The Hills of Evendim RPG

[littlemanpoet]

The center of Falowik's world came near, speaking a light jest. She lightened his heart with it, but the easing did not reach his face. He had not even noticed the stones until she spoke of them, for he was looking through them at the image-fraught thoughts captive in his mind. Falco's scorn. Thoronmir's under-reckoning of them, which smacked of arrogance; but he would keep that to himself, for it was only first impression. Maybe the Ranger was able to keep them all safe. Time would tell. They'd need it; a motley bunch they were. Moody Elven ladies. Bumpkin Hobbits who were either overweaning or untried. A Ranger woman who seemed half Elvish herself, bearing their melancholy as if she'd breathed and eaten it all her life. He was no better than any of them, he knew, but he had hoped that they would be. Maybe the tests of the road would prove out hidden mettle. Falowik hoped so. He wished Doderic was coming with, to shepherd the three Hobbits, none of whom Falowik believed had much to offer. He would, of course, keep all of his impressions to himself. Uien seemed to be the only one of all of them, beside Thoronmir, who had anything of worth - that Falowik could see - to bring to the search.

Her hand came to his shoulder. She brushed his cheek; her touch sang within him like a lute's strings.

"Will you show me this place that was your home, my love?" His heart went cold. He turned and her hand fell. Memories of his harsh childhood flooded his mind. Her head tipped to one side and she watched him quizzically, as if wondering what his thoughts were, and with pleading in her eyes.

"Please, Laurëatan?" She clasped her hands before her. Falowik did not like seeing her looking like an abject beggar. He scowled, then looked from her hands to her face. Her heart, given to him, was in her eyes.

Come, old man, you've shared the story with her already. What hurt is there in walking its paths with her? Falowik allowed himself to hope that it might be well to bring her to those old rags of bitterness and regret. His face softened.

"We'll save The Prancing Pony for last." His hand reached and would take her by the waist and lead her walking close beside him, but Falowik forced himself to give her his arm to hold. She smiled and took his arm, and they walked into the road.

The Prancing Pony backed onto the hillside and faced west where the road curved westward to cross The Greenway, and southward to circle the hill. Falowik led Uien away from the hill with its Hobbit holes, and down to the hedge and dike that circled Bree from north to south on the west. Along the Hedge Road stood the shops and houses of tradesmen; it was there that Falowik had scraped and scrounged to keep body and soul together. He told Uien of Al Tanner, a hardbitten chap back then, and probably an old codger now, who gave him work and paid him a morsel of bread and a ragged blanket among the dogs out by the dike. Then there was Sam Miller, who had given him grain for payment, telling him to make his own bread; Falowik had worked for Miller just once. Falowik told the story of each of his Breeland caretakers; some had been worse than Miller, some hardly better than Tanner; except for Barliman.

The sun was nearing its height when they came to the place where Hedge Road met up with the East Road. Falowik pointed to the houses across the Road and closer to the hill, and told Uien how he had never gone up there because the wealthy of Bree lived there and would not have him, mistrusting him for a child thief.

They made their way back to the Prancing Pony, for Falowik was hungry. He was not sure if it had helped to tell Uien his stories. His tone had been sombre at first, but lightened as the day drew on. Still, he did not like it that all through the morning, he had sounded like one who could do nothing but complain; which was why his tone had become lighter with each story; this is how it was, plain and simple; it matters not to me anymore. But it did. His hardships had shaped him into a stunted, crooked tree, as it were, baked under the hostile sun, his roots reaching beneath the earth to slake his thirst in a sun baked, dry land. Uien walking with him was like a lake of fresh, clean, and clear water. But he wanted to know her mind.

"What think you of the stories of my childhood?" His tone was light, but his eyes and twitching cheek betrayed him.

[Elora]

Uien for her part had absorbed it all, hungry for all that she could have of Falowik. He gave her much, and she marvelled at it all. His arm clasped by her own, his presence beside her a living flame, his voice rising and falling, in and out of his memories. What cost had her request been honoured at? She could only guess. It pained him, she knew, and she had asked this of him. Silent but for a few encouraging acknowledgements, Uien let Falowik tell her all that he would.

They found themselves back at the Prancing Pony and Uien's mind was swimming with many things. Guarded and cautious, Falowik asked her of her thoughts. She thought she glimpsed a fragment of shame. In truth, the shame belonged not to him. It was that of those who had left a child to the cold mercies and tides of a troubled world, and to her for dredging up such sorrow. But how to soothe that? She looked up into Falowik's expectant face and marshalled her thoughts as best she could.

When she spoke, it was with a voice made quiet by her musings, without hesitation or artiface.

"It seems to me that Bree failed you, my love, yet despite it all your spirit and heart outgrew them. I can see now why the wilds called you so. What small town can contain one such as you, Falowik Laurëatan? Doubt not that better was owed to you than you received."

Uien smiled as she shaped his dear name. She drew closer to him, holding his gaze to hers which did not falter.

"It is as I feared," she said. He frowned slightly at her words and she pressed on. "Every moment that passes, each new thing I learn of you, the stronger my heart cleaves to you.

"Not all homes are such as you have known. It is my hope that you may look upon mine, though it is now an empty place. I would have you know it as I once did, to give to you what you have given me this day."

And perhaps he would find some measure of the happiness she had known, for it was her mind to share it with Falowik. Close as she was, Falowik's presence seemed to surround her. Her voice became a whisper as she drew closer still, her heart singing. She was floating again.

"I have learnt that home is a feeling, not a place." With that, Uien reached once more as she had on a night in front of another inn. Perhaps he would object now as he ahd then, and he had every right to, for such boldness. Nonetheless, Uien's mind had settled on one thing.

Gently, slowly, she pressed her lips to Falowik's in a kiss. Time fell away and it could only have been a moment. But for Uien, it was more than eternity. In that moment, immortality was theirs. When it broke, Uien sighed, "Home." She had found it after being without it for so long. It was Falowik. Her pulse galloping in her ears, cheeks flushed, Uien barely heard herself add to a shocked and frozen Falowik, "It is past time to give you glad memories of this place."

No sooner had she spoken so did the import of her actions and words catch up with her. Never had she done such a thing. Her presumption in daring kiss him uninvited cast her into a world of uncertainty. Would he reprimand her? Turn away? What would she do then? The answer was hers immediately: love him nonetheless.

Uien fought hard against the urge to repeat her actions and stepped down from where she had risen to her toes. She dared meet Falowik's eyes again, a little fearful of what she may find there. He was tense, coiled, as if struggling with something.

"Forgive me. Forgive me..." Her hand trailed down from where it had perched upon his shoulder. Her skin was both hot and cold, alive and she could still feel the softness of his mouth. Before she could hear the words of rebuke, Uien stole herself away. She slid past him, slowly at first, intent on making her room before she shamed Falowik further and staying to do it all again. Uien paused in the threshold of the Inn, to glance over her shoulder to where Falowik stood. Her best intentions were no match for her heart's demands. His back was to her. Breathing rapidly, Uien tore herself away to collect the key to her room from Butterbur.

Rattled and flustered, Uien dove behind the door and sank onto the bed, lightheaded. Her joy had undercurrents of fear now. Pressing her fingers to her lips, she closed her eyes. Foolish, impetuous, rash... you rush forward to claim something that is not yours by rights. And you would do it again, and again... Off-balance as she was, Uien was not aware her thoughts were spoken to the empty room. If I have driven him away, at least let him find happiness. Let him know love, even if it is not mine. Uien stared at the floorboardst, half waiting for the knock at her door. Surely she would be left behind now. Falowik had every right to request that it be so.

In the silence of the room, Uien curled up against the tide of criticism that rose in her mind. Her mother chided her, her father exclaimed in exasperated frustration. Her brothers shook their head at her. And an orc hissed at her with an unwholesome leer, "Not for you, not ever. You cannot wash us off through a thousand years. What use would any have for you now."

In the midst of this, Uien took refuge in a filament of hope that refused to fade. It burned stubbornly and she sheltered there, in the image of his smile, the sound of his laughter, the touch of his hand on her own, a stolen kiss. When Uien rose again, she crossed to the small stand and poured out water into a bowl left there. Again and again she swept the cool water against her flushed face. She could not wash away the broken cackling in her mind, mocking. Then Uien stopped and dried her damp face. Nor did she wish to wash away other memories, sweet and new. She would endure one for the other, and a great deal more besides if it came to it.

She studied her reflection in the mirror. She seemed fevered, eyes bright, skin wan, cheeks flushed. Through it, Uien found a smile. She would endure what she must, for had done so in the past. This time, she had a reason. It was Falowik. It was home. Uien turned away to study the view from her window. She sat there, pondering how to best mend the damage of her boldness, staring at the scene below.

