Red Flows the Sirannon RPG

[Alcarillo]

It was morning, and the rising sun was ascending the Hithaeglir, shedding light across Eregion. Cainenyo was still in his nightgown, and kneeling at the pool of his home’s courtyard. Surrounded by aromatic flowers, it was here that he washed his arms, legs, and face each morning before he got dressed. He usually spent this time thinking about the day’s work and making a list in his mind of the day’s chores.

I must finish that knife today, he thought, still sleepy. It would be for his wife Alassante, who was still asleep upstairs. The knife would be a gift just to prepare for the troubled times ahead. I might get some nice silver decoration on the hilt, something like vines, or flowers, he thought as his mind wandered over the image of the completed knife that Cainenyo had had in mind for months. I could get Arenwino to do it, or maybe Celebdur. I must stop by the silver-smithy district later today and shop around for the best quality and price possible. Cainenyo stood and stretched his limbs, and reentered the house, only to emerge moments later in his work clothes and holding a glass of blood-red wine, his usual breakfast.

He crossed the courtyard, where the shadows of the flowers were now somewhat shorter, and entered a cool arched passage, which led to his workshop. Cainenyo noticed a few people walking about the street, which would become busier as the day moved into the afternoon. He took a sip of his wine and set it on a table to put on his apron and gloves, which hung on pegs near the door. Kneeling, he removed a long key from an apron pocket, unlocked a large chest near the furnace and found the long knife he was working on yesterday. Cainenyo dropped it into one of his deep pockets.

Eager to begin his work, he hurried back into the house, where he found Alassante already awake and plucking some flowers from the courtyard. She held a blue vase under her arm, where she deposited the flowers. She looked up from her work at Cainenyo. “Hello, you’re starting today’s work?” she said smiling. It was still morning, but the sun had now risen to sit on the mountains.

“Yes, but I wanted to tell you that I’ll be searching for a smith to work on the hilt of a knife. I want some floral decoration added to it. I’ll be back later, by noon.” He explained. Alassante frowned somewhat. She enjoyed her husband’s cheerful humming drifting through the house while he worked at the anvil, and she was slightly troubled by the weaponry Cainenyo seemed to be making more and more often these days. “If anybody comes and asks for me, please tell him that I’m away at the moment and he can come back later,” Cainenyo added. He brushed back his wife’s long brown hair and kissed her on her brow. She waved good-bye as he stepped through the doorway into his forge.

Cainenyo took another sip of the wine left on the table, and then set out into the city to find a suitable smith. Alassante always thought it silly that Cainenyo wore his apron and gloves into the city, but Cainenyo explained that it was a status symbol and that others would know his craft by his clothes. As he walked down the cobblestone street he decided to head to Celebdur, the silversmith to whom Cainenyo’s son was apprenticed. His shop was across town, near the other silversmiths, but Cainenyo welcomed the exercise and fresh air.

[Arry]

‘Look, Uncle,’ said Skald, his moment of good cheer fading. ‘In all seriousness . . . I . . . and I think we all . . . want to see you with enough protection to keep your head on your shoulders should the Orcs have at us with those nasty blades of theirs. I know I’ll be wearing my helmet and a sleeved shirt of light mail over a woolly vest. And I’ll tie my thick leather vest over it. My small shield . . . the one you made me covered in bronze; it’ll be with me. I’m putting leather protectors on my lower legs, too. They’re fierce beasties, the Orcs – they’ll cut you anywhere they can.’ He raised his thick brows at Orin. ‘You know if you don’t promise to wear something to our liking, we’ll stand round you in battle like two-legged pieces of armor!’

Skald grinned impishly at the threat, then tried another tack. ‘Can’t have you getting injured or worse yet killed! Whose gonna stand with me when I finally find and marry my heart’s delight?’

