Last Ride of the Heir RPG

[Mad Baggins]

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

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

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

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

[Will Witfoot]

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

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

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

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

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

[The Perky Ent]

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

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

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

[The Perky Ent]

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

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

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

[Mad Baggins]

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

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

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

[Phervasaion]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ArwenBaggins]

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

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

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

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