Red Flows the Sirannon RPG

[Nurumaiel]

When Araorë saw her husband enter the room, she almost let out a sigh but caught in time, and smiled instead. Her feelings of pleasure at the thought of an evening spent with all in her family was much stronger than her feelings of regret. True, it was rather regretful that when Erinlaer and her father were together they could do nothing but play music. But Araorë had been able to spend some time talking to her daughter and hearing long answers. And that was not an exceedingly common occurrence.

Culhir greeted Heledharm, but briefly, for he was compelled to turn right away to catch Erinlaer, who flung herself into his arms as if she were a little child. "Why, daughter," he said, smiling fondly into her face, "you look fairer than ever."

She silently stepped back, took his hand, and brought him over to sit down. She took up her harp and they smiled at one another. He brought his up, and they began to play. Araorë heard and appreciated the sweet harmonies that they produced, but she knew that they would play on until it was time to bid farewell. She moved over to stand beside Heledharm, and glanced up at his face. His face showed not the slightest sign of regret, but on the contrary was quite radiant as he watched Culhir and his daughter play together. Araorë dropped her eyes again, and gazed thoughtfully at the ground. Then, hesitantly, she spoke, very lowly, so the harpists would not hear her.

"Heledharm," she murmured, "have you found my daughter Erinlaer a good wife to you?"

The happiness in Heledharm's face vanished and was replaced by an expression of deep amazement. "Why, of course!" he stammered, searching Araorë's face in a bewildered fashion. "Why do you think that perhaps I do not? Has anything I have said or done make you think this?"

"Oh, no, not at all," said Araorë. His great puzzlement did not bother her. She did not speak hastily, or apologetically, as if trying to clarify what she had said. Her tone remained very slow and very thoughtful. "But she is not, you know, the most reliable of wives."

He was silent for some time, and then, "You speak of her music."

Araorë nodded. "I do not doubt that you love to hear her play," she said. "When she was still living in our home I found her music a joy and delight. When she was very small she would dance about and sing in such a sweet, childish voice. And as she grew older and her voice grew clearer and her steps more graceful, the beauty of her song thrilled me. And when her father taught her to play the harp, and they would play together... well, you know what wonderful music they make! But sometimes I found she paid too much attention to her music. She neglected her other duties. Do you not find that because of her music other things are left undone? Even when she is not playing she is listening to songs in her head and forgets everything else about her. Does that cause her to be an annoyance to you?"

"Not at all," said Heledharm firmly. "She is my pride and joy... and more because of her music than anything else. I have found, if I am to be entirely honest, that she does neglect other things on account of her singing, dancing, and harp-playing. But..." He turned his eyes to his wife, who was playing rapturously, her eyes lifted bright and earnestly to her father's face. "But when I see her playing her music and singing, there is such happiness and peace in her face, and it's impossible for me to care whether she attends her other duties or not."

Araorë sighed. It was relief to know that Heledharm did not find Erinlaer a trial. But, all the same, her lack of responsibility was worrying.

[Esgallhugwen]

Fëaglin Lómë felt as if his head were being bombarded by rocks. Knock knock knock. And more rocks fell upon his already bruising head.

In fact so insistant was the knocking that the Elf rolled clear off his bed to try and get away from it, landing on his face. "Gruomph!", he sat up and rubbed his aching head.

Had someone been at the door? he thought dazily, after all the sound of the rocks hitting his head sounded more like wood than bone. What time was it anyway?

Fëaglin opened the curtains and his jaw dropped, he had slept in! Oh, for Ilûvatar's sake, he slept in! He lept over his bed as he pulled on a pair of breeches and a tunic and rushed into the forge firing up the furnace.

What if that had been a customer? Fëaglin shook his head and tsked himself for being so mindless.

Once the furnace was roaring away he set to work on another commision, a fair number of ceremonial daggers. To be given no doubt as badges of honour, the Elven militaries seemed to prize their assortment of nick-nacks, but they were well deserved.

And thus he continued with his day.

[Kath]

Having just managed to escape from one skirmish Ugburz was in no mood to start another back in his own camp. He ignored Gradakh, walking straight past him in search of a hidden corner to sit and eat his stolen dinner. The other orc would not be so easily disregarded however, and followed him into the darkened recess of a small cave.

"Where are you skulking off to?" Gradakh asked, standing in the entrance so Ugburz could not get out.

"Away from you for some peace and quiet!" Ugburz snarled back, desperately wishing the other orc would just leave so he could eat. Unfortunately Gradakh seemed in a mood to talk.

"So what did you see? News is there was an Elf sighting." He spat on the ground as if disgusted by the mere name.

"There was, it was by me. There was just the one of them, a scout I'd guess come to check out the paths. Happy now?"

Giving up on the idea of waiting Gradakh out he got up and pushed past him. He quickly disappeared into a group of larger orcs and crawled through some undergrowth near the edge of the camp. He could see Gradakh in the distance, scowling but obviously with no idea where he had gone. Sighing with relief he settled back into the grass and finally wolfed down his food.

Exhausted from marching all day and then having to scout most of the evening, he fell almost immediately into a deep sleep even despite the noise of the camp all around him and the fighting of the orcs between themselves.

He did not wake again until the next morning when someone fell over him on their way out of the camp.

"Curse you! What are you doing lying where you can't be seen?" asked the orc suspiciously.

