great knowledge of woodcraft, but she did have considerable skill and experience in the use of her hands.

Andreth had finished working on the sheltered lean-to. At least if harsh weather hit, the injured Ranger could be kept dry and warm. She began gathering the soft fir boughs that the hobbit had requested to place beneath the Ranger's bed. She also started cutting down the proper young saplings that would be needed to help make a sledge. Now that the entire camp was staying in one place, there were many who volunteered to aid in her work.

Andreth glanced around the encampment. She saw Whinney feeding on a few stray bushes, but nowhere could she see the horse that Holly called Peri. Quite a while ago, he'd drifted off towards the woods with a strange bird flying overhead in circles. But the bird was long gone, probably flown off someplace far distant, and she could not see the horse anywhere.

Holly had taken a short break from the side of the Ranger to get a drink of water. Andreth approached her and asked, "Do you know where Peri wandered off to? I haven't seen him in quite a while. I don't mean to worry you. Just wanted to make sure he was alright."

[tangerine]

Hinura sighed fretfully at seeing such a lovely day go downhill so quickly, then headed over to where Andreth was piling the fir boughs and saplings for the Ranger's sledge. Before coming West of the Misty Mountains, her family had lived in a small settlement that had gotten it's livelihood out of woodcraft. She wasn't an artisan of any such trade, but putting such a thing together wouldn't be difficult.
Rummaging through her pack, Hinura found a length of twine. Choosing the stronger saplings that Andreth had found, Hinura drew her knife and began to quietly fashion a frame for the sledge, glancing occasionally at the injured Ranger to judge his proportions to the proportions of the sledge.

[Mithadan]

After eight days of riding, Nardol had reached the Greenway southeast of Sarn Ford. It had not been a pleasant journey. Although he had not been set upon by bandits or any others since his encounter during his second day of travel, something was clearly amiss in the lands he had passed.

He had come across no less than three traps in the area between the Greenway and the South Downs. One had been a hidden noose ready to be sprung by a bent tree. He had triggered that hazard before anyone could be harmed by it. Another had been a concealed pit covered with a light layer of rushes and dirt. Rustal had refused to step upon it and Nardol had collapsed its fragile covering with a rock.

The last had caught him entirely unawares. The path he had chosen passed through a cutting in the side of a small hill. Rustal had stumbled upon a concealed rope which had brought down a fall of logs and stones upon the path. Fortunately, Rustal had recovered quickly from his misstep and dashed forward out of harm's way. If he had been on foot, his fate might have been otherwise.

Nardol did not doubt that he might have bypassed other hazards without noticing them as he rode along his way. These lands were usually only sparsely inhabited but had never been dangerous save for the occaisional bandit or rogue. It seemed that Glorfindel had been correct. Some ill will had taken hold of the countryside and was threatening the Free Peoples. But this was not his concern.

Rustal clattered along the stones of the Greenway in the direction of Sarn Ford as the day faded. Less than a day's travel remained and he was eager to deliver Elrond's envelope and be done with this journey. Rustal whinnied and slowed. There was some commotion upon the road ahead...

[ November 27, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu walked Mornen over to Olo and smiled a little as Olo reported what was wrong with Mornen. When she found out nothing was serious, she nodded and thanked Olo, and then led Mornen back near the tree.

She reached into her pack and pulled out a few wrappings. She knew Mornen didn't really need them, but the wrappings would support his legs more and prevent little cuts if they had to pass through any woods.

Mornen watched Alearindu as she put on the wrappings, and then snorted at her as she inspected the small wounds.

She thought for a moment, and then wondered about something. She motioned for Mornen to stay where he was, and walked over to Gandalf.

"Do you know of any Springs or bodies of water near-by?" She asked the wizard. " If there is, I'd rather either just lead Mornen there, or go fill up some bottles or soak some cloths to rinse his wounds. The wounds aren't horrible, but I'd rather them not get infected, no matter how small."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aislan felt rather helpless and useless. She helped as much as she could during the company's mishap, but it didn't seem enough to her.

Aislan knew the horse Mornen was alright, but the cuts that dotted a few spots between the horses' hoofs and knees. Some were bloody, but nothing that couldn't be easily fixed. Two of the lovely animal's legs had bandages on them, probably for support.

Aislan smiled and patted Mornen's forhead. Mornen had dark brown eyes, like most horses, but Mornen seemed different from other horses.

Aislan jumped back when someone tapped her shoulder. It was Alearindu.

"Hello. I don't suppose we've been properly introduced. I'm Alearindu. This is Mornen, and he is spoiled rotten." Aislan smiled at Alearindu and shook her hand.

"I am Aislan. Your horse is beautiful!" Aislan commented, telling the absolute truth. Mornen grunted as though he heard.

"Yes, thank you. Anyway, I was just off to a nearby creek to wash his cuts. Would you like to come?" Alearindu looked at Aislan with kindness in her eyes.

"I would love to!" Aislan exclaimed.

Aislan followed Alearindu as she led Aislan and Mornen to a small creek, closer than Aislan had thought it would be. Aislan took a small cloth from her pack and began to dampen it with the water from the stream.

"It was a good idea, with those bandages. He won't get as many cuts, so long as the bushes he passes by are short." Aislan commented, avoiding Mornen's kick as the cloth she held to his leg stung him.

[*Varda*]

Poppy sighed, then laughed. Having never been asked to talk about her life before, she was at a loss as to where to start.

“Well…” she said, pausing. “I suppose it all began one fine day, 33 years ago, when little Poppy Took was born, to be the bane of her parents lives! I was always tearing off to the distant places of the Shire, I would follow my brothers wherever they went. I had no sisters, so the boys were really my friends…”

“I would disappear for days on end, sometimes. I always knew my heart didn’t completely belong in the Shire…don’t get me wrong, I love the Shire, and all (well, almost all) the people in it, but there was always that longing for adventure in me. I just couldn’t stay still!” Menelduliniel nodded, thoughtfully.

“So, that was really how I spent my childhood. If we had days to spend, sitting here discussing my childhood, I could tell you so many tales, stealing mushrooms, for which my brothers and I had a particular fondness, the games we used to play…I even thought I saw Elves in the woods once, which was a huge excitement at the time…but we don’t have days to sit here and talk.” Poppy sighed, briefly.

“When I was coming out of my ‘tweens’, as we call it, everyone expected me to grow up, become more ‘lady-like.’ There was no thought that scared me more, than settling down to get married, running a home, looking after a bunch of screaming kids. I could never have made them behave; I’d be encouraging them to be bad! So, here I am now. I continued to travel, and by chance ended up in the Inn at Sarn Ford, where I met you fine people!” Here, Poppy smiled.

“So, that’s my life, the shortened version at any rate. But you still remain a mystery to me, so I’m afraid its your turn to tell me all about yourself!” Poppy laughed as Menelduliniel frowned. “It’s your own fault for taking up with an inquisitive hobbit like myself!”

[ November 27, 2002: Message edited by: *Varda* ]

[VanimaEdhel]

"My tale," Menelduliniel replied in a resigned voice, "Begins 2921 years ago in Mirkwood. I was born to Laeron and Draugien, two servants of King Thranduil.

"My childhood was merry, I recall. I played with other children, including the children of nobles. We all got along. There was no class tension.

"When I grew old enough, I begged and begged Lord Thranduil to allow me to join the shieldmaidens. Servants generally did not join those ranks. It was mostly noble women. But, the benevolent Lord enabled me to join the ranks of those above me.

"I trained as hard as I possible could. My real talent is with daggers. I know how to work with a bow as well, but I am not too accurate."

Menelduliniel sighed and continued, "My master was Poldorawen. She was the daughter of an Elf very high in society. She was not a kind master. She worked her women hard. I suppose it was for our own good. She trained us to be fast, taught us to be the 'best'. Although I admit none of us could compete with a man in strength, we could sneak up on him and surprise him any day.

"There is something else I should tell you. All my life, I had been friendly with the Prince. Do you know of him? His name is Legolas. When I reached maturity, however, I began seeing him in a new light. He, however, saw me in a 'new light' as well. He gained more responsibility and knew that he could not associate with his father's servant.

"His eyes also wandered to Poldorawen. He never thought of me as a love, I suppose, but he thought more of her than he ever thought of me in any way. Soon, they announced their engagement.

"Around that time, a few of my friends from training disappeared. No one knows where they went. I think that Poldorawen had something to do with it, but others say that I am paranoid. They also say that I am just jealous. I may be, that is true, but I still believe she did something.

"I guess I just snapped. That was about fifty-seven years ago. I still remember it as though it was yesterday. I can feel my daggers in my hands and feel them cutting into her. I can feel her blood on my hands.

"She taught us to be the best. She really did. I used that talent for my own advantage...and for her demise.

"I knew what I had done right after I had committed the crime. I knew I had to run. So, I ran.

"I ran into the wild with Salkadome. Ah, that was a different Salkadome. He perished of old age. This," Menelduliniel said, gesturing weakly to her horse grazing nearby, "Is a different horse. Named in his honor. I have had a few horses, as they do not have the curse of eternity.

"I ran blindly," Menelduliniel said, continuing the story, "Not caring where I went. Salkadome carried me to I know not where. It seemed to be days, but it was probably merely hours. I could not see. For some reason I was blind. All I know is that soon his gallop stopped.

Menelduliniel stopped, breathing hard for a moment, her eyes fixed on the ground. She then continued, "There was Orcs. There were lots of them. They took me off of Salkadome. He was spared, I know not why. I guess fate saved him...as it saved me.

"It happens that there was an Elf in their clutches as well. Estelarion was his name. He had been wandering the land. He was the son of a fairly high-standing noble family. He got bored of his life, however, and wandered off to explore what was in the wide world. He was about one-hundred years my senior.

"They carried us for some time, I imagine. I remember absolutely nothing from those times. That is to my advantage, Estelarion says. I do not know what happened...nothing.

"I remember him carrying me. I was on his horse. I know now that horse was named Kelendrilroch. His current horse is Amanroch. We galloped far, far away. I still know not how he got me away.

"I recovered in time. Estelarion stayed with me. I told him to leave, but he would not listen.

"When I recovered my strength, we continued together, neither of us knowing where to go. I knew that I would probably not be welcomed into any civilized location.

"We wandered from town to town, staying in Inns and listening to the news of the area. We continued like that for about thirty-five or thirty-seven years.

"In that time, we found ourselves in Harad, the lands to the far South. Everything there was different...different and better. It was a whole new society and I started a whole new life. I soon learned the major language of Harad. I also picked up the singing style and the dancing...ah, the dancing...I much desire to return to Harad...Anyway, Estelarion and I found ourselves travelling with the Huin-en-Luig, the Hearts of Dragons. They were all bandits, but they were performers as well.

"Nearly all I own they gave me. They may have taken it from others, but they still clothed me.

"They were all like me. All criminals, some wrongly accused, some rightfully. We were like a family. But, all things must end...

"About twenty years ago, we got tired of our roaming and tried to return to Mirkwood. We snuck in, unnoticed. If I had remained quiet and had just returned to Laerion and Draugien, things may have been better. If I had slowly come back into society...

"But...but I had to see Legolas. I waited one night and snuck into his chamber. He soon returned. His greeting was not a warm one.

"We began to fight. He told me to leave or he would slay me himself. He claimed to still love Poldorawen. I do not believe his lies.

"I told him everything...everything. I told him my love for him. He just laughed and told me that, if I loved him, I would not rip out his heart as I had done. I fled then. I fled and I have not returned since."

Menelduliniel had begun to breath hard again, shaking a bit. She calmed herself and continued. "We have travelled since then. We visited the Huin-en-Luig every so often, but the majority of our time was spent in small Inns in Human cities and towns. That is where we met Mithrandir.

"Mithrandir...Mithrandir has been the kindest of any race I have ever met. He is one of the Istari and therefore commands respect and devotion. He, however, has been as a friend...more of a grandfather...to me, despite my history. He has allowed Estelarion and me to aid him on his important quests.

"I feel that, if I ever am allowed back into society, it will be Mithrandir's doing. I do not ask it of him, for I do not need it now. I still cry at nights, but I have friends now. Estelarion has been more of a companion than I could ever hope for. He is my best friend. I fear, however, that, one day, he will come to his senses and find a wife. Then I will, again, be alone.

"And this is where you find me," Menelduliniel concluded, wiping her eyes and unclenching her white knuckles. She laughed bitterly, "Are you not thrilled that you asked my story? Ah, well, at least it passed the time, yes?"

She looked at the Hobbit's surprised face, and laughed again, this time a little more merrily.

"I must say," she said, "That is the best look I have ever received for my history. Usually people either shun me or act fairly neutral. Thank you for that, at least...it may not be a horribly tragic history, but it felt that way to live through it..."

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu smiled at Aislan, and waved at Gandalf as she led Mornen and Aislan away from the company, into the woods, and to a creek to wash Mornen's wounds.

She kept her ears and eyes open for anything. Alearindu's head darted to where a bird flew off. She wondered why she was so tense, but shook her head and continued on.

Mornen snorted as Alearindu led him into the cool creek. Alearindu held him while Aislan cleaned his wounds.

"I thank you, Aislan, for helping me." Alearindu smiled at her. "Do you seem..more alert or tense since we left the company? I may be overreacting, or maybe it's just my ranger senses setting in, since there are only two of us."

Alearindu sighed, but to attempt to calm herself, she unshealted her sword and held it by her side. She remained cautious, and glanced around all the time.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aislan smiled at the thought.

"I suppose I am a bit more tense. I probably am, considering I never had to worry about such things back home. Calm down, nothing too bad will happen." Aislan tried to reasure Alearindu.

"How can you be so sure?" Alearindu still had her sword in hand

"I just am...I guess." Aislan repsonded as she stood up. She pat Mornen on the forehead. "All better Mornen, and sorry if the water stung." Aislan apologized to the horse.

"Let's go then. Maybe I won't be so tense if we join the group." Alearindu stared walking back through the trees and Aislan smiled as Alearindu flinched a little at every sound.

When they joined the group again, Mornen trotted off to find some nice grass.

Everything is mostly fine so far... Aislan thought to herself. Not too much more could go wrong....could it?

[ November 29, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[*Varda*]

Poppy couldn’t repress the look of shock that adorned her face. At this, the elf laughed, and Poppy could not help but giggle slightly. She had no idea why, and suddenly felt that she was being very rude, and tried to suppress it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, in a choked voice. “It’s just…I’ve never really heard anyone’s life story before, and of all the ones to hear, that’s just….rather surprising! And unexpected!”

Menelduliniel laughed a little again. “It came as a shock then?”

“Definitely,” Poppy said. “Mine feels…rather boring now!”

“If to make your life interesting involves having my life, I’d rather be boring,” replied Menelduliniel. “In any case, I’m anticipating hearing some interesting tales from you, Poppy! I still want to hear all about your life in the Shire!”

At that, the elf and hobbit heard a call from nearby.

“They want us to help,” said Poppy ruefully. “You will just have to wait, and hear my stories another time!”

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Birdland blinked upwards, indrawing breath. Flight broken by the elm twig inches above where she crouched, an arrow bounced off the top of her head to thud harmlessly in the moss. Further twigs crackled and bushes rustled with sounds of retreat. "But Peri will know the way back. That pony is probably the most sensible one in the whole party anyway." Likely the bowman had heard Bird speak these words aloud, and was off to repeat his findings that prey was afoot. Meanwhile, late afternoon shadows betokened the sinking of the sun's compass into a twilight that would founder in mist. *

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

* Midnight, former war steed of Mordor, crept up behind Gandalf. Settling his shaggy neck on the wizard's shoulder the horse craned forward to see what continued to be so interesting about the pit that had stopped their journey for the day. Gandalf rumbled his displeasure. * I've told everyone to stand back, including you, you rapscallion of a horse! Now go and do as I bid, lest you find yourself in deeper trouble than this pit.

* The recalcitrant steed took one step backwards, giving a low neigh and glaring at the wizard's back to see whether the grey-garbed one would himself heed the advice he gave others. *

* Gandalf shrugged ominously, brandishing aloft a curious device that the Hobbits present might've recognized as resembling a firework. Lighting a wick at one end, he hurled the device into the pit even as he turned and dashed away with all speed. Midnight, needing no further coaxing to run, galloped off into the coming twilight and was lost to view. *

* A loud echoing boom rose up from the pit, quickly buried by a gravelly murmur as its sides caved in. The deep spiky drop was now replaced by a wider, shallower depression of loose soil and shivered rocks. *

[Mithadan]

Nardol dismounted and led Rustal into the underbrush. Drawing his sword, he approached cautiously a group of shadowy figures gathered in the road. Sliding behind the trunk of an ancient oak tree, he peered out at the strangers. They were gathered about a gaping hole in the road; Men, Elves and several of those foolish half-Men who dwelt near the Dwarf-road just east of Emyn Beriad.

Apparently, they had triggered one of the traps which had appeared in the area. He snorted. Not surprising that Men would be so heavy-footed but the Elves should have known better. Of course, the mere fact that these Elves chose to travel with Men marked them as over-trusting and lacking in caution and sense.

At that moment, a loud report sounded accompanied by a flash. He cringed, then straightened and leapt out into the road with his blade held high to meet whatever foe had caused the explosion...

[Gandalf_theGrey]

... and found bearing down on him a black horse of the type known to bear Ringwraiths, galloping wildly, heedless of Nardol's sword, heedless that an Elf was about to become utterly trampled if he didn't move, conscious of speed alone to save him from remembered blasts of smoke and fire such as had wasted the lands of Mordor and turned all to rubble under his hooves.

[Mithadan]

Without first looking, Nardol (wisely) leapt to his right to evade the onslaught of the maddened steed. He crashed through a ragged shrub and tumbled into a depression filled with brambles. As best he could, he rolled to his feet but his cloak caught on the thorns requiring him to wrench it loose without regard to the damage which the woody spears might do.

Tattered and with his cloak still partially tangled in the underbrush, Nardol stood with sword at ready looking up towards the Greenway.

[piosenniel]

Holly felt a prickling at the back of her neck. A sudden feeling of unease had crept over her as she attended to Volondil's wounds once again after they had moved him to shelter. She looked about the camp now being hastily set up and could see no apparent reason for alarm.

Still the feeling grew on her, brought more into focus by the question from Andreth on where Peri had gone off to. She closed her eyes and sorted through her thoughts. The image of Peri and the thought of danger grew steadily clearer in her mind. Bird and he had gone into the woods to gather medicinal plants and were overdue for their return.

She left Volondil to the good care of Bethberry, saying that she was going to look for her two friends. She did not mention her anxious feelings about what might have happened to them, saying only that she would return directly with them.

Going to her pile of belongings, she drew forth her short sword and bow, and secured a few knives in her belt. Putting her grey cloak round her shoulders, she walked quickly toward the trees, fading under their shadows like a small wraith.

Alearindu noted the Hobbit's entrance into the underbrush of the forest, and thinking it odd she should be so armed, followed . . .

[ December 01, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Birdland]

Bird froze, staring down at the black-shafted arrow that lay on the ground beside her. How had it missed her? It seemed that time froze as she gazed in terror at the missile, while the bushes around her shook from unseen enemy retreating back into the undergrowth. To where?

"The Greenway. We have to get back and warn everyone!" Birdie scrambled toward the patient Peri, slipping in the mud of the seep and pulling herself up again, ignoring a skinned knee and a rip in her skirt.

Throwing herself onto the pack saddle, she crouched low and said in a hoarse whisper to the pony, "Go Peri! Find Holly. Go!" And the little beast plunged unerringly towards the road.

They had apparently not traveled as far as Birdie thought, having followed a zig-zag path through the forest while searching for the moss. Peri ran in a more-or-less straight path back to the road, but Bird was torn further by the prickly undergrowth, and had to duck fast to avoid a low hanging branch that would have knocked her from her seat.

They were almost there when a muffled explosion was heard from the direction of the Greenway. Peri shied and danced, but Bird clapped her heels and grabbed the reins, urging the pony on. Peri shook her head and started running full tilt. They were a mere few yards away from their goal, when suddenly a cloaked figure holding a sword appeared right in their path. Its attention was drawn by the dark massive figure of Midnight as the black horse ran through the forest. So he didn't see or hear the smaller horse running directly at him from beind.

Before Birdie could do a thing, the little pony plowed right into Nardol, knocking him off his feet and sending him rolling down a bank.

[ November 30, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Mithadan]

Nardol scrambled back up the bank as quickly as he could. In doing so, his cloak was ripped by the thorns which clutched and caught at him as he climbed. He reached the lip of the depression and stood watching the black horse gallop off into the forest.

He cursed quietly and sucked at a tear on the back of his hand. Suddenly, the air seemed filled with the echoes of the black horse's hooves. Or was it an echo? He had just begun to turn when he was struck heavily from behind. Nardol retained just enough wits to drop his sword and pull his arms in as he was knocked back down into the thorny depression.

Again, he bounced to his feet. A steady flow of invective issued from his mouth as he climbed back up to the road, where he snatched up his sword even as the warhorse which had struck him wheeled. Nardol raised his blade and faced this new foe...and blinked. Here was no warrior. Instead, he stood before a shortish woman with raven hair shot through with a stripe of white, mounted upon a pony. His flow of invective increased and grew louder. He reached to his belt for a throwing knife with which to rid the world of his assailant...

[Birdland]

"Peri! Run!" screamed Birdie, and she slid off the pony and gave him a push on his shoulder.

Peri needed no other encouragement. He'd had more than enough, thank you very much, and fled for the safety of Holly, whom he could smell and hear a short distance away.

Bird's own well-developed sense of self-preservation had kicked in as well, and even as her feet touched the ground she was morphing. Before Nardol's glaring eyes there suddenly appeared a 30-foot-tall Ent where a 5-foot woman had stood before.

The Ent shook its branchy head until its leaves rattled and flew. Raising its two massive arm-like branches (or branch-like arms), it strode towards the the startled Elf, as it let forth with a roaring, booming "HOOOOMMMMMM!"

[ November 30, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel went over to where Bethberry and Estelarion were. Estelarion still hovered over the injured Volondil. The mishap had apparently affected him more than he let on.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, sounding none too apologetic, "But it seems that Holly went to find her friends. This is not a safe area. We could use extra eyes."

"Of course this is a dangerous area," she said, getting suddenly sober, "What is nearby?"

"I do not know. I do not know if there is anything. Holly just left to find her companions and Alearindu is gone as well. But, knowing these lands and this time, we cannot be too cautious. The others seemed uneasy before, so I just figured..."

As he said this, he unhooked his bow from where it hung and plucked an arrow from his quiver. Although he did not draw it, Menelduliniel knew that firing would take merely an instant from the position he was in now. She silently envied his talent with a bow. Menelduliniel knew how to fire, but was only even nearly accurate for a very small percent of the time.

"Stay close to me," she told the small Hobbit, "I do not feel danger now, but that does not mean it is out there. I agree with Estelarion that it is a good idea to have extra eyes on the alert. I should not have let my mind wander before. If danger does appraoch, I will need your help."

"My help?" the small figure said from the ground, looking up at the Elf.

"Yes, of course. Any help is still aid. All you need...well...all you can do, really...is keep an eye out at the woods," Menelduliniel said, fairly absently, as she was already scanning the surrounding area for danger. She saw Estelarion doing the same.

"Do not wander too far. Stay near Poppy," he called to Menelduliniel, "We do not want to have all of us separated. The few that have left are enough."

"I know that. I would not leave the Hobbit," Menelduliniel called back, "And are you sure we are not being too cautious?"

"There is no such thing," Estelarion said, simply. He turned his back to her then, sighing and watching the woods.

"Too true," Menelduliniel muttered, "But I still do not like feeling like a fool. She was only going for her companions, after all. She will return shortly. It is not like anyone heard anything. Estelarion is just paranoid."

With that, she relaxed and stood by the Hobbit who sat on the ground.

[ December 01, 2002: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[piosenniel]

Alearindu had urged Holly to come with her to aid Bird against her assailant. But, Peri placed himself between Holly and the scene unfolding just a short distance away. He stood stiff legged, leaning against her and would not relent. He repositioned himself as she moved, and try as she might she could not get round him. Holly frowned and tried to coax him from his stance, but the events of this ill-starred journey had spooked him thoroughly, and he meant not to lose her. She sighed and waved Alearindu off, saying she and Peri would stay back until the situation had resolved itself.

She led the pony to a rocky outcropping and climbed up for a better view. Shading her eyes against the sun, she could see Bird had gone defensive. A formidable Ent now towered over some tall, dark haired person. She squinted her eyes for better focus. An Elf! And a hot headed one by all appearances. She sat down on the rocky surface and scratched the pony between the ears. 'Best stay away from that one.' she said to herself. 'Bird can take care of herself well enough without us.'

Holly and Peri made their way round about the simmering crisis to the tent where Volondil lay. Bethberry had him well in hand by the looks of it, and he rested easily now. She accepted gratefully the moss and kingsfoil from Peri's pack and said she would be fine attending to him. Holly need not worry.

The Hobbit thanked her and went to her pile of packs, loading them efficiently onto the pony's back. She led him to a place well away from the commotion and unloading him, set up a simple camp - her bedroll and a small hollow for a cooking fire; a blanket to throw over Peri, his nosebag folded on it. She grabbed up a generous handful of long grass and set to rubbing the pony down. Satisfied, she filled his nosebag with some oats and strapped it on him, leaving him to eat in contentment.

Holly took out her sketchpad and did some quick renderings of Bird and the Elf in quick strokes of reds and blacks. Later she would work one of them into a finished drawing, leaving it in Bird's pack along with the map and pouch of coins. In the morning, she would leave the pack with Bethberry. It would be safe there, and she would see to it that Bird got it.

[ December 01, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Mithadan]

A shape-shifter! Nardol dodged a blow from a mighty fist and backed away holding his sword before him. With a whistle, he summoned Rustal who trotted forward but shied and reared from the Ent. Taking advantage of the distraction, Nardol leaped from the road and dodged into the heavy brush to the north. Seeking out the thickest stands of trees, the Elf dodged through spaces too tight for the Ent to pass through.

Curving back towards the east, he headed back toward the Greenway with the Ent following behind. Nardol whistled again for his horse, hoping to mount Rustal on the run and continue down the road. However, the Elf misjudged the distances involved and emerged into the midst of the group he had seen. Elves, Hobbits and Men reached for their weapons as Nardol placed his back against a tree and prepared to defend himself.

"HOLD!" cried a deep voice...

[Gandalf_theGrey]

... You bring another blade for our side. We'll soon use it, I suspect.

* Gandalf bowed a greeting and peered out from under his hat at the Elf. The wizard turned with an expansive gesture to indicate the last rays of the sun as being the harbinger of swift and likely battle. Nardol could see that the back of his cloak was covered with ashes, soot, and loose debris newly churned up from the soil. The grey-cloaked one seemed to take no notice of his appearance, however, nor think it the least bit strange. *

Now then, if you bring tidings of an Entwife, I'm keen on hearing it, for its utterance just now was unmistakable. What say you?

* Gandalf motioned with his staff to offer the Elf a seat on a log around a campfire over which Bethberry was brewing lemon balm tea. Volondil lay nearby, still unconscious, and Menelduliniel had carried Poppy to the fireside as well. *

[ December 02, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Olo brought his pack to Holly's camp, and plopped it down near hers. Peri whickered softly at him, inviting a scratch on nose or ear, and was rewarded with a thorough rubbing of both. 'So, I see you and your Mistress are leaving us soon.' he said quietly to the pony, half expecting an answer in return. Peri only eyed him, and nudged his still hand.

Holly frowned at the Hobbit. 'Perhaps you'ld better address me, since you are more likely to get an answer than if you spend all day questioning Peri.' She poured some boiling water over tea leaves with sweet herbs and set the pan of it near the fire to let it steep. Then busying herself with the making of a small pot of dried vegetable and mushroom stew, she awaited his question.

He sat his pack down near where she knelt and sat down resting his back against it. 'Well, I'll ask you straight out then. Are you leaving the group?'

She stirred the stew with a wooden spoon and tasting the broth, threw in a pinch of salt. 'I have some business, where the northern most mouth of the Sirannon meets the Mitheithel. I'll leave tomorrow morning before first light, and strike out cross country.'

'Why can't you stay with Gandalf's party until we reach Tharbad, then head up the Hoarwell? Wouldn't that be safer?' He took the cup of fragrant tea from her and sipped the hot brew slowly.

Holly laughed as she took her cup into her hands. 'That's what I had thought when first we set out. But trouble seems to dog this company, and I fear that any more delay would make me late. Already we are delayed at least two days by Volondil's injuries, and now we have Bird and some mad Elf engaged in a stand-off.' She looked up at the pony who seemed to be listening to her words. 'And Peri here has made it clear he wants no more part of it.' The pony stamped his foot emphatically and whinnied. 'It would be best to strike out on our own, as we have always done. And leave this poor, benighted group to draw misfortune away from us.'

Olo took a deep drink of his tea, and looking up, held Holly's gaze with his. 'Well, then,' he said firmly, 'you won't be striking out on your own, if I have anything to say about it.' His cheeks crimsoned as he watched her eyes snap with anger. She opened her mouth to give retort, but he cut her off, arms crossed determinedly across his chest. 'I'm coming with you!'

She looked at him blankly, as if she did not understand his words, then a rumbling chuckle started deep within her until tears came to her eyes and she lay on the ground laughing loudly. Sitting up once again, she looked at him and knew there was no getting round him either. A sigh escaped her, and she shook her head at both the pony and the Hobbit. 'As you wish, Olo.' she said, 'Just make sure you bring your stout cudgel and that you keep up the pace.'

She looked over to where Gandalf was now engaged in some sort of mediation between Ent and Elf. Once he was done, she would tell him of her change in plans.

[*Varda*]

Poppy sat quietly by the fire, resting, while Bethberry handed round some refreshing lemon balm tea. However, she sat up a little more when she noticed an elf arrive. He had obviously come from a long battle, as his cloak was dirty and covered in earth.

Not that she could comment on appearances, she thought wryly, looking down at her bare, earth stained feet, and the gash in her short trousers from falling down the hole. She would really need to clean up at some point, but as yet had no opportunity, as Menelduliniel would not allow her to try and stand, much as Poppy was adamant that she was perfectly capable. Menelduliniel had just laughed and commented on stubborn hobbits.

After observing the newcomer’s entrance, Poppy settled down and continued to drink her tea, paying less attention to the goings-on around her. Andreth had finished setting up the lean-to, and Poppy couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed they wouldn’t be moving on as soon as she had hoped, as she commented to Menelduliniel

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel sat back, looking a bit confusedly around, especially at the newcomer. The immensely annoying task of preventing Poppy from standing was complete, and Menelduliniel wanted to know what was going on. Estelarion seemed to know what was happening, but she was not in a position to ask him, as he was keeping himself busy with small tasks setting up camp.

Menelduliniel stayed near the fire to keep an eye on the injured, feeling fairly useless...

[Mithadan]

Nardol lowered his sword as Mithrandir approached, yet he did not sheath the blade. The Ent had stepped out from the trees but did not approach, apparently out of deference to the wizard.

"Entwife?" cried Nardol. "That is not of the Onodrim! It is a shape-shifter!"

"Yes, well, indeed," answered Gandalf, looking back to the tall tree-like figure with a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "Yes, it is. And I would not doubt 'it' would prefer to be called a 'she' rather than an 'it'. But come now, sit. Join us. There is no danger from her, is there?" He looked pointedly at the Ent who remained silent.

Nardol sheathed his sword and, with a last glare at the shape-shifter, sat on a log. A moment later, Rustal emerged from the trees and walked over to stand by the Elf. Nardol patted the stallion's flank and turned to the wizard.

"You choose strange companions Mithrandir, as is your wont I am told," he said. "I am Nardol, of late from Imladris though I am most frequently found travelling the northlands."

"Ah. Yes, Nardol of the Noldor," said Gandalf. "I have heard your name in the Blue Mountains. Tell me, how is Elrond?"