[ November 02, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Lumiel]

Her hands rested softly at the sides of her glass, feeling the coolness of the drops of condensation that had begun to collect along the outside of it. Finëwen's past was similar to her own, and yet different, the opposite. Finëwen knew of elves and people while Lumiel, herself and elf, knew very little about them through first-hand experience.

She looked back down at her glass as the last question was put to her. "I would be a poor judge of that, I think. Hopefully we'll find this Eodwine fellow and bring him back to his home and stop whoever it was that took him in the first place." She said, and looked up at Finëwen. As she did so, she couldn't help but smile brightly. Finëwen glanced curiously at her, wondering what was so funny. Lumiel answered. "It's nothing really funny...it's just kind of interesting I guess that you look older than I and yet I'm several hundred years old, though I'm not sure of the exact age. Yet still, I believe you have more age in experience than I do." Her smile softened and she went on. "I wonder why Falowik was so against being the leader...he could lead us, if he wanted to." She left it at that, pondering it in her own head, waiting to see what hypothesis Finëwen may have for it herself.

[Imladris]

Lira

Lira sighed as she flitted gracefully to the stairs and entered her room, closing the door softly behind her. The bed looked inviting after the hard days journey and she stretched herself out upon it, reveling in the softness of the spun woolen covers and the fluffy coolness of the pillow that yielded easily to her weary head. Drowsiness encompassed her and she entered the sleep of the elves that was so peculiar to that race. Her blue eyes were half open, dreaming of things long past:

It had been upon a visit to Imladris, where she had tarried on one of her numerous voyages to the Grey Havens. Few elves were left, but the timeless beauty of things fair and past remained, like silver starlight before the rising of the sun. Few passed that way anymore, and Lira loved to wander there, keeping company with the lingering memories, recalling the laughter and dances of the elves before the Darkness.

One day, as she was nestled upon a stone fountain, a group of lot elves arrived: they were bedraggled, the toil and dirt of travel still clinging to the rags that hung limply from their bodies. There was a lady elf and one of noble mien, probably her son, and they were both bowed with grief and worry. Silent tears streamed down her face as they told those of Rivendell what had happened, but Lira could only just faintly hear that her daughter had perished or been lost in the Caradhras Mountains. As she drifted towards them, hugging the shadows, she recognized the mother as one she had once or twice seen in Lothlorien.

The son tried to rally a search party, but the consensus was the same: the daughter was dead. That night, a lament had been sung in the Hall of Fire, the voices of many elves entwining in a melody of mourning for her that was lost. They sang of a Maiden of Twilight with a cascade of golden hair, soft laughter, a woman gentle to all things. A carver was she and under her deft fingers a block of wood could become a thing of delicate and intricate beauty. They described how she and her family were journeying to the Grey Havens and how a storm had come upon them and that she had been separated from those who loved her. Long they looked for her, but to no avail. She had vanished as the fading twilight. With poignant sadness, the music of ethereal elven voice and the strum of the harp grew into an aching crescendo for the beauty lost and for grace disappeared. Tears trickled down Lira’s face as she listened in wordless sorrow to the minstrels sing their dirge in the flickering shadows of the fire’s light.

Before the family had departed for the Grey Havens, Lira had tried to gain the nerve to comfort them, but their grief was too painful, so she had merely whispered a few words of hope -- hope that even Lira could not believe was true. The Maiden had Twilight had faded from this world. She had later learned that her family had safely reached the Havens and had left for the lands of the Valinor, though no joy was in their hearts.

Lira jerked awake, panting heavily as beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. Her heart raced feverishly as she ran through the events in her mind one more time, and sang the song again. A Maiden of Twilight: Uien was named for the twilight. An elf of great beauty was Uien. It could not be: the Maiden of Twilight was dead. How could she have survived?

Rising, hope and joy and disbelief mingled in her heart, Lira hastened to Uien’s room and knocked softly, saying, “Uien, it is I, Lira. I must speak with you.”

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Finëwen took a moment to contemplate what Lumiel had just said, collecting her thoughts. 'I have hope also of the finding of Eodwine. As of myself seeming more experienced, I do not know what to say to that. I think of myself as more inexperienced than experienced. For the number of my years is very short, and what I have gone through does not seem as what one would consider experienced. Aye, staying with the elves, may be what someone might call a great experience, yet I do not consider myself so,' Finëwen said finishing her thoughts.

She took a sip of her ale and recollected her thoughts once more, 'I also wonder why Falowik did not wish to be leader. He seemed so hesitant towards it. Maybe it's something personal.' Finëwen shrugged at the thought and decided to leave it be. She finished what was of her wine.

Finëwen felt something nagging in the back of her mind, but simply ignored it. She ordered another drink, but this time an ale. She wondered if it would taste as bad as Lumiel had described it. She glanced at Lumiel, who didn't seem to be enjoying the drink, and waited for someone to say something next.

[ November 02, 2003: Message edited by: Alatariel Telemnar ]

[Lumiel]

As Finëwen spoke, Lumiel ran her finger along the side of her ale, drawing abstract images that she erased with her hand when Finëwen finished. She watched as the woman ordered another drink, this time an ale, but said nothing. Her own drink sat in front of her not even three-quarters empty.

"It seems a waste to just let it sit there..." she said more to herself than to anyone else. She had drunk all that she could stomach, and did not understand why anyone in their right minds would want such a thing. Thinking, an idea came to her and she stood up from her seat, the mug held up high in one hand. "Oy! This ale goes to any who carry a tune! Though among this lot, I think it might rot first!" she shouted above the noise of the crowd with a big grin on her face.

The offer of a free drink instantly caught the attention of many of the patrons, who scrambled to get in the better position for a song on the tops of tables and chairs and anywhere else they could find elevated space. Those who put forth the most effort were mostly young hobbits and a few young men and they laughed merrily as a few of those about to perform fell from their stations in a half-stupor. Finally, they organized amongst themselves a silently agreed upon song with one leader, a young hobbit with dark curly hair and warm brown eyes.

In a half-formed circle, they left space for Lumiel and she laughed as she went to join them. She cast a look back at Finëwen and motioned with one hand for her to join. Not waiting to see if Finëwen would join, she began clapping to the beat of the song. It didn't take her long to pick up on the songs for she had a quick memory when she put her mind to it. The group seemed to ignore the fact that she was an elf, perhaps because she seemed so young, maybe because she didn't seem to act like they thought an elf would, or maybe it was just because she had offered a free ale. Either way, there was a mutual friendliness amongst them and they laughed and sang and boasted of stories and great feats they had achieved (or so they said).

The time wore on and for a while Lumiel forgot herself. She also seemed to forget the hour. Finally realizing the time, she regretfully bade her newfound friends good night, hoping to see them again in the future. She was about to step away from the group and head towards her room when the leader from before, the dark-haired, brown-eyed hobbit, ran in front of her and stood defiantly with both hands on his hips. "Excuse me m'lady, but I can't let you pass. Not just yet anyway." he spoke with a serious tone and voice, and Lumiel looked back with confusion.

"I don't understand, what do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, you made a promise And though we be just humble hobbits, we have a sense of honor and we don't take kindly to those who show no honor, if you take my meaning." he went on. She tilted her head to show her lack of understanding. "The ale m'lady! The ale!" he exclaimed, his seriousness dissapating in the wake of warm, congenial grin as he laughed.

"Ah yes! I had forgotten, good sir, that I had indeed made such a promise. I never renege on my word, and I won't begin now. But the thing is, you see, one of your fellow honorable hobbits has drunk the ale I brought over there, and so I must give you something of equal worth." she said with all the eloquence she could manage in her mirth and put a hand to her chin as she thought.

A smile flashed across her face as an idea formulated in her head. Going down on one knee so that she was at the hobbit's level, she leaned forward and quickly gave him a peck on the cheek. Laughing girlishly, she skipped away, leaving a dumbfounded hobbit in her wake. Not one to be left in such a vulnerable position, the hobbit quickly came to his senses and called out, "Many thanks, m'lady, I got more than I bargained for! But, what is your name fair maiden?" he asked.

Pivoting on one foot at the sound of the hobbit's voice, she replied, "Lumiel Rovalhir, good sir hobbit. And yours?"

"Will. Will Branson." he added his last name to follow Lumiel's suit. "Will you join us again tomorrow for another round?" he asked hopefully.

"No, sir Will, but I may see you again. Good night." she answered as she turned one last time and headed down one of the wings to her own room. The hobbit named Will returned to his friends who gave him a queer look with sly grins and teased him. He took it good-naturedly and carried on with his fellow merry-makers. Back in her room, Lumiel took off her boots and cloak and laid them carefully by her bed. Folding down the sheets, the slipped between them and closed her eyes, falling into an elven sleep peculiar to her because of the human influence. She slept with her eyes closed, though her mind was quite awake. In her dreams, she laughed and played with the hobbit named Will, and she felt at home.

