Red Flows the Sirannon RPG

[Arry]

Several weeks later . . .

The column moved at a slow pace. With the addition of the refugees, all of them on foot save for the children and the injured who rode in the wagons, it was a long day for the group to make even four leagues. Thankfully, for at least a fortnight since they’d left the wooded area north of Ost-in-edhil, there had been no close sightings of enemy troops. And the few that had been seen were moving westward to join the main body of Sauron’s army.

Once they passed the Hollin Ridge and moved a short distance eastward, there were no further reports of Orcs. The mood of the company lightened somewhat, a tenuous sort of hope springing up.

The Dwarves took counsel among themselves one evening as the company stopped to set up camp in a low, hilly area near the northern foot of the Hollin Ridge. There had been talk among them already about how they felt the Elves would be able to make it safely to whatever area they chose as a refuge, without the further aid of the Dwarves. Truth be told, they were eager to be quit of this obligation they had taken on and to return home as quickly as they might.

‘If we head directly toward the mountains we can recross the Hollin Ridge, heading south and make haste along the edge of the foothills until we come to the West Gate. Surely the enemy will have moved on and we can slip beneath the mountains.’ Skald’s tone was hopeful. He had been away from his family’s forge for longer than he cared. And he worried about how they were faring. Had Riv made it back safely? Had there been problems with Sauron’s army as they chased the Dwarves back to the West Gate? He feared some of them may have penetrated the entrance before it could be shut. ‘We can tell the Elves we will see them off tomorrow morning and then leave them to make our own way back home. There are enough of them now to be a strong force; most of the injured are healed and already back on their horses, weapons in hand.’ He looked about the group, most of them already shaking their heads in agreement.

‘Well, then, who wants to be among the delegation we send to Lord Elrond to tell him we are leaving?’

[Envinyatar]

Hensirë slapped his leather gloves he held in his grasp against his thigh, sending up a small cloud of dust. ‘Long ride, eh?’ he said, plopping himself down on bear ground near Ondomirë. The humps and bums and sharp pointed pebbles were not to the captain of the spears’ liking as he sat there. His cape was soon folded into some semblance of a cushion, and he rested his ride-worn haunches more comfortably on it.

‘It’s you spearmen,’ Geldion, eyeing his tall lanky companion. ‘You’re more used to walking along rattling your spears in a frightening manner, than trying to accommodate them as you sit atop a horse.’ He steepled his fingers and smiled like a cat over the tips of them. ‘Now we bladesmen . . . we are born to horse! Dashing and dangerous figures we cut as we drive headlong into battle, swords raised for the kill.’

‘More like you’re born of horse,’ Ondomirë said, grinning widely at Hensirë, with a nod to Geldion. ‘Your attitude, at least, often resembles the equine nether parts!’ Ondomirë ducked as the sword-captain threw a clod of dirt his way. ‘What’s going on over there?’ he asked, lifting his chin toward the gathered Dwarves.

‘Well. I’ve heard that they’re thinking about leaving us soon, Hensirë said. ‘Going back home to Hadhodrond. Can’t blame them, really. They’ve seen us through to this point. No point in wandering about with us. We’ve enough able-bodied to repel what small numbers of foe we might find up here.’

‘Just as well,’ Geldion remarked, his eyes sliding toward the Dwarves. ‘I’m afraid I’m with Lord Celeborn when it comes to the Naugrim. They’re too shifty eyed; too unreliable. Tainted, even. Could take a notion to start doing us in. Like their ancestors. Better we Elves just look out for ourselves.’

Ondomirë snorted in disgust at Geldion’s remarks. ‘You make me apologetic at times that we are kin.’ Geldion shrugged off the remark, turning his head away as Ondomirë rose and walked away.

-----

Losrian had stowed her meager possessions by her bedroll and had just stood up as Ondomirë was passing through the archers’ area of the campsite. ‘Good evening, m’lady,’ he greeted her, nodding as he stopped a few paces from her. ‘Are you going to see the little one?’ he asked. ‘Might I walk along with you, if so? I have need of more pleasant company.’