Nardol paused to glare at a woman who had been staring at him before answering. Then he continued. "Elrond is well. He sends his greetings. Indeed it is you I seek for I bear an envelope from him. I have travelled some ways to find you and have found these lands to be less friendly than they once were."

He rose and opened one of Rustal's saddlebags, removing a sealed envelope from it. He handed the packet to Gandalf and seated himself again on the log. Nardol pointedly ignored the curious gaze of the wizard's companions as he stared into the fire...

[Child of the 7th Age]

With the assistance of others, Andreth had managed to complete the construction of both the lean-to and the sledge. It was then that she'd heard the strange sounds of impending battle, noises that she did not understand. Soon thereafter, Gandalf had come back, leading an Elf and and an Ent towards the campfire, both of whom had mysteriously materialized out of nowhere.

Strangely enough, it was the figure of the Elf that compelled her absolute attention. She stood rooted in one spot, unable to move, her eyes rivetted to his face.

There were other Elves along on this quest, and Andreth hadn't even had the courage to come up to one and introduce herself. But those Elves did not look quite as this one did. She felt as if she'd caught a glimpse of an ancient and majestic being, perhaps one of the firstcomers whose experiences lay far beyond her ken. Even from across the campfire, she could sense the sorrow and remembrance that came flooding out from his mind.

As one whose livelihood depended on the creation of tapestries and other fine textiles, she had learnt much of the ancient tales of Beleriand and Numenor. Time and again, she had sat beside the fireplace in her humble home, with her deft fingers pulling the warp and weft, creating bittersweet images drawn directly from ages and places long consigned to dust and yearning.

Andreth's tongue was not gifted, but she had eyes to see what others overlooked. Gazing at this Elf, she felt as if she had passed through a portal of time, and now found herself looking upon one whose true place lay in a distant, golden age. And because that age had sadly passed, he seemed singularly out-of-place, ripped loose from the fabric of time.

A strange part of Andreth's brain whispered to her. This Elf should be in Elvenhome, but he has not the heart to go there. And then an even stranger idea popped into her head. This is how Adela felt when she first looked upon the Elf Maladil. Not seeing him with love but as a kinsman and a friend, whose doom was so very different than her own.

Andreth had no desire whatsover to repeat Adela's mistake. And, in her own mind, it was a mistake. A mistake of cosmic proportions that had reverberated even to her own day. But, to somehow win the trust and friendship of this being, so different than herself, as her namesake Andreth had won the respect of Finrod, that would be a very great thing indeed.

On the very first day of the journey, Gandalf had called her an 'Elf-friend.' She had not understood that, and thought it might be some lighthearted compliment that could safely be ignored. Bethberry had told her quite otherwise, sternly asserting that Gandalf did not say such things without reason. Perhaps the reason was here. Perhaps, she was meant to be a friend and somehow help this Elf on his way.

The Elf was in deep discourse with Gandalf, sitting on a log near the fire. Then, without warning, he turned for one instant towards Andreth. He took in her flame red hair, her pretty but common mortal face with its green eyes and freckles.

Andreth saw Nardol scowl to the depths of his being. He whose hroa and fea were tied to Arda seemed to look upon this Child of Man with intense disdain. It was clear to Andreth that this Elf had little friendliness for those whom the ancient tales commonly called 'guests'.

She said nothing, but pulled out a small tapestry block, and began feverishly working at it.

[ December 03, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Birdland]

"Oh, Manwe take you all and throw you in the Void!"

Bird morphed back into woman form and stamped over to the cozy group around the campfire. "What are you doing? I rode like Eorl to get back here and warn you! There's danger out in the woods. Bandits, or worse, and I was shot at! Shot! With an arrow!"

"And you!" She whirled around and pointed a finger at the darkly-scowling Elf sitting by Gandalf. "YOU jumped out at me, and hacked at me with a sword. You could have killed me with that thing. And now you just sit there sipping tea? Get up! All of you! This is no time to be sipping tea!"

Birdie threw out her arms and slapped them against her legs in frustration. "By the stars! If this is how Elves and Wizards react to danger, it's no wonder The Dark Lord is still sculking about in Mordor. I suppose if HE showed up, you'd serve him tea as well. You!" She pointed her finger at the young woman working on her needlework and casting furtive glances at the disreputable-looking newcomer. "Put down that tapestry block and come and help me. Has anyone even checked on Volondil since I've been gone? Useless, the whole bunch of you. Olo, fetch me that moss out of Peri's saddlebag."

Bird finally stopped her frantic chattering long enough to look around the fire. "Wait a minute. Where's Peri? Where's Holly?"

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth quickly got to her feet and glared back at the woman who stood there accusing her of laziness or even worse. Sharp anger rose in her. She'd had enough of being picked on and laughed at back home in Bree, and she wasn't about to take any of that here.

"For your information, I have spent the past three hours constructing a lean-to shelter and a sledge for the comfort of Volondil. Holly and Bethberry were attending to the Ranger as my own skills do not run in that direction. I don't know where Holly has gone to, but that is hardly my fault!"

"Moreover," and here Andreth stared accusingly at the figure in front of her, "I do not recall seeing you on the road. I neither know what you are or who you are, for your behavior is very strange indeed. For all I know, you may be a brigand yourself. You were certainly not with our company when we left the Inn."

"And I will indeed be happy to assist you with Volondil if you but ask in a civil way."

With that, she stomped over in the direction of the patient with a wet rag clenched between her fingers, muttering grimly to herself.

[ December 04, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Gandalf could not help it. Hearty laughter burst forth at Birdland’s description of himself serving a convivial cup of tea to Sauron. His hilarity was not meant to disparage Birdland in any way, but was simply piqued by the fantastical impossibility of it all. Gandalf happened to look over at Poppy and was relieved to see the Hobbit gently smiling at the humor. But then, just when the wizard had composed himself, Andreth had to go and call the shape-shifter a, a … brigand, of all things! The memory of Birdland’s infamous shell game and the eleven silver pieces was impossible to ignore, it having just transpired two days ago. *

* … But fortunately, neither could he ignore that she’d then bested him in a riddle-game and settled the whole matter both expertly and honorably. Before fresh gales of laughter dared explode, Gandalf ground the palm of his hand into the top of his staff until it hurt. But it was a private glance to the wizard from Bethberry at once sobering and filled with soft understanding that was the curative enabling him to fully regain appropriate equilibrium. *

Well then Andreth, I suppose I’m a brigand too. For not only do I consent to be in her company, but moreover, I am glad of it. * The wizard’s tone was calmly good-natured. *

* As Andreth took up a post by Volondil, Bethberry strode over to Bird and handed her a familiar-looking pack. The pack bulged just slightly, clinking with the sound of coins, crinkling with the sound of papers rubbing against each other and resting against coarse cloth. * Yours, I think. Holly couldn't wait. Kind Peri delivered moss and kingsfoil that I've put to use tending Volondil. As for the Ranger, his chances for healing ever grow, if he be guarded from infection and foe. Holly left with Peri and Olo. They bid us fare well for now, for they upon another path must go. Eirian has left as well.

* With a soft tug at his beard, Gandalf frowned at the loss of Holly and Olo. He turned to look at Poppy again, then gazed at her Elvish caretaker with thoughtful regard. * So we're down to one Hobbit to serve as castle scout. Don't you lose this one, Menelduliniel!

* Gandalf ran a finger over the sealing wax on the back of the envelope that Nardol had given him. So much conflicting business to tend to all at once. Master Elrond’s letter to Galadriel must be urgent indeed, for a rider to be sent with such haste from Rivendell with a new letter to replace the one that had been destroyed. But the arrow aimed at Bird clove his hopes for reading the letter as he wished. No time … *

* The falling night was pierced by defiant braying neighs from Midnight. Too close, for the war steed's cries were accompanied by croaked commands whose words could just be made out on the wind by those of keen hearing: * Whoa! Halt in the name of Mordor! That’s where yer from, from the looks of yer, yer brute! * Soon the voice was cut short. Another voice taking up a battle cry fell silent as well. *

[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[*Varda*]

Poppy finally settled back down on the ground, finally accepting that she would not be allowed to stand, however much she protested. She had seen Menelduliniel’s face start to look a little tenser as Poppy continued her protests, and Gandalf had glanced at her, clearly telling her to be a more peaceful patient.

She observed a strange woman, Bird, appear. A few of the others appeared to know her, but to Poppy she was a stranger, an angry stranger at that. Poppy couldn’t help but suppress a slight giggle as the woman continued to talk, obviously not best pleased. Poppy’s face returned to seriousness as the woman looked around, seemingly a little worried.

Poppy wondered at the mention of the arrow. Was a battle brewing? She sincerely hoped not, for they were still only near the beginning of their journey, and hardly in a position to fight.

[ December 04, 2002: Message edited by: *Varda* ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Suddenly, two missile weapons come clattering through the dusky trees, both to fall harmlessly into camp. One, an arrow, takes a bad bounce and breaks, caught at an odd angle between rock and ground. The other, a spear, twangs into a tree and remains hanging there horizontally. The Elves in the group have no trouble making out four shapes that could be either Orc or Half-Orc. There's no sign of the black horse, causing you to wonder whether there might be more than four assailants closing in on you from the woods. *

[Birdland]

As the arrows started to enter the camp, and the harsh battle-scream of the war horse echoed through the forest, Bird ran to the lean-to and threw herself across the body of Volondil, trying to protect the unconcious Ranger from the missles flying out of the trees. Andreth also sought out the flimsy shelter of the lean-to she had help build, never dreaming it would serve as her only protection between her and an attack by Orcs!

The skinchanger looked around frantically as the entire camp responded to the attack. But there were two missing from the scene, and Birdie called out frantically: "Holly! Olo! Where are you? Oh, how could they have left the safety of the caravan, and at a time like this? Whatever possessed that fool-of-a-Stoor to set out on her own? Holl-eeee! O-loooooh!"

And out in the woods, the harsh calls of the Orcs were again drowned out by the angry scream of the black horse, Midnight.

[piosenniel]

The two hobbits and the pony had not gone far from camp when misfortune once again caught them in its net. They had just come to a dense copse of tall shrubs to the northwest of where their group had stopped, when they heard a commotion behind them, and the frantic voice of Bird calling out both their names.

They withdrew into the tangle of shrubs and hidden, looked back from where they’d come. They could see nothing. But, harsh cries and garbled speech filled the air amid the sounds of bodies crashing through the underbrush. Peri’s head snapped up, ears forward as Midnight’s scream rent the air.

Leaving their packs well hidden in the dense shrubbery, they proceeded back along the small trail they had made. Olo gripped his cudgel firmly and followed behind Peri. In the lead was Holly. She had loosed the strap on her blade and knocked an arrow as she slipped quickly back towards camp . . .

[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Mithadan]

"Yrch," spat Nardol. He stood and took up his bow, nocking an arrow and holding it at ready. A whistle and a few quick words sent Rustal along the road towards the west. The stallion leaped over the pit and disappeared into the trees south of the path.

Nardol shrugged his cloak back from his shoulders, exposing the hilts of his blades at his waist. As the Orcs approached the fire, he let fly an arrow at at the foremost of the creatures...

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel took in a breath and stood up quickly, drawing her daggers. She saw Eselarion come running, notching an arrow to his bow.

"What is it?" she said.

"Did you not hear? Can you not see?" Estelarion said, "Orcs."

Menelduliniel shot a look at Poppy.

"I am staying with her," she said, "I was told to keep my eye on her, and I plan to."

"You will have to move," Estelarion said, "They will come. You cannot fight by yourself."

"I promised Gandalf and, well, he trusts me," she said, "No one else does."

Estelarion looked around and sighed.

"Okay, fine. I will stay with you."

The two stood over the poor, defenseless Poppy.

"If we get hurt, promise to find safety," Menelduliniel said over her shoulder to the Hobbit.

"Erm...o-okay," Poppy said.

Estelarion shot the Orcs as they approached, and Menelduliniel stood ready with her daggers...

[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth's body was shaking ever so slightly as she turned around to catch Bird's eye.

"Are you staying with Volondil?" She gestured towards the black-haired woman. "Do you have a dagger or something in case....?" Andreth didn't finish her sentence. There was no need. Both of them understood exactly what could happen if things didn't work out.

Bird fixed an eye on the red-haired girl and whispered, "I do indeed have something." She did not elaborate what that something might be.

Andreth fumbled on the ground for her bow and quiver. "I'll just go outside the shelter and see if I can help." She selected an arrow and pushed the tarp aside, turning her head at the last instant to say in a hushed voice, "Hey, I'm sorry about before. I've just heard too much from too many not to say something back."

Then she quickly slipped out, nocked an arrow against the bowstring, and with heart pounding fiercely, took careful aim at one of the Orcs over to the side who'd just pushed his way into their encampment.

[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

It was obvious to Aislan that this company was having bad luck. She heard grunts and growls from what she thought were orcs. She heard neighs and angry shrieks in the distance from the horse Midnight, until the horse's cries of defense suddenly stopped. Stray arrows whirled through the air, and Aislan whinced as she saw a spear lodge itself in a tree nearby.

Bird rushed to protect the Ranger Volondil, Andreth close behind. Everything was in motion. Nearby, she heard the newcomer call the word Yrch. Menelduliniel and Estelarion argued about protecting Poppy.

Being left-handed, Aislan drew her sword and handled her dagger with her right hand. She stood, ready for what was coming. Her thoughts were everywhere as she heard the voices of the company, the whistles of stray missiles form the enemy, and random grunts and neighs from the horses and ponies. She wondered if she was the only one who was nevous.

With her sharp ears she knew that it was more than two orcs. She thought it might be five or six, but she couldn't be positive. She stood ready with weapons in hand. An arrow flew to her left, and saw it was Estelarion's. Her smile was grim as she heard a shriek of agony from an oncoming orc. Everyone awaited the oncoming orcs as they came hustling through the brush.

Arrows flew from the bows of Nardol, Estelarion, and Andreth. Aislan risked a shot, raising her dagger and throwing it, watching it spin through the air. It hit something, and a loud shriek pierced the air. Aislan waited for the onslaught of the orcs with her sword ready.

[ December 06, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[tangerine]

Hinura had sat quietly by, drinking in the tableau before the attack came. Now she snatched up as many of the pine boughs as she could carry and ran in a crouch towards the where fallen Ranger and the strange little woman were.
"Here," she said breathlessly spreading the boughs over the injured parties. "If you're not moving them, they may as well not be made specific targets." Btinig her lip to keep it from quivering, Hinura glanced at Menelduliniel, who was ready with daggers for the onslaught. Trying to show more courage than she felt, she drew her dagger from her belt with a shaking hand and held it ready, rising from her crouch.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Bethberry sang as quietly as fair willow leaves of silver-green. Her barely audible words brought to each hearer's mind and heart a soft-glowing light, like the best memories of golden summer. A protective calm rippled out to encircle those closest to the daughter of Tom and Goldberry: Volondil, Poppy, Bird, Menelduliniel, Estelarion, Andreth, Hinura. Birdie, who'd been shouting out for Holly and Olo, found herself relaxed and quieted by the song, though oddly enough the relaxation led to a heightened, serene alertness rather than drowsiness. The rest of the group within the circle of Bethberry's song experienced a similar phenomenon. *

* Estelarion's arrow sank deep into the left side of an oncoming Orc, causing the Orc's thrown spear to only catch in Andreth's clothing. The Orc bellowed in pain but remained standing. Meanwhile, Andreth's arrow found its mark in a nearby Half-Orc who had tripped over a tree root while aiming a spear at Bethberry. The spear went whistling harmlessly by the River Daughter's daughter. But while Andreth's arrow drew blood, the Half-Orc smiled grimly, for its leather armor had taken the brunt. *

* Menelduliniel stood waiting at the ready with her daggers just a little too patiently. Before she could act, an arrow knicked her arm, opening a wound. *

* Nardol's arrow sailed clean and true into a Half-Orc, an inch above its heart. It stumbled around gasping in pain. *

* Aislan's dagger found its mark in an Orc, but only did minor damage, as the Orc's strong voice uttering curses evinced. Meanwhile, this Orc hit Estelarion in the gut with a stone, knocking the wind out of the Elf. *

* An arrow whizzed past Hinura's ear as the Half-Orc who'd aimed it stumbled into a tree on being hit by a lightning bolt from Gandalf. *

* The company now counted three Orcs and three Half-Orcs battling against them in camp. Two more enemies could be heard running towards them through the trees. *

* Meanwhile, Holly, Peri, and Olo were just now coming back into camp, within sight of the above scene. *

* And somewhere in the darkness, Midnight stood alone, trembling mildly in confusion. His assailants had left after he'd tossed two of them into clumps of bushes. When he'd belonged to the Ringwraith, the black horse had often just grazed when his master dismounted to do battle or other fell deeds. But this grey-cloaked, bearded one with the tall pointed hat ... Midnight felt drawn to help him. Only, the war steed feared and wondered at the smoke and fire and exploding earth caused by the wizard. *

[ December 06, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Mithadan]

Nardol drew a second arrow from his quiver and, aiming deliberately, loosed it at the throat of the Orc assailing Estelarion. But then the melee drew too close.

The Elf dropped his bow and swept out his sword as an Orc closed with him. Leaping to the side, the Elf swung his blade at the creature. But even as he did so, Nardol whistled sharply and to the west, as if in answer, the sound of beating hooves could be heard.

Rustal again lifted lightly over the pit and came among the Orcs assailing the camp. Rearing, he struck out with his fore-hooves at a wounded Orc...

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth glared in horror at the Half-Orc who grinned wildly back at her. Although a small pool of blood dripped down from his wound onto the ground, he appeared as vigorous and hearty as before. She carefully calculated where he stood and cocked an arrow, then drew back and let it fly, hoping it would hit its target.

She scrambled back towards the lean-to where Bird and Volondil lay. It was partially disguised by the pine boughs that Hinura had brought just a few moments before. She wondered whether she should get inside with them. For, unlike the others fighting near her, Andreth had no sword, and her dagger seemed like a pitiful thing when measured against those of the Orcs. Moreover, she had no wish to engage in hand-to-hand combat with a Half-Orc who stood a full head taller and a great deal stronger than herself.

She decided that it would be foolish to stand there without securing a weapon that would be sturdy enough to provide a defense should her arrows fail. Andreth fell to her knees and groped for the hatchet that she'd used to hack the tree branches down for the lean-to and sledge such a short time ago. Her fingers tightened around its shaft. She grabbed it tightly in her right hand, devoutly wishing that she'd have no further need of it.

[ December 06, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

The two Hobbits had almost reached the perimeter of the encampment, when Holly heard the approach of running feet coming close behind them. She left Peri to draw the attention of those who came and motioned for Olo to step off the into the shrubbery on the side of the small track opposite her.

Peri trotted down the track toward the camp, as two half Orcs came running toward him, swords raised. Holly, crouched down by a large tree's roots, stood up as the first half orc passed and fired an arrow into its neck. It stumbled and the second creature came at her, only to be downed by Olo's cudgel to the rear of its head.

Holly drew her sword, and severed the neck of one half Orc while Olo crushed the skull of the other.

They ran down the path, catching up to Peri, then advanced within the perimeter of the camp itself and took quick stock of the melee . . .

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Her dagger did nearly nothing. Before Aislan jumped out of Nardol's way, she pulled her dagger from the orc's left arm. She backed away, helping Estelarion up, who seemingly had regained his breath.

In the distance she heard a slight cry of fear from a steed. She thought it would be Midnight, and she went in search of the stallion, if only to comfort it out of it's fear. Aislan wandered almost aimlessly, until she heard another whinny to her right. She followed the sound until she found the great jet-black horse.

Aislan calmly, soundly and slowly placed a hand on the horse's forehead, so as not to get him defensive. He was trembling a little, in awe, confusion, and fear. Midnight let Aislan touch him, and let her comfort him.

"It's all fine now, everyone will be alright. You did well, Midnight. I'm not sure if it is good you kept your assailants away, because now they have reeked havoc on our camp. I'm sure we will get by though." Aislan felt the horse stop shivering, but he grunted and breathed heavily.

She waited a while for him to swallow his fear. She was amazed the war-horse was even frightened, or even allowing a stranger near. Aislan was also waiting for the fight to die down, to maybe save Midnight a little trouble. She also feared for the company, though.

She slowly led the steed through the bushes and trees, wondering what sort of damage she would find done to the camp.

[ December 06, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Nardol's arrow sang through the air and bit into the neck of the Orc who'd attacked Estelarion, but not deeply enough to slow him down completely ... just yet. The Orc, seeing at the last moment yet another danger, hurled a stone at Gandalf. Gandalf had just been about to send fire upon that very Orc, until the stone hit his right hand holding his staff upraised. The wizard cried out, fumbled the staff and bent to retrieve it with his left hand. *

* Meanwhile, Nardol's sword missed the Orc closing in to fight at close quarters with a scimitar. The scimitar likewise swung wide, missing its mark. Nearby, Nardol's valiant steed Rustal dealt a death-blow to the Half-Orc who'd been staggering around with Nardol's earlier arrow in his chest. *

* Andreth's second arrow flew as if charmed into her opponent's stomach. Suddenly, the Half-Orc stopped his grinning and leering. Trying to run, he pitched forward and fell, then tried crawling away. *

* Aislan sighed. Midnight decided that once he was close enough to see the fire that meant camp was near, he preferred to stubbornly nibble choice blades of grass while battle raged around him. At least Aislan could see that the horse had recovered from his earlier fear. But now the horse only flicked his ears at her if she tried to coax him to move. *

* Four Orcs remained standing, though one was badly wounded. *

[ December 07, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Holly and Olo skirted the perimeter of the camp at a run, followed by Peri. They were making for the shelter where Volondil lay. They came at it from the rear, and as they broke through the underbrush behind it, they were met by the steely-eyed young woman, Andreth, axe raised in readiness to defend herself and Volondil.

Holly stepped back from her, keeping her eyes on Andreth’s face. ‘It’s Holly, Ms. Andreth.’ she said slowly and calmly to the battle tense creature before her. Her cloak parted as she raised her hands in a non-threatening gesture, and her vest became visible. She could see the recognition come back into the woman’s eyes, and the arm which held the axe, dropped slowly to her side. ‘Holly . . .?’ she said, sighing in relief at a familiar face.

At that moment, from beneath the layer of pine boughs, came a rustling and then a voice as Bird sat up and fixed the returned Hobbit with her beady eye. ‘Where in Blue Blazes have you been, you fool of a Stoor! Running off with some sweet faced Hobbit just when old Bird needs you!’

An arrow whizzed by the Hobbit’s head, and stuck itself harmlessly in the back of the lean-to. ‘Stay down!’ she yelled at Bird. And dropping to a crouched position as she turned, nocked an arrow, and let it fly.

Holly gasped, wishing she could will the arrow back to her bow. She had mistaken the peevish Elf for a half-Orc, and shot him in the right leg . . .

[ December 07, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aislan looked at the stationary horse. He stood there, doing absolutely nothing but nibbling and eating the leaves and other foliage.

"We can't stay here forever, Midnight." Aislan tried to coax him one more time to move, but the only response she recieved was flicking ears and narrowing eyes.

"Alright, fine then! Watch out for arrows." Aislan was rather annoyed with the steed. Aislan knew the battle wasn't over as one or two arrows flew through the trees and brush that separated them from the camp.

She wondered if she could leave Midnight alone and not have to worry about him getting himself into trouble. She knew that she had to help the company. The horse could take care of himself.

Drawing her sword and dagger, Aislan carefully walked through the brush and treeline. She came into the camp and right in front of her was an Orc, though he was staggering and bleeding. She was behind the disgusting creature, and its back was to her.

Aislan took her chance and raised her dagger again, this time with her left hand. She had to make this one fall. She held the dagger steady and followed the swaying Orc. She brought the dagger down into his neck, avoiding the protective leather. Aislan withdrew the dagger and let the Orc fall, she was pretty sure he was dead.

Aislan took a look at how many of their assailants were left, and counted three still standing.

[ December 07, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel grasped her arm. She quickly retreated out of the action to inspect her arm. She whined in pain as she did so.

Estelarion noted her diappearance and her injury, but, upon seeing that she lived, went on fighting. She could be tended to later. Maybe she would also be in a better mood...

Menelduliniel sat next to Poppy, ripping some of her own cloak and wrapping her arm tightly to stop the bleeding...

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth's jaw dropped open in disbelief. How could Holly possibly mistake an Elf for an Orc, even a half-Orc? But then she remembered how, just a minute before, she'd looked into Holly's face, yet never really seen her. If Holly hadn't said something to bring her to her senses, she might have raised her hatchet and brought it down on the hobbit's head. Thank goodness that hadn't happened.

Strangely enough, no one stepped forward to help Nardol. Holly and Bird seemed frozen into place. Perhaps they feared his wrath, since he was indeed cursing loudly, and glaring in the direction of the lean-to.

Keeping a wary eye on the remaining three Orcs, she quickly ran over to Nardol, and asked if he needed help. The Elf was sitting on a log and trying to dislodge the offending missile that, thankfully, did not seem to be too deeply embedded. He looked at her with a stern face and quickly asked, "Daughter of Man, did you shoot this arrow?"

"Not I," stammered the girl, "but never mind about that. Come here with me so we can get that tended."

Andreth attempted to drag the Elf over to the shelter of the lean-to so that Holly or Bird could help him, since they seemed to know more about healing skills than she did.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Three Orcs standing, and a Half-Orc crawling away. Only one Orc was thus far unscathed. So, they decided to make a run for it. "He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day." *

* The Orc with the scimitar smiled as the Elf in front of him was hit in the leg by an arrow and retreated to a rock to try and pull it out. Morhâk the Looter ran up beside his two standing companions, who were also scurrying back towards the cover of the woods. * Look! * Shagdug Darkspear cried, * A woman's run out to help the Elf. Maybe they're not so tough after all. And she'd do for our purposes. They wanted another one, they said at the Castle.

* Gandalf eyed the dark antlike cluster of Orcs. In an instant he sent a small fireball into their midst. Amid yelps and yammerings, the three singed and burnt Orcs broke into a run again. The wizard shouted after them. * Now begone with you for good, or you'll get more of the same!

* Finally, they were gone. The battle had ended. *

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth released her hold on the injured Elf, and ran up to Gandalf. Her heart was beating wildly.

"Gandalf, thank you for scattering those evil creatures with a fireball. But I clearly heard what one of them said. He cried so loudly, I couldn't miss it. And his words terrified me:

'Look! A woman's run out to help the Elf. Maybe they're not so tough after all. And she'd do for our purposes. They wanted another one, they said at the Castle.'"


"That ugly creature, the tall one the others called Shagdug, said he wanted to seize me and take me to the Castle. What would they possibly want with me? And why are people being dragged to the Castle? None of this makes any sense."

Andreth sighed. It was just her luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time! She hoped these Orcs wouldn't come back looking for her to take her prisoner.

"And, there's something else. I wanted to discuss this with you before the attack. But then, everything happened and I couldn't."

"I'm sorry I yelled at Bird. She certainly isn't a brigand. She could have run away, but she didn't. She spent the whole time trying to protect the Ranger. My brother is training to be a Ranger. Anyone who would put themselves on the line like that could not be evil."

"But I still don't understand who or what she is. I clearly saw her change from an Ent to a woman. Who can do such a thing? I don't think she's bad, but I've never seen anything like it."

Andreth sighed and shook her head. She had certainly had an eyeful today: Orcs, an angry Elf, and a woman who was more than a woman!

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Holly had burrowed beneath the pine boughs with Bird, dragging her friend with her beneath the protective tangle of green needles. The Hobbit was on the verge of an ill-timed giggling fit, when Bird punched her in the arm, telling her to be quiet. 'Could anything more go wrong today?' she hissed at Holly.

The Hobbit's face sobered and she ran her hand through her now pitchy curls. 'What are we going to do about that Elf?' she asked Bird. 'We?!' said Bird. 'I distinctly remember it was you with the bow in your hands!'

Holly's face fell, and Bird went on more gently. 'We'll figure something out.' Her eyes sparkled in the leafy green light that filtered through the boughs. 'Though I must say it does seem fitting he should be mistaken for such an ill-tempered creature.'

A muffled voice broke through their reverie. 'Did you say something Bird?' asked Holly. Her friend shook her head in an emphatic 'no'.

'I said - Perhaps you could just apologise to him and offer your services as a healer.' Volondil, his face drawn and pale, had raised himself weakly on one elbow, and now regarded the two women to his right side . . .

[Mithadan]

Nardol had just spun to face the elusive Orc that had evaded his swipe when an arrow pierced his leg from behind and to the side. Maintaining his footing, he hopped to one side, cursing as he went, and sank down next to a rock. When the Orc made no immediate move to follow, he glanced back to see the woman standing next to a rough shelter and no foes in sight from the direction the arrow had come. More treachery?

He sat on a log and pulled at the dart in an attempt to dislodge it. Even as he did so, the woman ran forward to crouch next to him and lend him aid. He grimaced in pain and looked darkly at the Ranger. "Daughter of Man, did you shoot this arrow?"

She stammered out a denial even as the Wizard raised his staff. A fiery bolt shot out to land in the midst of the three remaining Orcs who ran off screaming. "So there is some good to being a Wizard..." muttered Nardol.

[Birdland]

"Volondil! You're awake!...errr, I mean, look Holly, he's awake." finished Birdie lamely.

"So, it seems you did not desert your friends after all, but how did you come to be here? For that matter, how did I come to be here?" The Ranger pulled himself upright, struggling against the pain in his leg and head.

No, you mustn't move yet. Your leg might start bleeding again. There was a man-trap on the trail. You, the hobbit, and the Elf fell in."

Volondil looked rather flummoxed at this. It was a source of embarrassment to him to think that he would have stumbled into such a situation. Grabbing one of the lean-to pulls, which threatened to come down on all of them, he found his feet, and swaying, struggled out of the shelter. Birdie stood on one side of him, Holly the other, hoping he would not fall.

The ranger looked over to the Elf leaning against a rock, with the woman andreth checking his arrow-wound, "Nardol? Is that you? How did you come to be in such a situation?"

Nardol looked up with a look of disgust and said but one word: "Women!"

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Gandalf regarded Andreth and Nardol, answering them both at once. The woman noticed the hesitancy in Gandalf's right hand as he lit a pipe. She sensed that this hesitancy did not come from the stone that had recently hit that hand, but rather from his reluctance to address the topic she'd brought up. The Elf noticed the hint of grimness in Gandalf's smile. *

Yes Nardol, being a wizard has its advantages. Shagdug would never drag me away to offer me as a prisoner at the Castle. Not if he were steeped in wizard lore, for I'm able to withstand ... what I suspect we're facing. Yet the very nature of my strength carries with it weakness, for I am likely the one Maladil will dread seeing most of all. My message of freedom will fall bitterly on his ears, I fear. For you see, Andreth, it sometimes happens that those imprisoned seek comfort by imprisoning others. Thus, Maladil imprisons his kin and servants. And his kin and servants in turn imprison others.

As for Birdland, I'm certain she'll accept your apology, Andreth, and you'll come to understand her in time. She reminds me of a friend of mine from the Vales of Anduin, near the western eaves of Mirkwood.