[littlemanpoet]

No, don't go! Falowik's heart was beating fast. It is better that you flee, dear one, for you know I cannot husband you. He touched his lips, bringing back the memory of her kiss, savoring it. His arms had not surrounded Uien, though they had begun to - he had forced them to his side; and wished that he had allowed himself to hold her close. And he knew that he must not do so, and that it would be best not to wish it. He knew that his love for her must remain at a remove.

Yes, she had crossed a boundary, and he was both glad and filled with consternation from it. It was good that the others would be nearby during the course of the search. He was sure that his resolve would weaken if left alone with her. He sighed and decided that he was not so hungry that a little time alone might not be more to his liking. He passed around the Inn and climbed the hill, threading his way between gardens and Hobbit holes until he was above them, atop the tree covered hill. He sat among a grove of oaks and took in the view.

The sun was hot; the shade was welcome. He could see the South Downs from here. His eyes gravitated to the North, where there were more Downs, and Deadmen's Dike. Not quite that far was an area of scrub where blood stained a rock and many hoof prints trampled the ground. That was their way on the morrow. He did not look forward to it, but was determined to see it through. Uien's presence would make it bearable. He smiled and lay on his back, allowing the memory of her kiss to wash over him again.

----------

The sun was far down the sky, and Falowik's stomach rumbled with hunger. He rubbed his face and got up. It had been too long a nap. He made his way back down the hill and to the Inn.

There was much dancing and carousing in the common room, and one of their party seemed to be at the center of it. Falowik recognized it as Lumiel. He smirked, appreciating her enjoyment, but it was not for him. He told Nob that he needed a room that he could take his supper in, to which Nob replied that his room was already prepared, and told him its number. Falowik went up the stairs and found Thoronmir's gear lying on one of two beds on each side of the window looking out from the second floor of the Inn. Thus had the search party's new leader apparently arranged things. Falowik lay on the unoccupied bed and waited for the Ranger.

[ November 04, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Finëwen turned to see people dancing around the room merrily, and that made her smile. Her heart felt joy once more, in which it felt it hadn't in a long time. She sipped at the ale, and couldn't see what Lumiel had disliked about it, and figured it must be elves that disliked the strong taste of it. Her stomach had a slight pain of hunger in it, and she decided to order some food.

After it was served to her and she had paid for it, she picked at it, watching what Lumiel had started. A few people calmed down after the ale was given away, but some still enjoyed the dancing, and all ordered their own ales anyways.

Finëwen ate all she could out of the plate, and left for her room. The sun had set, and it was now dark outside. Down the hall, she heard a few people talking in some of the rooms, but simply passed them by.

In her room, she set down her bag on a table. She noticed the blinds and window were closed, and the room seemed a bit stuffy.Opening it, a gust of wind blew in, and filled the room with fresh air.

The moon was now shining bright, a faint white glow. It was the same colour as the gown Finëwen had been wearing. She left the window opened, and continued to the bed that sat in the middle of the room. She lied down and tried to sleep, although it came uneasy to her.

[Imladris]

Gorby

I sighed wearily and rubbed my eyes and looked around. The men were, well, quite anti-social and, well, sort of austere in my ‘umble opinion. That elf Lumiel, I believe, had gotten a lively dance goin’ and I, for the life o’ me, couldn’t figure out how she had done it. I mean, she was an elf, for pete’s sakes! The jig was rather jolly and I couldn’t say no to such o’ thing at that.

Winking at Anson, I pushed my chair back with a resounding scrape and kept a sharp look out for a pretty lass. There was one: a cute little thing with golden bouncy curls and soft blue eyes. My heart fluttered and I looked again: she was so beautiful: her hair was like straw drying in a bright summer sun.

Making my way to her, wading through the swirling people, I finally found myself beside the lass. Leaning against the wall, her cheeks had a slight flush to them and lashes curled delicately above her river like eyes, she was clicking her fingers softly to the beat and her ruby lips were curled into a slight smile in her which her pearly whites glistened prettily. “Hello, miss,” I said nervously. “My name is Gorby Brandybuck,” I said as casually as I could. “Yours?”

“That’s not your real name,” she said, her smiling curving until it was just slightly flirtatious.

“Uh,” I said stumbling. Most people called me Gorby, but that was only a nickname. “Oh, the real name is Gorbilac, but most people call me Gorby or Orb, depending on how high I rate in their esteem,” I said with some chagrin. But she wanted to know, so I supposed that she might as well have all of it.

Tilting her head, she said, “Sapphire Greenfield.” She curtsied and winked at me.

As I bowed, I said, “Would you like to dance, m’lady?”

Giggling slightly, she took my hand (her fingers were delightfully soft and velvety) and nodded her assent. Putting my hand on her waist, we danced merrily together. We swirled and stumbled over each other’s feet. As I looked into her eyes and saw her laugh, it was as if she was just full of joy and happy to be just alive. I couldn’t imagine that anything could dampen her spirits. Finally, we flopped wearily down upon a bench and I ordered her ourselves an ail. “Well, Fire,” I said, coining a nickname for her, “thank ye for the dance -- dances.”

She tittered quietly and took a sip, the frothing foam sticking like cream upon a newly filled milk pan to her lips. Delicately licking it off, she said, “So, Gorby, what brings a Brandybuck to Bree?”

“I’m going on a search party to rescue a man from Rohan,” I said.

She arched her eyebrows prettily and said, “Rohan?”

“Yes,” I said nodding.

“Saphy! Saphy!” a stout hobbit with white hair cried out! “Best be getting home now!”

Sapphire smiled sadly and said, “I best go. I live at the Greenfield Bakeries,” she added as she disappeared.

I watched her leave sadly and found that Anson had come to sit with me. “Somebody likes somebody,” he said slyly, taking a sip.

“Oh, be quiet!” I said good naturedly. “I say, Anson, do you really want to go on this trip?”

He shrugged and said, “I’m just glad I’m going with you.”

I looked at him sharply and said, “You didn’t have your father’s permission to go, did you?” I scrutinized him carefully: no response. “You did this for me, didn’t you?” I said finally, feeling slightly guilty. Anson wasn’t exactly one to go on adventures, from what I understood, and he loved his siblings so much: I wondered how he had managed to tear himself apart from them. And had the sweet hobbit hole that he loved so much. And now he’d be trudging against the cold, probably tripping over every stone and twig on the ground, getting his clothes mussed and not being able to wash his hair. He nodded to my question and I said, “Thank you, Anson.”

[Elora]

Uien watched from the window, her palm pressed against the pane of glass as Falowik's golden head walked away from below. Her heart grew within her and then shrank. I have driven him away?

"No," she whispered brokenly to the glass. He did not look up. It could not be that this was so. This was his chance, this search party, the chance so long denied to him. She would not consign him to struggle. If one had to leave, it would be her, though each day would be like to a year and her heart would ever lie cold within her. Uien surged upright, spun for the door and there checked herself as a knock sounded. Lira's voice filtered through the wood. So, Doderic and Thoronmir had sent Lira to give her word of her explusion. Smoothing her countenance as best she could with a last bid for some shred of dignity, Uien moved to the door and opened it. With a wan smile, she waved Lira through.

"Please, be welcome, Lira," she said. Lira studied Uien a moment and stepped through.

"I hope I do not intrude," Lira began uncertainly, for Uien was far from calm and serene.

"No, please, will you sit?" Uien gestured to a chair which Lira took up with a nod as Uien pulled her own chair away from the window. As her back was briefly turned to Lira, her gaze directed at the now empty vista through the window, Uien was struck by the sense that Lira was watching her in turn. With a sigh, Uien sat.

"I do not have anything to offer you by way of refreshment. But then such niceties would likely only make this harder, would it not?" Lira raised a brow, unsure of what to make of Uien's statement.

"Perhaps," she replied cautiously. Uien braced herself and sat in silence, waiting for the expected words to be spoken. Lira, sensing Uien's unrest suddenly changed tack. "It may be easier if I sing for you a lament I heard first in Imladris."

Uien did not expect such a thing, but made no sound of demurrment. She instead nodded, wondering if a lament for foolish maidens who conduct themselves with a cruel disregard for the consequences of their actions. At her nod, Lira fell silent a moment, ordering the words and melody in her mind and started to sing.

In Lorien fair a maiden did dwell,
The fair beauty of twilight she loved well,
Beneath golden boughs would she dance and sing,
On the eve of battle,
Before the Ring.

Uien sat still as a stone. As still as the stones of Caradhras, as the lament went on to describe. As she sat, Lira's voice unfolded a lament of a maiden lost in a malestrom of ice. The melody of the lament was haunting. It soared and fell, weaving a tale of grief that fell on the very edge of the eternal peace of Valinor, to which the maiden was travelling with her family. The verses were the work of her brother. She recognised his voice in the words. He told of searching for her, in vain. He spoke of the anguish of realising the maiden was dead and the impossible battle to believe it in his heart.

