Last Ride of the Heir RPG

[piosenniel]

ArwenBaggins' post

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

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

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

~*~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

[piosenniel]

Hama of the Riddermark's post

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

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

"Where are my elves and rangers!"

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

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

[piosenniel]

Phervasaion's post

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

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

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

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

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

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

[piosenniel]

Saraphim's post

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are my Elves and Rangers?"

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

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

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

[piosenniel]

astarielle's post

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

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

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

[piosenniel]

Will Witfoot's post

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

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

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

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

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

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

[piosenniel]

bilbo_baggins' post

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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