* Gandalf brightened again on remembering Beorn. Pipe in his mouth, smoke curling upwards, he reached down into his pouch where he'd placed the letter for safekeeping. Finding it, he nodded satisfaction and strode towards a now-quiet wooded edge of camp. On his way there, he bowed a greeting of mingled surprised concern and well-wishes to Volondil on seeing the Ranger up and around. Gandalf spoke to Bethberry as he neared the campfire about the prospect of dinner, promising to come help her with the cooking in a few minutes. *

* At the forest's edge, unable to resist, a mischievous gleam sparked by Birdland's earlier words came into the wizard's eyes. In a calm, clear ringing tone he called out, "Oh Midnight --- tea is being served!" Meanwhile, he reached out strongly with his mind to the black steed with the word "COME." It was not a Word of Command, but rather a light-hearted enthusiastic request. Faster than wind through the grass Midnight darted into camp at a full gallop and stopping precisely at Gandalf's side, nudging against him, capered like an untrained puppy brought to heel. Faster than Gandalf could warn Nardol not to harm the war steed came Midnight, but also faster than Nardol could raise a weapon against the creature. *

* Gandalf then settled himself down on a log a little ways into the wood, his thick, grey cloak protecting against the rough, peeling bark. Cracking open the seal, Gandalf opened the letter and read it by the light of his staff. It had been openly understood that Gandalf should read the letter from Elrond, even though it was addressed not to him but instead to the Lady Galadriel. Midnight had tagged along and stood a little ways off, chomping away at a patch of greensward within the soft circle of light. *

[ December 09, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Holly blanched as she watched the Elf attempting to dislodge the arrowhead from his leg. She recognized the ebon shaft and the red index feather as the one she had gotten in her travels to Pelargir, from the Southron. ‘Why did I leave that one in my quiver?’ she moaned inwardly to herself, knowing that the sharp, slender point was triple barbed. She motioned for Olo, standing to one side of the shelter with Peri to come assist Bird with Volondil.

She rummaged through the large pack on Peri’s back and found her medicinal kit. From her belt she drew a slender knife and approached the Elf, still seated on the log. ‘I’m Holly, Sir.’ she said keeping one eye on his wary face and the other alert for signs that he might consider her a foe. Stopping well away from his seated reach, she knelt down and placing her kit within his view she opened it and drew out a bottle of stout grain alcohol and bathed the knife blade in its running stream as she poured.

‘Tear the cloth of your breeches away from the wound.’ she directed the Elf. When he hesitated, she told him that the arrowhead was of southern metal, with three pair of razor sharp barbs. It was designed for bow fishing for medium sized fish, and that the barbs were intended to allow the user to reel the fish in once they were set. ‘If you will allow me, I will remove it for you and dress the wound.’

She stepped nearer as he tore open his pant leg. She asked him to stabilize the arrow shaft as she pulled off his boot. Kneeling down beside him, she bent his knee, placing his foot flat on the ground so the muscle was relaxed, then bathed a large area round the circumference of his leg. A quick flick of her knife just beyond the arrow’s embedded point and one smooth push on the shaft – the barbed tip emerged from the skin at the back of his upper calf. She cut the bindings which held it to the shaft and pulled both of them free. More alcohol to bathe the site, an unguent of aloe and comfrey, then a neat dressing of moss secured with cloth strips, deftly tied.

‘It will be sore for a few days, but usable. You can drink some willow-bark tea to help with the pain. Just watch for any festering. I have poultices for that should you require one.’

She stepped back from him, and gathered up her kit quickly, retreating to the side of the ranger, Volondil, to check on his wounds.

[Bêthberry]

Chuckling quietly to herself at the romantic enthusiasm of the young Bree lass Andreth, Bethberry held out her gloved hand for Wyrd, who came at one whistle. Then, petting his feathered head, she asked him to follow the orcs someway to ensure their departure. The falcon flew off, probably thinking that a few well-aimed dives around the creatures' heads would provide some diversion for him and a final warning about who not to mess with.

Bethberry then rose from the campfire, a tin cup with tea in her hand and strode to the injured elf.

"Nardol, I believe your name is, will you take some tea? By name I am Bethberry, of the Old Forest."

She looked steadily into his eyes and wondered if he could see in hers that her years were as long, nay, longer than his. A suspicious elf, adding injury to anger, would not provide the most opportune company to the group, yet, still, if Elrond had sent him there must be some worth to him. Bethberry wished she thought more highly of elves so she could call upon her friendly reserves of respect to win him over, but she remembered too strongly the petty tyrannies, bitter betrayals and vain jealousies of early years. This one was not like Haidan, or Arcon, Vanyar elves. Reaching him might take some time.

[ December 10, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Mithadan]

Nardol peered suspiciously at Bethberry, but nodded. "Tea would be wonderful," he said without a thank you. He straightened himself on the log and carefully extended his wounded leg. Then he lifted the haft of the arrow that had pierced him and inspected it. With a scowl, he threw it down and turned to glare at the half-man that had tended to his wound.

"This is not an orc arrow," he said accusingly. Without waiting for a response, he looked back at Gandalf. Shaking his head, he began, "It is said by some that trouble follows you like a dog follows its master. But Castle Maladil? What business have you there? Is that not the ruin of the home of Maladil who misguidedly chose one of the Atani as a wife?"

Nardol shook his head again. "No matter. My path leads elsewhere. I will return to Imladris after I have rested. But Mithrandir, if you must journey towards danger, wouldn't you be best served if you chose companions with sufficient wit to tell a foe from a friend?"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

After the battle Aislan sat down on a rock near the edge of the camp, quietly. She laughed to herself as Midnight came like a flash at the mention of tea. Holly helped Nardol, and Aislan was not suprised at how wary she was. Volondil had woken, and Bethberry offered tea to the injured Nardol.

Nardol commented on this and that in his pain and frustration. What caught Aislan's attention, though, was a comment made about having company that could not tell friend from foe. Aislan assumed this to be directed towards Holly. Aislan scowled at the thought. She stood and walked closer to Nardol, keeping a safe distance, of course.

"If there's anything this company doesn't need, it's comments and remarks like that! Holly feels bad enough and she helped you with your injury. Just because people aren't perfect doesn't make them unfit to be in this company! We all work as a team and when one falters another is there to help. I understand you are in pain and may be a little embarassed but isn't it a little childish to frown upon another for a simple mistake?" Aislan was suprised to hear her own voice say such a thing. She may have been a little harsh, but Nardol had been, too.

Nardol was quiet for a moment, maybe thinking what to say. Aislan was half afraid he would not say anything, but jump up and do something. She worried for a moment, and waited for someone to say something...anything.

[ December 12, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[piosenniel]

The Hobbit heard the Elf’s words and her cheeks burned crimson from the sting of his rude remarks. Her back was to him as he spat them out and only Volondil saw how she bit back the sharp retort that threatened to spill from her mouth. His fingers encircled her small wrist and held it captive as her hand sought the knife at her belt. Her eyes flashed with anger, and then, as suddenly, the storm left them as she heard the words the Ranger spoke softly to her.

‘He’s not worth it, Holly. His kind never are.’

His fingers felt her arm relax, as she nodded to him. Gently she finished changing the dressing to his side. Once the poultice was well secured, she left him to the good care of Bird. Peri stood near waiting for her, one eye fixed on the Elf.

She gathered up her supplies and repacked them on the pony, wanting only to be away from the scene of this disastrous day. ‘Let’s leave the big folk to sort out their own problems.’ she murmured to Peri. ‘I want to go down to the glade we passed on our way out of camp, and see if I can capture that old tree before the sun goes down too far.’ Olo shouldered his pack and hefted his stout blackthorn stick and prepared to follow along. She frowned at him, but he only smiled and stood his ground.

‘As you wish.’ she said to him over her shoulder, as she turned and headed back down the small trail.

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

It was near evening when the two Hobbits and Peri returned to the main encampment. Holly was well satisfied with the sketches she had been able to make, and was in a cheerful mood. She sang softly to herself as she gathered twigs and wood for a small camp fire near the outskirts of the camp, far from any big folk.

The pony had been unpacked by Olo, who rubbed him down, fed and watered him. And now both of them huddled near the small fire, warming themselves against the chill evening breeze. It was a cold supper of brown bread, and cheese, and a few dried fruits that Holly had laid out for them, packed for them by the cook at the Inn. Washed down with several cups of hot sweet tea it tasted like a grand feast to the tired Hobbits.

Olo threw a thick blanket over the pony’s back, and laid out their bedrolls on either side of the fire. He lay there looking up at the darkening sky, watching the stars pop out, as he smoked his pipe. Rings of smoke drifted up from him now and again to encircle a star or two and then disappear. ‘I thought you had some business to get off to, Holly. Have you decided to stay and go to Tharbad after all?’

‘Might as well now.’ she said. ‘I can’t possibly make it north in time now. I’ve lost the commission.’ She sighed, wondering how she could make her slim purse grow fat enough to get her through for a while. Her hand wandered to her pocket, looking for her one of her pipes. It found none, but a piece of drawing paper folded over many times crinkled against her fingers as the searched the inner pocket of her vest. ‘What’s this?’ she thought to herself.

She pulled it out and spread it out on her blankets, carefully smoothing out the creases. It was a copy of the map she had put in Bird’s pack. One she had made, intending to color it in and highlight the so-called ‘places of interest’ on it with small renderings of treasure heaps and jewels and chests overflowing with gold and silver coins, and the occasional grinning skull . . .

[ December 10, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[tangerine]

Silence had never sat well with Hinura. Silence at an inn were she might play was the calm before a mightly squall struck, and it had seemed that the hobbit had required great self-control not to release that storm herself. Hinura stepped forward finally, felling awkward and small. In a small but firm voice she said, "Perhaps this is not the time to discuss this, battle-weary and as strangers. A meal and rest would do us all good, I reckon; and this matter might be viewed more clearly in the morning light." Pausing a moment, she said, "Such tension as this among allies helps us not, and I have a taste for music and merriment. There are many fine voices here, as I have already seen. Perhaps there is still time make for a merrier meeting still!"

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: tangerine ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Gandalf strode back into the campsite after reading the letter, his mind filled with hard-to-find runes, and the search for them. And the secret search for Gollum, which he'd left to Aragorn rather than bringing Aragorn along to Castle Maladil. And in stark contrast with the fair smooth-flowing Elvish penmanship that graced most of the document, the friendly scrawl just below Elrond's signature proclaiming, "Bilbo Baggins says Hallo from Rivendell!" *

* Thus it was that at first a bemused glint appeared in the wizard's eyes when Nardol addressed him. But as the Elf continued speaking, Gandalf's expression deepened into mild inscrutability. *

Trouble follows me, you say, Nardol? 'Tis as true as you like. For I came together with everyone here but you … and now you've come from behind, and indeed appear to have overtaken me.

My business at Castle Maladil … will be made known to those who continue travelling down the Greenway to Tharbad with me on the morrow. As for my choice of companions, never underestimate the power of being underestimated.

* Gandalf watched Holly's retreating back, hoping that she had heard. He caught Aislan's eye and directed towards her a look of gentle approval, and then nodded towards Hinura. *

Well spoken, Bard! My rough voice will leave the singing to your finer ones, as we share supper and rest.

* Later that evening, Gandalf approached Holly, who had just enough time to stash her map back inside of her vest before it could be discovered. Under the circumstances, the wizard's questions and requests were uncanny … Mentioning Holly's sketching, he asked her for a scrap of parchment. Writing out the word "Laurëondo" in large Tengwar letters, he handed the scrap back to Holly for safekeeping, with Olo looking on from a-near. Other members of the company also might well have seen or heard this exchange between Gandalf and Holly, for Gandalf paid no heed to who might be watching or listening. When pressed further, he said no more than a pleasant enough, "Goodnight, time enough for questions tomorrow," and with that, retired to sleep under the breezy light night-cloak of stars and fireflies. *

[ December 12, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Estelarion finished bandaging Menelduliniel's arm. They were standing a little bit away from the group.

"Is it all right?" she asked, looking at the bandage, then at Estelarion.

"It was not a bad cut," Estelarion smiled at her, "You will live."

He ruffled her hair and she shied away. It was really hardly a scratch, but Estelarion was feeling merry. He was always strangely merry after a fight. It almost annoyed Menelduliniel that he could be so jovial after battle.

He smiled again, "You will live. Do not worry."

In truth, the wound was not at all as grave as it could have been. The arrow did not pierce too deeply and did not even hit the bone, thankfully.

Estelarion stood and pulled Menelduliniel up by her uninjured arm and they made their way back to the group.

"It is my strongest arm," Menelduliniel said, making a sour face.

"It will heal," Estelarion assured.

"But I will need it," Menelduliniel said.

"You will be fine," Estelarion assured her again.

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[piosenniel]

The small fire had burned down to bare embers, and Holly felt herself being pulled down into light sleep. She shifted her head on her pillow, and was just dreaming of how nice it would be to wade in the stream back at the Inn at Sarn Ford, when Olo's voice came low across the firepit.

'Holly?' he whispered, then raising his voice a little, 'Holly, are you awake over there?'

Peri stamped his hoof, and shook his mane, annoyed at the break in the pleasant night sounds. 'It's alright, Peri.' came the soothing voice of Holly, cut off abruptly by a wide yawn. 'Yes, Olo I'm awake - now. What is it you wanted?'

'That word,' he said quietly,'the one that Gandalf wrote on that piece of paper he gave you. What did it say? It's Elvish, isn't it?'

Holly rubbed her eyes, and looked at Olo, lying on his side, head propped up on one arm, looking bright eyed back at her. She laughed. 'Is that what's keeping you up and tossing and turning beneath your blankets?' She picked up a piece of kindling and drew the tengwar in the dirt near the firepit, as the last of the embers popped and hissed its way into the darkness.

'It was Laurëondo, that he wrote, Olo.' She laid her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes.

'Laurëondo.' said Olo, rolling the word about in his mind and mouth. He whispered once more across the now darkened pit. 'What's that mean Holly?' She sighed and turned on her side, 'Goldstone, I think, Olo. Now go to sleep.' She lay back on her belly, her head cradled on her right arm, her eyes closed once again.

Night sounds blanketed the trio, drawing them toward their dreams. Once more, though, came the soft voice of Olo. 'Holly - what do you think Gandalf mea . . .' He was cut off by an irritated snort from the pony, and the sound of gentle, rhythmic breathing from across the burnt out fire.

'Well, now, I suppose I'll just have to wait til tomorrow like Gandalf said.' Olo got up to see that Holly was covered up against the night's chill, then returned to his own bedroll and snuggled down into its warmth. He closed his eyes and fell quickly into pleasant dreams.

[ December 12, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

The embers of the fire were just dying down. Andreth lay in her bed tossing about, kickng and squirming, unable to rest with all the confusing events of the day. She peered around in the darkness. It looked as if everyone was sleeping.

She crept silently out of her bedding and went over to her pack. Her fingers reached inside until she came to what she was seeking. Slowly, she drew the book out and placed it on her lap. It had been passed down in her family from grandparent to parent to child, for so many years that Andreth could not count them all.

Some pages were new and shiny, as if the book had just been written, but many others had faded away or torn so that the letters could scarcely be deciphered. What if an Orc does come and get me? she thought. It is important this this should go with me, wherever I go. She would need to keep it with her, day and night.

Andreth took a spare dress from her pack and stripped out the inside layer from the skirt. She decided to bind it around her waist, tucking the small volume under her wide belt so that no one else could see.

Perhaps I'm being silly to pay so much attention to something I can't even read. But somehow I feel this may be important. I expect Gandalf would be able to decipher these words and pictures, or that Elf with the sour face.

Andreth squirmed at the thought of Nardol. He carried burdens in his soul. That much was clear to her. But it was also evident that he made sure to dump these burdens onto the heads of everyone who surrounded him. His remark to Holly was inexcusable. Not an easy person to be around.

And what would he do if he saw this book, and realized who she was. Andreth's heart sank. He would probably not approve of her or her family. How ironic! She'd spent her whole life fighting off the disapproval of her neighbors in Bree, who assumed her folks were crazy. She'd thought that problem sprang only from the minds of Men who were too narrow to understand anything bigger than themselves. Now she was beginning to wonder if she'd been wrong. Perhaps, it wasn't only Men who were unable to see anything beyond the end of their own noses. Perhaps some Elves had that problem too.

She tucked the book underneath her belt and lay down to sleep. Andreth gave one final furtive glance around the campfire, and thought she saw one pair of eyes glinting out towards her. She couldn't be certain. She'd best be more careful next time.

[ December 12, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Birdland]

"Now what was that Andreth hovering over?" thought Bird as she laid by the fire feigning sleep. Apparently Holly was not the only one carrying secret or precious objects on this journey. Bird just hoped sincerely that whatever it was that the woman was hiding, it was not something that was being sought by anyone else.

The whole day had been an unmitigated disaster. And now here they were with three people injured, and the rest of the caravan, both people and animals, exhausted from stress and battle. Gandalf seemed to be on guard, sitting by the fire smoking his pipe and staring out into the darkness, but the rest of the party were all asleep.

Were they to go on? With two warriors injured, it seemed unlikely, unless they chose to ride while others walked. And what could be keeping the Orcs from attacking again was beyond Birdie. She looked over at the sleeping forms of Holly, Olo and Volondil and sighed. This is what came of attaching yourself to others. You were very likely to share their fate, and the old saying "safety in numbers" did not seem to be applying here.

Bird tossed and turned for a few minutes more on the hard ground, then gave it up. Standing up, she morphed into her crow form and flew into a near-by tree top. The dark, shadowy form of Bethberry's Wyrd could be seen in the next tree, and he shook his feathers and gave Birdie a glare, warning her not to even think about sharing his branch, before settling back into sleep.

Bird flexed her feet a few times, ruffled her own feathers, and with a sigh of relief, drifted off to sleep herself.

[Mithadan]

Nardol bit off a retort to Aislan's defense of the Halfling as Gandalf began to speak. He listened with a scowl but restrained himself from replying to the rubbish which the old fool had spouted. 'Never underestimate the power of being underestimated.' If this were true Mithrandir was ready to do battle with an army of Trolls. He looked about at the motley assortment of Men, Hobbits and Elves which the wizard had gathered and snorted.

His leg had begun to throb. Trying to avoid thinking about the ignominious cause of his wound, he reached into his pack and withdrew a silver flask. Opening it, he took a long draught of miruvor then settled back in the hope of finding sleep. On the morrow he would test his leg and if he were able, he would abandon Gandalf and his ragtag group and return to Imladris...

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu sat by the fire quietly, and listened in on some of the conversations. When most had left, she too got up, and went over to where Mornen stood.

She gave him a pat, and then sat down against a tree and ate a small dinner, giving Mornen an apple as well. Alearindu wasn't too keen upon sleeping without a worry with that attack earlier that day.

So, instead, she leaned against the tree, and pulled out a small book from her pack. Alearindu wrote for a while, poems, and the days happenings, and then closed it and put it back into the pack.

Mornen, even though it was uncommon for horses to sleep laying down, laid down at Alearindu's side and placed his head in her lap. Alearindu stroked his muzzle and rubbed his ears gently, then got comfortable sitting, and watched over the group, resting, but not sleeping.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aislan wasn't sure who actually slept or who rested. Whoever slept though, it would be an uneasy one, after the suprise battle earlier. Aislan sat, comfortably laying under her blankets, not sleeping. She stayed awake either for fear of being caught off guard or...just being afraid of the shadows lingering as the night wore on.

Still fresh in her mind were the sounds of harps and fiddles from home at the Trade Inn. Singing, dancing, laughing, gossip. Aislan had especially loved the tales from far off lands, as she had rarely ever travelled anywhere. Stories of the White City, tales and adventures from the area of Mirkwood, Dale, and the Lonely Mountain had filled the air about the Trade Inn, even if some failed to see it at first. Aislan had also managed in that time to see and ride many different kinds of horses. They came from everywhere, and the subtle differences could be easily seen through Aislan's eyes. Aislan's love of horses brought her closer to following her father's footsteps, only she had more love for adventure than he.

Aislan listened now to the grunts and sounds of the horses, and both the slight breaths and heavy snores of the company. Every now and then her eyelids threatened not to open again as she blinked, until she slowly drifted off into a light rest.

[ December 12, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Birdland]

neek-breek...neek-breek...neek-breek...

[Gandalf_theGrey]

FLASHBACK

A half-moon shone the night of that fateful Friday the 13th, in the year 2799, late in the Second Age. The candles had all gone out, the fireplace embers dwindled to blackness. Lord Maladil woke with a start, his arms pinched in an inescapable grasp of long-nailed Orcs. Dagger points grazed his sides.

An Orc Chieftain hissed at his ear. "Don't move, Maladil, or we'll kill them slowly instead of quickly. Orc Bane you have been, but no more."

One by one the screams of each member of the House of Maladil came echoing. It started farthest away, the men-at-arms caught uselessly unawares on the third floor. Then down to the second floor, all down the hall closer and closer to his own Master Bedroom. Lesser servants, then those servants he was fond of: Anna, the Butler, Celumëomaryu. The children: his daughter Calimiel, his son Kenelm. As each voice fell silent, Maladil trembled at the loss, or winced, or cried out. But an Orc kept count with a dagger, until twelve bleeding notches brought Maladil to the edge of his own doom.

One by one the new ghosts of each member of the House of Maladil filed into the Master Bedroom. They gazed at the Head of Household who kept them there, for the mad oath Maladil swore a week ago now culminated in the fulfillment of its terrible curse. Maladil had defied the Valar, screaming that his fëa would refuse to depart Middle Earth, but remain inside the castle through all eternity, though his body die. Maladil further swore that neither would the Valar take his children or servants the way his wife had been taken, and that Kenelm, Calimiel, and all his servants would share his fate.

Before the death-blow pierced Maladil through, the rays of the half-moon chanced to fall upon the life-sized white marble statue of a woman against a background of mahogany paneling. The Orc Chieftain laughed. "We missed one." The statue was duly picked up by four of the foul marauders and smashed against the fireplace mantel until it broke in half. Maladil, held in place, writhed screaming.

A fragment of statue fell onto the slate tile floor where a sword stood leaning against the fireplace. The Orc Chieftain howled in triumph. He cringed on picking up the rune-laden weapon, but wielded the blade, though the pain of its madly-flickering blue light caused his breathing to go ragged. "As I said, Orc Bane no more. Too long have you slain Orcs, too many, and too freely. Yer death here is the last, so's we'll outlast you." The Orc spat, blade poised.

"Not the last! No Orc shall escape my castle alive this night!" Looking on the twelve ghosts of his household, Maladil bellowed, "To arms! To arms! Secure the doors!"

The sword plunged down through Maladil's heart. Maladil's ghost then rose to stand beside his enemy. Maladil wrested the sword hilt away. The blade crackled with light and noise, until the Orc Chieftain was no more.

Ghostly men-at-arms barred entranceways, shrieking revenge and hewing down frenzied Orcs. The Butler brandished a halberd. Calimiel waved about a long knife. Anna wielded an axe. Celumëomaryu ran to defend the library. Kenelm, who would not fight, winced as an Orc stumbled atop his harp, breaking several strings.

When the battle had done, no Orcs remained. Their defeat was total. But the castle residents fared little better. Thirteen ghosts began their walk through sighing centuries.

[ December 13, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

It was that curious hour before the sun crept over the easterm rim of the horizon. A quiet stillness that burst into song as all the birds took up the great harmony and called forth the light.

Holly had awakened some time before, when all was still dark and quiet. She'd fed the few embers of last night's fire with dry wood shavings, and blown gently at the heart of it. Small flames licked up round the twigs she offered, and rose up hungrily to devour the larger chunks of wood stacked over it. Soon there was a small, crackling fire burning, and she heated a pan of water for tea.

She sat hunched on a log near the fire, her cloak wrapped round her against the cold, sipping slowly at the warm brew. Gandalf, she saw, was up early, too. She could just make out his grey figure moving about in the pre-dawn chill. Her right hand strayed to the inner pocket of her vest. She patted her map and the piece of paper he had written on and given her last night, assuring herself they were still safely in her possession.

Her brow furrowed as she turned that puzzling scene over in her mind. He had drawn quite near her, and spoke clear enough that others might hear what he said. His face, turned from the others' view, was drawn, his brows knit, and his posture as he hunched toward her, conveyed a mixture of concern and trust.

Holly had gotten the feeling that he had not chosen off handedly to speak with her, but for the life of her, she could not fathom the wizard's purpose. Her one clear understanding, though, was that it was of a quite serious nature.

The birds were still singing as she walked quietly across the encampment to where he sat now, gazing toward the east. She crouched down by his seated figure and held out to him a mug of hot, fragrant tea. They watched in companionable silence as a pale dawn spread over the dark land.

Gandalf wrapped his cold fingers appreciatively around the warm mug, and took in the sweet scent of summer flowers heavy with the promise of honey. He was smiling, and at ease, as Holly asked her question, her low voice carrying softly to his ears.

'Laurëondo, Gandalf, what can you tell me of this word?'

[Gandalf_theGrey]

It is this very word "Laurëondo" which we seek, Holly. Castle Maladil is also called "Goldstone," for its exterior walls are built of golden granite, looking something like that yonder patch of sandy ground.

Master Elrond believes the deed to the Castle remains hidden within its walls, the location of this document known only to Lord Maladil. And since from the end of the Second Age until the present day, no heir has ever come forth to lay a claim on the accursed building, ownership has been left open to any living soul daring enough to brave entrance of the Castle, to ... survive once within, and to successfully find and bear away the deed.

It is my wish to retrieve the deed to Laurëondo on behalf of the Elves of the White Council, as a way of lifting the curse of Maladil Castle without the need of rending the building to pieces. For if the terms of the curse are that Maladil remain in the castle for all eternity, then the castle must cease to exist. To that end, Elrond suggests that the castle be transformed into a house of healing.

But woe to us all, should the deed to Goldstone fall into the wrong hands!

[ December 14, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Holly's brow furrowed at this last statement of the wizard, and she stared off into the distance, chewing the inside of her lip. Why would one mouldering, old castle be of such importance? And what would it matter should it fall into the "wrong" hands. 'Let the shadow deal with the accursed old Maladil.' she thought to herself.

Still, if Gandalf were concerned, as well as the Elves of the White Council (and she was not sure who or what this might be, though it sounded very important) - then perhaps she had better be concerned also. The troubles of the bigger folk always seemed to spill over onto the Hobbits in one way or the other.

She turned her face back to Gandalf, who sat considering her, as if her thoughts were plainly visible to him.

'So,' she said, her voice barely audible. He leaned in closer to hear her. 'How may I be of service to you?'

[*Varda*]

Poppy awoke from the deep sleep she had been in. Having been unable to do little more than lie on the ground during the battle, much to the young hobbit’s disgust, after the fighting, sleep had overtaken her and she had fallen asleep.

Now awake, she surveyed the scene in front of her. She noticed the irritable elf, and already decided she didn’t like him, since he appeared to show little respect for everyone, and Poppy had little love for people like that.

She had no idea what was currently going on, Menelduliniel and Estelarion were standing a little way away, the strange woman Bird had disappeared off somewhere, and Volondil appeared to have woken up, but was still in no state to move. Poppy supposed they wouldn’t be travelling far for a little, as she was still being told that she shouldn’t walk, and Volondil certainly shouldn’t

[tangerine]

Hinura awoke as the sky grew lighter in the east with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Today would be long and difficult, and having that irratable Elf among them improved no one's mood. As well, her sleep had been plagued with strange dreams that had faded from her memory upon opening her eyes, dreams that had left her feeling oddly drained and empty. She had had these before, and found it greatly frusterating when she could not precisely name the source of her spiritual fatigue.
Shaking her head, she sat up. Never mind, she thought. No use worrying over what is no longer. Reaching for her bag, she looked around at the rest of the company. She had slept a little ways off from most of the company, and those who were closer were already awake. She smiled wryly. After the day they had just had, few probably slept well, if at all. Taking out her harp, Hinura got up and moved further out of earshot so as not to disturb those who had been able to fall asleep. Sitting down agaist a great oak tree, she tuned the instrument as she had done every morning since her youth back in Midgewater, and began to play a slow, solemn tune.

[Mithadan]

Nardol slept fitfully that night, plagued by unpleasant dreams and discomfort. When he awoke, he found that his wound burned as if a fire had been ignited in his leg. His calf was swollen and stiff and the ache of it seemed to spread throughout his body.

Sleep threatened to capture him again and he resisted its clutches, hovering in that uncomfortable place at the edge of waking. The trees around him seemed to lean over and gloat at his unease and the fire that crackled nearby was not cheerful to him. Rather it awoke memories of braziers used to heat unspeakable tools to the colour of ripe strawberries by evil spirits in the pits of Angband. Nardol moaned and slid back into an uncomfortable sleep.

[Bêthberry]

Moonlight was failing and the horizon was still but a smear in the sky yet some birds were nattering. Bethberry rose and saw Gandalf and Holly deep in conversation. She had wondered what had taken the Wizard out of camp, but she was too familiar with his ways to question him. If he needed to consult with her, he would, she knew.

Stiff from the night's sleep, she rose and stretched her neck and arms and then sought out her bag of herbals. Poppy seemed alert, so Bethberry came to her side.

"Poppy, after an injury, long immobility can do harm. Do you think you can do some gentle stretching? When you are fully awake, try moving your limbs carefully and consider sitting up if you can. Call me back once you have done this and we shall see what more care you need. Your eyes look clear and bright and there is colour in your cheeks, all welcome signs!"

Bethberry then turned to the one more likely to be obstreperous, the more so since it appeared he had angered and alienated everyone else in the camp. Yet that wound was dangerous and needed to be watched, closely. She bid her time a bit, watched him as he turned and turned fitfully in uneasy rest and then decided to approach him.

"Nardol, much as I would respect your privacy, I must see your wound."

He did not respond to her quiet voice, but Bethberry was not one to allow rudeness or incivility to bring out the same qualities in her. She persisted.

She lay one hand lightly on his shoulder so as not to startle him, and then gently applied some pressure to her wakening call, before withdrawing her hand.

"Nardol, you have spent a fitful night. If you do not attend to that wound it will fester, and then we shall be forced to apply maggots to it, to rid it of the foul infection. And if that is the case, you will be denied your miruvor, for it would only kill the maggots. What is your wish? Some less invasive treatment now, or the banishment of your favourite elixir?"

The elf stirred slightly and then remained still, but he watched Bethberry without retort or reprimand.

"I can give you now some agrimony to wash the wound and a new poultice of bistort, bethroot and horsetail. And a dried cake for you to eat, sweetened with honey and made palatible with angelica, to mask the pain. If you do not trust me, I will tell you which herbs form the cake. Will you let me attend to you, or shall you care for your wound yourself?"

She sat back and allowed the elf his space, but her look and pose made very clear that he needed to attend to her words for her face was marked by a strange mixture of sternness and care, seriousness and respect. She wasn't pampering him, for there was a sobre insistence in her demeanour. And he could tell she was not one to be easily dismissed by hostility.

[ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[VanimaEdhel]

"Are you sure you are well?" Estelarion asked Menelduliniel. It was strange that she had not rested at all the whole night. She had stood near the very edge of camp, and had not spoken to him at all. He wished that he had left her side, and had gotten some rest himself, but he had not done so.

It is too late to do that now, he thought, fairly bitterly.

"Yes!" Menelduliniel snapped loudly at him. She was speaking, that was progress. Estelarion had not expected this kind of response, however. "Stop pestering me!" she continued.

"You were acting strange, though," Estelarion said, following Menelduliniel worriedly as she went over to begin to pack her supplies.

"There are still enemies out there!" Menelduliniel said in an exhasperated voice, "Do you not want us to guard?!"

"Yes," Estelarion, said, quietly, "But Gandalf was awa-"

"Do you think that I would have been able to sleep?" Menelduliniel asked, stopping her rummaging in her packs and throwing her hands up at Estelarion in disgust.

"What is wrong?" Estelarion asked.

"I told you nothing! Why do you never listen?" Menelduliniel turned back to Estelarion her eyes blazing. "Geridh dôl?" she snapped. She always broke back into Elvish when she was mad. She shook her head, "Do you have a brain?" she tried again.

"Look," Estelarion said, "I am not going to fight with you-"

Menelduliniel gave a snort, but Estelarion ignored it, "So I am going to go over and see if any need help."

He went over to Poppy.

"How are you feeling?" he asked the Hobbit, who was doing as she was told and was stretching a bit, still laying down, smiling down at her, "Do you feel better?"

"A bit," she said from where she lay.


He sat down next to her to keep her company.

[ December 18, 2002: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[Mithadan]

Nardol looked up at Bethberry, then rearranged himself upon the log. He nodded and allowed her to tend to his wound, which now had an evil look about it. As she worked he looked intently at her face. At length he spoke. "You are not of the Atani nor of the Eldar," he said. It was not a question.