When Lira's song came to it's ending, Uien was frozen to her chair, her head bowed.

"This I heard in Imladris. It was sung in the Hall of Fires the first evening that the last party from Lothlorien arrived. There were two there, a Lady and her son. Both were on the verge of ruin, stricken... by the loss of their beloved Uien Aduial."

Uien drew in a shaking breath as Lira spoke her name. Her eyes were closed. Lira paused leaning towards the other Elf.

"I remembered them because of their sorrow and because I had seen them before, in Lothlorien. I remembered them from happier times, when their family had been whole. So different from those I beheld that afternoon.

"They reached the Grey Havens, and they set sail. It is said in Imladris that they are the only two who ever set out for Valinor looking at the fading shore of Middle-earth, waiting for you beyond hope."

At that, Uien shook with a sob before she could press her hands over her mouth to still them. She raised her head, tears marking their course down her pale cheeks.

"It is you, is it not?" Uien nodded mutely at first. Through her tears she spoke brokenly.

"I looked for them. I could not find them. I thought the storm had..."

Lira placed a hand on Uien's shaking shoulder.

"They looked for you. Your brother went back up the mountain to find you. What happened, Uien? Where were you?"

Another violent shudder rippled through Uien.

"I was... beneath the mountain." It was all she could say of that. Lira sensed a darkness fall over Uien and she fell silent herself, wondering what that boded.

"They looked for me," Uien asked again. Lira smiled and nodded gently.

"Yes, your brother wished to return again. He could not, for your mother was fading with grief and the Havens were his only choice were she to find some measure of peace."

Uien nodded, imagining it for herself. Yes, for after Doriath and all that followed, that was his duty. THEY LIVE! There was silence in the room again as Uien struggled with this new information, this gift from Lira. Lira well understood the import of the lament and for the moment kept her questions for another time. There would be ample on the journey ahead.

"Lira, this is precious. They live, in peace in Valinor!" The joy of Uien's new knowledge glowed within her eyes.

"It will be as though you have returned from the Halls of Mandos, Uien Aduial," Lira observed sagely. Uien nodded pensively for the ramifications were significant. She had kin to return to, if she chose. No matter what she chose, it would not be easy to explain anyone.

"I am in your service, Lira, for you have restored to me a great thing. You have given me my family. There can be no greater gift. I am bound to you, by honour and friendship both."

Lira warmly clasped back Uien's hand. In that moment, Uien knew Lira understood.

"I should leave you. You have much to consider," Lira said simply by way of withdrawing. Indeed Uien did, not least of which how to explain to Lira what had happened. The hours of the afternoon stretched into dusk in a blur for Uien. So it was that Uien answered Twilight's call to her. She ever found it easier to know her mind and heart at this magical time of day.

Uien drifted as if in a dream down the stairs of the inn and out into the sunset. She did not hear Falco Boffin at the bar, with a fine example of a half pint in his custody, respond to a question from his companions regarding the strange elf.

"Who, her? Probably out to dance about some trees somewhere. Elves are like that," he said authoritatively, taking another pull at his tankard. Instead, Uien's feet trod the same path as Falowik's had earlier in the afternoon. Once she had found the oaks, Uien stopped. The new stars were starting to emerge one by one.

To greet them, Uien permitted herself a song, from memory. She had sung it often, upon a time, at twilight. In the trees, Uien spun, face upturned to see the stars. Alive! She wandered through the boles of the trees, hand trailing over their rough bark. When she came to stand still, Uien was facing the direction of the Grey Havens to the East.

Uien stood where she was for a long time, breathing in the cooler night as her mind stretched and raced. It would not be easy, but her choice was made.

"What would you say, mother? And what of you, brother? Would you look into my eyes and heart and bid me to follow it, as you yourselves have done?" Uien murmured this to the miles set between her and Valinor. "You always knew, did you not? My heart dwells not in undying but life. What would you say?"

The night did not answer Uien as she stood amongst the oaks. A breeze whispered through the leaves. The stars shimmered as ever they had since Varda had set them in place. Perhaps they would bear witness to Valinor to those she would send word to if she could. Perhaps...

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen took the last sip of her ale, a dance had started, she cared little for dances but watched the others go at it as they may, spinning and skirts whirling about the wooden floor, feet stamping, people cheering. Her grey eyes glimmered like ice under her hood, the group had gone their seperate ways for now, some sleeping others dancing, some engaged in casual conversation.

She was engaged with nothing but her thoughts. How she must look to others brooding and skulking in the shadows, oh yes all Elves must be like that anyway, musn't they? Always have a problem or some sad story of bloodshed and loss.

Esgallhugwen looked over at the two Hobbits who were talking, and why were they here? she pondered, no doubt by the command of the Master of Buckland and Falco. They seemed so young, so unexperienced, Thoronmir had vowed to protect all members of the party, she couldn't help but scoff lightly at this, we should all be here to protect one another, all here are capable of some skill that the other may not have, and there will certainly be use for more than one healer or warrior or tracker, one may see what the others miss.

She sighed heavily, loking about at all the faces though they couldn't see hers.

[Meneltarmacil]

Thoronmir sat at the table with the others who had stayed in the common room. "Well," he said, "I suppose you want to hear my story as well."

"Yes, please tell," said Lumiel.

"I grew up in the Hills of Evendim, which is the very same place we are going to now. I had several friends, one of whom you may have heard of by the name of Halbarad. My friends and I were all summoned to war about 12 years ago at his request. We all fought in the battle of the Pelennor Fields, where all of my friends died except for me."

A silence filled the air around the table.

"Anyway, I've pretty much put it behind me," the Ranger went on, although the others caught the change in his tone and the momentary pause as he fought back the memories. "When I returned to the hills, a younger man had become the leader of my group of Rangers, and I just didn't seem to get along with any of them anymore. So I left them and I've been on my own for about 7 years, wandering around the North with only my horse, Brandir, as my companion. Lately, I've been hearing strange news from the hills, though. Whoever kidnapped Eodwine is also responsible for the disappearance of a large number of Rangers 5 years ago. I would guess that it is some organized force of Men, and that these disappearances are probably only part of a bigger plan. Although it is hard to guess anything about these people at all. Do you have any ideas?"

[ November 04, 2003: Message edited by: Meneltarmacil ]

[ November 04, 2003: Message edited by: Meneltarmacil ]

[Elora]

"Bandits," Falco announced with some authority as he joined the group. He expanded after he took his seat, "Ruffians, cutpurses..."

"Odd fare for a band of outlaws to prey upon, Rangers," Thoronmir mused aloud. Several nodded at the table. Falco brushed it aside.

"Who else will they find out in the Wilds? You won't find sensible Hobbits out there, I can tell you that." Falco seemed oblivious to the fact that shortly there will be three out there, himself included.

"I've seen it before," he confided in them all, "Ruffians maurauding about. They'll roll whomever they come across and if a Ranger or Messenger is brave enough to venture out there... What else can you really expect? It's Big..." Falco managed to pause just in time to avert what even he would say is an awkward situation, "It's trouble of that sort," he amended.

"Are you going to eat that," he asked of Anson who had the good fortune to be the closest to a plate of bread and cheese. Anson blinked at Falco, which is all the time he had before the Shirrif commandeered the plate.

He piled on a hunk of golden cheese and took a healthy bite. Washing it down with a pull of ale from his tankard, Falco smiled and immediately filled his mouth. As he chewed and ate like a hobbit who had missed a day's meals, he endeavoured to listen as best he could to the talk unfolding at the table. He knew that this Thoronmir was one of those Great Warriors, and that was invaluable.

Fond of settling matters with an oversized steak knife, somewhat highly strung, Falco concluded as he swallowed his second mouthful. Having demolished the bread so swiftly, he loaded on another piece of cheese to the next and turned his attention to those at the table. Lumiel was smiling at the dancers. Probably wishes she was out dancing in the trees too, Falco thought as he took another long swig at his tankard.

Leaning back to do so, Falco noticed Uien re-enter the inn. She paused, studying the dancers and the room for their table. She met his gaze for an instant and Falco stilled. He wasn't sure what to make of her. Uien turned away, first turning to the bar to speak with Butterbur and then skirting the dancers to find the stairs. Something's on her mind, that much is obvious. Falco turned his attention back to the table.

Uien slowly ascended them, turning over her thoughts with each step. Down the hall, past the rows of doors on each side she walked until she came to a standstill before one. It was not her own. She raised her hand to knock and hesitated. What will he think of me if I knock on his door like this? But should he not know of what I have learnt? Yes, he should, for it shows that hope can endure beyond memories of darkness past. Her decision made anew, Uien tapped lightly on the door that Barliman Butterbur had said was Falowik's. She stepped back and looked up the hall to her own door nervously. No, he has to learn this before he sets out. Hope will be scant in the abandoned Wilds. What we have he will need to carry with him for it may be by that alone he suceeds.

