Red Flows the Sirannon RPG

[Envinyatar]

‘They are falling back, Captain!’

Ondomirë spurred his mount on to the front of the line. His archers had ceased their shooting, he noted; their targets now quickly pulling out of range. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked of those fighting at the front. From his position he could see the Orcs and Easterlings scattering, turning westward as their captains barked orders at them and flicked their whips for emphasis.

‘Someone has come at them from the rear of their position,’ one of the Elvish captains told him. ‘It must be a large force of some sort. And hitting them hard enough that they would turn all their force against it.’

A silvered horn rang out from the Elven ranks, calling the troops to gather together. Lord Elrond and his advisors had made a quick assessment of the situation. Ondomirë rode at the back of his company as they made their way to where Elrond stood. He felt uneasy at this sudden turn of the battle, suspecting some sort of trick from Sauron’s captains. Ondomirë was watchful, should there be any sign that they would be attacked again, he would order his troops to turn and fire.

-----

‘Someone has given us a chance to move closer to the city,’ Elrond began. He held up his hand to quell the murmurings that Orc still roamed the city. ‘Yes, we must be careful. The city is fallen. Most of it burned, my scouts have told me. Ours now will be a mission to find what refugees we can.’ His hands smoothed out a map on the small wooden table that had been hastily set up near him. ‘I doubt that there will be any left alive within the city now. But my hope is that those who were able to escape the destruction will have gathered somewhere beyond. To the north here. In these wooded areas.’

His finger traced the area west of where Ost-in-edhil had once stood – moving toward the marshes, to where the rivers converged. ‘Sauron’s forces will already be moving westward from the city. It is his intent, I believe, to sweep through Eriador, coming at last to Lindon to wreak his vengeance on Lord Gil-galad. We must move to a place of safety for the refugees, a defensible place; that is our primary charge.’ He looked eastward, his grey eyes glinting with his thoughts. ‘At some point Lord Gil-galad will have need of us. We must regain our strength until then and keep our eye fixed on Mordor and the stirrings there.’

He called for his horse and mounted up. His captains at his side, he urged his mount toward the western outskirts of the city.

[Arry]

The sound of the Dwarves’ horns brought hope to the beleaguered troops as they fought the losing battle against Sauron’s troops. The Elves wondered at who had come to their aid, or if it were some new foe bound to slay any who stood in their way. It was the Dwarves who fought alongside Elrond’s men who let them now it was their kinsmen who had come to harry the Orcs and Easterlings.

‘Can you not hear that sweet high sound, the one singing above all the rest?’ cried Skald. ‘Tis the horn of the Stonecut Hall.’ He looked up at the Elf near him, an expectant look on his face. ‘Well, are you giving me a hand up, man? Or I must run behind these great beasts to a safe retreat? My kinsmen cannot hold the Orcs and Men forever.’

-----

To his left, Skald could see Bror clinging onto the Elf who bore him on his horse. He was jostling up and down, his axe slapping against his back with each stride. Skald pushed his helm up from his eyebrows, where it had slipped, and gave his brother a resigned look, followed by a nod of sympathy. The Elf he rode with urged his mount on at a faster rate and Skald’s attention was narrowly focused on not falling off.

-----

Less than half a day brought Lord Elrond and his remaining troops to the western outskirts of the jewel-smiths’ city. The pace of the ride slowed as the Elves fanned out, looking among the rolling hills and low-lying forested areas for any of their kindred who might have escaped. In the more thickly wooded sections, the Dwarves dismounted and went in twos and threes looking for any in hiding.

[Mithalwen]

Perhaps there was a limit to misfortune even in such desperate situations. Somehow Losrian got herself, the child and the pony out of the city. Somehow she evaded the hoardes of foes who had invaded the city while using a breach they had created to escape. The fabled wealth of the mirdain was of more interest to them than a few pathetic refugees. The smoke they had created provided cover as the trio left the city and picked their way across the battlefield then across anxious miles to the shelter of the woods.

Though this provided some cover, Losrian was far from feeling secure. While she could go on Galmir was another matter. Although he could walk he was too small to cope with long distances or rough terrain and had been carried by Losrian until they left the city behind and now was curled up in one of the pony's panniers. The pony had stumbled and was now a little lame. They would need to find somewhere to rest for a few hours at least.

Losrian remembered that deep in the woods were huts used by the elves when doing forestry work .... that would be safest she thought .. not that anywhere was truly safe. At least there would be shelter and she could tend the horse and the child ...and herse lf.. she realised she had many cuts and bruises - but her injuries were negligible compared to... no she mustn't think about Ferin. Not now. Though the grey clothes she wore were heavily stained by his blood. She would have to keep watch and listen for danger while his son slept. Try and get him to safety, maybe to her parents in Lindon - if even Lindon was safe now. She feared that having destroyed Ost in Edhil they would move to the last realm of the Noldor in Middle Earth.

So even when she reached the hut and settled child and beast as best she could. There was some provisions there - hay, old but not musty (and the pony was not fussy) - and a supply of firewood . A fire would be cheering but it was out of the question while pursuit was so possible.

Losrian sighed and drew her cloak about her. She had her bow strung and and her knife to hand. She was exhausted in body and spirit but deperately tried to alert. For if she let down her guard, she would be trapped.

So she remained for some hours until tiredness won over her resolve. She was woken by a faint rustle - chiding herself for her weakness and looking across to the pony who she hoped was the source of the noise.

To her horror the beast slept as did the child. The noise was outside. Soft footsteps - those could be elves but heavier ones too .... a vision of orcs guarding a group of thralls filled her mind. Her greatest fear and it was too late seemingly to escape. She took up her bow and nocked an arrow....She thought she heard horses and the pony stirred... was this a strand of hope - orcs did not ride she knew ... but they were not the only servants of the enemy. She held her breath...