She looked at his scarred face briefly, then resumed her work without responding. After several minutes, she finished, and stood. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Thank you."

[Gandalf_theGrey]

Holly turned her face back to Gandalf, who sat considering her, as if her thoughts were plainly visible to him.

'So,' she said, her voice barely audible. He leaned in closer to hear her. 'How may I be of service to you?'


Elrond's letter brings a hope that bears risk, Holly. For none have dared set foot within the Castle itself since the curse was set in motion. Yet dared it must be, if we are to find the deed to Laurëondo. Andreth's report of Shagdug carrying prisoners to Castle Maladil grants a special urgency ... if we do not arrive too late, perhaps we can rescue them. As Hobbits, you and Olo and Poppy are more likely to slip past the Castle ghosts unnoticed. The oliphaunt's share of their fury, envy, and attacks focus on the Big Folk.

As for your chances of survival, well, at least you will not be the first target, unless you draw attention to yourself. As for your reward should you succeed, you shall share in what treasure survives, apart from the Castle itself. If ill fortune befall the treasure within the Castle, your generosity shall not be overlooked by Master Elrond and the Lady Galadriel, nor forgotten by me.

If you would be so kind, Holly, as to show and teach the other members of our company the Elvish letters for Laurëondo, especially the Hobbits, so that all can memorize and recognize the word at the top of the parchment that we seek.

* Gandalf stared off into the middle distance, lit a pipe, offered pipeweed to Holly, and mused aloud. * As for Birdland … best for her to take on a non-Human form in sight of the ghosts.

* The wizard then stood and bowed, with a fresh smile to thank Holly once more for their sharing of tea and company. *

* On his way back to camp, Gandalf came upon the Bard Hinura weaving stringed harmony with nature's morning song of lark, finch, and sparrow. Mingled too was the soft sighing of wind winging from grass to cloud to at last the glowing chariot of Anor. *

Hail, Hinura … you ready yourself well for battle, for music shall go before us to announce our presence. Yourself and Menelduliniel and Estelarion shall wield harp and flute as gentle weapons seeking peace, in accord with such songs as Bethberry and any else of fair voice provide.

* Coming within sight of the company, Gandalf nodded to Andreth and Bethberry, and to Aislan and Nardol standing nearby. Alearindu was nowhere to be seen ... thus was it said that she left the company to take her own path. Gandalf now spoke. *

We must take to the road, and within an hour or so, despite injuries. Delay here will only bring further attacks. Andreth, you've mentioned that Poppy may ride with you on Whinney, should her condition warrant? As for Volondil, he can be drawn by sledge as a last resort … though methinks Midnight indeed will bear Volondil. The black steed shall not harm the injured ranger, though mischief glint in the eyes of so mercurial a horse.

* When all were assembled over breakfast, Gandalf repeated once again the whole story about the meaning of Laurëondo and the quest, just as he'd spoken it to Holly, so that all would hear and understand. Nardol too was there to hear the tale. *

[ December 17, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[*Varda*]

Poppy mused while doing the gentle stretches that Bethberry recommended. Oh, how annoying it was to remain here on the ground, not allowed to move, when all her heart really desired was to be on the road, going to Castle Maladil. Flitting about from one place to the next was almost all she had known for the past few years, although granted, it was by her own choice. She felt restless, just lying here.

She noticed her pack lying only a little way away, and leaning over, she pulled it to her. Opening it carefully, she brought out her pipe and some Longbottom Leaf, not the best, but it would do. Filling her small wooden pipe, and lighting it carefully, she sat and smoked in peace.

She laughed quietly to herself. So far, she had done little on this journey. Falling down a hole on the first day, spending the rest of the time immobile… she hoped soon to have a more interesting role to play in the group. She knew that this particular hobbit was not suited to sitting around!

She paused her pastime of blowing soft grey smoke rings up into the air, watching them float away into the clouds, when Gandalf spoke. Upon hearing that they would be leaving soon (at which her heart rose) and that she may have a bigger part to play on arrival, her spirits became less despondent. She was particularly intrigued on hearing that she was to learn the elvish letters for Laureondo and awaited this with anticipation.

[ December 17, 2002: Message edited by: *Varda* ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth walked over to Poppy who was lying on the ground, blowing smoke rings in the air.

"Poppy, Gandalf says we leave in an hour. My horse Whinney will be glad to carry you. He's very sure and steady, so it shouldn't be too hard on your leg. I'll drape these sadlebags over his back, and you can even lean against them. You might want to try riding on your own, and see if that's comfortable. If you find it's too unsteady, I'll be glad to hop aboard, and we can ride double on his back."

"I'll give you a boost up when it's time to leave. Now, let me get my things together, and have a bite to eat."

Andreth ran over to the campfire and brought two plates back, one for herself and one for Poppy.

[ December 17, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Susan Delgado]

Anna stood before the cells, considering the people inside them. She hadn't seen living people in...Well, not since the night she'd died. And why should she have? The Castle was well guarded, and didn't have much of material value anyway; there was no gold or jewels here, not that she knew of anyway, though who knew what Maladil might have hidden here?
She gave an airy sigh and peered in through the bars. She wondered how long they'd been here. She'd have thought Calimiel would've told her...well, maybe she didn't know either. Who knew?

She looked closer at the prisoners and frowned. Something seemed to be wrong with them. Three of them were lying huddled against the back wall, not moving. The fourth was sitting in the middle of the cell, hands grasping knees, rocking back and forth and moaning. The fifth was upright next the bars, hanging on them as if for support, as if he couldn't stand on his own.
He was staring at her, wide eyed. She supposed he'd never seen a ghost before.
What did he want? He opened and closed his mouth a few times but no sound came out. Maybe she should speak to him...but how? It had been a very long time since she'd done it. She closed her eyes, concentrating.

The prisoner in the cell watched in amazement as the misty figure before him lost the vaguely human shape it had and coalesced into a faintly glowing white sphere. After a moment it reformed its human shape and whispered, "hellooo"

He took a step back and nearly fell. He was weaker than he thought...how long had they been locked in here? The light was always the same, so it was nearly impossible to judge the passage of time. He grabbed onto the bars again. "HELLO!"

Anna recoiled. Why did he shout? "whaaaat's wrooong?" She should concentrate more. She repeated herself, less airily.

He peered out at her. "Hungry," he whispered.

Hungry? What was "hungry"? It had been so long. She frowned, concentrating, then faded out to the garden. Calimiel would know what he meant.

The prisoner stared at the empty space Anna had been in a moment before. What astonishment! He sank back onto the floor, exhausted. Either the ghost would return or it wouldn't, but he was too weak to bother about it anymore right now. He slept.

Anna materialised in the Rose Garden, but didn't see anyone there. She floated around the castle, but Calimiel was nowhere outside. Nor could Anna find her inside when she searched there. She did find Celumëomaryu in the Library, but she was pacing and Anna knew from experience that Calumëomaryu was not to be disturbed during her pacing.

She went back downstairs and went to the kitchen, the right-hand kitchen. She shunned the left one, the one where it had started for her, where she'd first heard the invaders. As far as she knew, the axe she'd picked up to defend her home and lost when she died was still lying in the dust on the floor, next to her own bones and covered in old blood. She shuddered at the memory.

She found the Butler in the Laundry. What was he doing there? Hello.

He turned around. Where have you been? Look at this place! Look at the dust! He continued in this vein for some time, and she waited patiently for him to stop talking. All of his rants were the same and she hadn't actually listened to one in at least a thousand years. When he stopped, she said what she had to say. I want to know about the prisoners.

He blinked. Whatever he'd expected, it certainly wasn't that. What about them?

I want to know what they're here for, and I don't like the way they're being treated. One of then said "Hungry". I think that means he wants food.

The Butler frowned. Food? He'd provided water, because he remembered that living beings needed it, but he'd forgotten that they needed food. He gave Anna an appraising look. If you don't know what they're here for, you should ask Calimiel, or Celumeomaryu. As for feeding and caring for them, why don't you do it? You certainly don't do anything else productive around here.

She frowned. That last had obviously not been intended to color his thought, but it had just the same. I'll feed them, She said shortly, and vanished.

Where would she get food? There was no vegetable garden. She could gather some leaves from the trees, but they probably wouldn't eat that. Maybe if she found something living, like a rabbit...She floated around searching, and found one, almost out of her range. It was still in reach, and how was she supposed to kill it? The prisoners wouldn't eat it alive. She pondered for a moment, then reached through its chest. She could feel its heart beating against her substance and wished its spirit well before she clenched her hands and stopped its heart.

She picked it up and took it back the library, where Celumëomaryu, for reasons of her own, always maintained a fire. She held the body over the flames until the hair had burned off and the skin was blackened. It might not be very palatable, but at least it was edible.
Watching the two wakeful prisoners attack it, though, made her realise that one just wouldn't be enough. With a sigh of resigned irritation, she went back outside. Well, it wasn't like she had anything better to do anyway, and where there was one coney, there would be more.

[ December 18, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

After finishing breakfast, Andreth glanced over in the direction of Noldor who sat by himself at the edge of the campsite. That morning, when she'd arisen at the first hint of dawn, something unusual had caught her eye. She'd seen Bethberry kneeling down tending to the Elf's wound. Andreth could have sworn that Nardol had replied 'thank you' in return. She'd been surprised to hear even that hint of courtesy.

She fumbled through Whinney's saddebags and pulled out an embroidered canvas and several skeins of thread. The piece was festooned with many colors--gold and silver, sky blue and yellow, forest green and vermillion--heavily worked in a variety of stitches. The canvas attested to the girl's skill with the needle and her budding eye as an artist. Bird might see this as folly or silliness, but to Andreth it was a labor of love.

It shouldn't be long until the others finished their breakfast and they'd be ready to leave the campsite. As she often did in such spare moments, Andreth pulled out her stitchery and began to sew. She called out a shy good morning to the Elf, who had risen awkwardly to tend his mount. He seemed to be limping heavily.

"Does your leg feel any better?" Andreth asked. "My brother is training to be a healer, and he's often commented on Bethberry's skill. Perhaps, you'll choose to ride with us today to take advantage of Bethberry's knowledge and compassion?" Andreth put her nose down again to her handwork, wondering if she'd get an answer, and just how civil it would be.

[ December 18, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

By the time Holly had gotten back to her small campsite, Olo had put out the fire, scattered the ashes, stowed the bedrolls and cooking gear, and gotten Peri all packed up in an efficient manner. Her pack lay waiting for her, and he had left out a piece of waybread and some dried fruits for her to munch on as they proceeded down the road.

'Oh, what a treasure you are as a travelling companion!' she said with a laugh, and gave him a companionable hug. She turned away to give Peri a small piece of dried apple, and did not see the Hobbit blush.

'Come walk ahead with me.' she said, as she lead Peri to where Andreth was talking to Poppy about the use of her horse. 'I want to speak with both you and her about learning the Elvish letters and script for Laurëondo.' She fished her notebook out of her pack, along with her writing kit. 'Tell me what you know of Elvish writing, Olo. Are you familiar with any of the letters at all?'

Olo confessed that he had not much experience with writing of any kind, and though he thought the Elvish script was quite beautiful, it was completely unreadable to him. They crossed the camp, Holly studiously avoiding any contact with the Elf, and soon came to where Andreth and Poppy sat, eating.

Holly sat down by Poppy, greeting both of them, and inquired in particular how Poppy was feeling today. After a few moments of pleasant chat, she brought the conversation round to the topic of Elvish writing and asked the Hobbit the same questions she had asked Olo. Poppy finished her breakfast as she considered the questions and then made her reply . . .

[ December 18, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Mithadan]

Nardol had listened with disbelief to Gandalf's discourse concerning the Castle and his quest to wrest it from the control of Maladil's unresting spirit. 'Grey Wanderer' was a misnomer; this fool should have borne they name 'Grey Meddler'. He could discern no reason behind the quest.

If this Maladil had chosen to imprison his fea and those of his household in his Castle, so be it. What possible purpose could be served by seeking to lift the curse? And what profit could be derived from this venture? He could not understand why these people insisted upon following Gandalf blindly into danger. Might there be treasure hidden within the Castle's walls?

The Mannish girl (what was her name?), spoke to him, asking about his leg and his intentions. He looked at her as she sat, working on an embroidered cloth. He nearly laughed, pondering a brief vision of the woman attempting to hold a spectre at bay with a needle. "Bethberry has treated it with due skill," he answered. "Yet it aches badly. At least your comrade's aim was poor enough that it merely struck my leg rather than piercing my heart. But Men have ever lacked any mastery of matters of skill such as archery. As for where I will go, I think that shall be my own business."

Even as he spoke, he took note of her work, which was graceful and well-conceived. Then he dismissed this brief thought and hobbled on towards Rustal who greeted him with a nicker. "A fine job you did yesterday," he said to the stallion as he stoked its flanks. He fished a brush out of his pack and began tending to the horse. Even as he worked, he debated his course.

Bring this to him and, if your pride will allow it, perhaps you should accompany him for a time for it may be to your benefit. So had said Elrond who many considered to be wise. Benefit. Perhaps Elrond foresaw some profit to this venture. And if this quest were at Elrond's behest, perhaps assisting the Grey Fool in this venture and protecting the wizard from the pack of wolflings he had recruited might glean Nardol some greater respect in Elrond's house. Surely it would silence the sanctimonious Glorfindel.

[ December 18, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[ December 19, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aislan had awoken quietly that morning, and listened the same way when Gandalf told the tale of Maladil. Aislan thought it made the journey and adventure all the more exciting. But then again, Aislan thought almost anything outside the stables was interesting.

The elf Nardol's leg was getting better, but the wound took it's time. Aislan watched as Nardol hopped over to his horse. It was a beautiful stallion, though Aislan had seen many better in her time at the Inn's stables. Aislan stood from her spot near a tree, and walked over to the horse and master.

"'Tis a wonderful horse. What is it's name?" Aislan asked carefully patting him (the horse) on the shoulder.

"Rustal. He is wondeful, and loyal." Nardol answered quickly. He acted as though Aislan were a fly to be swatted, only instead using his voice instead of his hand.

"Alright then. I like Rustal. The name, at least. He seems a better horse than many, though." Aislan wasn't that easy to get rid of. She pet the stallion again on it's forehead, and smiled at Rustal.

[VanimaEdhel]

"What shall we sing?" Estelarion asked Menelduliniel as they packed.

Menelduliniel snorted from where she was.

"What?" Estelarion said defensively, thinking that she was still upset with him.

"No, no, my friend," she said, quickly correcting the error he made, "I am still not upset. That anger has passed."

She smiled.

"What do you suppose a harp could play?" Menelduliniel asked.

"Practically anything, probably. Although it is a hard instrument, it is also quite versatile."

"What do you say we try Nallal maybe? What do you say?"

"We shall see when we get out on the road. How does that go again?"

"Nain gelir, gladhin an annan
Dan le cenin erdû..." Menelduliniel sang quietly, "Do you remember?"

"A, yes, I remember now," Estelarion said, smiling, "That is probably my favorite song."

"I do not do Celonaudien justice," Menelduliniel sighed, somewhat enviously, "Her voice is perfect."

"You sing it well," Estelarion assured her.

"Well, we shall see what we will sing when we get out on the road," Menelduliniel smiled, finishing her packing, "Are you ready?"

"Just about," Estelarion said, finishing up.

"Let us wait for the others, then," Estelarion said.

They quickly grabbed food, as they had missed breakfast, and awaited their departure...

[ December 18, 2002: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[Mithadan]

Nardol glanced at the woman with annoyance as he continued to brush the horse. But she continued to stand there as if expecting some response to her prattle. After a long silence, he said quickly, "The name means 'flashfoot' in your quaint Westron tongue. And he is better than many."

He whispered a quiet word in Quenya and Rustal snorted, stamped, then reared up, pawing the air with his hooves. Returning to the ground, he pranced about causing the woman to step back, then swung his head about striking Aislan's shoulder. The woman tripped and stumbled backward in the dirt.

A faint smile appeared on Nardol's face. "He is ill-tempered at times as well," he added. Turning his back on the woman, he returned to brushing down his steed.

[ December 19, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[*Varda*]

Poppy flushed slightly as Holly asked her questions.

“I’m not the best of writers,” she confessed, slightly embarrassed. “There were always other things I preferred to do, when I was told to be inside learning my letters. But elvish letters have always interested me when I saw them, but I must admit I know little about it.”

Holly opened her notebook and prepared to teach Poppy and Olo about the elvish letters, the two other hobbits peering over with interest.

[piosenniel]

Holly opened her notebook and took up her pen. Before dipping it in the ink, she scratched her head with the end of it, thinking how best she might accomodate these two levels of knowledge.

'I don't think I'll go into a long explanation of the tengwar, the characters used to write in Elvish.' Let's think of this more as a code we need to be able to recognize should we come upon it.' She wrote on two diffrent lines, in large script, the word 'Laurëondo'.

'This first one,' she said, drawing the qull feather along under it, 'is in the kind of writing called Fëanorian script. The word is written out by how the different parts of it sound.' She ran the feather under the second word. 'This is written in what's called the Beleriand Mode.' She pointed to each symbol - see how each letter that makes up the word is represented? It looks longer than the other way I wrote it, doesn't it?' They both nodded their heads, 'yes'. 'But really, it's the very same word.'

'I think we'd better be on the look out for these words, too, just in case Maladil has gotten tricky somehow in his hiding of the deed.'

She wrote out the following words and letters: gold, stone, 'L', and 'O', using both scripts. She quickly recopied the page, giving one to each of the Hobbits. 'Why don't you just look these over for today, and we can review them tonight. Perhaps you should find a place on yourselves where you can keep them hidden and safe. Any questions or suggestions, let's go over them tonight when we camp.' She smiled at both of them. 'Any quick questions now, before we have to be on our way . . .?'

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aislan frowned and stood from the ground. She looked at the horse, who had obviously been told to do something by Nardol.

"Rustal isn't the only one who is ill-tempered." Aislan commented quietly, though she knew the elf could hear.

"Well then, I wish you a safe journey wherever you go after this, and go easy on your leg." Aislan pat Rustal one more time, carefully, and walked back to where her pack was.

Aislan smiled at her horse Eruntale, who stood near her pack. Eruntale was a timid horse, and fled whenever she smelled or sensed something strange going on. Eruntale always came back though, if Aislan called her.

Aislan wished they would start off soon. She didn't like waiting around for things. Aislan was not very patient, though she tried her hardest to be so when it came to horses. It seemed also to Aislan that most of the company was ready to go.

[ December 19, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu had quietly rode out on Mornen away from the group during the early morning. She had ventured ahead on the path to the castle to see if there were any more traps or the such. She was sure her Ranger eyes could catch something, and if not, her horse Mornen seemed to have a sense about danger.

Alearindu did run into a few set-ups, but made sure they were dismantled before continuing on. After she covered quite a long distance, she turned back towards the company. Alearindu estimated that their path should now be safe for at least a few hours.

Mornen galloped back to the company. Alearindu ignored the stares that some of the company gave her, having been gone for a bit, and walked Mornen over to Gandalf. She then dismounted and held Mornen's reins.

She spoke quietly, "I am sorry for not informing you,' Alearindu looked down at the ground. 'But, I rode ahead on Mornen and found a few obstacles on our path, which I got rid of. We should be safe for a few hours without having to worry." Alearindu nodded and awaited Gandalf's reaction.

[Birdland]

Birdie had slept late, and though uncomfortable dreams of battles and mad hobbits had flitted through her head, none were retained in the morning light. She was feeling rather chipper, (and hungry). She stretched her wings above her head, gave a mouth cracking yawn, and looked around the campsite to see if breakfast was still being served.

Holly was hovering over pen and paper, as always, but she had Olo and Poppy crouched beside her as well, as if they were attending to a lesson. Bird flew down and perched on Holly shoulder, but she was only drawing Elven letters over and over, and the others were copying her. As she leaned farther over for a better look, Holly gave her a perfunctory shove for breaking her concentration. So Bird moved on.

Bethberry and Andreth seemed to be cleaning up the breakfast things, which didn't look good. But Bird knew if she pleaded with the good woman, she would probably scrounge up a bannock or to to tide Birdie over until later. Since she didn't want to get wrangled into helping to clean up as well, she moved on.

Suddenly the plunging of a horse drew the skinchanger's attention, and her mood took a sour turn. There was Aislen ducking away from the great charger while its owner stood by with a satisfied smirk on his face. "What is he still doing here?" she muttered to herself in annoyance.

Bird flitted down to a near-by sapling as the Elf lord continued to groom his steed. Giving him a beady glare from a jackdaw eye, she said, "Sun's getting high, and you must have a long journey back to wherever you came from. Isn't it about time you packed up and got out of here?" The Elf whirled to face the bird in the tree with a glare, and Birdie gave him an equally withering glare in return.

"You are going, aren't you?"

[Gandalf_theGrey]

Empty-eyed Calimiel drifted into the dungeon with mincing steps, face upturned, arms held out protectively. Though it would do her no harm to misjudge distances, still she shielded herself from passing entirely through solid objects without warning.
She hummed an off-key tune. When a stray beam of light glanced off the flickering form, Anna and the prisoners could faintly discern her disheveled dark auburn hair and faded gown of blue velvet interwoven with pure gold thread. The gown, too large, trailed along behind her on the floor.

She wore a lace veil to cover her face, and did not know whether the veil matched the gown. For the Orcs, objecting to the brightness of her eyes, had blinded her and marred her beauty.

Anna, you're ... here. Well met. What are you doing? Calimiel smiled a greeting, being within range of sensing her friend's presence.

Anna came away from the rusty iron bars. The two prisoners fortunate enough to obtain a meal of not one but two burned rabbits had clung onto the meat-laden bones and retreated with them to the back wall to see if anyone in the back had strength enough to eat. Muffled sobbing ensued from the two strongest prisoners. Did you know we have guests? They need to be fed. I'm doing what I can. Two of them I've given rabbits for supper. Three of them have not moved in a long time.


Fed? Why of course! There's my herb garden ... and those old apple and pear trees that I've forgotten about for centuries. Calimiel passed through the iron bars to check on the prisoners. Though they whimpered and moaned, she did not leave them be until she had placed her hand on five different ones. Her touch only made them cry out the louder and draw back. Two along the back wall are dead. That leaves three, a man and two women. One is mine, of course. Celumëomaryu told me she wanted one … But there's not enough to go around, now, Anna. For what about you?


What are they for, Calimiel? Why are they here?


Whilst they live, they can tell us tidings of the outside world. But Anna ... I want to see again! Calimiel shrieked these last words with all her spirit, so that the prisoners heard a menacingly wailed, "I waaantt sseee agaaaain!"

Anna, about to wrinkle up her nose and go in search of pears and apples, hovered, intrigued despite herself. I am as deserving as Celumëomaryu. Why not ... a contest between us two? A singing contest? Something to pass the time. Somehow, the topic of conversation always came back to passing the time. Anna sighed.

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Bêthberry]

Splitting the air like a thrown dagger, Wyrd careened down out of the sky, his talons nearly slashing the hand that held the curry brush as he knocked the brush out of Nardol's hand. Surprised and shaken off balance, Nardol could recover only by placing his entire weight on his injured leg. He grimaced in pain as he swore at the bird and grabbed onto Rustal for support.

Nardol's concentration lost, Bethberry suddenly appeared on the other side of Rustal and began speaking quietly to the horse, but not touching him. Then she turned to Aislan.

"I am glad to see you suffered no hurt when you tumbled, Aislan. As you well know, given your great knowledge of the animals, a horse that is so careless of people around it is not reliable. Let us hope that our safety is not compromised by Rustal or we should be forced to let him go."

With that remark, Bethberry ducked down under Rustal's head, this time patting him, to appear on his other side where Nardol was, picking up the curry brush as she did so. She handed it back to Nardol, looking at him directly and holding his gaze. She spoke loudly, in a public voice.

"I came to see if you needed something for the pain in your leg or if you were intending to let the pain worry you and thereby feed your misery." Then, lowering her voice so only he could hear, she advised him, "Teaching an animal your fell mood is cruel abuse of the animal, Nardol. Don't go there." Speaking again more loudly, she said, "Willow bark and other herbs will work well. You are welcome to some should you wish."

[Birdland]

Bird laughed uproariously at the Elf, sucking his palm where the little falcon had nipped it with his claws. And the tongue-lashing given to him by good Bethberry tickled her no end. Elves in general tended to annoy the little skinchanger, and this Elf in particular had rubbed Birdie the wrong way ever since he had pulled a sword on her.

"Ha!" she jeered from her branch. "Seems that birds and arrows are better judges of character then most people 'round here, Bethberry." and Birdie began to sing and dance:

"O! What are you doing,
And when are you going?
Your horse is ill-tempered,
And you are no better!
O, tra-la-la-lally,
Down here in the Valley!"

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Birdland]

"I waaantt tooo sseee agaaaain!"

The shriek echoed through the halls of the castle, seeming to shake the very stones, and the mad lord in his chambers took up his own wails in answer.

"To arms! To arms! Secure the doors!"

The Butler clenched his fists and squeezed shut his eyes in a barely controlled fury. For centuries he had performed his silent duties whilst the family of Malandil had whirled and lamented around him. But now, when escape from his doom seemed so near, it was all he could do not to scream his own frustrations and accusations to the winds and stones himself.

Instead, he willed himself to the prison, materializing before Anna, Calimiel and the prisoners, who were now crouched againest the farthest wall, clutching their ears and moaning in fear.

"Anna! Can I not trust you to do the simplest errands. What have you done to upset our young Lady now?"

"I've done nothing!" hissed Anna, who seemed to be forgetting her place the longer she haunted. "I came to feed the prisoners as you ordered, but look!" She whirled and pointed a the dead husks laying against the wall, noting sadly that the feas of these poor wretches had not lingered within the walls of Maladil. "O' happy dead." she thought.

The Butler's eyes widened as he hovered above the prisoners, both living and dead. Only three left? How could this be? They had only arrived at the Castle yesterday. Hadn't they? Time had ceased to have any meaning to The Butler, but the immaciated forms of the prisoners seemed to beg to differ on the length of their stay. Only three left, and but one a male? This was a disaster!

We have to find more! he thought in a panic. "Anna, see to these prisoners! If any more die, it will be on your head!" The Butler's form melted away, and catching a wind in the courtyard, he flew to the top of the wall, and stretching forth his arms, sent out a ghastly, reverberating wail, which shook the castle and rolled over the forest like a crack of thunder.

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Mithadan]

Nardol's face turned red and his scar writhed like a snake as he clenched his jaw. He looked first at Bethberry then turned to face the bird who was dancing and taunting him from a branch overhead. His eyes blazed and his lips narrowed to a thin line as he rounded upon Bethberry and spat out his words.

"What would you know of my mood?" he said in a sharp tone. "Have you been where I have been or seen what I have seen? I was consigned to the hell of Angband by the treachery of Men and have witnessed the weakness and lack of faith of the Atani on times beyond count. Little more than beasts they seem and the most noble of Men far below the station of the meanest of my people. Too often have I mourned beside the graves of my people who were slain by Men and their deceptions. My own wife and son fled into the West to escape a Middle Earth fallen under the taint of the Hildor. Ever the Elves have retreated before the Usurpers and abandoned the lands they loved leaving them to the lesser race. You name me 'fell' but if I am it is not without cause."

He spun and looked up at Bird. "Take care Shapechanger," he hissed. "Lest I spit thee on a dart and serve you up for dinner..."

Before either could respond, he limped away to where his pack rested on the ground and began to gather his things. He looked up at Gandalf who was watching him with a grim expression. "I leave you to your fool errand," he growled. "Take care lest you fall victim to the fickleness of Man in your turn."

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[Birdland]

Bird jumped from the branch, morphing into woman's form as she fell and landing in front of the Elf with a thump.

"Just try it, Elfling. I can squash you like a beetle, should I care to. And as for the treachery of Men - they only took to heart the lessons you taught them. Your kind have had the ages to perfect the arts of treason, greed, and kin-slaying, and I doubt that Man shall ever rise to your level of skills in those areas."

And don't blame Men for your "banishment". We have to stay here and muddle along with the poor gifts Eru has granted us. But when the weight of your follies become too great to bear, you Elf-folk can go trotting off to bang on the gates of Valinor, pleading "Oh, let us in! We're so sorry!"

The little woman whirled and stomped off, but then turned once more to the deadly Elf. "Better a "beast" than a coward and quitter!" she hurled back at Nardol.

But suddenly, the entire camp froze as a call came rolling through the forest. A wail that rose to a shriek, then faded on the air to a ghostly low moan. Breath and wind will stilled, and the very morning seemed to darken. Then it was gone.

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth stepped up to the campfire, her red hair streaming out and her green eyes glaring. She was not afraid, since the wail of the woods sounded just like that in her dreams. And she had faced that wail night after night, yet still managed to rise and prevail the next morning. Let others shrink at sounds. She and her kin could not, for they carried a burden which could not yet be laid down.

As the wailing sound retreated, she turned her stern gaze on the figure of Bird. "If you call the Elf coward for running away, then show me you are different. Stand still and listen to what I say. And you, sir Elf, are no better and had best heed my words."

"What is happening here? Are we so embittered that we can do naught but battle with each other. This journey had a purpose, a purpose you all seem to have forgotten. We are on this road to help the folk in Castle Maladil. Those shrieks that we hear now are proof of this."

Can you not put your differences aside for one moment to feel the sadness that pours out of that castle? Will you do nothing to help them, but stand here and bicker whether this race or that race is better than the others."

"I swear I will move on by myself, if no one here can see beyond their own nose to the needs of those who lie at the end of this road."

Nardol turned and snarled at her. "You.... what is your name? You are but a child. You'd best keep out of business that lies over your head and far beyond the ken of any mortal."

Then he laughed grimly, "What would a child know of the sadness of this castle? For they, being fools, brought this doom upon themselves. Yet it goes back for long ages, far longer than you or your parents or grandparents have been on this earth."

Anger welled up within the girl yet she struggled to answer in a quiet voice, "Master Elf, immortal you are, but you do not know all that lies within Middle-earth. I feel the pain in that castle as if it was my own, for indeed it does drip down upon my family."

"Every night, I see it in dreams that haunt my sleep. I have watched as my father tosses about in the night, unable to rest, because those folk lie in dire sadness and peril. So tell me not I am but a child. I am enough of an adult to know more of these matters than you."

She lowered her voice to address only the Elf, "Nardol, I would have you journey with us down this road for in my heart I believe you have some special part to play. But if all you can feel is bitterness, you had best leave us alone, and go your separate path."

"And as to mortals and Elves, there has been evil enough in the hearts of both to fill a thousand books. None of us can have pride in this sad story, nor the great wrongs which have been done between the races. I too feel the anger and the shame that pours forth from these old tales."

"But, as a mortal, I will say this. It is no easy thing to live on Arda as a guest and not to know where your destiny lies after death. That is what led to the tragedy of Maladil, and to the enslavement of those folk. For, like children, they feared to travel to the circles beyond the world, towards that which is not known. So rail not so against my people. Not all good or evil lies in one race, or another. We all bear a share of the grief and the goodness."

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

ENOUGH !!!

* Gandalf's voice burst through the storm of rising and fell voices, silencing all others. *

Poppy Took, you can walk, with a limp?

* The Hobbit nodded, eyes wide, as Gandalf handed her a dusty burlap sack tied with rope. She slumped over to one side, nearly losing her balance. * Why, it weighs half as much as I do! What's in here, Gandalf?

* The wizard took back the bag, opened it, spilled out the contents in a clinking heap on the ground, smiled gently. * Enough gold for you to live like a princess in the largest smials in the Shire for years to come, my dear Hobbit. But this treasure is not yours. Nor is it mine. This gold was entrusted to me by Master Elrond, as expense money to be used for fighting all servants of the Enemy along my road. I shall ask you to serve as ambassador and carry it, alone, into Castle Maladil, to present to the Lord of the Castle, who should be our ally. For they called him OrcBane, and I would hold him to that name.