Uien stepped back to the door. "Laurëatan, tis I. I need to speak with you, if you will." And what if he says he will not, or says nothing at all? What then, Uien?
As Uien listened for indication of a reply, she answered herself. Then I will find another way. There is always a way. Have I not learnt that time and again? Always.

[ November 05, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Imladris]

Lira

As Lira slipped from Uien’s room, a smile lit her face: a dulcet warmth glowed from her blue eyes as she turned them once again towards Uien’s door, remembering how happy Uien had been to hear that her family was safe. It was strange that Uien had survived and Lira wondered vaguely in what Darkness Uien had fallen on that dreadful day on the mountains. But whatever it was, it was passed and Uien was safe. Her brother had been right, Lira mused as she stretched herself upon the bed again, when he had protested to the skeptical elves that she lived.

The ponderings of Uien’s own family brought to mind the state of Lira’s own family. The subtle joy that had entered her heart and had made her forget her worries, fled at the thought of the journey to the north. The letter that had been wrapped around Corn’s leg was still in her pocket and, Lira once more went to read it. It was slightly yellowed and torn from the weather and from Corn’s curious beak, but it was yet readable:

My dear Lira,

This is Corn. Of course only a raven with so ridiculous of a name could only have been named from your father. Since he was the one who found it injured and dying in the corn field he insisted on naming (which I just admit is only fair) but Corn is such a queer name for such a magnificent bird.

We are well here and in the north, though we are swiftly departing it for the Grey Havens. I am glad, too, because the cold and wet is so uncomfortable and there are rumours of ruffians about...

Namarie with my love,

Mother

Lira smoothed the slight crumpled letter across her knee and traced the graceful elven script with her finger. Why did she send Corn, instead Silivren? Lira wondered, foreboding entering her heart. Long ago, amongst the entwining roots of a dying tree of Eryn Lasgalen, Liralwen, her mother, had found the injured dove, her white feathers stained with blood. Lira’s family had nursed Silivren back to health, but the dove remained devoted to Liralwen and Silivren had been the promised messenger to bring news of their reaching the Havens. It didn’t make sense that they would send Corn, a relatively new bird, to bring a message to her.

A raucous crying drifted through the window and a moment later Corn himself flung himself into the room amidst a flurry of feathers and landed with much enthusiasm upon Lira’s shoulder. Running his sable beak through her hair, he hunted for the glittering brass pins that pinned Lira’s numerous braids through her hair. But when his beady black eye caught sight of the letter, his eager flittering ceased, and he nibbled gently at Lira’s ear, as if he wished to whisper something to her. “What happened, Corn?” she whispered.

Rising, she went to the window and watched the sun sink down below the horizon: a crimson- purple glow spreading from behind the Downs. Crickets strummed upon their strings and began their peaceful, yet melancholy music of the evening. Lira smiled gently as she watched the hobbits ready for bed and saw the first star appear in the sky. She returned to bed, with renewed hope.

[ November 05, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik had just been dozing when there was a knock at the door. "Laurëatan, tis I. I need to speak with you, if you will."

Uien. Falowik sat up and brushed his hair back with his hands. He made for the door and opened it. Falowik smiled to see her. Her eyes were puffed, as if she had been crying, and they were tinged with fear; but her stance was eager. He wondered what could have brought her to tears, and fear.

"What is it, Fair One?"

"I have something I must tell you, Laurëatan!"

"Would you come in, or walk under the stars?"

[ November 05, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Finëwen sat up on the bed, sleep would not come easy to her. There was something nagging in the back of her mind; she sensed something indescribable. But then simply shook her head, trying to make the nagging feeling go away.

She took a handful of the now cold water on the table and washed it over her face. Yet, there was still a nagging feeling.Thinking that the fresh air would do her better, she decided to go the stables, and check on the stallion. Taking her bag with her, she left the room.

At the stables, the stallion seemed fine, yet the nagging feeling remained with Finëwen. She fed him an apple; he whinnied in reply, and then Finëwen left to go sit in the Inn's courtyard.

The moon was bright in the sky, shining down upon Finëwen, and anyone else outside. She sat under an oak tree, and set her bag down against her leg. She took out a few letters, reading them over and over again, her eyes tracing back and forth on the paper. Letters she would never throw away.

She sat, starring up at the stars. Her mind wandered, thinking of all the different places she had been and what she pictured of the ones she hadn't. She had a different feeling in her now; it felt a bit more of contentness. She came back down to earth, and quickly put the letters away, not to be damaged by the humidity in the night air. Finëwen now focused her mind on her surrondings.

[Elora]

Falowik's smile soothed the unrest of her thoughts enough to give Uien the chance to reply.

“Perhaps your room, my love, for I feel that I've dragged you around Bree enough as it is. I am sorry to disturb your rest.” Falowik nodded and stepped back, ushering Uien through. With a glance into the empty hall, he left the door ajar and turned to where she stood. She seemed uncertain still. The room was filled with beds, unlike her own, and chairs were hidden it seemed. Falowik gestured for her to sit and she did so, taking a perch on the edge of the bed that still bore the outline of his form upon it.

He sat also, beside her, examining her face in the soft light of the room. She smiled at his seeking eyes and shifted a fall of hair back over her shoulder as she gathered her bravery. There was no anger nor recrimination in his blue gaze, she was immeasureably relieved to see. This reassured her further. After a small pause, Uien stretched her hand out to Falowik's hand which she brushed. Her hand fell back to her lap and his own retreated to clasp between his knees.

As she had stood in the hall, it had occurred to Uien that Falowik would be minded to have nothing to do with her following events of the day. She gazed at her hand and let the sounds of the commonroom filter through from below. Uien took in a deep breath, hoping it would calm her further. Beside her, Falowik asked hesitantly, “Is there something amiss?” His voice was close, curling in her ear, and worried.

“No, at least that is what I hope,” Uien replied softly. “It has been a full day. Arriving, leaders chosen…” Uien lifted her head to look at Falowik, smiling in remembrance of the stolen kiss. She felt the flush of her cheeks stir and her heart spin and float. He was so near. To bury herself in his arms would have her heart overrun. The light from the room's lantern glinted in his golden hair and she reached to smooth it back from his brow as he looked back at her. Her fingers trailed down his cheek. “I thought you had left because of… but you have not." The remembered fear faded as she spoke. He was here, undeniably present beside her as below the music and dance changed from reel to jig. He shifted under her touch and she let her fingers drop away again, aware of a distance.

Uien’s voice had grew soft. “Have you ever wondered if something you truly desired or wished for would ever be granted you, my love, even though it seemed impossible?” Falowik nodded and she read the truth of that echoed in his face. “Hoped through time and sorrow beyond all for something that you feared was hopeless?”

“Yes,” Falowik said. There were words moving inside of him. She heard that too. Uien turned her gaze to the floor briefly and drew a deep breath. “Today, Lira sought me out and told me of a tale and a Lay sung in Imladris.” Falowik’s brow creased as he tried to follow her words.

“There is noone else I would rather tell than you, Laurëatan." Falowik seemed to still beside her and Uien set out the tale relayed to her by Lira. As she spoke, a delight so clear as to be almost incandescent grew within her. Her voice rose and fell, through remembered sorrow to newfound joy, as she told of the full tale. She recounted her last glimpse of her brother as the storm howled around them, and of her fruitless search in the frigid, preternatural silence that followed it. To this, she added the new glad tidings of her mother and brother's survival.

Falowik listened intently through her unravelling of her brother's search for her, and their sorrow-laden journey to the Grey Havens where they took ship, leaving behind his lament in Imladris. Falowik's his presence steadied her as she recounted it all. Her lips curved into a smile at last, unfettered and radiant with the discovery gifted to her by Lira. She looked up into Falowik's intent face.

“They live, beloved! My mother and brother, they survived the mountain and the orcs and they live even now.”

Falowik sat up straighter, surprise evident upon his face. “Uien that, that is…” he paused as he searched for the right word. Uien nodded, a musical note of laughter slipping free into the room. “Yes… beyond hope in a world I thought empty of such gifts until I found you. A weight lifted…”

“Where are they,” Falowik asked.

“Valinor, the last refuge for my mother and brother after three Ages of strife and loss."

Falowik had been silent as he sorted through what Uien had told him, nodding and encouraging her to continue on.

“I believed that perhaps this would strengthen your own hope, Falowik Melda.

“It is not truly impossible until such time as we abandon hope,” Uien murmured to the one she had just named beloved. Through this the music of the Prancing Pony wheeled and turned, rising and falling, below. “I would give you that, hope, if I could.” Uien turned one of her own hands over in her lap and studied the palm before sending her gaze to study Falowik's blue eyes.