"Keeping out the way, now get off me!" he replied, shoving the other orc of him and scrambling to his feet. He looked up and saw the sun beginning to rise over the horizon. Hurriedly he shuffled into a nearby tent, trying to avoid the light and in search of anyone who might know what the plans for the day were.

[Firefoot]

“Grimkul… Grimkul, wake up.” Ulwakh tentatively prodded his companion into wakefulness. “We’re getting ready to move out.” Grimkul’s yellow eyes opened into blaring sunlight.

“Blasted sun,” grumbled Grimkul. “Not natural, marching in the daylight… I wouldn’t mind going back to the old days, when all our raids were at night.” Frankly, Ulwakh agreed, but he said nothing of it lest he instigate another one of Grimkul’s ideas of escape. Ulwakh didn’t want to have to refute it, and in Grimkul’s continued foul mood, he might not listen to reason anyway. Grimkul apparently took no notice of Ulwakh’s silence and continued, “We’re moving out, you say? Where to?”

“They’re saying there’s a little valley a few miles from here… we’re going to ambush the Elves there.” A light of hatred sprung into Ulwakh’s eyes at his mention of Elves. Personally, he preferred the rare captive (there hadn’t been any for him to play with since they had been enslaved), but killing them was fine, too. And they would certainly die today…

Grimkul had stopped listening after the first few words, however. Something else more pressing to his mind had caught his eye – that evil little rodent that had plagued him the previous night had finally ventured from its hole. With surprising stealth, Grimkul pulled his scimitar free of its scabbard and leveled it towards the mouse. In a flash of speed, he speared the mouse on the point of his sword.

“Haha! You filthy rodent scum won’t be troubling me anymore!” jeered Grimkul at the mouse’s lifeless form. Grimkul did not bother to remove the mouse from his sword before ripping into its rather stringy flesh.

His mood thus improved, Grimkul merely grumbled about the Lushurd’s new orders when he came around rather than quietly threatening the commander. Muttering once more about marching in the daylight, Grimkul hoisted up his pack and prepared for the short march to the ambush site, still munching absently. Ulwakh was greatly eased; when Grimkul was in one of his moods, there could be no saying who he would lash out against and Ulwakh was an easy target.

Their march to the valley was short – about three miles or so. After that, they were led up into a narrow pass overlooking the valley. “Now,” explained Lushurd, “we wait. Quietly, might I add, Captain’s orders.” He eyed the company viciously, his gaze seeming to linger a mite bit longer on Grimkul, who returned the look with an even uglier one. Lushurd either didn’t notice or paid no mind. “Then, the Elf scum comes through this valley and we catch them with a rain of arrows. Then we go down into the valley and finish them off. Got that?” Grimkul had stopped paying attention. Ulwakh idly wondered how many times the captain had had to explain the plan to Lushurd before the commander got it straight. The other Orcs in the company seemed to be somewhere between these two states of mind; Lushurd, being perhaps a little larger than Grimkul and only bright enough to repeat the Captain’s orders back to the troops, did not command the respect of his under-Orcs save in lip-service.

So the pair settled in to wait, bows at the ready. Grimkul idly scratched at the wood of his bow with his fingernail, wondering just how long it would take the cursed Elves to get there.

[piosenniel]

‘Don’t be daft!’ Riv snorted at Skald’s question about the provisions. ‘Of course we’ll not be packing it all to our meeting with the Elves. I was thinking we would do as you said in the second part of your suggestion. Place at least half of it in the shallow cave along the mountain base. And leave three of our fellows to keep watch over it.’

‘If there are Orcs about we may end up retreating back to them, hopefully with the Elves in tow. It’s a fairly defensible place, being a little above the narrow plain between the foot of the peak and the lake shore. I’ll make arrangements for the guards that keep look-out above the Eastern Doors to watch for our return. They can raise a hue and cry should we be pinned in by foe.’

He looked to Bror, making sure his brother had gotten his armor secured. Others in the small company had also taken time to see to their equipment, he noted. Riv spoke quietly to the Dwarf captain whose men were manning the doors that day, letting them know where they were going and when they expected to be back. Arrangements were made with him as Riv had outline to his brother, and the captain cautioned the group that there had been signs of increased Orc activity in the area.

‘Mahal’s hammer strike down any who come against you!’ the captain said, motioning for his men to open the gates.

The little company made its way down the stairs to the path that ran along the edge of the Mirrormere, the Kheled-zâram, and headed south toward the head of the valley. At the mid point of the path along the lake, they stopped as planned and stowed most of their provisions in the cave. Dari Glitterfist and the two young apprentices, Egil Deepdigger and Odi Ironforge agreed to stay there and keep watch for the returning Elves and Dwarves. They would raise the alarm if needed, keeping watch for the signal Riv and they had agreed on - Brand would shoot a polished, silver-shafted arrow high in the air by day or a flaming one by night to signal for help.

'Let us hope we do not need such measures,' grunted Afi Glitterfist, following his brother and Riv out of the cave and back down the path . . .

[Boromir88]

"Aye, Mr. Glitterfirst." Orin said. "But, don't fret, it will be the Orcs that will be screeching for help if I have anything to say about it. If the rumors of orcs prowling are true that is." Some of the company broke out in laughter, especially Fawrin.

Soon the company was out of the safe halls and into the open. Orin had all the armor, he brought along, suited on. A chain hauberk, with a large round shield, and an iron helm. Orin looked at Skald, who appeared to be unimpressed with Orin's armor selection. "Don't look at me like that Skald. Atleast I brought the helmet like you suggested. You know, my plump old body can't carry as much when I was your age."