[piosenniel]

‘Marry? Heart’s delight?’ Riv chuckled. ‘Good one, brother!’ He looked toward Orin, gauging his uncle’s reaction. ‘Not quite sure you’ve sold him, though!’ He narrowed his eyes as if he were considering it more seriously. ‘However, since that may take a good number . . . no, make that a very great number . . . of years to accomplish, we just might have to make sure that our dear Uncle lives til his beard reaches the toes of his boots!’

Riv poured himself another cup of ale and offered the skin round again. ‘Little brother’s got a good idea. We should make sure we take a good supply of food with us. We’ll hit the supply room in the level below us. We can use one or two of their hand carts. Some we can carry out with us; some we can cache near the East-gate. There are any number of rocky outcroppings we can hunker down in for defense if need be.’

He looked at Skald and Bror. ‘What if we send the two of you ahead early tomorrow morning? We’re going to need more Dwarves to stand with us. No use in bringing food if we’re dead and can’t be eating it. Uncle Orin and I can bring your armor along with us; pile it on the food cart if need be – you can put it on just before we leave the East-gate. You’ll be able to go more quickly that way, raising call for more to go with us. Stop at your friends’ forges, ten or so more fighters would be good. Uncle Orin and I can raise the hue and cry here in the west halls.’

‘What say you?’

[Orofaniel]

It was something in the weather that told Geldion that it was indeed the end of autumn. The leaves that used to have the slightest scent of summer, were long gone, and not to be sensed for another year. And perhaps; never again. The gentle wind had slowly turned into some harsher and slightly bitter tones, and it washed away all the warmth that remained in the elf's body. The cool breeze in his face, made him feel slightly dizzy. This did not suit him. It did not suit him at all.

Entering the Pin the elf felt as though his spirits were lifted. The warmth of the room and the crackling fireplace greeted him and any other guest that would enter the room sooner or later. The light hit him quite suddenly, and his eyes had to get used to it and thus he stayed in the shadows for some moments. He then heard a familiar voice. It was, without much doubt, his good friend - and now also a fellow Captain - Ondomirë. The elf hurried over to the table, set for four, although at the present there were only three of them; Ondomirë, himself...and someone he did not recognize. There was however no need to think more about it, because Ondomirë introduced him quickly to the stranger that was smiling so gently towards him.

"This is Alcarfalon," Ondomirë said once again. "And this, Alcarfalon, is my friend Geldion," Ondomirë. The two elves that had been strangers to one another until now, greeted each other. Both of them seemed to enjoy the new acquaintance. "An old friend, you say?" Geldion then asked Ondomirë after having been offered some wine, which he gladly accepted. He seated as well, as he suddenly was aware of that he had been standing all along, while the other two had offered him a seat- in what seemed to be a comfortable cushion. He paused, and put down his cup of wine hoping for a refill later that afternoon.

"Indeed," Ondomirë replied quickly. "You are an elf full of surprises," Geldion sighed. "I would think that after all these years, I would be acquainted with most of your 'old friends'. Perhaps you came before me then?" Geldion then said, giving a short laughter,. The other two were quick to follow. "Well, I met Geldion a long time ago, during the establishment of our beautiful Lindon,” Ondomirë told Alcarfalon. “My ancestors fought with the elves a long time ago in Beleriand. Ondomirë is has been a friend of my relatives for many years, and he has always been welcome there…” Alcarfalon then informed Geldion. “Ah of course. My memory is worse than I thought. Ondomirë has mentioned you in several occasions. It’s a shame we haven’t had the chance to meet before,” Geldion then said.

Nothing more of those matters were said, because the company was slightly interrupted by another elf entering the Pin. It seemed to be the elf that had volunteered to lead the troops of elves with spears.

[Folwren]

Bror declined Riv’s offer of more ale and kept his eyes on his brother’s face as he suggested his plans.

‘What say you?’ Riv asked in conclusion. Bror considered it carefully for a minute. Then he put his head down and lightly plucked a simple tune on his strings before speaking.

‘Well, if you don’t mind my saying so too much, I don’t think it’s a good idea to raise any hue and cry just now. If you spread the name of Sauron around there will be terror in the streets and nothing will be accomplished half as well as it should if it were only known by a few. If you meant something else than that when you say hue and cry, then please explain.