“There is much now I hope for, with strength renewed. What of you, Falowik? What do you hope for?”

She shaped his name tenderly, imbuing it with what moved and floated within her as she leaned close and studied his face with her own silvery gaze. Questions and other things she saw there, but it lay to him to decide what words he would trust her with, what questions he would dare.

[ November 06, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[littlemanpoet]

"Hope for?" Falowik's brow furrowed and he cast about the room with his glance as though he might find the answer to her question in the rafters. He shook his head. He turned and glanced into her eyes quickly, and brought his gaze back to Thoronmir's gear on the opposite bed. Her eyes shown with delight in the new hope she had, and in the sharing of it with him. Falowik was amazed all over again that he meant so much to her! A high pitched peal of laughter broke through the general hubbub of dancing and singing down below.

"I hope - I hope always to be near you." His throat caught, and he closed his eyes tight at the strength of feeling that surged in him: he wanted to wrap his arms around her. He kept his hands folded before him. "I hope to find Eodwine alive." True as those things were, she was asking for something more. He pitched deeper within himself. He hoped for her joy to grow and grow. He hoped to be turned into an Elf! He hoped to become worthy of the love she bore in her heart for him. A fool's dreams. Vain hopes. Well, not all of them. He did not hope to discover his father. I hope that my life is worth the living, Fair One.

"I hope - I wish that there was some way to bridge the chasm between you and me, Elf and Man. But it cannot be. I am sorry, it is unkind of me to be so gloomy after the good news you've told me. I fear I am too small a man to meet you joy for joy." I did not have a family to lose, and cannot gain one back, so your joy is alien to me. He kept that thought to himself. "I fear I do not know how to take hope in what you have told me. Forgive me."

Sooner or later, old man, you are going to weary her with the same tune! Just as well for her sake.

He forced himself to smile. "I'm happy for you." But his eyes were haunted.

[Esgallhugwen]

Falco's blatant bantering about how it was just some ruffians or bandits drove Esgallhugwen to a hot level and great williness to retort. But she calmed herself chances and time will prove him wrong.

She stood up to leave, the sun had set and the first stars were beginning to appear; she stood outside the Inn door, watching people as they passed to go home or crossing her into the Inn to grab a last ale for the evening. Esgallhugwen walked into the stable to see that Morsereg was housed well for the night.

She sang softly to him, his ear twitched as he slept beautiful and dark, his mane shimmered like waves in the moonlight almost reflecting on Esgallhugwen's pale face. Perhaps rest would be best now, though I need little of it she thought attentive to the stillness of the night and the sleepiness that enfolded the town's folk.

Esgallhugwen took one last glance at the bright stars and headed towards her room to prepare for tomorrow. She walked up the stairs and turned left to her room, packing her rations, her extra medicines, blanket, linen bandages, water and a flask of Miruvor no doubt it will be greatly valued and needed.

With that done, she layed herself on the bed and tried to gain some rest.

[ November 07, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

[Elora]

"Tis naught to forgive," Uien said softly as she gazed upon Falowik's bowed head.

"I too hope that Eodwine is alive. Why capture him if they wished him dead only?" Uien barely kept her arms by her side and her hands in her lap as she sat by Falowik. Reach for him, show him that what he wishes for is already his. Uien drew a sigh as she struggled with herself. Her fingers bunched the fabric of her tunic. It was the only other outward sign of her battle aside from the longing in her eyes. She let her eyelids float shut. After a moment, her fingers straightened and her eyes opened once more.

"Joy beyond joy is what you have given me already, Falowik. There is nothing small about that." There was a solemn certainty in her voice. "There is noone closer than you. Never has there been and never will there be." Falowik shook his head and Uien smiled.

"I cannot battle my heart, Laurëatan. Such strength has never been mine. I do not fight this path, nor do I regret it. Willingly I set foot upon it. I cannot, will not, turn back now. It is not within me." Falowik's head rose, his expression torn. Dount, denial and hope warred within him.

In a soft voice, Uien said, "I do not claim to see what lies before you and I. Yet in this world there are few things I can be as certain about. There is a way for you and I. We can bridge a chasm that is as wide as we choose it to be. I know this as I know I draw breath. As I know there is no other, Man, Elf nor Dwarf, that could ever make you small in my eyes or heart."

Slowly, Uien stood. She unfolded herself fluidly. "You will find a way just as you will find Eodwine, my love. If you will not trust and hope in that, perhaps you can trust and hope in me." Uien lifted her fingers to her lips and pressed them to her mouth. She stretched her hand and let it rest upon Falowik's brow.

"By the same grace that took my family into Valinor shall this be so. Good night, Falowik Laurëatan. May your dreams be filled with peace and laughter." She stood there, before him, for a long moment. Then she slowly turned away and moved towards the door. She shut it gently after her, smiling over her shoulder.

She returned to her own room at the same slow pace. With a small pause to glance West to a place she would only reach now through the Halls of Mandos, and those that waited for her, she found her bed and curled upon it. The room was filled with her whisperings in her own tongue. The lilting music of Sindarin rose from her lips to beg of the stars set there by Varda that he would accept what lay within him: the strength to reach for what so many would not dare to. Eodwine he already moves towards into unknown peril. Will he not do the same for the love that stretched between them?

Uien lay, staring into the darkness of night that gathered at the ceiling of her room overhead, hoping and wandering for many hours. The answer, she felt, lay in the outcome of this search for Eodwine.

[Imladris]

Gorby

Leaving Anston to his ale, I trudged up the stairs and flopped myself down upon the bed. Sleep did not come to me and as a chill entered the room I decided that I might as well put a fire on. Apparently Nob had been in here already for there was already a glimmering mass of orange embers with varying shades of read. Clambering down to my knees I leaned over, picked up the leather bellows that was hanging beside the stone fire place and carefully blew. Sparks flew upwards at the swish of the bellows and the flames leaped around the crumbling log with renewed life. Warmth radiated from the fire and began to warm my numbed fingers. Edging my self closer to the hearth, I tried to figure out how close I could get to the fire and still endure the heat.

It always surprised me that the heat could become so intense when just a few inches away it felt so pleasant and comfortable. My toes crawled forward, and I bit my lip to stifle the scorching pain. The last time I was near a fireplace I had made it an inch away from the dancing flames: maybe this time I’d break a record.

Almost there. A little more. My foot stopped voluntarily and I willed it to go forward. A spark landed upon my foot and I jumped, patting it out furiously. The cool air felt delightfully relieving after the baking my foot had submitted to. Inspecting my foot, I discovered that a few of my woolen hairs had been singed, but nothing too serious.

Climbing back into bed (leaving the covers off since I was streaming with sweat) and thought of the mission. Full of trouble, no doubt, as Falco said, but a little danger was good, too, I supposed. It was much easier to be cheerful about things when you didn’t do anything stupid, like trying to see how close to a fire your foot could go. I don’t know why I continue to do it: every time I get burned I think that my intelligence has just been lowered a notch. But I do it anyway: stupidly. Doderic and Lily were right: I am a hopeless cause.

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik noticed that Uien had not included "Hobbit" in her list of those who could not make him smaller in her eyes. He laughed to himself at the oversight, and the unintended joke, as his mind turned to one Falco, whose jibes always were aimed at belittling him. Uien never let Falco get away with it.

Falowik removed his day clothes and slipped beneath the covers of his bed. The smile lingered on his face. He left the imprint of her fingertip on his forehead untouched. It was akin to the blessing an elder might give to someone leaving his home village on a quest. And so it was, for she was hundreds of years his elder, and at the same instance, the one who had chosen to give her heart to him, across the chasms of their differing races and final dooms. Though they could never completely bridge the chasm, he knew that she had given herself to him until he would die, and that he would love her for the rest of his life.

The dancing and singing wound down below. This Inn was a good place, owned and run by a good man. In the morning I must have a word with Barliman, Falowik thought, and part with him as friends do.

Melda, Uien had called him, and he wondered what it meant. It sounded like a good word. He would ask her some time. He closed his eyes. Let Thoronmir wake me if he wishes to talk before dawn arrives. He turned over, and his heart eased, soon fell asleep.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Finëwen noticed a few people leaving the inn. They were drunk, and their walk was a little tipsy, as they made their way down the dirt road. Finëwen's nagging feeling had gone away, and she decided to turn in for the night. The sooner she went to sleep, the sooner she could go on with her journey.

Yet, she didn’t want to leave the quiet spot under the oak tree. She was left undisturbed there, and could sit in her own thoughts, although she would like someone to talk to, to provoke thoughts within herself. But by just letting herself think, she could do that. Letting her mind wander struck up thoughts in her head, gliding her from one subject to another.