Nardol, you see who braves the perils of Laurëondo ... those society deems weakest. We face ghosts whom none of the free peoples have dared face in thousands of years. A villain from the Second Age, keeping captive the fëa of innocent ... or once-innocent ... Elves, and spirits of Men, who had themselves no voice in the decision of a madman. But not ghosts alone, now. Orcs have dealings at the Castle. In the Second Age, worthy warriors such as you would have confronted a villain such as Maladil, to win well-deserved riches and renown in song. Your services would stand us in good stead. What say you?

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Bêthberry]

With a sorrowing grimace, Bethberry looked at Birdie and then at Nardol.

"I have not meant to cause greater discord, but to spare more. So much pain and hurt in the past ages was been caused by a refusal to accept people as people, as individuals worthy of earning their own respect and trust. Instead, they groaned and fell when forced to ferry the weight of community burdens."

"Come, let us agree to accept each other on our own terms and put aside the debts and discredits of Ages past. Nardol, your hand was not supposed to be touched by the bird. Has it been?"

Bethberry reached out and, audaciously, took the elf's hand in hers, examining it. From a pocket, she brought forth a small cloth and wiped the stain away. Then she handed him the herbal cakes to ease the pain of the leg injury.

"Use that, wherever it is you choose to ride and know that I apologize for my words to you. I must see to Polly now, for I want her comfortable on this hasty departure also. She may be in greater need of help."

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[piosenniel]

Olo gasped when he heard what Gandalf proposed to have Poppy do. ‘Send her in alone!’ he hissed to Holly, who stood at his side frowning at the wizard’s announcement. He made to step forward, to say that no Hobbit was going into that dreadful place alone, but Holly placed her hand on his arm, holding him back.

‘Let’s think about this, Olo. Not that I think Gandalf has the right of it, but perhaps we can use this to our advantage.’ She fingered the pieces of paper in her breast pocket – the map, and the one on which she had written the Elven words and letters. ‘Let’s wait until the spotlight is off her, then let’s talk to Poppy. No one will mind us Hobbits having a small talk about what’s been said.’ She rubbed the tangle of curls at the side of her head absentmindedly. ‘I think I'll go get Bird to come talk with us, too. I think she would find what I’m thinking to be quite interesting.’

She walked away from him humming a tune, her eye on the large sack of gold. He watched her, a half smile on his face, replaced quickly by a frown of concern.

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Mithadan]

Nardol looked from Gandalf to Bethberry to the bag of gold resting on the ground at Poppy's feet. He shames me. He implies that those lesser than me will take this chance to right a wrong which one of my race has wrought and perchance secure some reward for their assistance. Then he thought back to Elrond's words again. For a long moment he was silent.

"Very well," he said at last. "Since this quest is the wish of Master Elrond, I will lend you my assistance." Behind him, he heard Bird groan but ignored the slight.

He accepted the cakes from Bethberry with a curt nod and laid his pack back down. Ignoring the stares of the others, he sat down and began to eat...

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Gandalf looked up from his position bent down fastening Volondil's sledge to Mornen with rope and leather, to smile at both the injured Ranger Volondil, and the young Ranger Alearindu. Though Alearindu had still needed to change Mornen's leg wraps this morning, the horse was in good shape. Gandalf had considered having Midnight either bear Volondil or pull the sledge, but the black horse carried a wary gleam in its eyes after hearing the echoing ghostly wail. *

Thank you for your helpfulness, Alearindu, in scouting out the road ahead. We've enough surprises in store for us at Laurëondo, and 'twould benefit the castle inhabitants nothing if we became ghosts ourselves along the way.

* Giving Mornen a final pat and word to take the road cautiously and slow, the wizard took up his staff and stood alongside Andreth. * Come now, all whom destiny calls to this journey.

* Those who would, took to the appointed path. Gandalf looked at Andreth appraisingly. * Your people, you say?

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[*Varda*]

Poppy felt shock upon feeling the sack of gold in her arms, she nearly toppled over, and stood breath taken. As Gandalf took back the bag, and poured some of the gold, Poppy was even more amazed. Clinking gold coins, so many of them! They shone in the light, and Poppy’s mouth hung open.

But more was yet to come, as Gandalf spoke further, and as he continued, Poppy’s eyes widened and widened, half with anticipation and half with fear. She dimly heard Olo gasp, but she remained standing still, looking at the gold, looking at Gandalf.

“I will do it,” Poppy murmured to herself. “I will take this gold into Castle Maladil,” trying to sound braver than she felt, yet wondering what a ghost could possibly do with all this money. Why, it must be worth more than the Shire!

She saw Holly and Olo whispering in the corner, a small smile appearing on Holly’s face as she looked over in Poppy’s direction and then down to the sack of gold. Poppy couldn’t help but feel slightly suspicious, and tried to limp over to them to speak, attempting to drag the gold behind her, but failing.

In the end she remained by the gold, trying not to feel daunted by the prospect of going into the castle alone…

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu smiled a little at Gandalf, and glanced over at the other Ranger before taking her pack off her shoulder.

She dug through the pack a bit, and then pulled out some leg wrappings for Mornen. Alearindu also grabbed a cloth, and wet it. She then walked over to the horse, and knelt.

One by one, she gently unwrapped the bandages, and dabbed any wounds with the wet cloth. The wounds now were mostly small, save the bruising from where he had almost fallen into the pit. Alearindu rewrapped his legs, and then stood.

Mornen pulled at the leather straps a bit, testing what weight he was to pull. Alearindu frowed at him. 'We're not quite ready to go. Stop that.' She laughed, and then also removed small pieces of cloth, of which she put where the leather touched the horses skin. It was to prevent any burns or cuts for any reason. Better safe, than sorry.

Alearindu then emptied out her pack, checked for all the items she needed. She nodded, repacked, and tossed the pack back on her shoulders. She signaled Mornen to follow Gandalf at a slow pace. Alearindu was about to walk to Mornen's shoulder, when she decided to drop back and talk to the other Ranger.

She stopped a bit, and then walked by the sledge. She then attempted to make an easy conversation with Volondil, 'From what I have heard, you, as well, are a Ranger. I know I tend to be quiet and to myself, and I apologise. I am the Ranger Alearindu, and this horse is Mornen, which means 'Black Waters'. I'm sure he'll make sure that you don't get a miserable ride. He's usually picky about the ground he walks upon, when he can be.' Alearindu nodded a little, and then looked at the Ranger and wondered if she left any room for a response, and if the other Ranger even felt like carrying a conversation.

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: TheLadyAerowen ]

[piosenniel]

'Well met, Ranger Alearindu.' came the quiet voice of Volondil, as he smiled up at her. 'I am sure this good horse will bear his burden well. Though I must say I would rather walk at his side or ask that he bear me on his back, if he would, than be dragged behind as an invalid.' He sighed and put his hand gingerly against his side with a light pressure to ease the ache of his wound.

He raised himself up as well as the straps of the would allow him. 'Tell me, Ranger, since we are to be close travelling companions, what reason have you of being on this journey with the wizard, Gandalf. Have you been sent to lend your aid to them, or does something other cause you to travel to Tharbad?' He awaited her answer, watching her closely as she chose her words.

From the corner of his eye, he noted Holly as she walked over to the other female Hobbit, Poppy. She was helping her carry the bag of gold to where the girl, Andreth, held her horse in readiness. As they walked, Holly leaned in close to Poppy, speaking close to her ear, while Poppy nodded her head in seeming agreement.

Once at the horse, Holly helped the other Hobbit up. Then tying the neck of the sack securely, she handed it up to Poppy, who grasped it firmly in her hands. 'Best keep good hold of that.' he heard, as she handed up the gold. 'I'll see you tonight when we make camp.' she said. He saw Holly wave and walk back to Peri and Olo, a smile on her face.

'Now what is she up to?' he thought to himself. Another voice broke in upon his thoughts. 'I'm sorry!' he said to Alearindu, a small frown on his face. 'My thoughts were elsewhere for the moment. Tell me again - what were you saying?'

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu laughed a little at Volondil. 'I was saying, that I would, as well, much rather be on horse-back than being dragged along behind him.'

Alearindu grinned, and then continued. "I wasn't able to be at the Council of Rangers, for I had other duties to attend to. But, I was at the feast we had later, which is where I had met Gandalf and Bethberry. I was actually informed by Strider, or others might know him as Aragorn, about Castle Maladil.'

'Yes, Aragorn was a close friend of mine. But, as he told me of this journey, I decided to come because well, for one, it's a good adventure for me, and I feel I can help in some way when a company of many different races goes on such an adventure. I know many forms of healing, but it seems I am not the only one.'

'And yet, on this journey, I feel incomplete. I have a very dear friend whom I would die for. She is called Aerowen, and she gave me the sword I carry and the necklace I bear. I'm not quite sure why she isn't with us. I'm sure she would love another journey, but maybe there was something I wasn't informed of.' Alearindu went quiet here, already missing her friend terribly.

'As long as I live through this journey, I shall see her again.' Alearindu nodded and smiled a little at Volondil.

[The Fifth]

Kenelm stepped lightly up to the dungeon, harp clenched in his hands. He found two others, his sister Calimiel and the servant Anna, hurriedly tending to the frightened, unkempt prisoners. Kenelm stopped abruptly, peering at the three Men, slightly curious, although not showing up in his sad eyes.

"What is this... ?" He asked softly. "Prisoners, in the dungeons of the Castle? There has been naught in here that I had known of." He drifted closer, kneeling down and placing a fingertip on an iron bar.

"And what brought you here?" Anna asked, although inside glad that Kenelm was here.

"There was a shout... Calimiel..." his voice trailed off, and he looked towards his sibling, who was helping Anna to take care of them. Although still curious as to why there were living people here, in the dungeons, of all things, he said not another word, and decided to comfort the piteous prisoners with the notes of his harp, sitting in a dank, dark corner of the cell, looking mostly at the lifeless bodies and moaning a woeful song.

[piosenniel]

Volondil removed the straps which held him to the sledge, and asked if Alearindu might help him up for a moment. 'Too much lying about has made me weak.' he muttered. He put his hand to his side to splint his injury and bade the Ranger walk about with him for a moment.

He placed his hand on her shoulder, lightly, for support, and walked along, gingerly at first, then with more ease as sore, stiff muscles stretched out. He motioned with a nod of his head for her to take him to one of the downed logs that lay at the side of the road they were to travel.

'Let us sit here in the sun for a while, before we begin our journey, if you don't mind.' He let the warm sun play on his face for a moment, then turned to her. 'Tell me of the friend you spoke of, if you will. She seems very dear to you, indeed.'

She began to speak to him, and he listened carefully, though often his gaze grew distracted , she noted, as he followed the movements of the small woman with raven black hair.

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu helped Volondil out of the sledge, and then helped him walk around a bit. After he requested to go sit on the fallen log, she walked with him over there, after motioning Mornen to stay where he was.

She sat down beside Volondil. 'Tell me of the friend you spoke of, if you will. She seems very dear to you, indeed.' He asked of her.

Alearindu nodded, and then began a short story. 'Aerowen and I met after I left home to become a Ranger. Strider was the one who mostly taught us. But we found that we had many things in common.'

'From the point when we first met, we were inseperable. We went everywhere together. Journeys, battles, or just a fun adventure.'

'But one thing Aerowen had, was an ability to almost, if not actually, talk to horses. She was born in Rohan, and therefore grew up around them. The horse she has now, Glossaran, 'Snow-King', is a foal that was born in the winter of all times. His mother died, but Aerowen became a mother to him, and therefore he is now the most loyal horse you have ever seen to her. He was born a light-brown, and now he is as white as snow. Quite interesting, if I may say so.'

'Though, I still cannot figure out why she didn't come with me this time.' Alearindu sighed a little. ' I thought she said something about family... but I'm not sure.'

Alearindu then stood, and unsheathed her sword, slowly, though, as to not startle anyone, and then sat back down.

' As I was saying before, Aerowen and I have two things that we keep in remembrance of the other, in times when we might be seperated. This, is Maciloidul. Aerowen holds the exact copy. How two were made, I know not. But also, the necklace I wear...'

Alearindu tilted her neck back and pulled gently on a chain, pulling out a pendant with a silver chain and base. The base was two slim leaves intertwined, and the jewels on it were of emerald, which matched the colour of Alearindu's eyes and went well with her copper hair. 'Aerowen's looks the same, except her stones are amethyst, which match her eyes and blonde hair, as well.'

Alearindu gazed at the pendant as if she had never seen it before, and then placed it back on her collar. 'As I keep saying, I wish Aerowen were here. She's a lively one to have around at points, and a helpful one when it comes to healing, as well.' Alearindu laughed and smiled at Volondil. 'We should ask Gandalf if you could just ride on Mornen's back. I'm not quite sure how much Mornen likes pulling something behind him.'

[piosenniel]

'Ah! You have indeed read my wishes!' laughed Volondil. 'I was going to ask if that would be acceptable to both you and Mornen.' He glanced to where the healer stood. 'Though perhaps I should consult Bethberry.' He frowned, and pushed against his wound gently. 'No, I think I can gauge my readiness best. As long as Mornen will bear me gently.'

He reached out slowly with his fingers and lifted the necklace from her collar. 'A lovely remembrance.' His grey eyes grew darker as looked at the leaves, then laid it back against her. 'How wonderful to have such a friend.'

Volondil looked into the distance, remembering friends long gone who had once been at his side. When he turned back to her, his eyes had cleared and he took in the Ranger and her horse in an appraising glance.

'But what of you?' he asked. 'You have made this generous offer to me. Did you intend to walk? Or will Mornen bear us both to the castle?

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Birdland]

Birdie walked behind Peri in a sulk. Everyone had chided her! Was she the only one who could see that tricksy, sullen Elf for the blown-up misanthrope that he was?

"At best he'll assail the castle and take all for himself, or for his master, Elrond. At worse he'll side with the Elven wraiths and sell us all down the Anduin to the Corsairs. What do we know about this Elf? Nothing! He could have written that note himself, and never been nearer to Elrond than a Beorn. How much does Gandalf [i]really know of him?"

Holly rolled her eyes. She was very aware of Bird's dislike (more than a little based on envy) of the Elven-Folk. The little woman enjoyed thumbing her nose at her "betters" and little liked being called out for it. She hoped that the battle of ire between her and Nardol was over, but she sincerely doubted it.

To change the subject, Holly said. "It's glad I am that you are here with us, Bird. I can't think why Gandalf should choose Poppy to guard for such a fortune, but if that's her lot, then we can do nothing else than help her, and I can't think of any better than you to watch our backs."

"Hmmph! You'll need it, if I'm any judge. That Nardol's likely to snatch it back any minute. And Where does that Andreth fit in to the puzzle, I'd like to know? She looks to be a simple thing, but she seems to think she has some claim to this castle, and all that lies in it. If you don't watch yourselves, you hobbits will wind up doing all the work, and see naught for your efforts but a silver penny. I know, 'cause if there's any better at doing a little burgling than a hobbit, it's myself. You'll see, it's all "we can't do it without you" in the beginning, but once the deed's done, then any payment will be late in coming."

Holly sighed in exasperation. Olo was looking sideways at Bird, perhaps remembering her own "tricksyness" when it came to sleight of hand, and Poppy was staring down at the sack of gold, perhaps wondering if she would wind up in the middle, if it should come to the "Big Folk" starting a fight over it. Holding this treasure was beginning to make her feel as if she held a Balrog by the tail.

Seeking to change the subject once again, Holly gestured with her chin over to the Rangers. "Volondil appears to be doing better. He insists on riding, despite his wound."

Bird cast an eye over to the two green-clad humans, who seemed to be deep in conversation. "Probably didn't want that Alearindu to see him flat on his back. Anyway, he seems to have forgotten who stood over him when those Orcs were attacking, hasn't he? Well, I suppose those two have all sorts of things in common to speak of. Tracking, and fewmits, secret signs and such. Very cozy, the two of them."

Holly had had enough. "Oh, would you please change into something until you are in a better mood! You are enough to make the sun hide behind a cloud right now."

"Well! If that's how you feel about it! I'll just go. Just remember," she said as she started to morph, "if more folk would listen to Birdie..."

"then Middle-earth would be a better place." Holly finished with a smile, as Bird spread her wings and flew away.

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu laughed a bit. 'Mornen will be fine, Volondil. He's been well trained by Aerowen, myself, and even Strider. I'm sure he'll be smooth.' Alearindu chuckled again.

Alearindu pulled back a little at first when Volondil reached for her necklace. 'A lovely remembrance.' He had said, and then his eyes seemed to change. Alearindu furrowed her brow and put her hand on Volondil's shoulder. 'Aerowen is a great friend, yes, but what is it that troubles you about this pendant of mine?' But as soon as he looked at her again, his eyes were normal. Alearindu decided to maybe ask again later.

'But what of you?' he asked. 'You have made this generous offer to me. Did you intend to walk? Or will Mornen bear us both to the castle?'

Alearindu laughed. 'I'll walk, yes. I don't need to ride. Mornen could bear us both to the castle, but I'm not sure if I see that quite necessary. You're injured, I am not. Mornen doesn't act up... unless he gets frightened, which even that is rare. But, I've never seen how Mornen acts around ghosts, and it might be easier to control him from his head, and not his back. But, if for some reason it is better, I will.' Alearindu nodded, and then stood. 'Are you ready to go, Volondil? Or do you need a bit more time?'

[Gandalf_theGrey]

It being after sunup, Glomburz and Shargash, two Half-Orcs, half-trotted to the end of a thin dirt path, then through rattling brown knee-deep grass to meet the Butler. Glomburz slowed his pace to a ridiculously exaggerated buffoon-walk the closer they came, making the grass creak and crack as loud as he could at every step. “After all, he’s got all eternity to wait. I dunno why he wants us so quick.” Glomburz guffawed at his own ill-humored remark.

Shargash elbowed Glomburz in the ribs. “Garn now, he’ll hear you. Ghosts aren’t as deaf as you are dumb.”

Glomburz frowned, making a show of rubbing his ribs, though they hurt not at all. “And what of it? He needs us more than wot we needs him. They all needs us, them that’s cooped up in ole Malaise Dull Castle.”

The Butler let out another ear-cleaving shriek. Not because he needed to. Just to see the vermin flinch. And flinch they did. As well they should. “The prisoners you sent were not sufficient. A sickly lot, two are dead. Bring to me a new bunch, stronger and more durable, and quickly!”

“Oh ... and quickly? Or what? You’ll tell Lord Malaise Dull that there are Orcs on his land? And then what? That yerself, yer in cahoots with us?” Glomburz stooped down. Mimicking Maladil’s every gesture, he picked up a broken beer bottle, straightened, and flung the bottle right on through the Butler’s chest. The bottle went sailing out his shimmering back to tinkle into crumbled shards against the outer entryway gate. “Stronger ones put up more of a fight. What will yer pay?”

The Butler choked back his fuming temper and stood unblinking. “Bring them, and see.”

Shargash gazed at the Butler. “Don’t pay Glowering Glomburz here no mind. We’re agreeable, yer know. You want out of the Castle. We want in ... after yer out. Somehow, we just gotta figure out how. Curse the curse!”

[Child of the 7th Age]

Trudging on foot down the road, Andreth stayed close behind Whinny, keeping an eye on her pony who was carrying Poppy on his back. The hobbit clutched the sack of gold tightly in her hand, while those about kept staring back and wondering just how many coins were in that heavy bag.

Despite the brightness of the day, Andreth found her spirits sinking lower as she listened to conversations sprouting up around her. No one had bothered to answer her earlier question as to why they'd chosen to come on this adventure. Nor had any bothered to say they agreed with her that the fate of the Castle should take precedence over all this bickering and discord.

With the exception of Gandalf and Bethberry, she did not see a single person who cared in the slightest what was actually going on inside those walls to the folk who were trapped there. It seemed that most were more concerned about that heavy satchel Poppy carried.

Nor was the Elf any better. Nardol had finally agreed to Gandalf's plea to come along, but his only real interest seemed to lie in making a name for himself. She'd even heard Bird and Holly complaining they might not receive sufficient payment for the services they rendered. What a pair! And how could Gandalf have chosen a poor, injured hobbit to guard that bag of gold and carry out such an important task?

None of it made sense. Surely, Gandalf could have come up with a better crew than this ragtag bag of adventurers and profiteers. They certainly didn't care the way she cared. For them it was some grand lark or madcap adventure that might turn up a hidden treasure chest.

But worst of all, had been the remark she'd overheard from Bird's mouth just a moment ago, when the woman complained that the poor lass Andreth might make some claim on the Castle and all that lay inside. Her blood boiled as she thought about it. In all her years, listening to her father's tales at his knee and grieving over the fate of those trapped inside, she'd never heard any in her family make such an outrageous claim.

Legally, there might be some truth in it. She really didn't know. But her father was not a man for legalities. He was a good man with a soft heart and great family pride. He had never spoken to Andreth of bricks and stones and mortar, but only of those who needed to pass on and strange curses which must be lifted lest they fall on those unsuspecting kin who still remained in the world of Men.

Perhaps she should just leave the group, pack up her belongings and go her separate way. But she was no expert at fighting or surviving in the wilderness. Lying dead on some forsaken trail was not going to accomplish what she wanted. She sighed and reluctantly agreed that, at least for now, she'd best stay with the others, until she figured out a better plan. And she'd better start talking to some of these folk to find out why they were really here and what they hoped to accomplish.

To that end, she turned a wary eye on Holly. Andreth watched and waited, saying nothing, until Bird sprang up and took flight. With the coast finally clear, Andreth turned once again to Holly and asked point blank, "I couldn't help overhearing your little talk. Why does your friend dislike me so? I've never made any claim to the Castle. In fact, as far as I can see, I'm practically the only one here who actually cares about what happens to the folk within those hard stone walls."

[ December 22, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Gandalf walked, smoked prodigiously, and mused ... apparently heedless of the web of conversations being woven around him. From time to time, anyone paying attention might have caught him muttering something like, "No, not torches. Wouldn't do. Candles, more like. Wonder if They might oblige? Lanterns. And sparklers, they could be handed round. If that fool of a horse spooks, so be it." or like, "Songs first, perhaps an instrumental can proceed our coming. Songs, then speech, once we've gotten their attention. The Bards first sing, then myself speak ... Have to introduce Poppy of course, can't just send her in unannounced, far too risky." and like, "Keeping far enough back, that will be of the utmost ... "

* ... until finally the wizard, unable to see a tree for the forest, veered his future-seeing steps smack dab into an elm just off the path. With a sheepish cry of "Ouch!" Gandalf rejoined the others living in the present, a few stray leaves adorning the top of his pointed hat and ground into his cloak, but altogether none the worse for wear. *

[ December 22, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

"I couldn't help overhearing your little talk. Why does your friend dislike me so? I've never made any claim to the Castle. In fact, as far as I can see, I'm practically the only one here who actually cares about what happens to the folk within those hard stone walls."

The question from the woman startled Holly. She had not heard her approach as she stood frowning after Bird who had flown off in an icy huff. She turned to regard the slight figure before her. So serious a manner! Her red hair flamed as it caught the sun, adding to the feeling of seething anger that lay just below the surface of her eyes. Why did the Big Folk seem to carry such large burdens of anger and dis-ease? It made her uncomfortable at times, when it spilled over on to her, and she avoided it as she could.

‘An interesting question, Mistress Andreth.’ she began, a smile playing about her lips. ‘Perhaps she ate a worm gone bad today and has indigestion.’ She broke into a full out laugh. ‘I’m sorry! You might as well ask why the wind blows one way or the other when it comes to Bird.’ She looked the woman up and down, taking her measure. ‘And what business would it be of ours to care about the fate of those people in the Castle. Or yours, for that matter. What good will it do you?’

[piosenniel]

‘Oh, I think I am ready now to mount up.’ Volondil replied to the other Ranger. He looked about him, his eyes lighting on a small, flat topped rocky outcropping near the edge of the camp. ‘Bring Mornen over here.’ he directed Alearindu, as he clambered up on the rocks. Alearindu spoke softly to the horse and bade him stand very near where Volondil stood, waiting for him. With a small gasp of pain, Volondil reached for Mornen’s mane and pulled himself over to the patient steed’s back.

His face pale, he managed a tight smile when Alearindu asked if he were alright. ‘I am.’ he said through clenched teeth, willing himself to relax. He managed a small laugh, saying, ‘You have just had the rare privilege of witnessing the most ungraceful mount of my life!’ He took some deep breaths, stretching the muscles he had tightened against the pain. ‘Let’s hope this is the worst of the ride.’ he murmured to himself.

They started down the road, following a short distance after the Hobbits. He had watched as Bird and Holly carried on a conversation, and seen Holly’s exasperated smile as she watched Bird fly off. ‘Now there is an interesting pair of friends.’ he thought to himself. ‘They give each other a lot of room, but I’d hate to be the one who threatened one of them.’

He shaded his eyes and looked up into the bright sky, searching for Bird. ‘It would be pleasing to have a friendship like that.’ he mused. ‘One that even when you were apart, sustained your spirit.’

[ December 22, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu nodded at Volondil, and walked Mornen over to where he stood. Alearindu stiffled a small laugh as she watched Volondil mount Mornen. 'Are you alright, Volondil?' She asked, grinning.

‘I am.’ he said through clenched teeth, willing himself to relax. He managed a small laugh, saying, ‘You have just had the rare privilege of witnessing the most ungraceful mount of my life!’

Alearindu laughed. 'Maybe, Volondil, but I have seen worse.' She chuckled again, and left the smile on her face. She then clucked to Mornen, and they started walking down the path towards the Castle Maladil.

She watched as Volondil shaded his eyes and looked up at Bird. ‘It would be pleasing to have a friendship like that.’ he mused. ‘One that even when you were apart, sustained your spirit.’ Alearindu nodded and then began to watch the path, careful to look for anything she may have missed, or something that may make the road unpleasant for Volondil.

After a while, Alearindu didn't pay as much attention to the road, and tried for a conversation again. 'So, Volondil,' She looked up at the Ranger, but stood close to Mornen's side, for even Alearindu had a growing fear as they got ever closer to the castle. She kept one hand on Mornen's bridle, and the other on the hilt of her sword. 'Where have you been as a Ranger?' She winced a little and then also asked in a whisper, 'Do you have that same fear about the castle? Every step I take towards it, I seem to dread it more. I'm not saying I won't go in, because I will, it's just..I wish I wasn't so nervous about doing so...'

[tangerine]

Hinura approached Menelduliniel and Estelarion. "Excuse me," she said. "I couldn't help hearing you earlier speaking about a song called Nallal. I was wondering- could you show me how it goes? I learn most of my songs on the road, and it sounds lovely." If Gandalf wanted them to play to herald their approach, this would probably be the best time to share ideas and melodies before they reached their destination.

[ December 22, 2002: Message edited by: tangerine ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

‘And what business would it be of ours to care about the fate of those people in the Castle. Or yours, for that matter. What good will it do you?’

At first Andreth didn't respond to Holly. Why should she trust the hobbit or her friend enough to give an honest answer? Maybe, it would be safer just to shrug off the questions, since she scarcely knew these folk.

Yet then, why did she feel as if she'd come to a fork in the road, with one path leading in one direction, and the other going off someplace different. And that her choice of which way to go had importance not only for herself, but to the company as a whole.

Andreth thought it might come down to the basic question of trust. She'd seen so little of that within this band since they'd left the Inn. They'd been badly divided, spending more time complaining than learning how to work together. The Elf’s hidden anger had spilled over everyone, and set the whole camp to bickering.

Now that she thought about it, she wasn't much better than the rest. For all her high sounding talk, she'd kept to herself and eyed the others with suspicion, silently berating them for not caring enough about the people inside the Castle. But how could they care as much as she did, when they'd never seen as she had seen, night after night?

She was certain of one thing. Shooting an arrow or unsheathing a knife would not, by itself, bring them victoy. Unless their band stood together, backing each other as friends, they would never survive the doom of the Castle and those inside would remain imprisoned.

Yet, it was one thing to make a speech about folk putting aside differences. It was quite another to try and do it yourself. Yet if someone didn't start trusting someone, this adventure would end in disaster.

She quickly came to three decisions. Gandalf had chosen Poppy for a special task. She'd trust that choice and offer the hobbit any help she could. She'd keep chiselling away at Nardol who often seemed more like a block of ice than a real person. Somewhere, underneath all that, there must be more going on than what he showed to the world.

Finally, she would try to gain the confidence of Holly and Bird. She had no idea why they'd come on this journey, but at least they understood what it meant to be a good friend. Not that any of this was going to be easy! She'd never known anyone like Bird who could simply turn around and fly away if they didn't like what you were saying.

Andreth leaned cautiously over to Holly and pulled her close so no one could overhear, "You are a hobbit, so you should understand this. Adella, the mother in the Castle, long deceased, is kin to me. The descent came through her older brother. My father is the only living heir of the family, since there were no surviving Elven lines on the other side, at least not in Middle-earth."

"I've lived with that knowledge since I was a child. I've heard many sad tales about the Castle, and sometimes at night Adela's children visit us in dreams. It is not a pleasant sight."

Andreth hestiated for a moment, struggling to find the words to tell her story. "So you see it does have special meaning, and, if I was impatient, I'm sorry. But it's hard for me to be calm about this. Our tale is well known in Bree among our nosey neighbors. We've heard no end of jibes and taunts about the family who has ghost relations and who carries a curse upon their head."

[ December 22, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Volondil considered the Ranger's question, matching her words against what he felt. 'It would be foolish not to fear what lies before us, would it not? The shadow in the east stretches long over Middle-earth now. Its long fingers stretching even farther westward. It would be enough to be cautious about the ill will of those which haunt the castle, but I fear that darker fingers are grasping at the heart of of it.'

His right hand closed in a familiar and comforting manner about the grip of his blade, and he turned his face to gaze full upon her. His grey eyes darkened and glinted as he spoke further. 'Still, we are Rangers, sworn to the service of the Light. Fear or no, we will step up as we are needed.'

[ December 22, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Holly reached out and touched the woman on her arm. Andreth’s eyes looked toward her, and were filled with pain. Along her lashes was the glint of threatened tears and the Hobbit squeezed her arm gently, offering her the handkerchief from her vest pocket. She stepped back as Andreth wiped her face, allowing her time to regain her composure. Taking the returned hanky, she stuffed it back into a pocket in her breeches, and came close to the woman again.

‘I do understand the ties and pulls of family, Andreth.’ she said softly to her. And those of friends, also . . . she thought, looking up to find Bird. Holly shook her head and looked down at the ground. ‘You are so lucky still to have yours about you.’

She raised her head and regarded the woman, trying to see her with different eyes. Perhaps she could drop the defenses she had come by on the road, and let her in . . . a little.

‘But still, you are only one small woman to face all the grief and malice which holds the Castle in thrall . . . what do you think you can do?’

[ December 22, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth looked over at the hobbit and shrugged her shoulders, "Probably nothing, but none of us will know that till we try."

She was careful to add the word 'probably.' The truth was she didn't know. She'd heard so many wild tales from her father. There was no way to be sure what would happen until they actually reached the Castle,....if she managed to survive that long.

Andreth quietly beckoned Holly over to the side of the road where she halted for a minute, sliding her hand under her belt and drawing forth a tattered volume that looked as if it had seen much wear. The girl glanced cautiously from side to side to make certain no one else was looking. Then she fingered the small book gingerly, sliding her hand over the rough leather binding and carefully opening the cover.

"But I do have something to help us, all of us. This tome has passed down in my family from one generation to the next." Andreth slowly turned a few of the brittle sheets, being careful not to rip them. "You can see how old it is. Some leaves are faded and others missing, but they do seem to give a lot of description about the Castle and many of its rooms."

"I think once there must have been a map folded here as well, but that's now missing." She pointed towards a jagged edge where it looked as if something had been wrenched out of the volume. "I would give a great deal to look upon that map, for I think it could be matched up with the descriptions in the book."

