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Old 12-09-2008, 11:26 AM   #45
Legate of Amon Lanc
A Voice That Gainsayeth
 
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Location: In that far land beyond the Sea
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Onli

Onli's first reaction to Tror's words were horror and disbelief. No, that could not be! Their lord, Balin, dead? The Lord of Moria? But in the first moments, when the leader's motionless body was carried into the hall, he understood that all Tror just had said is true. Onli was watching the Dwarves who carried the body, and he was frowning. Their leader. Balin. Lord of Moria. The candle of his life snuffed out like that. And all that Onli was thinking of just a moment ago, the plans for meeting the leader, the plans for bright future, everything was gone. To Onli, it seemed as if suddenly the path he took, the one which promised to lead him to bright future glittering like gold, turned into a dark tunnel where there were no other ways to escape, not a single shaft of light to pierce the darkness. He was lost, his life was swallowed by darkness and fear and uncertainty of the future.

He was still too shaken to think. He knew he needed time to sort things out. What are they going to do? Who is the leader? He set out to seek for Vriti. Where had she gone to? He thought that perhaps petting his little furry friend would calm him down a little.

***

Óin

The sun was setting slowly and the shadows of the mountains were long and deep. The valley of Silverlode was all shrouded in shadow, but the tops of the rocks surrounding it were ablaze with red and orange colors, and if Óin had looked back, he would have seen the sky in the West looking like fire. But he did not turn back, his eyes were on the road before him, careful, seeking for any movement, for any trace of the Orcs that Gror warned him about. But the dale was empty and silent, except for the running river Silverlode which was seeking its way amidst the stones and short bushes without leaves. The wide plains that Óin could see further on opening wide seemed to be filled with last remains of the daylight, and further to the South, where the river bent and ran quickly over black pebbles, dark shadows of the trees rose. Óin nodded his head. There it was, where the land of the Elves lay, not further than a few miles; but if Gror was right, there it was also where the Orc army was coming from.

"Come on, Óin," the Dwarf muttered to himself. "Of all the directions you could pick you have to take this one. How many miles? Three, four?" He looked around carefully, silent for a while and listening. Water was running over the stones with constant soft bubbling. The dale lay in a shadow that was deepening by every moment.

"Be mindful of these little beasts, Óin, good lad," he said after a while, when he could not hear nor spot anything new. He set his foot into the shallow water where the stream was flowing gently into a wide flow over the stones, only to form again one strong river a furlong further. Even through his boots, Óin could feel the sudden rush of cold as he stepped into the freezing river.

"By Durin's beard," he shuddered. "Feel lucky you are not a fish, Óin. But now quick! If these beasts are there, you'd better find them soon and then run back home. Old Balin may already be expecting you."

Fast, he strode across the water-washed stones, then turned left to avoid a small stream that joined the Silverlode, coming from a cleft in the rock above his head. Carefully, he passed a narrow gap between two short rocks forming the walls of the valley, and after that, a wide space opened in front of him. A little bit to the right, the way alongside the river was climbing down towards the woods of Lórien; to his left, a barely visible path ran towards the valleys of Anduin amidst large boulders and stones.

Óin stopped once again and listened. He did not dare even to mutter to himself, not this time. Breathless, he stood like a stone for a short while.

And then he heard what he had been afraid of all the time: the sound of rushing feet, clinging of iron weapons and armor, harsh voices. Many there must have been, coming from either of the paths below, and they were getting closer.

Óin's face all of a sudden looked grave and his bright blue eyes seemed to dim. Intuitively, he reached for an arrow. "They are there," he hissed, and that was all he needed to say to himself. But it was clear the intruders were yet far away enough, but coming nearer very fast. Óin looked around, a bit hopefully. "If there had been a good place from where you could see them..." he muttered again, very soft.

"Looks like there is none," he concluded and turned again towards the two paths opening in front of him. He scratched in his short white beard by the arrow he was holding. "But which way to take now, what would you think, Óin? Them goblins will probably not come too close to the Elven wood, but how can you know? It is still many miles away."

He stood in thought for a while, but attentive for the sounds of approaching enemies, which were becoming more and more apparent. At last he moved.

"No, there is no use to go either way," he concluded. "If them beasts come from over there," he looked towards the right, "and you pick the other route, you are going to end up a king of fools, Óin, and not a scout. And the same the other way around," he looked to the left, "what if they cut your way back home. You could not deliver your news to old Balin, and most likely, them goblins will sniff you out and chase you, and you will have to retreat to..."

The Dwarf looked at the dark treeshapes standing out in the dusk to the south. His blue eyes gleamed, and he frowned.

"No, Óin, not that again," he mumbled. "You will probably escape the Orcs, but this time, there will be nobody to flow you down the Great River in a barrel."

As if he suddenly decided, he turned around. "No use, Óin, my lad," he said. "Too bad. You shall not wait for them here, but if you hurry, you may reach that high rock with the waterfall, and with luck, see them beasts coming from there. Yes, that is what you should do! Now hurry!"

And with these words, the Dwarf started running back from where he came along the Silverlode's channel, back into the heart of the mountains.

Last edited by Legate of Amon Lanc; 12-19-2008 at 11:35 AM.
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