Getting up, she left the peaceful spot under the oak. It disturbed her thoughts, but she felt she needed to get a little bit of rest before the journey. The moon was now high in the sky, and it seemed time was going by quickly, yet not so, sitting there deep in your thoughts, time became very strange, as if... she was already getting lost in her thoughts again, and ignoring them, headed up to her room.

She noticed that nearly everyone else had already gone to bed, except for a few that remained at the table, and a few others scattered about.

In her room, she set her bag down near the window. It had been closed while she was gone, and she propped it open again. The breeze flew into the room, filling it with the cold night air. Finëwen lied down in her bed, and closed her eyes. Once more, her thoughts drifted her away, and she slept.

[Meneltarmacil]

Done with his conversation with the Elves and Hobbits, Thoronmir retired to the upstairs room to get some rest. But first, he had something to say to Falowik.

He reached the room and knocked on the door.
"Yes, come in," said a sleepy voice from inside.
"Sorry to wake you, Falowik." said Thoronmir, coming into the room. "I just had a question I was going to ask."
"I'm listening," Falowik replied.
"Since you seem to be one of the strongest here, and helped to get everybody together for this mission, I was wondering if you'd like to be my second-in-command," Thoronmir said.
"I'll have to think about it in the morning. I'm too tired right now." said Falowik.
"Ok," Thoronmir said. "I'll talk to you then, Falowik. Good night."

With that, the Ranger went off to his bed and slept.

[ November 10, 2003: Message edited by: Meneltarmacil ]

[ November 12, 2003: Message edited by: Meneltarmacil ]

[Elora]

General Post

Dawn saw a small group gathered in the courtyard of the Prancing Pony. Nob bustled back and forth, ferrying out horses for the Men and Elves and ponies for the Hobbits, as those onlookers who had risen for First Breakfast conjectured amongst themselves. There was much talk on what would or would not be found in the Wilds around them but the party that would venture forth did engage in that speculation. They stood by their mounts, checking saddles and girth straps, stowing their packs and each preparing themselves in their own way. Behind Lúmiel the hearty clink of copper coins being set in wager could be heard.

"Three coppers says as they find that messenger fellow and most return alive," one said. His fellow chortled good naturedly. "Only three, Longbottom? Not too confident, I'd say. How many is most?"
"No more than two don't return," Longbottom replied after some thought on the matter. "Add another three coppers," he added, ferreting more coins from the pouch at his belt.

"That'll be 6 coppers on them returning with the messenger with no less than two of their party missing, then, on say four to one odds."
"Four to one," Longbottom exclaimed. "Stonemason is giving out seven to one." Longbottom's cheery companion chortled again.
"Do you prefer to make longer odds on their survival then?" The bookmaker rocked back on his heels with a smile, took Longbottom's wager and moved off to do business again.

It was only when Doderic emerged from the Inn with Thoronmir and Falowik close behind him that the crowd's murmur hushed a little. Longbottom and folk who had also wagered leant foward to hear the Representative of the Master of Buckland speak.

"... this day are charged to seek Eodwine of Rohan, who was reported abducted by way of attack in the northern Wilds. You are also to come by any safe means into the possession of any information concerning unofficial settlements and encampments in the Wilds and return with Eodwine as soon as you may.

"Your provisions and costs shall be reimbursed to you by the Master of Buckland. If it proves unsafe, you are to return immediately to Bree and here report. Thoromir is your leader and Falowik his second.

"Have you anything to say?"

Doderic's gaze swept across the assembled group. Falco's mouth was open but nothing came out of it. Each, aside from him, had nodded slowly as leader and second were named. Uien had smiled and shot a glance to the Shiriff who stood by chance beside her as if daring him to object. His pony snorted but no objection was forthcoming.

"Then I leave you to Thoromir's and Falowik's care. May your paths be kind to you. Travel swift and carefully and may Bree soon greet you all again."

Doderic sketched a noble bow and patted Gorby and Anson each on the arm. The two shared excited grins with each other as they climbed into their saddles. The rest of the group did the same, perhaps not grinning, but each moving quickly. They rode out of the courtyard and through the streets to the western gate of Bree, lead by Thoromir and Falowik.

"Our course will take us paralell to the Brandywine River for a time," Thoromir called back to the riders behind him as he turned his horse north. The dawn which had been so clear, had the dewy grass and green rolling country ahead of them glimmering until the heat of the day took up its mantle over the lands. Many miles into the northern horizon lay the first tumbling hills that would become the North Downs.

For the moment though, the land was well watered by the nearby Brandywine and the surrounds pleasant. The group passed through the first day easily, covering many miles as they pushed north through the easier lands. They had settled into small groups, riding at ease and stopping to allow their mounts to drink and themselves take some sustenance. The only hiccup had come at the first night, after Thoromir had called a halt at a suitable place.

Falco had objected to certain people taking up a watch during the night, however he had soon been out numbered by his fellows. The Shirrif took to sitting in offended silence on his own, which pleased some others considerably. The night had passed without incident, and the second day was soon upon them.

It passed much as the first had. There was little sign of other folk. The lands were peaceful and the weather calm. In short, the only remarkable thing was the presence of the search party riding north. They had seen only one or two farmers the day before and none at all on the second day. The land had become a little less cultivated but no less pleasant. They were now two days north of Bree and getting into the cusp of the wilds. Aside from themselves and the occassional bird winging by, there was nothing else.

When they pulled in for the second night, set up camp and sorted out watches again, Falco was not inclined to choose silence as his preferred method of objection. He openly muttered about their venture being a goose chase. When Thoromir drew lots for the watch, Falco snorted and waved his hand at the announcement that he got the last watch just before dawn.

He sat down on a fallen log and poked at what had been started for the evening meal on the fire. "I'll watch.... very important that. Lots of things to watch in this big empty dangerous wild place. Imaginary thieves and dragons, likely. Long way to come on a camp rations to find thin air," he harumphed in a desultory tone to the light meal he was poking at.

Gorby and Anson seated themselves also, having not drawn a watch this night. What was supposed to be an exciting adventure was so far very dull. Their only excitement was their stiff rumps from two long days in the saddle. The prospect of a night of camp food followed by another long and boring day was loosing it's gloss quickly.

Thoronmir seated himself across from the Shirrif.

"We've made good progress," he announced from his study of his unfurled map. Falco gave up his stabbing of dinner and frowned across at the Ranger.

"Oh yes? Progress to where exactly? Where should we be looking, eh? Or are we to wander around in circles chasing our tails until we get dizzy, find nothing and go home?"

Despite the argumentative nature of Falco's question, he had a good point. The Wilds were a large place that could swallow a man as easily as a mouse. Thoromir studied his map in the flickering light of the fire.

"By the morrow, we will be clear of the Shire's borders. It curves back west here, you see," he said pointing at where the line curved away from the North downs and headed towards the Emyn Uial. Others had gathered around him, drawn by the discussion.

"Seems logical to head for Fornost first and move west in a sweeping search towards the Evendim Hills," Thoromir thought aloud. Uien studied the map and turned to Falowik.

"The men you saw did move north and west, did they not," she softly confirmed. Falowik nodded his head, leaning over the map and recalling what he had seen.

"Aye, they did. East lies only the Ettenmoors and Carn-Dûm further north," he replied. Lira spoke up, "Fornost was once a place of habitation. Perhaps it holds signs of recent use now. If not, we will still have covered ground that we would need to check."

Esgallgugwen added, "We are on the tip of the southern edges of the Downs now."

It became clear through the nodding of heads and murmurs of assent that Thoromir's suggested route was agreed upon. Come the dawn, they would make north east and move for Fornost. They settled in for the night with their directions now dealt with, beneath a clear night sky. In the north, clouds gathered on the far horizon, blotting out stars. Rain would be welcome in late summer. Without the generous waters of the Brandywine, which was now much reduced into the stream it was before being a river, the lands seemed a little browner and sparse.

Uien had drawn the first watch, followed by Finëwen, Esgallhugwen, Thoromir, Lira, Falowik and lastly Falco. She moved away from the fire so as to save her vision from camp-blindness, and settled in for her watch. Nearby the soft murmur of talk rose and fell. She soaked up the peace of the night, enjoying the dancing light of the stars overhead with her arms wrapped around her knees, and hoped that Eodwine would be found in Fornost, seeking refuge in the ruins there and waiting for help to arrive. It seemed possible on that fair, clear night.

[Imladris]

Gorby

My crude, iron fork scratched my tin plate. I nudged my food and stuck my tongue out at it: it was a very poor feast; the meat was tough, the bread was slightly dry and stale. Bringing the fork full to my mouth, I gagged and dropped the mouthful -- luckily it fell back onto my plate. “I don’t think I can stomach any more of this,” I whispered to Anson. “This isn’t real food.”

“What would you call it then?” Anson asked, gnawing upon a piece of meat.

I considered, different thoughts flitting through my mind. “Grub,” I pronounced.