"And look here....it's almost as if someone had tipped in a document or deed, then hastily removed it. I've often wondered what that was, or why it was taken out."

Holly poked her nose deep inside the binding. "But what language is this? I can't even read it."

Andreth laughed and admitted, "Neither can I. My father says it's the language of the Elves, the one that's very old. Not Sindarin, but High-Elven, what they call the Ancient Tongue."

"I suppose Gandalf could read it," Holly interjected, "or that other Elf, the sour one called Nardol, or perhaps Bethberry."

Andreth nodded in agreement, then deftly tucked it back under her belt. "For now, I'll keep it safe here. When we approach the keep, perhaps I'll give it to one of them and see if they can untangle the meaning."

[ December 24, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu listened to his words, and watched as Volondil also moved his hand to his sword's hilt. He then turned to look at her, and his eyes grew darker and glinted, then he spoke again;'Still, we are Rangers, sworn to the service of the Light. Fear or no, we will step up as we are needed.'

Alearindu nodded. 'Yes, I know. But sometimes there seems to be more than just the fear of the castle to me, something... else. Perhaps just an unconscious caution.' She scowled a little and gripped Mornen's bridle tighter. 'I do not fear pain nor death for myself, but for others, I cannot stand it.'

She then dropped her head a little and looked ahead. The castle drew nearer. Alearindu tried to change the mood;
'Volondil, once we get to the castle, where do you plan to go?' Alearindu laughed. 'I'm not quite sure if we are going to bring the horses into the castle, and you seem to have a bit of trouble walking.' She looked back up at him and awaited an answer, while thinking of an answer to the question for herself, as well.

[piosenniel]

‘I wonder,’ thought Holly as she handed the book back to Andreth, ‘if that missing map looks anything like the one I have.’ Her hand strayed to the pocket of her vest as she watched the woman tuck the old book carefully back in her waistband. A practical creature, the Hobbit thought it best to form a closer tie with her before she shared her map. Perhaps Andreth’s purposes and her’s could complement each other, though the woman seemed more bent on securing the release of the castle’s ghosts than on looking for other treasures. ‘Still,’ she reasoned, ‘she may have the descriptions of the rooms if we can unlock them and I have a map of unproven worth – if we help each other out, there is the possibility of accomplishing both our goals.’

Holly rubbed her chin in thought as they walked back to where Poppy waited on Whinny. ‘Andreth, if you don’t mind, Olo and I will walk with you and Poppy. She reached out and scratched the pony between the ears, offering a small piece of dried apple. Whinny reached out gently with his teeth and accepted the proffered treat. Soon gone, he nudged the Hobbit on her shoulder for another piece.

‘Enough for now!’ she chided him. ‘You and Peri are quite alike, Master Whinny! But the larder is empty for now.’ She opened her pocket to the pony’s inquisitive nose, and was rewarded with a huff of disgust in finding it was indeed bare.

Andreth laughed at Whinny, and took him by the reins to continue down the road with the rest of the company. Holly spoke quickly to her. ‘Let me go get Olo and Peri and bring them back to walk with us. They seem to have dropped behind a bit. You and Poppy go on ahead; we’ll join you soon.’ She walked off hurriedly to retrieve them.

[piosenniel]

Olo stood in the shadows of a great Oak tree when Holly found him, staring at Nardol as he sat eating one of the cakes Bethberry had given him. ‘The Elf’s leg must be quite painful.’ she murmured to herself, as she saw him move it gingerly to ease the strain on it. ‘I should take a look at it.’ was her next thought, but she recalled his sharp words to her and held back. She glanced at Olo, noting that his eyes fell not on the Elf as she had thought, but watched his horse as it walked about, cropping the meager grass in the camp.

‘A lovely creature, is it not.’ she remarked to him. ‘And with a fiery spirit to match his rider.’ Olo’s face was marked with a frown. ‘There’s something not quite right about his gait.’ he said low and to himself, his attention fixed on the horse as it walked in his direction. He whistled gently, and stepped into the sunshine, standing very still. He called the horse’s attention with soft words and sounds, his stance open and non-threatening, watching closely as the horse stepped in his direction.

‘It’s his left foreleg.’ he whispered to her. ‘A small problem now, but a hard one to deal with if it goes on much longer. Go back and leave me to see to him if he’ll allow it. You and Peri may put the wind up him if you stay, and I would not see him suffer any longer from something I can remedy.’

[Belin]

Around the corner and back into the library. There.

Celumëomaryu had finished her pacing, and was glad to return to her usual haunt behind the bookshelf. She had seen Anna come in there with those rabbits, and by the aroma in the room, the stupid girl had known nothing better to do with them than simply scorch the beasts in the fire. The accountant shook her head. Once they'd had a cook, a talented and cheerful individual who had prepared the most delectable of feast for them, and had hung about in the kitchen, grinning rather offensively at the appreciation of the others. Celumëomaryu had never expressed any such appreciation; the savor of the food had been a matter of course and a detail beneath her notice. She had never expected to pass beyond the ability to taste it.

Just as well, she thought with a sniff, if there was to be no better than what Anna could provide.

Provide for...? Celumëomaryu walked to the landing of the stairs and tilted her head, listening intently. Yes... voices.. the voices of the living. She stood very still.

"Who are they?" she whispered. An idea was forming in her mind. The voices came, not from below, but from the dungeon above; Calimiel had mentioned prisoners. She took a step forward and was surprised to find that, even after all these years with no flesh, her fingers could still tremble violently enough to prevent her from properly grasping the banister. As her hand slipped through it and around it, her mind raced. Prisoners, the living, here, here... hers. She took two more steps up the stairs and had to stop; she refused to chance someone seeing her fall down.

Should she see them now? She wanted to think; she had to have a plan. But she couldn't. She sat on the stairs for a few moments, not quite paying attention to the thoughts that were passing through her mind, and then she stood, composed and distant as ever, and walked into to the dungeon.

Kenelm stood there, and Calimiel, and the infuriatingly everpresent Anna as well. Celumëomaryu hovered silently near the wall, unnoticed, feeling the strange thickness of the air that the living had been breathing, hearing, after the quietness of long years, the rustling of their clothes against their skin and the beating of their hearts. Ah, yes. Yes, indeed. She stared through the bars at them, with a slight, grim smile. One of the prisoners suddenly turned a pair of large, anxious eyes upon her and shrank back still more under the force of that gaze. Celumëomaryu did not speak to them, but her lips moved slightly, forming the words, "For me..."

But Anna had seen her and had moved to her shoulder. Do you admire them, Celumëomaryu?

"Where did they come from?"

Anna shrugged. Does it matter?

She turned toward the girl with a sudden fierceness. "Yes," she rasped, "Yes, I think it does. Yet I have, perhaps, a more interesting question--why are you here? What business, housemaid, do you have with the living?"

[ December 26, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[Susan Delgado]

Anna gave the Elf a scornful look. Why did Celumëomaryu always ask such insultingly obvious questions? She'd been watching from her usual hiding place; Anna had seen her. So why was she asking why Anna was here? She decided to limit the day's strife by answering as if Celumëomaryu had asked a reasonable question, however. No use upsetting everybody more than necessary.

Feeding them.

Celumëomaryu stared at Anna in consternation. Obviously she wanted a different or perhaps simply more complete answer. Anna stared back, a deliberately insulting half-smirk on her face. Finally, Celumëomaryu said, "What were you doing up here that you saw they needed food?"

There she went. I heard sounds, so I came to investigate. Calimiel says I can have one of the women. This was not at all what Calimiel had said, of course, but it was fun to say just to see the expression on the accountant's face, and her vocal reaction almost approached Maladil's level. As she watched Celumëomaryu stalk toward Calimiel to ascertain the truth, Anna noted that Celumëomaryu's screams had not helped the prisoners' peace of mind at all. The living folk actually seemed to be trying to hide under the bodies of their dead companions. Interesting. She remembered having something of an aversion to dead flesh when she'd been alive. Now, of course, she didn't care.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Celumëomaryu--she had raised her voice again. She really seemed quite upset about what Anna had said, and soft-spoken Calimiel was having a hard time keeping the outraged Elf calm. Well, Anna could do something about that.

It's all right, Celumëomaryu.

Celumëomaryu broke off mid-rant and whirled - a particularly impressive move when made by a noncorporeal creature - toward Anna. "What?" she said, voice still raised.

Leave her alone. That wasn't what she said to me.

Celumëomaryu said nothing, but antagonism flowed off her in waves.
Behind her, Calimiel gave Anna a grateful look before vanishing into mist.

She didn't tell me I could have one of the women. She told me you wanted one and now that the other one is dead, there aren't enough for me to have one too.

Though still annoyed at being tricked, the Elf was slightly mollified by the explanation. She looked at Anna for a moment through narrowed eyes, then said, "What do you want to do about it?"

I propose a contest to deteremine who gets our woman.

Celumëomaryu snorted at the phrase "our woman" - as if anything to do with she and Anna had ever been communal - and said, "A contest? What sort of contest?"

A singing contest.

Celumëomaryu was intrigued despite herself. "How would we know who'd won?"

Anna rolled her eyes. This was the woman who'd spent the last three thousand years in a library?
Haven't you read the Histories? As the ancient Elven King did battle by song with the Lord of Darkness, we would know who won when it happened.

Oh. Celumëomaryu had forgotten about that particular volume of History, but now that Anna mentioned it, it did sound familiar. "Very Well."

Anna nodded. This had gone better than she'd hoped. Very Well. Are you ready? You may go first if you'd like.

[ December 25, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Calimiel, in mist form, pondered. She twisted vaguely as a moth with tattered wings, a venemous vapor struggling against an ill wind. Kenelm ... what if he went to Father to ask about the prisoners? No, that must not happen, not now! Calimiel would shadow her brother's every move. Though blind, Calimiel could sense the location of the living and the dead according to the strength of the pull she felt from the direction of the particular being on her mind. *

* At the first sign that Kenelm's presence was moving in a direction dangerous to her plans, at the first plaintive-stringed note or piteous voice moving towards Father, she would pounce. Distract him. And oh, Calimiel knew how. The harp. Take his harp, and Brother would be hers to command. Destroy his harp, place it beyond his reach, throw it outside the boundaries of the Castle grounds, so that it would be forever banished from his touch ... But could she take such a step? *

* Anna and Celumëomaryu could battle through song for the weaker of the two women left alive. Calimiel had first pick, and had chosen the stronger female. The Butler would take the remaining male. Mothlike, Calimiel was drawn towards the light. Wanting to see ... *

[ December 25, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Shifting his weight on Mornen, Volondil considered closely the perplexing question, asked by Alearindu. How was he to enter the castle? He was fairly comfortable as long as he did not move about much on the horse. And by tomorrow he expected to be feeling even better. Even so, should he be able to walk into the castle with the rest of the company, he doubted he would be much use in any skirmish that might occur.

He caught sight of Holly leading Peri as she walked back to where the red-haired woman waited. They spoke, their heads drawn close together for a moment, then parted smiling. The gregarious Hobbit must have made a new friend. Volondil twisted round on Mornen, looking then for Olo. A sharp pain in his side cut short his search, and he eased himself back to a position of comfort.

‘Alearindu,’ he said, glancing down to where she walked by Mornen’s side, ‘if you would, please ask Holly to step over here. I need to speak with her.'

[VanimaEdhel]

"Aye," Menelduliniel said to Hinura, "It is simple. Estelarion, play the basic melody."

Estelarion played the melody on his flute a bit.

"Do you understand it?" Estelarion asked.

"Yes," Hinura said. She strummed a few chords gracefully, matching the melody.

"You should play this song with us when Gandalf tells us to sing it," Menelduliniel said.

"I believe I shall," Hinura said, smiling.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aislan was distracted from her thoughts as she heard the playing of Estelarion's flute ahead of her. She smiled, remembering how the Inn sometimes had mintrel's visit. Aislan walked up to Estelarion, Menelduliniel, and Hinura.

"You should play the song with us when Gandalf tells us to sing it," came Menelduliniel's voice.

"I believe I shall," Hinura answered.

"I have only heard a few chords, and it is already more beautiful than most I have heard," Aislan commented as the three turned and looked at who spoke.

"So many elvish songs are, to mortal ears." Estelarion spoke in return.

"Ah. What is it called? The song, I mean..." Aislan asked, looking from Estelarion to Menelduliniel.

"Nallal," Menelduliniel answered.

"Lovely, can't wait to hear it." Aislan finished as she called to Eruntale. Eruntale came trotting up to Aislan. Aislan smiled and mounted the mare with grace learned over the years. Aislan rode up farther towards Alearindu and Volondil on Mornen.

"How do you feel?" Aislan asked, looking at how Volondil tried hard not to move to much on Mornen.

"Better..." Volondil's gaze darted here and there, and he seemed preoccupied. Aislan smiled let him go about what he was doing.

Aislan sighed, feeling a bit useless at that moment. But she knew that being out was better than being in. She wondered about the Castle, wondered about what they would find when they made it there.

[ December 26, 2002: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu looked up at Volondil and nodded. 'Alright, hold on. Aislan? Could you watch over Volondil and Mornen for a moment? I have a few things to see to quickly.' Aislan smiled and nodded, and then Alearindu glanced around, looking for Holly. She spotted her, and then jogged over.

'Holly? Sorry to interrupt anything... I'm the Ranger Alearindu.' She smiled. 'Volondil wishes to talk with you. Over what? I know not. But, I must go talk with Gandalf for a moment, as well.' Alearindu smiled at Holly once more. 'So, if you'll excuse me,' Alearindu bowed her head, and then caught up to Gandalf.

'Gandalf,' Alearindu bowed her head. 'I was wondering about Volondil and him entering the castle. Are we to take horses into the Castle? I'm not quite sure how Volondil would be about walking by the time we got there. What should we do?'

[piosenniel]

Holly made her way to where Volondil sat on Mornen. The horse looked none the worse for wear from it's previous ill fated encounter with the pit, but its present rider looked pale and ill at ease. He motioned her to help him down from his seat, and she spoke softly with Mornen to keep him steady while Aislan held the reins.

Volondil slid slowly to the ground, bearing much of his weight by the strength of his arms. He stood for some few minutes, bent over, hands on knees, willing his breath back to some regularity. At last he raised his face to her and stood up straight, a fine bead of sweat breaking out on his brow. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and leaning on her for support, bade her take him to where Peri and Andreth stood waiting.

'Do you not think you push yourself too fast?' she asked him as they walked along. 'Your wound pains you greatly still, though I see your strength has begun to come back somewhat.'

'Yes, and by the time we reach the castle, I need to have the majority of my strength returned.' He splinted his side with his hand, taking deep breaths, as they walked. 'I need your help. I cannot be carried all the way to Castle Maladil on the back of the horse. I will still be as weak as a kitten, and worse, useless, should I do that. I must walk some as we go along and in the end be able to wield my blade should the need arise.' He squeezed her shoulder, causing her to stop and face him. 'I need your help.'

Holly turned a frowning face to him, and shook her head. 'Foolish Man!' Seeing the resolve in his eyes, she shrugged, and answered that she would do what she could, if he agreed to her conditions. They had reached the pony and Andreth by then, and Volondil sat down on a grassy rise, smiling weakly. 'And what conditions might those be Mistress Holly?'

She outlined for him that he must let her check his healing wound each day, and she would be the judge of how long he should walk each day and when he needed to let Mornen carry him. His strength should come back in increments and not impair his healing. As to his use of the sword, the quickness and turns he would need to maneuver with it, she said she had a thought at how that might be accomplished.

She asked Andreth to fetch the Ranger's pack. The woman returned quickly with it, placing it before the man, who looked expectantly at Holly. Untying the pack, she bade him find the boiled leather vest he wore beneath his mail. Once done, she checked the dressing over his wound and found it dry and intact. She motioned for him to stand and put on the vest, leaving it unlaced. Picking up a spare shirt of his from the pack, she folded it to fit against the area of the wound, then laced the vest tight against it.

'Now try your sword - a little!' she urged him, standing back as he drew it. His face was a twinned mirror of delight and effort as he made a few, gentle passes with his blade. She reached out a hand to restrain his arm as he prepared to practice more. 'Wonderful!' he cried softly, leaning now on the pommel as he rested from the brief excecise, the tip of his blade secured against the ground before him.

'Yes, well, but perhaps you should not be too enthusiastic as yet. I think you will be more ready by the time we have reached the castle, but don't go off on your own. You will need your companions about you should trouble arise.'

She laughed to herself as he took a few more passes in the air. 'Just one small shove from this small Hobbit's hand, and you would go sprawling, blade or no.' She watched as he resheathed his sword; then, taking the vest from him, she checked his wound once more and bade him rest for a moment before he remounted Mornen.

[Mithadan]

As the group had travelled towards Tharbad, a great deal of animated discussion had taken place concerning the Castle and its inhabitants. Yet Nardol ever held himself aloof from conversation. Indeed, few spoke to or even approached him as they continued down the Old South Road, save Bethberry who tended his wound from time to time. Even she had few words for him; his gruffness and unfriendly demeanor deflected her few attempts at conversation. Even the other Elves avoided him, though this was to his satisfaction as he understood them to be of Galadriel and Thranduil's people and he was not fond of either the Lady of the Golden Wood or the Lord of Wood Elves.

They suffered no further mishaps along the road and made relatively good time considering the injuries sustained by several members of the group. Perhaps two days away from the Castle, they made camp on the south side of the road in a small clearing. Nardol dismounted and limped about attempting to stretch his wounded leg. Even as he lowered his pack to the ground, he noticed one of the Half-Men approaching Rustal slowly. Do they not learn? He stalked forward, but halted as the Halfling whistled quietly, then turned toward him and said, "His left foreleg is injured. May I examine it?" Nardol considered the short Man for a moment, then nodded curtly. He murmured a few words to the horse who stilled as the Hobbit examined the Stallion's leg.

"Here," said Olo. "A thorn has torn his skin and lodged in just by the joint. It is irritated but it is not infected. May I care for him?" Nardol nodded again and watched as the Hobbit carefully extracted the thorn, washed the scratch and applied a balm to the injury.

Olo smiled broadly. "A fine beast," he said. "He's taken no harm and will be well on the morrow." Nardol nodded again and stood as an awkward silence fell. Olo's friendly face began to fall into a frown. "Maybe Elves do things different but where I come from..." the Hobbit began. The Elf interrupted. "Thank you," he said simply. Then he turned and walked back to his pack. Olo shook his head. "A fine piece of work he is..."

[ December 26, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[piosenniel]

Olo shook his head. ‘A fine piece of work he is...’ he thought to himself, then cut off the unproductive thought. It was hard not to dismiss the Elf when his manner was so stand-offish. Still the horse was his first concern, and the Elf had been less abrasive than usual. He squared his shoulders and strode off after him.

'Excuse me, Master Elf! I should like to give you this to use on his leg.’ Nardol looked up from where he sat, his face reflecting neither irritation nor invitation. Olo held out his hand with the small pot of unguent in it. 'Use this please, once a day after you wash away the crusted area. As I said, it should look quite a bit better in the next day or so. But please continue to care for it for at least two days after it looks healed. Appearances can be deceiving, when it comes to pain and festering. Wounds oft go deeper than we see them on the surface.’

Nardol looked the hobbit squarely in the face at this last remark, finding no hidden trace of pity or disgust evident – only the simple exchange of information from one horseman to another. His brow furrowed and he took the proffered unguent from the Hobbit’s hand. Another simple ‘Thank you’ followed by another awkward silence. Nardol stared down at the pot as if it were the most interesting item in the entire camp.

The Hobbit’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the Elf. ‘My word!’ he thought to himself. ‘He is much like that dappled warhorse those traders gave to my Da in exchange for one of our sturdy ponies. Ill used by those nasty orcs who captured his rider, his spirit was just as scarred, if not more so, than his flanks where they had beat him and cut him with their lashes. Starved, he was, as much for contact as for food. Wary, though, and mean if he felt threatened in the slightest way.’

‘Nardol . . . your name is it not?’ he said casually, drawing the Elf’s attention back to him. ‘Mine is Olo. Olo Gardener of Michel Delving.’ He waited for a moment to see if even this simple gesture would be spurned, then plunged on. ‘We’re setting up camp over there’. He motioned with his chin toward where Holly and Andreth were setting up a small site for themselves and their companions. Peri and Whinny grazed on the grasses along the path’s edge, and Poppy sat on a log near the fire pit, laying the shavings, tinder and wood for a cooking fire later that evening.

‘There’ll be plenty of food and sweet-spice tea, and a pipeful of Southern Star, if you’re so inclined, though I know that most Elves find the habit not to their liking. Come, if you will . . . when the sun’s a finger’s width above the western rim.’ He turned and walked away from the Elf, waving a fare well.

‘Oh,’ he called back over his shoulder as he walked toward his companions, ‘and don’t worry about Holly. I’ll see to it she doesn’t try to poison you . . .’

[ December 27, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

'Gandalf,' Alearindu bowed her head. 'I was wondering about Volondil and him entering the castle. Are we to take horses into the Castle? I'm not quite sure how Volondil would be about walking by the time we got there. What should we do?'

* Gandalf tossed an oaken log onto the campfire, holding out his pipe bowl towards it. The log thudded a momentary solid comfort against the falling twilight. A chorus of sparks snapped outwards, leaping up so high that the people sitting nearest jumped with a slight start. Gandalf’s pipe bearing Holly’s shared Southern Star came ablaze from the fire’s stray touch. * Safe for Volondil to enter the Castle? There will be no safe place, Alearindu, inside nor out, once arrived at our destination. The reach of the age-old curse of Maladil has grown beyond the boundaries of household. Volondil already has felt its clawing.

* Gandalf’s expression gentled as he turned towards the still-hobbling ranger. * Volondil, though you wish you could do more, your being is worth more than your doing. May the healing of your injuries bring healing to others.

As for taking horses into the Castle, ... * Gandalf smiled. * Horses should fare better than we, if only they could climb the stairs. Nay, at best the horses and ponies should be stabled on the grounds of Laurëondo, the better to protect them from Orcs. That is, if the horses don’t spook. Aislan can help us with the horse tending, and someone should accompany our good hostler. None of us should walk alone undefended on the Castle grounds. Even Poppy will be guarded … by Maladil himself, I’ll warrant. For despite all the evidence, yet I cannot believe he has forsaken his honor, however misplaced that honor has been from the first utterance of his oath.

* As the company assembled around the campfire, Gandalf presented them each with three long, thin rods of metal with thick heads on one end, like tiny cattails ... Aislan, Alearindu, Andreth, Bethberry, Estelarion, Hinura, Holly, Menelduliniel, Olo, Volondil. All except for Poppy, and Gandalf’s only answer when the gold-bearing Hobbit questioned why was a cryptically muttered "Maybe later." As for Nardol, Gandalf held three metal rods in readiness to present to the warrior-Elf as well, should he approach the campfire and join with the rest. *

* Midnight grazed peacefully enough, wandering freely as a shadow within sight of camp. *

[ December 28, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Bêthberry]

The crackle of the campfire and the scent of tobacco mixed with burning oak brought the strange company into various moods of mellow reflection.

Bethberry rose and accepted her cattail-like rods from Gandalf with a sombre nod. "As you know, Gandalf, I will not be entering the Castle. My footsteps will take me to the garden, where lies my concern. You will, I know, explain later what you would have me do there, unless you wish me to be guided by my own wits." The grey wizard nodded in reply, between puffs on his pipe.

The daughter of the Old Forest then retreated, for she wished to speak to Andreth. On her way over to the young woman of Bree, she stopped behind Aislen, who had just returned from caring for the horses. "Have you asked Olo about Nardol's horse, or perhaps Nardol himself? Speak directly to him if you have concerns about the animal, but do not upbraid the elf. Rest assured that wherever such defenses lie, there lies also good reason."

With knowing eyes, Aislen answered, "I will ask about the horse and I will hold my tongue further. Once bitten, twice shy."

"No, the wrong reason, Aislen. Be more patient in your youthful enthusiasm."

Seeing Nardol leaning against a tree, just outside the light of the circle, Bethberry then sought out Andreth, but her movement caught the elf's eye.

"Andreth, the beauty of your embroidery has caught my attention. You have been anxious to escape the confines of home, but I see you have brought something of home with you."

With a half smile and slight shrug, Andreth gave an equivocal answer.

Bethberry continued. "You have asked if perhaps I know the Ancient Tongue of the elves. That I do not, so you must call upon Nardol's help in the translation thereof."

A look of interest and a raised eyebrow from Andreth brought out greater explanation from Bethberry. Nardol, too, looked up, to listen.

"While it is true that I know the sorrows of the early Ages and grieve still the loss of Nogrod and Belegost, it has never been my gift to empathize with the elves, but rather the dwarves. From before the breaking of Thangorondrim I was taught the secret tongue of the dwarves, for I could fathom their love of beauty and of creation as it was always free from possessiveness. They love creating but not hoarding and thereby have mastery of themselves, a mastery I understand so well from my father."

"This I cannot understand about the elves and their love of creation, for beauty masters them rather than their own accord. Beauty buys time for man and dwarves, but I do not think it can do so for the elves. Rather it imprisons them, binds them in cruel chains, forcing them link by link into vindictiveness, petty jealousies, betrayals, kinslaying. Both words and jewels, things of created beauty, seem to matter more than life itself to them, which they would break first before their creations. Perhaps Curufinwë, in never knowing his mother, was too unacquainted with Nienna; I do not know and I do not understand."

Andreth, not knowing the stories of which the forest woman spoke, looked perplexed but was too polite to question, for she guessed that the story was directed less at her than at Nardol--a true enough point, as Bethberry's next words made clear.

"Nardol, perhaps I have completely mischaracterized the elves' making of things. What can you tell me to teach me otherwise? How should I understand the hold of the Simarils upon you and your kind?

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

[Mithadan]

Nardol's face darkened at first. But when he spoke, his words were carefully measured. "Of Dwarves and Elves, there are some of both races who are greedy and love overmuch the works of their own hands. But others of both races give of their work freely or at a fair price. It is unfair to say that one or the other is greedy."

Then his face lightened and he seemed to perceive a vision from afar. "The Silmarils," he said with a sigh. "At a time of festival in Aman, members of Finwe's house were called together to the great hall in his house on Tuna in Valinor. None knew why they were summoned, yet a rumour had gone forth that Fëanor had undertaken some great work. So many were gathered in that hall, all arrayed in the dress of festival and there were musicians and all were happy for no shadow had yet sullied the light of Valinor. I remember it well..."

Andreth interrupted in amazement. "You were there? That was ages ago!"

Nardol looked at the woman with an amused look upon his face. "There are yet some few of the Noldor living in Middle Earth who were born in Aman ere Morgoth the accursed slew the Trees. I am one of these."

The faraway look returned to his face and he continued. "Finwë called for the torches to be dimmed and the curtains drawn. And even as the room grew dim, Fëanor stepped forward bearing a case of black leather bound in silver. As he opened the case, a light came forth more fair than the glow of the stars. He drew forth the Silmarils and they were set in a circlet of Mithril and he set them upon his brows. At first they glowed and burned softly with an inner light. Then they blazed forth with the blended light of the trees, illuminating the room like the dawn."

He seemed almost to be talking to himself while wandering lost in a vision. "And when their light first filtered through the room, I beheld her. Gilwen, the fair, maiden of the stars. She who would be my wife. And while all were enraptured by the gems of Fëanor, I could see nothing else but Gilwen, her hair lit by the light of the Trees that dwelt and even now dwells in the Silmarils. I walked to her..."

He grew silent and his face dimmed as if a shadow had drawn over it. "Your wife?" asked Andreth. "Where is she now?"

He clenched his jaw and his eyes blazed. Bowing his head, he answered. "Gone! Driven away by the evil of Men. She has passed over the sea into the West with my son.' And with that he stalked away...

[ January 03, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[piosenniel]

'Well,' said Bird, 'looks like Olo's dinner guest won't be making an appearance.' She picked up the extra bowl by the pot of stew and ladled herself out a generous helping, making sure that she fished out all the pieces of mushrooms she could find.

Holly watched her friend, as she finished the bowl and licked the last bit of gravy from her fingers. 'Guess the grub hunting wasn't very good today, eh?' the Hobbit looked at the slight, slender woman and scratched her head wondering where all those extra helpings went to. ‘Must use a lot of energy changing shapes!’ she thought to herself.

Olo and Holly both sat at ease before the small cooking fire, each content with a pipeful of Southern Star. Volondil had shared supper with them, and lay close to the fire on a blanket, watching the sparks fly up into the gathering evening dusk.

Bird finished her stew, sighing loudly at the bottom of the empty bowl, and was now busy searching through Holly's food bag, looking for dessert. Olo raised his brows at Holly, who simply laughed and called out to her friend, 'Help yourself, Bird!'

'That I will!' She rooted about in the pack a moment longer, muttering to herself, 'I was sure she packed some dried fruits in here. Now where are they?'

'The other pack, Bird. The one near Peri's food.' said Holly, laughing. She pointed with her pipe stem toward the small bag perched on the log by Peri's feed bag. Content, now that she had found something to satisfy her sweet tooth, Bird sat down on the ground between the Hobbits. In her hands were the three metal rods Gandalf had given Holly earlier.

'What are these for?' she asked, waving them over the tips of the flames. Holly grabbed them quickly from her hand and laid them well to the side of the fire. 'Those are something Gandalf gave us. I have no idea what we are going to be doing with them. Shrugging her shoulders, she looked at her friend. 'But, you know the wizard's reputation for fireworks - best you not wave those things around the flames.'

Bird’s mouth formed a small ‘O’, and she pulled her knees up under her chin, clasping her arms about them. Never one to sit still long, except when in Ent form, her right hand soon strayed to a stick by the fire, and she began to beat a soft tattoo on the stew pot which stood just outside the fire pit. Soon a hum escaped her, and then words, as she began an old song.

There were three gypsies a come to my door,
And downstairs ran this lady, O!
One sang high and another sang low,
And the other sang bonny, bonny, Biscay, O!

Holly picked up the next verse, beating the rhythm on her thighs with the flat of her hands

Then she pulled off her silk finished gown
And put on hose of leather, O!
The ragged, ragged, rags about our door,
She's gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

And both sang then of the bewildered husband who’d come home to find his lady gone.

It was late last night, when my lord came home,
Enquiring for his a-lady, O!
The servants said, on every hand,
She's gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

O saddle to me my milk-white steed,
Go and fetch me my pony, O!
That I may ride and seek my bride,
Who is gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

O he rode high and he rode low,
He rode through woods and copses too,
Until he came to an open field,
And there he espied his a-lady, O!

‘Let me sing the Lord’s part now’ said Bird, a merry gleam in her eye.

What makes you leave your house and land?
What makes you leave your money, O?
What makes you leave your new wedded lord?
To go with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

‘And I shall be the Lady gone to the gypsies, I suppose.’ laughed Holly

What care I for my house and my land?
What care I for my money, O?
What care I for my new wedded lord?
I'm off with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

The last two verse they sang together, Bird’s sweet, piping harmony wove closely about the clear strong melody from Holly.

Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed,
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!
And to-night you'll sleep in a cold open field,
Along with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

What care I for a goose-feather bed?
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!
For to-night I shall sleep in a cold open field,
Along with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

‘Haven’t sung that one for a long time, have we, Holly” mused Bird, as she poked at the fire with her stick. ‘Good song! Though were I the Lady of it, I would have taken some of my Lord’s gold with me. The wandering life’s not all that romantic when you’re pounding down the road with a hole in your shoe, an empty belly, and a flat purse.’

Holly nodded her head at the statement. ‘True. But still there’s a certain irresistible pull to the open road that’s hard to deny.’ She poked her friend in the arm, giving her an impish wink. ‘You must admit that if one is clever enough and keeps her wits about her, there’s always an opportunity that presents itself to rectify the problem of meager monies.’