‘But about Skald and me going on to gather a few extra people, I’d be up for that. As you said, we’d be able to move more quickly without the extra armor and that’d give the fellows we gathered a little time in advance to make preparation to go. Are there any dwarves in particular that you want?

‘If you’re gathering the food,’ he went on with hardly a pause, ‘please bring something other than cram. I’d think that we’d have thought of something better than that when we have to go off and do something. Sure, I know, I’ve never been on a real mission before, but I’ve tasted the stuff that you all take with you and I can’t say it’s too appetizing!’

[Amanaduial the archer]

Narisiel looked up at Maegisil, surprised and half-smiling, as if expecting him to be grinning back. But when she saw the other elf’s solemn expression, the amusement faded from her own as she looked away, her fingers tracing the engravings she had started on Leneslath’s sword blade. “You…you shouldn’t,” she replied softly, her pale face looking suddenly more wearied even in the warm light cast from the forge. How can he know of what price she fear I may pay for my craft…how dangerous those rings could be in the wrong hands… But her melancholia only seemed to last a moment, for, closing her eyes, she sighed gently and then sniffed suddenly, blinking a few times, and glanced shrewdly back up at the king’s counsellor. “My apologies, Maegisil, it has been a long day – I have several commissions at the moment that have pressing deadlines…”

“Oh, well if you do not have time, do not worry about it–” Maegisil replied hurriedly, turning away, but the elvensmith shook her head hastily, reaching for his arm and interrupting, “No, I…I did not mean that – my commitments are not so that I could not fit another in, depending on its nature. Although I do warn you,” she added with a smile. “If you wish me to make yet another blade, I shall strongly resist the urge to scream.”

The older elf smiled back gladly, shaking his head. “Then do not fear! No, I intended to commission your skills for something which I believe is an area of your particular expertise, or so I gather from my Lord Celebrimbor.”

There is not a craftsman alive who does not appreciate sincere flattery from those who know what they are talking about: Narisiel smiled, blushing slightly, and cocked her head to one side questioningly. “Oh ho, really? And what would this be then, if not weaponry?”

“Jewellery.”

The simple word could not have startled the elvensmith more, and she actually visibly flinched at it, suddenly firing up with the anger that she had been noted for in her younger days. How could he know what she had been thinking of just moments before? Jewellery, yes, that had been her expertise – but why did Maegisil ask about it now? It seemed unusual to make such a frivolous commision, to be sure, when war seemed imminent – unless it was not as innocent as it seemed, for had the other not just mentioned his ‘jealously’ of Narisiel?! The thoughts swelled through the elf’s mind on a wave of paranoia and she gave Maegisil a very straight, fierce look. “Why do you say that?” she replied quietly.

The other seemed taken aback at Narisiel’s sudden fierceness and frowned, but stood his ground. “Because you were one of those who helped Lord Celebrimbor with the forging of the rings,” he replied levelly. “But also because I know, as any other in the city, that you are one of the foremost jewelsmiths in Ost-in-Edhil.” He looked coldly at her, then nodded stiffly. “Good day to you, Narisiel.”

“Wait. Please.” This time she did not reach out for his arm and as Maegisil turned back, he saw the smith wipe her eyes wearily with her fingers, smoothing them back across high cheekbones to rest on the sides of her face then rested them with the fingertips meeting in a steeple between her eyes, almost as if she was praying. Those dark, sharp eyes regarded Maegisil pensively, then she sighed and let her arms hang down by her sides, shaking her head and looking away once more. “I am sorry, again, Maegisil. I…well, I cannot pretend the rings have not been on my mind of late.” Looking up, her expression and voice softened to an almost motherly expression of concern. “How is Lord Celebrimbor?”

“Have you not seen him recently?”