‘I’ll give you that.’ said Bird yawning. ‘Speaking of which, when do we reach the castle?’ Holly shrugged, saying Bird’s guess was as good as hers. They sat for a long while, round the fire, watching the glowing coals hiss and pop. Bird’s hand wandered once again to the metal rods that lay to the side of the fire pit, and she held one up, staring at it.

‘You sure we can’t try even one? It would be fun!’ She waved it slowly in front of Holly’s face, like a snake mesmerizing its intended victim. The Hobbit’s hand darted out quickly and snatched it from her, then secured all three of them within her grip.

‘No, Bird! Not even one!’

‘Killjoy!’ squawked the jackdaw now standing next to Holly. Hopping from foot to foot in an agitated manner, the small black and white bird launched herself upward, flying to a nearby beech. She perched on one of the lower branches, ruffling her feathers a bit, and then smoothed them out again. Tucking her head beneath her wing she settled in for sleep.

‘Good night, Bird!’ called Holly. She tapped her pipe on the rock before her and thumped the burnt pipe weed from its bowl. Refilling it, she settled back for one last smoke. There was much to think about. She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke rise upward as it streamed over the dying fire.

*******************************************
Child Ballad, #200

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

[*Varda*]

Poppy had kept very much to herself since the realisation that she would have to face Maladil alone. All along the journey she had felt everyone’s eyes upon her, until she felt like a mouse about to walk openly into the jaws of a cat, waiting to pounce.

And then, of course, there was Holly’s plan. Poppy sat by the campfire thoughtfully. She may as well help out, providing she survived the impending encounter with Maladil.

Poppy shuddered. What was she doing? This was clearly no place for a young hobbit like her, Tookish blood running through her or not. For a moment she rued that day adventure and boiled and bubbled up in her heart, and she had decided impulsively to come along. The excitement had simmered down again, and Poppy looked to the road ahead, resigned.

“Well, no point predicting the future before it happens!” she said to herselfr. “Look at Mr Bilbo, he went off on great adventures…he disappeared, that’s true, but he was still hale and hearty when he went.” With some hope renewed, Poppy listened to the music around the campfire.

Poppy looked curiously at the strange items Gandalf was giving out to everyone. Everyone but her, she noted. Strange thin rods…thick heads. Poppy wanted to know what these were for, but on questioning Gandalf further, received no answer but a mysterious ‘maybe later.’ This did not satisfy Poppy’s curiosity in the slightest, and she wanted to know why she did not receive one.

Realising she was to receive no answers from the cryptic wizard, Poppy settled down by the fire again, and let the music drift over her, washing away her worries and fears, for now at least. Blowing some smoke up into the dark night sky, she jumped slightly as she saw a mass of wings and fluttering next to Holly, before realising it must be Bird. Poppy laughed slightly, she would never get used to all this changing.

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu thought about what Gandalf had said. 'So, I take it we are to travel in at least pairs.' It was more of a statement, than a question.

Gandalf then handed everyone three metal rods. Alearindu turned hers over in her hands, wondering what their use was. She supposed they would know eventually, so she quietly stood up, and went back over to where her pack and Mornen.

She gave Mornen a pat, and then let him graze. Alearindu put the rods by her pack, and then laid back on the grass, and gazed at the stars. She noted a few constellations; Anarrima, Menelvagor, Remmirath,Wilwarin,Telumendil,and Soronume.

She smiled and sat up, looking around the camp. Some were already settling down, and others were preparing. She noted Gandalf was still sitting by the campfire, and stood and walked over to him, then sat down near him.

'Gandalf, I don't believe I will be able to find sleep tonight.' She said, staring into the fire. 'I feel too vunerable when I sleep on journeys such as this.' She scowled at herself a bit. 'Anyhow, when do you expect to reach the castle?'

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aislan held a confused look on her face as the three rods were handed to her. She dared to take a guess at what they were, and considered the idea that it might be for light in the castle, or to scare off ghosts. She couldn't be sure though, for Aislan knew naught of Gandalf's plans. Few ever did.

Aislan strode from her place near the fire to speak with Nardol. Aislan had also noticed the small problem with Rustal, though she had feared to anger Nardol. She was sure the Hobbit Olo had done a fine job healing, but Aislan just wished to check.

"Hello. How is Rustal? Olo caught it just before me," Aislan knew she was lying a bit, and maybe Nardol knew she was actually half-terrified to anger him. "Mind if I..." Aislan looked questioningly at the elf.

"Go ahead, don't hurt yourself down by his hooves." Nardol said quietly, and Aislan couldn't even read his voice or face to see if he felt annoyed.

"I've done this many times before. My own horse Eruntale had something much the same happen," Aislan started talking again, as she bent down to check Olo's effort. "Olo did well. Rustal will not be bothered much. Shouldn't feel even the slightest sting by tomorrow," Aislan stood back up, and smiled at Nardol.

"I apologize for pestering you earlier, and hope you find the light in this company which seeks such a dark destination. I have not seen what you have, or been where you have. I know not fully the perils and the dangers that lie ahead or have laid behind, but I hope that it won't matter as long as we can work together," Aislan smiled once more as she made her way back to the fire.

[ March 22, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Belin]

Celumëomaryu blinked at Anna. The overweening, ridiculous girl wanted to compete with her ? What right had she? What foolishness had induced her to compete with an Elf in a matter of song?

But there she stood, nevertheless.

Celumëomaryu closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength. It had been long and long since she had sung. She was a secretary, not a bard, and her work had been done in silence, and the silence had deepened since her death. She had avoided thinking of meanings since coming to a place where the Atani lived; the nearness of their death had seemed to render unnecessary any songs of hers. What understandings could ever come to these short-lived people? What could she reach for, lost among so many of their kind? She'd always thought Maladil a fool.

She gave a soft, bitter laugh at the irony of it.

So long, so long, but her memory held a song or two still, a song or two of silence. She did not move, but she opened her eyes and sang, softly at first.

Where in the deep night sky
The stars lie in its embrace
The courtyard still in its sleep
And peace comes over her face.

She did remember. Her voice grew stronger, and Anna took a sudden and involuntary step away from the strange and brilliant light in the Elf's eyes.

"Come to me," it sings
"Hear the pulse of the land
The ocean's rhythms pull
To hold your heart in its hand."

And when the wind draws strong
Across the cypress trees
The nightbirds cease their songs
So gathers memories.

Last night you spoke of a dream
Where forests stretched to the east
And each bird sang its song
A swan joined in a feast

And in a corner stood
A pomegranate tree
With wild flowers there
No mortal eye could see

Yet still some mystery befalls
Sure as the cock crows at morn
The world in stillness keeps
The secret of babes to be born

She arched her eyebrow at Anna, mimicking the gesture that the girl had made so many times at her.

She heard an old voice say
"Don't go far from the land
The seasons have their way
No mortal can understand."

The last note faded slowly from her voice.

[Susan Delgado]

Anna had taken a step back during Celumëomaryu's song, and now stepped forward again. She knew the Elf's song was powerful, but she would not let that daunt her. She was stubborn too and the smug expression on the Elf's face was making her angry.

Very well
Up every morning
Long before day
Cooking her breakfast alone
She quietly dresses
And pulls back the shutters
And sits in a corner all alone

But nobody ever comes by anymore
Nobody ever calls
Most days she just sits and stares
At the windows and walls
Windows and walls

Children all gone
Husband passed on
Nothing but time on her hands
Most of her mornings
Are spent in her dreams
Or making her sad little plans

Maybe she'll go into the town today
And speak to a friend she hasn't seen
Or just escape for an hour
From her windows and walls
Windows and walls

The clock on the mantle
Chiming the hours
Must be the loneliest sound
She washes her floors
And tends to her gardens
And afterwards has to sit down

Sometimes she still can remember a child
Playing with dolls of rag and straw
Now all that she's left
Are these memories and windows and walls
Day after day, windows and walls

She finished her song and glared at the Elf in defiance.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Calimiel could stand the waiting no longer. Kenelm, infuriatingly playing that harp and asking nosey questions about the prisoners. Celumëomaryu and Anna singing to decide the fate of the weaker female prisoner ... and ... and ... Calimiel could sense victory had been determined, somehow. The air pressure had changed, and swirled around her. A dark mistrust choked the daughter of Maladil ... what if the loser moved quickly to claim Calimiel's own prey? *

* With a mind-rending shriek, Calimiel plunged into the pile of living and dead bodies on the dungeon floor, pawing about until she recognized the stronger of the women of the race of Man. Her victim flopped about struggling for only a few moments. Then, Calimiel stood. Stood! And felt the floor beneath her feet, through thin wool stockings and hard leather shoes. She sighed, breathing. Breathing air! She shuddered at the stench of decay already starting to gather. Sight came to her, and she smiled, even at the dismal gloom of her accursed surroundings. Black iron bars swam into her line of vision ... unyielding, for she could no longer simply drift through them. *

* Calimiel blinked suddenly, then spoke, with the strong timbre of a physical voice. *

The keys. Where are they? I wish to come out from behind these bars.

[ January 02, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[The Fifth]

Kenelm stopped playing his harp in surprise, staring upon Calimiel, who was now a human -- no longer a wailing, blind spirit of an Elf, but that of a living mortal. Now he knew what it was all about ... the living. There were still two of them left. But who was going to take over them?

Kenelm stood quietly, looking hesitant for a moment, then drifted through the rusting iron bars, and then floated towards the stairs, stepping noiselessly down the decaying steps and to the second floor of the Castle. He arrived to the door of Maladil's bedroom, and, hearing no plates crashing or screaming, peeked in. Nobody was there.

He supposed his father was somewhere in the Great Hall, and drifted downwards to the ground floor. He still did not know whether to tell Maladil or not concerning the prisoners and their uses; the way Calimiel was glancing at him earlier with those veiled, eyeless sockets warned him not to, somehow. However, he continued to look for Maladil.

[Susan Delgado]

Anna knew it as soon as the last note faded. She had lost. She was doomed to be a Ghost forever. She felt her body fading as Celumëomaryu's shriek of triumph filled the dungeon where they'd battled.

Anna let herself fade out and for the first time didn't envision a destination, just vanished, and for a moment she felt nothing, then opened her eyes to a featureless grey world, like being in fog so dense as to be solid. In a panic, she thought of Calimiel's herb garden and in a moment she was there.

How very odd. She tried again, and got the same result, only this time she knew what to expect and didn't panic. She tried to move but had no reference to judge her success. After what she judged a short time, she rematerialised in the dungeon. One of the female prisoners was there, beating on the bars. When she saw Anna, she loudly demanded the keys, but Anna scoffed and vanished to her room. That prisoner had asked for the keys before and Anna was not about to be the one who freed the prisoners prematurely. Let the Butler do that when the time was right.

She drifted up through her ceiling and above the roof. She stared into the distance. She knew how unlikely it was that any other mortals would come to the Castle. She was truly doomed to remain this way, and now she wouldn't even have the stimulation of friends and enemies, or even Maladil's ravings. They would be mortal now, and would leave her alone with the servants, none of whom had made much of an impression on her. Maybe she would befriend that scullery maid, Tella. She seemed to have more spirit than the others, though she did allow herself to be bullied by the Butler. She wondered what would happen if she were to go into that grey place and remain. Well, she had plenty of time to experiment now. She closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sun and let it beam on her and through her and considered her future.

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel held the rods still in her hand. She had been thinking all this time and had remained silent, nearly worrying Estelarion. Menelduliniel was never silent and, when she was, it was usually when she was scheming of some horrid plan that would get them both in trouble.

"Estelarion," she whispered to him, getting a very small nod on his part. She knew he was dreading what she would say, as he had no clue what it would entail. "Estelarion," she tried again, "I was thinking. Should we not sing something more...joyous? For, if we are to sing to calm, should we not sing of jovial things and not of torment and sorrow?"

Estelarion's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the thought.

"I did not consider that," he said, in a surprised tone, "You may be right. What were you thinking of? Wait, I know what would be fitting. We should sing Celaid Myrn. That is a merry song."

"Yes, but it is also calming. It would not upset any excitable foes we would meet," Menelduliniel pointed out.

"Yes, then it is settled. We shall change our song. And we could even repeat that song. It has no set beginning nor end, so it would make sense, as we could sing it for some time."

"As long as my voice did not give out," Menelduliniel pointed out, although knowing quite well that her voice would not give out.

They both grew silent again, and stared into the fire...

[tangerine]

Hinura's eyes brightened when she heard this. She looked over towards the two Elves. "There is a song or two I know that is merry. They are meant to be dancing tunes, and they are very light-hearted, especially Bog a'Lochain. I'm sure I could come up with a few more."

[VanimaEdhel]

"Maybe you can teach them to us," Estelarion said, to Hinura, smiling. "We shall teach you the songs that we know. That way, we can play together. More instruments are always better for most of these songs."

Estelarion shifted positions so that he was not only facing Menelduliniel, but so he could also face Hinura as well, in case they decided to speak more. Menelduliniel was obviously engrossed in playing with the rods. She was so very much like a raccoon sometimes, it seemed. Anything that glimmered or could be played with was an object of amusement for the Elf for quite a bit of time. Estelarion laughed as he thought of this.

"What?" Menelduliniel asked.

"You are a raccoon," Estelarion said. Menelduliniel looked at her hands, for Estelarion had made reference to her raccoon-like habits before, and laughed, realizing she was playing with the rods.

"I do not even notice when I do that anymore," she laughed.

They both laughed, then stared back into the fire...

[Mithadan]

Nardol tossed and moaned in his sleep. As was so often the case, the night brought him no peace.

I can bear it no longer. There is too much sorrow here. Too many memories. I must go.

No! Do not leave me. Stay. We will befriend their kind no longer. We will separate ourselves from their ills.

They were worthy of our friendship. That is not the point. When their foes came and their people had fled, they hid me. They were true and suffered from no ills. And I watched. They stood alone, unarmed. They slew him for no reason other than that he was there. And she...they tormented her with knives and carved upon her body for their amusement as she lay screaming. They were our friends. She died in your arms and you gave her solace such as you could. Our friends were not evil. Stay if you must. I am weary. I must go. But do not turn away from those of good heart.

They have caused this. Their kind. They are faithless. But do not lose faith yourself. I did not endure the torment of Angband to lose you. Stay but a while longer!

It is you who have lost faith. Perhaps that is why you must stay. But I am worn thin and have seen too many seasons. I must go.

Nardol's cry tore through the night and woke the camp. Gandalf rushed over to stand by him with a light burning at the end of his staff. Nardol could not meet his eyes nor bear the gaze of the others around him. He buried his head in his hands. "It was nothing. I am sorry..."

[ January 03, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

Nardol ... you're not alone.

* Gandalf's tone held the softness of true understanding. For a dream he'd had many years ago, a dream that had come true, now returned to the wizard in a flash of clarity more immediate than the light of his staff. *

I dreamed I was aboard a ship just set out from the Grey Havens, but not with the destination of sailing West. Rather, with the responsibility of completing a quest for ... of all people, Master Elrond ... which entailed sailing South with several companions. Bethberry was one of these.

A violent storm arose with a lashing wind that threatened to blow the ship back East and run us aground. Using what wizardly skill I could muster and intense concentration, I focused on combatting the effects of the wind, focused towards the West, and found myself tempted to simply drive the ship as far West as I could, overcome with longing to see the Blessed Realm. But there came a voice interiorly, commanding, "There yet remains much for you to do."

Immediately then, I walked to the Southernmost part of the deck, to concentrate on steering the ship South.

That was the dream, Nardol. When it came true, however, things did not go as smoothly. But each of us did the best we could together, and that is what saved us from an otherwise certain death.

And now here it is again ... the road leads South, at Master Elrond's bidding. I've something yet to do, Nardol ... and so do you. Rest easy, now. I'll be near.

* Gandalf placed an encouraging hand on the Elf's shoulder, then turned and walked gingerly away. *

[ January 04, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Bird opened one beady black eye, and fixed the noisy Elf with a frigid stare. Such a pleasant dream she had been having. A craggy mountain range . . . . early morning sun on her back, and the warm thermals from the valley below holding her aloft in their soft hands. Gliding, glorious gliding . . . . so far and so long . . . . without effort. The river below a silver sliver between grey walls.

She ruffled her feathers and unclenched her feet from round the branch on which she slept. Flitting down to where Holly lay sleeping, she grasped a beak full of curls and tugged hard on it. She hopped back, squawking loudly in the Hobbit’s ear as Holly’s hand reached up in her sleep to slap away the offending creature. Bird cocked her head to one side and watched as Holly settled back into sleep. Hopping close to her again, she hissed in her ear. ‘Wake up! I need some company.’

‘Oh Bird!’ came the drowsy mumbling of the Hobbit. ‘First the screaming Elf, now you. Let me sleep. Please!’ Holly pulled the blankets over her head, shutting her eyes and ears against the insistent jackdaw.

‘Bird! Is that you?’ Volondil’s voice carried from the makeshift shelter in which he had lain resting. Should have been resting, that is, except for the dull ache of his healing scar. No matter the position he tried, he could not get comfortable. For hours now, he had lain silently awake, turning from one side to the other, listening to the sounds of the camp in darkness. Nardol’s pained cry had rent the muted murmurings of the night, bringing Volondil to a sitting position. The suddenness of the movement made him gasp softly with pain, and now he sat holding his side, willing the misery to subside.

‘Come help me up.’ he called quietly to her. A soft flutter of wings brought her to his side. Then a momentary flutter of her small image in the darkness played tricks with his eyes, and there she stood before him, offering a hand up. ‘Thank you.’ he whispered, holding tight to her small hand.

He put his arm about her shoulders, as if for support. ‘Walk with me. I need to stretch my legs.’ She saw him wince in the moonlight as he took the first step, and she slipped her arm about the small of his back to offer more support.

It was only a brief walk. He grew tired and Bird helped him back to his bed. ‘Stay and talk just a little, if you will.’ he asked her, sighing as his muscles relaxed, and the ache softened. He kept her hand within his own, and his eyes closed against his will.

‘I’ll sing you a song to lull you to sleep, to bring you sweet dreamings. She sang softly, watching his face relax, and his breath come slow and even.

What does little birdie say
In her nest at peep of day?
Let me fly, says little birdie,
Mother, let me fly away.
Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till thy little wings are stronger.
So she rests a little longer,
Then she flies away.

What does little baby say,
In her bed at peep of day?
Baby says, like little birdie,
Let me rise and fly away.
Baby, sleep a little longer,
Till thy little limbs are stronger.
If she sleeps a little longer,
Baby too shall fly away.

Bird gently drew her hand from his and walked back to where Holly lay, her head resting on her arm, eyes open, watching her friend approach. ‘Not a word!’ said Bird, shaking her finger at Holly. ‘Not now!’

She leaped, spreading her wings, and taking flight, a small jackdaw once again. Placing her head beneath her wing, she willed herself to sleep – back to dreams of riding the mountain thermals. But sleep did not come easily. She ruffled her feathers, flapping her wings in annoyance. Restless, she flew to a small, nearby clearing and landed in the center of it.

Raising her wings upward, she felt her feet sink deep into the ground beneath them, spreading out, gathering nourishment from the earth. Branches reached for the night sky, torso thickened and stiffened. Time slowed down for her. She needed to think.

_________________________________________

Lullabye by Alfred Lord Tennyson

[ January 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth slid out from her bedroll and walked gingerly over to the edge of the campsite where the Elf lay quietly on the ground, his eyes wide open, staring out into the darkness. She could not get the words out of her head that he had spoken to her earlier that evening. How his face had glowed when he spoke of the Silmarils and the fair maiden Gilwen with the starlight in her hair. It was as if he had been another being completely, one far removed from the tormented soul who now raged and ranted at his companions.

She had heard his anguished cries from the other side of the campsite, and had even made out some of the tormented words he'd spit out in the agitation of his sleep as well as the wisdom and comfort that Gandalf had tried to offer him. And a small bit of it had touched her heart. For she too had dreams that wrenched her soul. At the beginning of this journey, she had pledged to undertake this matter out of respect for her father. For the tales had said a son or daughter must be sent rather than one full grown. But now it had gone beyond that. It was her own wish as well.

As they came closer to the Castle, her visions were becoming ever more vivid. It was almost as if someone inside was reaching out to pull her in with them. A shudder ran through her body. Andreth felt there would be no rest for her until her kin and their household could find some glimmer of peace.

Uncertain what to do, or how she could help the Elf, she went over to the brook nearby and drew a flagon of clear water. The brook babbled with sweetness, holding waters cold and sparkling. I have heard, Andreth thought, that goodness lies in water, and the spirit of Ulmo rests over all such places, especially for those in dire need. May it be so in the simple cup I offer him.

Andreth walked up to Nardol and knelt by his side. She held out her hand with the cup of water. "You are troubled, and I can do little. Much that you say I can not even understand. But even a Child of Man can sense sadness, and feel some desire to help. Here, drink this, for you are hot and restless."

Nardol sat up and accepted the cup, and softly whispered his thanks, but said nothing else.

"I do not know what great matter keeps you here, instead of following the one you love. But you must be an Elf of great honor to stay here when this world brings you such torment."

"I am but a mortal, but if there is anything I may do or say to help you, I will try. Your words have touched my heart. Perhaps this is because I too have a deed that draws me on, and visions that come unbidden in the night. My own tale is brief and lacks the depth or torment of yours, but still it tugs at my heart as we journey closer to the Castle."

Andreth hesitated. She was truly afraid to say anything else, as she did not think Nardol would approve of her or her kin. But she did not wish to deceive him. She found herself spilling out her story to the silent figure on the ground, hoping for someone to hear and understand.

"Those folk in the Castle are my kin. My father is the last descendent of Adela's older brother. Do not say you do not approve of the union. To be truthful, I too feel they would have done better to take an easier path in life, and stick with their own folk. But I can not change that. Nor can I turn away when they come to visit me in the night with their tears and torment."

Andreth began to cry, "We have letters, letters from Maladil to his wife. They are personal things, of no use for this quest, but they are filled with love. One time he was different. And the children suffer so."

"I know this is but a small matter to one of your lineage who has seen so many things of great import. But could you find it in your heart to help us? Your body is here on the quest. I ask for a piece of your heart as well. And if there is any small thing that my family or I can do to help you find your way homeward or to fulfill the doom that awaits you, we will gladly do so."

Andreth hunched herself into a small, miserable ball on the ground, wondering if she should have said anything, and whether or not Nardol himself had a son or daughter somewhere which would perhaps soften his heart. But she was not at all certain. She waited for the Elf to send her away with sharp words of disdain.

[ January 05, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Maladil lurched into the Private Sitting Room off the Great Hall. The master of the Castle found himself standing in the middle of a small mahogany table with legs carven as of winding vine tendrils encircling slender tree stems. He backed away, ethereal fingers curling about an unadorned white porcelain vase ... But no, he would not smash this. For it still contained, alive and freshly blooming, the last flowers Adela had ever seen. Lilacs of kingly purple, sprightly magenta, purest white. Their aroma shone out ten times stronger than what mere nature had given them. *

* Calimiel had picked the lilacs that evening, just before dinner. Adela had hugged her daughter in thanks, smiled, set the vase down, proceeded to the dining room, alone, just before dinner. Minutes before dinner. *

* And had Adela died a respectable death? A death majestic in its tragedy? A death nobly becoming of her beauty and grace? A death consoling to the memory in any way? But no. She had not aged into any peaceful passage from a long life, nor lapsed into mournful illness, nor died heroically in childbirth, nor even been attacked by Orcs envious of her worth, nor of anything remotely worthy of song. *

* Nay, but the Valar had seen to it that Adela's fate be so ludicrous and humiliating as to not even be worthy of the stately sound conjured up by the very name of "fate." The Lady Maladil had simply met her end by choking on a bit of meat and bone, unable to even cry out. By the time Maladil, unawares of what transpired, arrived to join his wife for dinner, Adela had already slumped over into her final earthly pose. There'd been a wine glass smashed on the floor under her chair, staining the carpet. *

* Kenelm entered the Sitting Room to find his father carefully replacing the vase onto its table, then launching into a recital of curses against the Valar. Maladil cursed them all. From Eru, for being, to Mandos, for doom's cruelty, to Ulmo, who would offer Adela no friendly passage across the Western Sea to the shores of Aman, to Manwë, who withheld the living winds of air and breath from Adela's throat, to Elbereth, whose brightest starlight could not replace the light of Adela's spirit... the list went on as always, ... to Yavanna, for growing the lilacs that now outlasted his wife. *

[piosenniel]

Holly rubbed the sleep from her eyes and groaned as she turned over once again. Her bed was uncomfortable, rocks seemed to sprout like onions beneath her, and a bone chilling cold had crept up from the ground and gnawed its way into the marrow of her bones. 'Olo! Are you awake?' Her only answer was the soft, regular snoring from across the fire. Nothing to do but get up.

She dug down deep beneath her blankets, fishing for the sweater and vest she had stuffed in with her to keep them warm. Hastily pulling on the extra garments, she crawled reluctantly from her bed roll.

A handful of wood shavings, followed by a small pile of kindling, and Holly bent to the embers of the fire, blowing them into a bouquet of small red and yellow flames. She huddled there for a few moments, a blanket drawn round her shoulders, hands and face drinking in the warmth. Taking the pot of water they had left for breakfast tea, she placed it on the grate over the small fire, and dug through her small pack for the canister of tea.

The rustle of leaves from above told her that Bird had returned. ‘Yes, I’m awake now, Bird. Come down and sit with me.’ A soft whirr of feathered wings passed by her ear as the jackdaw sought to land beside her friend. Then the figure of the small woman sat hunched beside Holly, knees drawn up beneath her chin and held close within the circle of her arms. She stared intently at the fire, its flames dancing across the mirrors of her dark eyes. The Hobbit reached behind her and grabbed another blanket to place round the tiny form beside her.

Holly busied herself with the heated water and the making of tea. She poured a steaming mug of fragrant sweet spice and handed it to Bird, then poured a mug for herself. A comfortable silence enveloped them. Only the sound of the fire crackling and popping as more wood was added to it broke the quiet spell.

Bird sighed and moved restlessly within the tent of the blanket. Holly cringed, fearing what she might say. She placed her hand on Bird’s arm, feeling the tension running through her. Holly spoke softly, before Bird had said a word. ‘Don’t go, Bird. Don’t fly away this time. We can talk this through.’ She gazed at her friend’s profile, the expression a jumble of unresolve and sadness. ‘Stay, won’t you?’

She turned her drawn face to the Hobbit. ‘And what if I should stay. How will it be different from all the other times?’ She laughed, a harsh, short sound.

[ January 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry settled back into her bedroll, surrounded by her wool cloak, and pulled the rough blanket tighter around her. She lay back on the hard ground and smelt the musty aroma of the earth mingle with the faint whiffs of grass and woodland. Turning to the fire, she watched the sparks, spinning and twisting, dance up to the ebony vault overhead, to be lost among the stars.

"He found his love by the light of the Simarils," she said to herself, "but they were eclipsed by that love. The personal once again intruding on the universal, overwhelming it."

Bethberry thought then of Maladil and his family and their overwhelming pain of the personal, the particular. "There is nothing to take them out of their pain, beyond their burdens," she reflected, looking again up at the stars, the light of which absorbed the little campfire sparks. Quietly she watched for some time the interplay of spark and star before she finally fell asleep.

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[*Varda*]

Poppy lay in deep slumber, as shadows drifted around in her mind, haunting her sleep. Suddenly she sat up, breathing heavily, darting glances around at her sleeping companions. She knew not what had caused her to wake so suddenly, or to be so startled upon awakening, but the heavy darkness, broken only by the small glow of light emitted from the fire, did nothing to ease her panicked thoughts. Finally, hearing the murmur of voices, and realising that at least two of her companions were still awake, she settled back down on the ground, and attempted to get back to sleep. It could only have been a nightmare, or some such thing. She was ordinarily a heavy sleeper, and felt somewhat ashamed that such a little thing could have woken her up. Thankfully, no one had observed her shocked awakening.

A moment or two later, she was sleeping as a hobbit might, after a long pleasant evening filled with food, ale, and pipeweed, with her hand firmly on the bag of gold next to her head.

[piosenniel]

‘Just tell me plain what you mean by “all the other times”, Bird.’ Holly picked up a long charred stick and poked the fire, sending little sparks flying upward in the rising heat. Bits and pieces had come out, along the long course of their friendship, about the skin-changer’s checkered history with romance, most ending with Bird’s comment that it just wasn’t in the cards for her. Holly had always let the subject drop with that statement, respecting her friend’s need for privacy. But she knew that the half-joking way in which Bird said it belied the pain that prompted it.

Now the words tumbled out. ‘Here’s plain for you, Holly. Men don’t like us skin-changers. We’re not quite beasts, but we surely aren’t Men. They don’t know what we are. And what they don’t know they fear and hate and hurt.’ She took the stick from Holly’s hand and jabbed savagely at the heart of the fire. ‘They use us because we can do things for them. But they never, ever “see” us for the creatures we are.’ A tear escaped down Bird’s cheek only to be hastily wiped away with the back of her hand.

A certain silence fell between the two women. The flames of the fire flared up, throwing the features of their faces into sharp relief. Holly's low voice broke the quiet with a question. 'How can I help you?' Bird hunched her shoulders against the question, saying nothing.

‘Then let me speak plainly for now.’ continued Holly, when several cold, silent minutes had gone by. ‘I like him. There is a sense of easy friendship that we have grown into. I’ll admit at first I saw him as I usually do the big folk, thinking he would see me as an overgrown child to be taken care of and tolerated as something amusing. But I’ve found him to be thoughtful and considerate of my opinions when we speak, taking them seriously, even when he disagrees.’ Holly smiled as she thought of her first encounters with the Ranger. ‘For all his rule-bound man-headedness, Bird, I count him a fair and gentle friend.’

Bird snorted at this last remark. Holly chuckled, saying, ‘But then I think I’ve grown quite accustomed to my friends’ range of quirky attributes in whatever shape they appear. My thanks to our long friendship for that!’

The day’s pale morning light was just starting to seep through the trees. Holly yawned and stretched, then knelt close to the fire and built it up. ‘It’s going to be a long day, Bird. Get out the packet of strong tea and the dark honey, if you will. My energy is flagging already.’

Olo stirred in his blankets as the sun rose higher. He sat up as the scent of tea assailed his nose. ‘Heads up, Olo!’ cried Bird, as she pitched a wizened apple across the fire to him. He smiled and pointed to the mug of tea she sipped at, miming that he would like one to drink. ‘Come round and get a mug of tea yourself, you lazy git!’ she called. ‘Or did you think I should throw one over the fire to you?’ Olo shrugged, mouthing ‘sorry’ at her, and came round to claim his tea.

Holly heard Volondil as he woke from sleep. Grabbing her bag of medicines and dressings, she motioned for Bird to come with her. ‘Come distract him with your early morning charm, Bird. I need to clean his wound and change the dressing.’ She strode off toward the makeshift shelter. ‘And bring him some tea. He needs plenty of liquids to build up his blood, get his strength back.

‘Nothing to do but follow directions when Holly starts organizing things.’ grumbled Bird as she grabbed another mug of hot tea, and trotted after the quick footed Hobbit. The scalding liquid sloshed from the mug, landing on her hand. She dropped the mug, and swore at it like a brigand. Sucking the scalded patch she ran after Holly.

Olo sipped at his own mug of tea and shook his head at the unfolding scene. ‘Early morning charm, eh?’ he laughed. ‘I sincerely hope he has grown an extra thick skin along with his new scar, else he’ll never survive it!’

[ January 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Mithadan]

Nardol looked up sharply at Andreth. "I am here, am I not?" he replied hotly. "I have joined this venture and will do what I can to aid you and Mithrandir. Do not imply that I would do less than I can!"

Andreth stood her ground and met his gaze evenly. He took a deep breath as he pondered what other insult he might fling at the woman to make her leave him be. At that moment, the sun peeked over the horizon filling the campsite with a golden but uncertain light. Whether it was some trick of the light or some vestige of his dream, Andreth's face was veiled briefly in shadow while her hair shimmered in the morning's early glow. And she reminded him of another; one whom he and Gilwen had befriended many centuries before.