Narisiel shook her head, turning away towards a tall, locked cupboard, fumbling on her belt for the right key. “There are certain worries on my mind that have prevented me from seeking out my Lord in recent times, although I know I must talk to him,” she replied, finding the correct key. Raising an eyebrow, she looked back over her shoulder at the other elf. “And I am not talking about commissions,” she added quietly. The latter nodded, understanding. “The rings.”

“The rings,” Narisiel repeated meaningfully. Twisting the key deftly in the lock, then in another two which were more surreptitiously and cleverly placed on the hinges, the craftswoman slowly pulled open the doors, then paused when barely a crack was visible. Smiling mischievously, she inclined her head, signalling that Maegisil should come forward, then her face became serious once more. “I cannot muse on those particular…objects…for too long, Maegisil, or I would be sure to go mad, to become obsessed with them – as any who had seen their power is at risk of doing. Please don’t ask me about them,” she continued hastily as the other seemed about to speak. “Please.” Then her smile resumed its place on her pretty features, both mischievous and strangely fond at the same time as she returned her gaze to the cupboard and began to open it slowly. “I would prefer to talk about this particular piece of jewellery you wished me to make. I presume it is a gift?”

“For my wife,” Maegisil replied, nodding. Narisiel nodded in turn, as if satisfied. “I thought it would be.”

“And why is that?” This time Maegisil seemed almost edgy. Narisiel glanced sharply at him, but did not reply, simply contenting herself with shaking her head, then swung open the cupboard doors. Maegisil could not contain a slight gasp and Narisiel smiled proudly, her eyes glittering as the other ran his eyes over the jewels that were displayed there. “Welcome to my little box of tricks.”

[Orofaniel]

The newly arraived elf was waved towards their table by Ondomirë. Now Geldion realized why they were all gathered here. The table, as Geldion had noticed when he arrived, was set for four.

“So, will you feed us while we’re here?” Hénsirë asked Ondomirë with a great smile on his face. He too had probably noticed the table that had been set. Hénsirë was a tall figure with broad shoulders. He was a warrior with great strength and fierceness. His face however, had very clean and bright features and seemed more gentle than the personality it represented. The elf in front of them was by all means, nice and decent, not to mention noble. At the same time however, he represented stubbornness and perhaps little self awareness. He was a bit ruthless, and quite arrogant at times. Nevertheless, he fought with the strength of ten men, or perhaps more. And thus many looked up to him; he would make a decent leader, Geldion thought, disregarding his personal faults.

“Indeed, if that is what the gentleman wants…” Ondomirë said and gestured the newly arrived elf to take a seat. “I think another cup of that excellent wine will do, for my part at least,” Geldion said politely. It was then Hénsirë noticed his presence ad greeted him as a friend. “Captain Geldion,” Hénsirë started, eyeing him. “I never got the chance to converse with you at the High King’s meeting. A real shame, as I’ve heard much about you and your skills with the sword,” Hénsirë then continued. Ondomirë took another sip from his cup. “You are too kind, Captain Hénsirë,” Geldion then forced, not knowing what else to say. “It is by far time you lead a small troop,” Hénsirë said before Geldion could finish his sentence. “I mean, after all those years, loyal advisor to the High King….”

“Well, I’m honoured that the Hight King would grant me such a position of great value. I am grateful for what He has given me,” Geldion replied. Hénsirë then smiled and turned to Ondomirë.

The moments of silence were interrupted by a few sips every now and then.

“So, when do you reckon’ will get the warriors and the supplies ready?” Hénsirë then asked.

It was a question that had dwelled in Geldion’s mind as well. “Hard to say,” Geldion said. “We ought to have some sort of control over the supplies we need, and the troops as soon as possible. The arranging of the troops will be the most difficult task I expect. There are many warriors and a lot to keep up with,” Ondomirë continued. “Not to mention the supplies that has to be arranged before we leave. Remember; there is a long journey in front of us, and getting short of supplies is the very last thing we need,” Geldion then finished. Hénsirë nodded and so did Ondomirë. It seemed that Alcarfalon was now sitting in his own thoughts, not minding the conversation going on between the three of them.