He exhaled slowly and his shoulders sagged with the weariness of the ages. Why will this one not leave me be? Then, to his own surprise, he spoke quietly. "I do not know why I chose to stay here in Middle Earth either at the close of the First Age or when Gilwen took to the Havens with my son," he said. "After the War of Wrath, Gilwen would have passed into the West, but I wished to remain and she would not be parted from me, so recently returned to her from the pits of Angband."

Andreth started at this and he read the shock on her face. "Aye," he continued. "I was with Maedhros in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears and when the accursed Men of the East proved craven and unfaithful and went over to the side of the Dark One, I protected the flank with my friends and was wounded and taken captive and brought to Angband. I will not willingly speak of that dark place now, nor do I think that you would wish to hear the tale.

"We dwelt together for an Age revelling in the beauty of Middle Earth and fearing the new darkness which drew across the land. But after the Last Alliance won the field in Mordor, we believed that perhaps the peace and beauty which we had known would return. This was not to be.

"A few hundred of your years after the War, a small town of Men sprang up not far to the west of Imladris. Gilwen and I often journeyed there and we befriended the lord and lady of that place, Dalmir and his wife Ithwen. And there, for the first time, we witnessed the grief that is the brevity of the life of Men firsthand. Yet, we remained friends and when they had grown old, Gilwen wished to visit them and journeyed to the town."

His eyes were lost in the shadows of the morning and it seemed that the birds stilled their songs to hear the tale. "A band of outlaws and theives fell upon the town and the people fled before them; all but Dalmir and Ithwen who would not leave their home or abandon Gilwen to the chances of the wild. They hid her and met the bandits in the open, unarmed. Dalmir they slew in cold blood with little thought. But they held Ithwen, demanding that she reveal the location of any valuables. Then, dissatisfied with their takings, they tormented her and drew foul markings on her body with knives.

"The people of Imladris heard of the impending attack and I led many warriors and riders to the rescue of our friends -- too late. We drove the bandits off, but found Ithwen suffering and near death in the town square. I held her as she died even as Gilwen came forth from her hiding place. She had seen what had taken place but could do nothing and she wept as Ithwen closed her eyes and her spirit fled."

Nardol's eyes grew cold and distant. "Gilwen could bear Middle Earth no more. She passed over the sea and my son with her. I was not ready to leave yet. But I swore to never again befriend one of the Atani who had so often proven unfatithful and evil." And with that he turned away from Andreth and sat silently as the sun rose higher.

[ January 07, 2003: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Gandalf allowed himself to relax a little longer, stretched out between wakefulness and sleep, hat brim pulled down over his eyes, as morning conversation fell like pebbles against the pool of dreaming. He was in fact running over other conversations in his mind, from the time of his first meeting Menelduliniel. *

* Oh, he'd had reservations about travelling with the dramatically tragic, lovelorn Elf at first. Her present life squandered by a guilt-darkened past and dizzily-light approach to the future, Menelduliniel had placed herself in an exile deeper than that duly ordained by justice. Thus, she'd wanted to share Gandalf's road for the purposes of small amusement, self-distraction, and sightseeing … to see "strange and wonderful things." What Menelduliniel sought was escape from her very self. *

"Strange and wonderful things," eh, Meneli? * Gandalf had smiled wryly as they set out from the Prancing Pony. * Yes, and dangerous. Come with me, and you might discover your own direction in the dedication of others' lives. ... Yet, I hesitate to bring you with me, for though I do not look for trouble along the road, there is plenty of it to be found unlooked for these days.

* Menelduliniel and her friend Estelarion rankled on Gandalf's nerves as the journey had progressed. On the road to Sarn Ford, it took all of his concentration on the lessons taught by Nienna the Weeper regarding pity and patience for the wizard not to explode with the full extent of his anger. As it was, he'd called them "fools of Elves" when they'd insisted on galloping off into an ambush even after Holly's pony Peri had prudently blocked the road ahead, sensing danger. And at the Trade Inn, Gandalf had sputtered and laughed at Menelduliniel when she tried to arrange a search party for Holly, who as it happened was not lost at all, but in fact had merely gone out in search of some privacy and a bit of fresh air.*

* Some days later, on the last leg of the journey to Tharbad, it had surprised him when Menelduliniel, telling her life story with all its usual woe to Poppy Took, added a new twist to her tale. "I feel that, if I ever am allowed back into society, it will be Mithrandir's doing," she'd said. Why, to attribute such a thing to him! Something had held Gandalf back from replying that nay, it would be Menelduliniel's own doing, of Menelduliniel's own deserving. Better to let the Elf make the discovery for herself. The thought then began to cross Gandalf's mind that whereas the ghosts of Castle Maladil would find peace by leaving that place, Menelduliniel might find peace by her arrival and questing there. *

* And finally, Gandalf nearly fell over as if struck by a lightning of gladness on overhearing Menelduliniel speak with Estelarion, just this very night past. For she had decided to change her well-practiced song of torment and sorrow to one of accepting calm joy. He smiled again at the thought of this music, glad to have Menelduliniel along on this journey ... for the sake of the trapped suffering spirits in the Castle, for her own sake ... and for his. *

[The Fifth]

Kenelm stood silently, as Maladil uttered each and every curse. He was used to such behavior even now, for his father had been quick-tempered and gruff all the time he had known him, but only especially now that Adela perished. When the storm of words soon winded down to spiteful mutterings, Kenelm drew closer.

"Adar ... " he spoke softly, but also urgent in manner and tone. "I have news for which I need to speak to you of." He looked at the floor and the wine-stained spot, afraid that his father would do something to him, although he was already not of the living. He continued. "There is something going on, in the dungeons above us. Living prisioners of Mannish origin. A few are dead, and three remain alive. But ... only two still are free." He clung onto his old harp tightly. "Calimiel had taken one ... she now walks on the ground, breathes, and sees once more ... I do not know who will seize the rest." He stopped, after feeling unusually talkative.

His gaze diverted towards the bunch of lilacs in the vase, memories sifting slowly through his mind. He remembered when he was but a small elfling, and we would walk the gardens with Adela, timidly clinging onto her soft hands. The flowers were rich with colour, and spread out in the sunlight. He remembered that fateful day, when his mother had presented him with a beautiful harp, wrought of mithril, designs of swans gracefully encarved in it. He would play music for her, and the sweet sounds floated about. He remembered being excused early from dinner, walking towards his quarters when it happened.

And so Kenelm looked back towards Maladil, drifting back slightly, waiting for a reaction.

[Susan Delgado]

Anna had returned and was watching the remaining female prisoner jealously. She had expected Celumëomaryu to take the woman as soon as she won the contest, but she hadn't. She had gone away somewhere, probably the library, and left the spoils unguarded. She wondered why. Calimiel had understood immediately as soon as the contest was over what might happen to her prisoner, but Celumëomaryu being very trusting or very stupid. Since there was no love lost between herself and the Elf, Anna favored the latter. No matter. The prisoner was unguarded, and Anna was not about to let herself be above temptation. Keeping her eyes open for any sign of Celumëomaryu's return, she moved toward the woman huddled on the cell floor...

[Belin]

Oddly, Celumëomaryu had hesitated, staring into the living face that had taken on such a strange resemblance to Calimiel’s. The features, though lovely, were nothing like those of Maladil’s daughter, yet the way she held her head and the sudden smile that crept across her face in a direction totally incompatible with the lines of its past were intimately familiar to the secretary, and clearly unfamiliar to the neck and the lips that they were using. The eyes stared back at her, wide and unblinking, as if she had nearly forgotten how to see. Inexplicably, Celumëomaryu shivered. Was that how she would look? Disjointed, unnatural… monstrous? How did her prisoner smile?

She glanced uneasily into the corner of the cell, where the other female prisoner was sitting with her face in her hands, but Calimiel repeated herself impatiently, this time directing the words to her. “The keys, Celumëomaryu. Get them. Let me out.”

Yes. The keys. She shook herself. She was to have a body, she was to have the physical strength she’d longed for, and all would change. Why should she stand here worrying about her beauty? It was no more than that, she told herself, and in any case the jarring appearance of the face was sure to change with time. She shivered again, turned, and went to seek The Butler.

******

The Butler sat before the fireplace in his own quarters, deep in thought. Celumëomaryu had not been in this room since he’d lived there, and found that it did not surprise her much. The room was windowless, colorless, and dim, with its air slightly smoky from the candles and its tables immaculate. The Butler sprang up from his straightbacked chair the moment she walked in.

Who told you you could come in here?

Celumëomaryu ignored the question. “I need the key to the cell in the dungeon.”

The Butler smiled grimly.

“I need to let the prisoners out. And Calimiel.”

Calimiel? The Butler looked startled, but only for a moment. She’s claimed one already?

“Yes. I’m not such a fool, myself. I want a body so that I can be free, not so that I can languish in a cage until you decide to let me out.”

I might say the same thing to you.

“I will return it, later, when I’ve finished with it, of course.” Celumëomaryu measured her options as she spoke. She had no art for begging, nor for flattery, and brute force was not only beneath her, but seemed unlikely to be effective. Bargaining, perhaps? She eyed the Butler’s bookshelves with some surprise as she considered. Celumëomaryu, though she read little, knew enough of books to recognize this as an impressive collection of valuable tomes and old, enough to be the envy of the library. The library.. She hesitated, remembering what it had been like to smell dusty pages... and fruit trees.

The Butler was looking at her with an expression of disdain. Of course.

“Would you like my haunt?” she inquired in a low voice.

The Butler laughed. Your haunt? Another room in this castle? Just what I need. You can wait until I’m ready myself. I have something to think about.

“No!” Celumëomaryu was surprised to find herself shrieking for the second time that day. Well, so be it. If composure was to be lost on him, she would have to be more forceful. “No. I cannot wait. I have earned this prisoner, I have done battle for her, and I have waited long enough. These years in the Castle... I have had enough years in the castle. I am not who I was, and I want to return to a body while there’s still enough of me left to appreciate it.” She stared hard and compellingly at him. “Give me the key. Give it to me. I can always go mad more quickly, you know. Or you could take my beautiful library and be grateful for it. You can sell the books back to Maladil for all I care. You can take my treasures. You can have Calimiel’s necklace and Maladil’s papers for all I care. But give me the key.”

Maladil’s... what?

She smiled. “Do you want them?”

The Butler hesitated for only a moment. Yes. I want them. Done.

[ January 08, 2003: Message edited by: Belin ]

[piosenniel]

‘Well, you don’t look as if you spent a very restful night, Ranger.’ Holly entered the makeshift shelter, taking in Volondil’s ashy complexion. His features were drawn, his eyes tired and dull, and the stubble of his beard did nothing to enhance her opinion of his condition.

Volondil shook his head ‘no’. ‘It was cold, the ground bumpier than usual, and the night, noisy.’ He rubbed at the old bandages. ‘And this thing was itchy! I spent most of the night awake, resisting the urge to scratch it.’

She knelt down beside his pallet and pushed him back flat on the ground. ‘Here let me take a look at it.’ She pulled his tunic up, exposing the old dressing. Loosing the bindings for it, she gently pulled it from his wound. ‘Ah!’ she said, nodding her head yes, her face serious. ‘It is just as I thought.’

He raised himself up on both elbows, trying to peer at the wound. ‘What?’ he demanded, his voice alarmed. ‘Is it not healing well?’ Holly pushed him back down on his back. ‘You are quite gullible, for a Ranger, aren’t you.’ she laughed. ‘It’s not gone bad, in fact, just the opposite. The skin’s a nice healthy pink, and the edges are smooth, not puckered. It’s healing quite nicely. That’s why it itches.’

He let out a sigh of relief, watching her as she took a clean linen bandage to lay against the healing wound, and bound it securely to him. ‘If it’s healed so well, why is there need for another bandage?’ His fingers strayed to the edges of the new bandage, scratching lightly at the perimeter about it. She pushed his hand firmly away from the area.

‘I want you up today, and doing more walking.’ she said, picking up his boiled leather vest. ‘The bandage will keep the area from being rubbed too hard, while you wear this to splint the area against the pain of movement.’ She bade him sit up, then crouched beside him and offered an arm up as he struggled to a standing position. He gasped at the sudden, jerky movement, trying to conceal the grimace of pain it brought on.

A shadow blocked the light from the outside. His pained expression softened and he smiled at the figure who entered. ‘Bird!’ he said in delight, reaching out a hand to draw her nearer. She winced as he took her hand. His brow furrowed as she snatched it back from him. ‘Burnt it.’ she said, showing him the shiny red, scalded area. ‘I was bringing you a mug of tea. And it spilled on me.’

‘Holly, you’ld better take a look at it.’ A note of concern crept into his voice, as he gently showed the Hobbit where Bird had been burned. Holly dutifully looked the patch over, noting there was no blistering or open area. Applying a thin layer of unguent to it, at Volondil’s insistence, she wrapped it lightly with a linen strip, all the while giving a list of directions to Bird on how to keep it clean and well and to let her see it again tomorrow.
None of which Bird heard. She stood there staring at her hand which still lay on the open palm of the Ranger. Looking at it, as if it were someone else’s hand. Volondil, too, seemed just as captivated by the sight.

‘I hate to break this reverie,’ thought Holly to herself, ‘but it looks as if the rest of the companions are also up, which means we may leave soon.’ She picked up the leather vest, and cleared her throat several times to catch their attention. ‘Here, Bird, help him with this.’ Reluctantly, the shape-changer withdrew her hand from his, and took the vest from the Hobbit’s hands. ‘Put it on over his tunic and lace it tight for support.’ She watched as her friend’s small, nimble fingers pulled the lacings tight and deftly tied them.

‘Now help him out to the fire. Perhaps you two can conjure up some breakfast for us. Send Olo in here. We’ll get his belongings packed and the tent blankets folded.

Olo came, bringing her a hot cup of tea with a generous dollop of honey. They stood for a few moments, sipping at their drinks. Then, setting them down on a flat-topped rock, they quickly squared away the Ranger’s quarters. Holly glanced toward the campfire where Bird sat toasting thick slices of bread on a forked stick, engaged in some engrossing topic of conversation with Volondil, or so the Hobbit thought it must be, since neither of them noticed the charred surface of the toast or the smoke that was beginning to stream from it.

The toast caught fire, and Bird waved it wildly in the air – only to have the flaming missile come flying through the air and land close to Holly’s feet. Bird shrugged at Holly and burst out laughing, as did the Ranger, quite unwisely. Not even a tightly laced vest could spare him the discomfort of a deep belly laugh.

Olo stared at the burning toast on the ground, and chuckled. ‘Breakfast is served, I take it.’ His eyes glinted with humor. He pulled the wizened apple from his breeches pocket and rubbed the lint from it on his sleeve. Taking his small knife from its sheath, he cut the apple in two and offered half to Holly. ‘Better eat this.’ he said. ‘It looks to be a considerable time ‘til the next course arrives.’

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* A fell calm settled on Maladil, far more terrifying than the wildest of his ravings. Glancing at his son Kenelm, the Lord of the Castle gentled his expression to indicate that he held no wrath for the bearer of such grievously ill tidings, but rather respect and a cautious, tentative agreement with Kenelm's sympathy. *

At last, Kenelm, you show honor by taking action towards upholding the family name. You did not sail West when I bid you confront the Valar with their unfairness towards your mother and our family, nor could you even lift a finger against the Orcs when all were called on to do so. ... As for these prisoners, if they were brought here against their will, they are innocent victims.

* Maladil's face hardened again into familiar bitter lines, as he managed a powerful striding drift bent towards the Master Bedroom. *

My sword ...

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth came over near the fire and spoke a morning welcome to Bird, holding out two more apples as a peace offering to supplement her breakfast. Then she glanced over at Volondil and asked him how he hd fared. Despite his weariness, he grinned back at her, "Well, to be truthful, I've had better nights, but since Mistress Bird has put this leather vest on me, my temperment is much improved. He looked over to the shapechanger with a softer face.

"And you, Andreth?" he Ranger looked deep into her eyes. "It doesn't look as if you had much better rest than I did."

Andreth tossed the question off with a casual shrug of her shoulders, and sat down on a nearby log focusing all her attention on another apple that she hastily tugged out from her pocket.

No, she hadn't slept well. Not after her discussion of the night before. How strange that the Elf should confide in her. And how sad that he remembered only the horror of the outlaws and not the steadfastness of the Lord and Lady. But how could she blame him? To see so much hurt in Gilwen's eyes and not to be able to do anything to soothe it. People envied Elves their immortality, but, after talking with Nardol, Andreth wondered whether it was little more than a burden, with one bad remembrance following another.

She sternly warned herself to be more cautious. After all, the Elf was no kin, and had barely spoken civilly to her. Yet, try as she might, the image of his haunted eyes kept creeping back inside her mind

She tugged herself away from these morbid thoughts and looked over towards Holly, raising a question, "Does anyone know when we will reach the Castle, or what will happen to us once we get there?"

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel and Estelarion arose and quickly packed up their equipment, assuming that they would soon depart.

Menelduliniel, ever the prattler, immediately began chattering away.

"Does anyone know when we will reach the Castle, or what will happen to us once we get there?" Andreth asked Holly.

Estelarion turned to Menelduliniel and motioned her to be quiet. Menelduliniel began to speak again, but Estelarion gave her a stern glance. Finally, he turned to Holly.

"And, with such wounded as we have," he said, gesturing towards where Volondil was bedded, but speaking softly enough so that Volondil would not hear him, "Is it wise to start out again? For we are an easy target."

Menelduliniel chimed in, "I suppose we could leave some behind to care for the wounded. Those that are left could try to make for the nearest settlement and find aid."

"Nay," Holly said, "That would not be wise. Without a full party, we would be more likely to fail. And those that remained would be subject to further attack and danger."

"She speaks true," Estelarion said, resignedly, "We are much more likely to survive if we continue on together. But Andreth poses good questions: when will we reach the Castle and what will we do when we get here. I am still not completely sure I understand exactly what we are to do once we get here."

"And what are these?" Menelduliniel said, pointing to the rods she still carried, "For they do not seem to be formidable weapons. And I have heard of no witchcraft that requires these. Although, I am not at all skilled in the ways of witchcraft and the like...I have heard quite a bit though..."

Estelarion, while Menelduliniel spoke, had fetched both of them a small breakfast. She took the food greatfully, hesitantly putting her source of entertainment, the rods, down on the ground where she sat and awaited their questions to be answered...

[ January 08, 2003: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[Susan Delgado]

Anna had waited a moment in the middle of the cell staring at the woman. She looked quite miserable, crouching in the corner with her head on her knees. No matter. Soon she'd no longer be miserable. It occured to Anna to wonder what would happen to the woman's mind when Anna took her body, but the thought didn't bother her long. If it didn't happen, she would die. This was just a way to extend her life.

She approached slowly, vaguely aware that Calimiel had turned away from the bars and was watching her, eyes speculative. Anna had crouched in front of the young woman, about when run her hands across her face, when Calimiel's voice sounded behind her. It was weak, but held the promise of later strength.

"I underestimated your duplicity, Anna. Didn't Celumëomaryu win your contest?"

Anna turned and frowned at her friend, then concentrated and produced a faint whisper, the first words she'd spoken in centuries.

"I didn't know myself I was going to do this until a moment ago. Still, it seems one of us should have known. How long have we been ghosts?"

Calimiel shrugged. "A long time."

Anna nodded and turned back to the girl. She touched her face, then slowly allowed her substance to suffuse the empty places in the prisoner's body and mind. If she'd remembered the sensation, if she'd ever had it, she'd have said it was like sinking into honey. For a moment she felt trapped, then it became more comfortable as she began to remember the sensations of life. She caught a fleeting thought before the girl's mind fled and became Anna. It was "Linea", her name.

She rose from her crouched postion in the corner and looked around. It was very dark, and...cold...in the dungeon. The ghosts needed neither light nor heat, so there were no torches lit.

The smell of the meat and herbs in the middle of the floor was tempting, but the way those smells combined with the decayed odors rising from the dead prisoners was unpleasant and she avoided the food for the moment. The girl had eaten anyway and the body wasn't hungry.

She approached the bars and stood near Calimiel, looking out. She stuck her arm through and realised her body was almost thin enough to fit between them. Not quite though. Ah, well, the Butler would be along to open the door soon enough.

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[piosenniel]

Holly shrugged her shoulders at the questions asked her. She sipped at her mug of tea, looking over the rim at Andreth and the Elf who had asked them. ‘My guess, and let me emphasize guess here, is that we will be leaving sometime today.’ She swept her arm in a semicircle, taking in the camp as she did so. ‘That, at least is what I would do, were I organizing the journey. But then I’m not, am I?’

She nodded in the direction of Gandalf. ‘It’s the wizard you should be asking. Though that again might be tricky – sometimes one does not get the answer to the particular question that is asked, but rather to one the wizard feels is more important at the moment.’

Five pairs of eyes stared at her, brows furrowed. Elves, Woman, Hobbit, Ranger looked at her as if she had just spoken in Khuzdûl, the ancient tongue of the Dwarves. A definite cry of ‘What?!’ shown in their faces.

Bird burst out laughing at the disconcerted group. ‘She’s trying to tell you she has no more of an idea about the answer to your question than you do!’ Bird chuckled and looked at Holly. ‘She gave you a tricksy answer!’

Holly looked at the Elf who had commented on the state of the wounded. ‘I do know that the wounded should not hinder us if we decide to go. The Ellf’s leg seems well enough, and Volondil is healed enough to be up and about, though for the majority of the journey, he will need to ride a horse. Poppy is fit, deemed so by Gandalf, it would seem, when he handed her the sack of gold coin and made her bearer of it into the Castle.’ The Elves, somewhat satisfied by the answers, returned to their breakfast.

Olo, Holly, Bird, Volondil, and Andreth, huddled around the small cooking fire in the chill morning air, each of them intent on making their own toast now. Tea, honey, jam and a few slices each of Shire cheese rounded out their fireside breakfast. They were for the most part silent, listening to the camp noises as the other companions awoke, and to the satisfying hiss and pop of their fire as it browned and crisped the bread held over it on forked sticks.

Gingerly taking the hot toast from his stick, Volondil spread a thick layer of jam on it. He took a big bite and chewed on it, thoughtfully, staring at the fire as he did so. ‘You know,’ he said, breaking the silence with his words, ‘although I’ll be able to walk on my own two feet into the castle, I don’t think I’ll be much use should it come to defending ourselves. Perhaps I should stay back from entering the castle.’ He looked toward Holly, and frowned.

She nibbled on a piece of cheese, and smiled back at him. ‘Don’t worry about that, Volondil. I don’t see you actually entering the castle.’ He sat back and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for her to go on. ‘In fact,’ she continued, ‘I really see no reason why any of us should enter the castle – at least through the front entrance with everyone else.’

Holly picked up a stick and drew a crude diagram in the dirt. ‘All of the attention of the inhabitants of the castle will be here, in the Main Hall where our party is to enter. Now it’s my understanding that there is a large garden around somewhere to the rear of the building. At least that is what I understood when I happened to overhear a conversation between Bethberry and Gandalf.’

She drew a line round to the imagined garden. ‘Where there’s a garden, there is usually a way in to the kitchen near it – that’s the way I propose we go in, while the ghosts’ attention is focused on Gandalf and the others and especially on the sack of gold. Volondil, I thought perhaps you could stand look out near the garden area. Bethberry will be there, and you both could shout an alarm to us should any one chance to come that way.’

Bird shook her head. ‘You have no idea what’s out by the garden do you?’ Holly smiled, saying, ‘Not really, but it’s worth a try, isn’t it? And besides, you’re with us, Bird. Can’t you do a little scouting for us once we reach the castle grounds?’

Holly smiled ingenuously at her friend. Bird rolled her eyes. ‘Another one of her damnable schemes!’ she thought to herself. She sighed, resignedly, already picturing herself flying high above the castle and its surrounds. ‘Perhaps this one would work out . . .’

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Belin]

Delivering the papers to the Butler had slowed her down, but he’d insisted the she give them to him before he rendered up the key, and Celumëomaryu was in no mood to argue with him. She hurried up the stairs and allowed herself, just this once, to slip through the wall. It was a privilege she was soon to relinquish. She stood still for a moment, savoring the anticipation, and moved toward the cell.

She was surprised to find the body standing, apparently holding itself up against the bars and…speaking to Calimiel. Speaking in a voice that reminded her of one she’d heard long ago. Anna’s voice. Celumëomaryu suddenly leapt through the bars, knocking the body to the ground by the same force of will she’d so often used to open doors and count money. The doors, however, had seldom found her standing on them, icy and immobile, staring downward with a stare to match Maladil’s own. “You!” she hissed. “Traitor! Trickster! Thief! You’ll leave me what’s mine. Now!”

Somehow, Anna smiled faintly. “No good, wandering spirit. She’s gone. If I leave this body now, it will die.”

An appalling, bonechilling cry escaped from Celumëomaryu, and she was dimly aware of kicking the body, of pushing it toward the wall as well as she could, of kneeling in an attempt to scratch its face, of finally fleeing it to stand outside the cell and wonder at the strange hysterical laughter that seemed to be her own. Calimiel was watching her.

“And you,” said Celumëomaryu, facing her with a new and deep hatred “you’re twice the traitor she is. For you, I have kept—I have—I—“ Speech failed her. She suddenly understood Maladil’s destructiveness. But there was nothing to throw here.

Very well, then. She’d be revenged, all the same. With a sudden, terrible smile, she pulled out the key.

“For you, I had brought a key. But you’ve given away something of mine. I believe I’ll keep this treasure. After all, I have only one left.” She heard the hysterical laughter again and hoped it was not hers. She had lost enough of her dignity already. “Will you stay in a body? Stay there then!” Her eyes rested on Anna. “As for you,” she said, and her voice leapt suddenly into a strange, wavering music:

You are no one’s daughter
And you’ll grow old again
In the prison of this person
And the shackles of its skin.

“And there you’ll stay, centuries more for all I care. Perhaps I’ll watch. I have no other haunt left, now.”

But Anna had picked herself up, and was smiling an obnoxious and confident smile. “You’re wrong,” she said. “Maladil will never let us starve.”

Celumëomaryu snorted gracelessly. “Maladil? What do you expect from him? This key is mine. I’ve died for him already; I owe him nothing now.”
-----------------
Song stolen from Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn and horribly twisted and corrupted by me.

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Belin ]

[Susan Delgado]

Anna snorted and picked up an apple from the pile in the middle of the floor. She peered at it for a moment, then put it down again. She wasn't ready to eat yet. She went back to the bars and stuck her arms through again, ignoring the Elf still standing there staring at her. Insane or not, Celumëomaryu was a fool.

"Celumëomaryu is a fool."

She turned toward Calimiel, surprised to hear her own thoughts echoed from another. "I was just thinking that. If not Maladil, Kenelm."

"Yes, though my brother has ever been a pacifist and did not defend the Castle from the Orcs, I cannot believe he would let his own sister and-" She glanced over at Anna, unsure exactly what to call her in relation to Kenelm. "-someone he has known so long be starved," She finished finally.

Anna nodded. "Celumëomaryu will eventually be overcome, though it wouldn't suprise me to find that she'd thrown away the key."

Calimiel shook her head. "You think so ill of her. She won't let it happen. Who could watch two people she'd known so long die when she could prevent it?"

"She could." Anna wandered down the line of the bars to the corner where they intersected with the wall. The bars were flush. She didn't see any way she could get through here. She glanced out through the bars and was suprised to find that the wall outside the cell continued past the wall inside for several feet. Now why was that? It was almost as if...hmmm. "Calimiel, come here, see what I've found," She called across the cell.

Calimiel approached, curious and frowned to see what Anna had to show her. "This cell is above the Butler's quarters. If there's a secret room here, even if we could get it open, it wouldn't be a good idea to appear there unexpectedly."

Anna considered this. "But wouldn't he be surprised to see us?" The thought amused her. "Come on, help me find the switch."

"What makes you think there is one on this side? He wouldn't want the prisoners getting loose, would he?"

Anna couldn't help smiling at the thought. That was exactly what she was planning. "But there would have to be, or he'd be trapped in here. He couldn't leave it open or the same thing would happen."

Calimiel nodded. Anna had a point. "All right. I'll help you."

Together, they began searching for the switch that would open the secret door.

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Together, they found the switch that would open the secret door. *

* But that was not all Anna and Calimiel found. For there came an oily hissing sound as of prey enmeshed within the gloating triumph of a boa constrictor's roughly-hugging coils. As the sound faded, Anna and Calimiel found themselves completely enveloped within a softly-luminous green-glowing cube, half the size of the cell they were in. Neither the lone surviving male prisoner nor the lifeless bodies nearby had gotten caught within the cube. The man, as a matter of fact, had now flung himself as far away from the cube's pulsating menace as he could and stood trembling, back against the wall, rasping heavily for breath, eyes wild. *

* Calimiel beat against the inner wall of her new claustrophobic envelope, until Anna screamed at her to stop because all that was happening was that the billowing walls of the cube were sinking inward, inch by inch. Though they found their new home impenetrable, at least it didn't prohibit the passage of breathable air. They would not smother to death, at any rate. *

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

BOO !

* Gandalf smiled at the satisfying results of his merry mischief as Bird and Holly emitted startled screams and leapt. The wizard hadn't been able to resist coming up behind them and clamping a hand on each of their shoulders as they convivially conspired together over charred toast, spilled tea, and the like. *

That is to say, * Gandalf lowered his voice to a normal tone, * your strategy is eminently workable. My compliments.

* Gandalf then addressed the entire company. * Our arrival at Castle Maladil should be tomorrow evening. If we arrive during the afternoon, we will set up camp off the main road, within sight of the side road leading to the Castle, and await nightfall.

After sundown, we shall approach the Castle ... the bards, including Hinura, Estelarion, and Menelduliniel wielding harp or flute, others carrying candles or lanterns as sources of light. The music of the bards shall be light to the ear, and I am well pleased at all the practicing and song preparation I've heard so far. You work well together! Hinura, I look forward to hearing Bog a'Lochain. And Meneli and Estelarion, already your choice of song resonates with new notes of hope ... * Gandalf checked himself before saying "to those in exile," preferring to leave the sentence incomplete. *

Please no torches, as torches too often bring to mind images of brigands and marauders. Poppy shall carry the trust of Elrond's gold, and have no light source of her own.

The three rods you've been given are for you to hold in readiness, for their light is fleeting. We must first have the attention of the ghosts before we use them, and I'll see to that. Once we're noticed, use two of the rods as you like, one at a time. Keep the third one back.

Music shall go before us, light accompany us. The ghosts will likely not hear our song at first ... but sing and play, and I'll meanwhile bend my thought toward contacting them. We shall stand at the edge of their territory. They shall come to hear us, and after some songs, I'll speak to them. Andreth as well perhaps shall choose to speak, though peril lie therein. And then Poppy our Ambassador shall go in.

Nardol ... a destiny lies on you, methinks, though what it is I cannot say. But I feel it, in a way not so with the others here.

Bethberry ... I trust I know which work is of interest to you at Castle Maladil. May you bring all you can of the Old Forest with you.

As our good ranger Alearindu was mentioning, it would be wise for those entering the Castle, or even treading its grounds, to go in pairs, or in small groups. Those who go alone may do so, but they do so with heavy risk.

Aislan will be counted on to care for horses and ponies called on to overcome their fear and enter a place where no beast of their kind has come since the last Age!

Holly and Olo, the vanguard entering by the back way, to seek the deed that will undo dire words.

Volondil, you've suffered a trap of someone else's devising ... so have many in the Castle.

Birdland, your presence here is a riddle ... but then, you've demonstrable expertise at solving them!

* With that, Gandalf poured himself a cup of sweet-spice tea long steeped, to go with a crust of bread, dried sausage, cheese, and what grapes remained in his travelling pouch from the Trade Inn. *

* Midnight edged closer in his grazing towards Rustal, looking out the corner of his eye at the rival Elvish steed. *

[ January 10, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]