“Grub is food, Orb,” he said, looking at me mock wariness and jokingly using Lily‘s nickname for me.

“Of course grub is food,” I assented vigorously, shoving the food in circles around my plate, “but the word grub doesn’t sound as pleasant as food. Grub conveys the image that someone has been grubbing for this lousy fare in a place utterly barren of good food: inded, a place that lacks good decent, hobbit-like food. See?”

“You are strange, Gorby.”

“The food will taste better once we have traveled a bit,” Falowik said as he passed us by and sat down by Thoromir.

I blushed crimson. He had heard me and my nonsense! The second of the camp! “Right,” I said weakly.

“Come on…eat a bite!” Anson coaxed. “See? I’ve already finished mine.”

Drat. He had. My stomach groaned begging for food: good food. Not nasty food. Good food. As my teeth came down upon a bread, I found it wasn’t quite so bad as it looked. Still, it wasn’t up to par.

We then picked lots and thankfully Anson and I weren’t picked. As we crawled underneath our blankets, I whispered, “I am going to sleep tonight…stones an’ all. I wonder how often we’ll luck out and not get picked to watch. Such a boring, nasty job…”
***********************
Lira

It was Lira’s turn to watch and, as her blue eyes barely glimmered in the star’s faint light, she thought of the semi-council they had had. She wondered why she had not thought of Fornost before, the once inhabited city. Her father would have wished to visit such a city and maybe she would find signs of him there.

Smiling in the darkness, she thought of their journey. The Brandywine had never been far away and she could had heard it chuckling as it ran merrily along its course. She laughed merrily when she remembered the little water fight Gorby and Anson had had one day. The thought of water reminded her of a lilting hobbit tune and she sang it softly, her feet tapping to the rhythm as her body swayed.

Looking at the stars, she saw that her watch was up, and, creeping toward Falowik, she woke him gently and said, “It is your watch now.” Nestling under her blanket, the fire warming her chilled toes, she wondered what they would find, if anything, at Fornost. At the name, a shadow seemed to pass over her heart at the name: a vague dread.

[ November 14, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik had been tempted to share Uien's watch with her, but knew it would be foolish, for his own would come soon enough; he half expected Falco to start his watch early out of mistrust for "that wanderer". He was not sure whether he would kick Falco back to his bed or spite him by letting him take the remainder of his watch as well as his own. [i]We'll see which way the shirrif's words lead,[i] he murmured to himself.

It was getting chilly for summer. Dawn was not far off - just a couple of hours. Falowik slapped his thighs and his arms (quietly) to stay warm and awake.

He was glad to have Gorby and Anson with; they lightened his mood with their amiable chatter. He hoped they would survive this journey, and feared that they would not. He had heard that hobbits were made of tougher stuff than they appeared to be, and hoped that it would prove out this time.

Finally he heard Falco's mumbling, which the air carried to him ahead of the hobbit's quiet foot steps. Falowik felt his shoulders tense and his jaw tighten in anticipation of another round of trustless words.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Finëwen picked at the food. She listened to the two hobbits who seemed to argue over it. It wasn't the best, but its better than nothing. Finëwen herself wasnt too fond of eating. She had to eat, of course, but she didn't eat a lot, never taking more that her share, and only ate enough on her plate not to be rude. In this case, it wasnt rudeness, she just didnt want to be wasteful. She sighed and took another bite.

There was another nagging feeling in the back of her mind, as it there was before. It seemed to be growing worse. Rubbing the back of her neck, she tried to make it go away. It still didnt help. She sighed, taking another bite of the food, and tried to ignore the feeling.

Feeling she was not hungry, she put the food away in her own bag, she might eat it later, or find some other use of it. Walking over to her stallion, she petted him and sat down against the tree next to him. She couldnt do much with the nagging feeling.

[Lumiel]

Their journey thus far had been short and uninteresting for the most part, but to Lumiel it was refreshing in a way. Never before had she traveled with a group of people, a group of people with whom she shared a common purpose. Not all of them got along well, but for the most part they were all congenial enough. A few of the hobbits didn't seem to take to the food, or grub as they termed it, but Lumiel knew that they would get used to it soon.

For her it wasn't the food or the constant traveling that mattered, it was what she saw along the way. The dawn as it sparkled jewel-bright on the fresh green grasses, the sound of the birds waking up the world, the stars at night giving a glimpse of that which lay beyond death...or at least that was what she saw anyway.

She kept to herself but not in a cold, aloof way. Rather, she seemed thoughtful and quiet, but warm in manner. She had little to add to what Thoronmir decided for their course, she knew how to track, but she had never traveled anywhere near here before. She felt somewhat useless so far as she simply seemed to tag along invisibly and had not yet had to keep watch for the group. She never dwelled on the thought for long and turned her mind instead to possiblities for what happened to Eodwine and what they may encounter.

The only thing she really disliked so far was Falco's treatment of Falowik. Falowik was a good man, that much she knew instinctively though she did not know the man well. There was nothing in his outward nature that hinted at any sort of deception and the small glimpse that she had so far seen of what was within him seemed true to her eye. Falco seemed to be an arrogant hobbit set on having his way. She tried to keep herself from making any judgements, she didn't know Falco or why he was the way he was. Nonetheless, she did not appreciate what he was doing for the group so far. If they were to have any chance in their journey, they had to work together and most importantly trust each other.

As the second day wound down, she set down a blanket and rolled up her cape beneath it as a pillow. She stared up at the night sky getting lost in its infinite pattern and felt into a strange sleep that gave her peace.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen gazed up at the stars, but was not comforted. Something knawed at her mind, she seemed to be hearing noises but when she looked around no one else seemed to have have heard them.

And there it was again a faint wailing or crying of something that was barely able to cling on to what remained of it's life. She sat up away from the fire looking about, she caught the horses grazing a little ways from the camp; the Hobbit ponies had nestled together dozing off their fuzzy ears flickering every now and again.

But it was not coming from the horses, it came again but fainter losing it's will and strength. Esgallhugwen stood up with a jolt carefully creeping towards a pile of large rocks and stones; the camp that were still awake gave her odd and startled looks at her sudden stealthy movement and caution.

Esgallhugwen peered over the sharp edged rock, something moved, it was painful for her to watch it. She raced back over to her saddle bags and hurridly took what she needed from them, setting it by the fire.

In her arms lay a wolf cub. At first glance many would think it was dead, in fact it should have been dead, whatever kept it alive Esgallhugwen marvelled at. It was limp in her arms, half starved, and to the Elf's raging horror both it's back legs were broken.

She set it gently down in the warm blanket, beginning her work. Esgallhugwen quickly spun open the lid to her green sappy concoction and dabbed some on the cub's nose, when it inhaled the pungeant odour it would help sooth the pain. She took one dangling leg in her hands, taking care when she pulled it back to align it so it would set properly when healed.

The bone made a horrible snapping noise, everyone winced as they gazed on. She pinched the thin leg together while scooping out some of the green sap she applied it, it became thicker, she wound it up and down the whole leg it seemed to be made of toffee as she stretched it out and wrapped it round.

Esgallhugwen snatched up a white linen bandage. With great skill she bound it tight and quickly. The other leg did not make such a horrible snap but was broken in more than one place and took longer to align properly.

Some gathered around her, hearing her sing all the while to the wounded pup. The Elf took up a spoon and another jar, a bowl and her flask of miruvor. In the jar was honey and she poured it sparingly into the small bowl along with the miruvor, also sparingly.

Esgallhugwen stirred it together, as she picked up the cub like you would hold a baby and tried to spoon feed it the honey. The cub stirred but did not open it's eyes when it was fed the mixture in the bowl.

She sang to it a little while longer until it fell asleep, she tucked it in the blanket. All was settled down again and Esgallhugwen went back to her quiet way, watching over the wolf.

[ November 16, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

[littlemanpoet]

As second in command, it had been Falowik's assignment to take up the rear and watch their backs. That was well enough. But it had separated him from Uien except for at meals. As they had made their way north, coming into lands Falowik had known alone for twelve long years, his spirit had slipped and waned. He had felt the emptiness of all his wandering days and the shallowness of his purpose - survival - descended on him. Is that not my goal once again?

No, he told himself. There was more. They sought Eodwine, or news of his fate. It did not matter. Though he had told himself over and over again that things were different now, the old despair had come over him and he had no means to hold it at bay.

If only it could be just Uien and me he had thought, but knew that was just selfish. He had watched her often from his place at the back of the party, watched the smooth line of her face, the grace of her form, her long hair, and it was lifegiving drink to him. Once in a great while she would look back and see him invariably watching her, and she would smile. At those times his spirit lifted, and he recalled himself to his duty to keep an eye out for the sake of the party. Then watching the bleak land, his spirit would slip again, lower than before.

Eswen broke through Falowik's darkness; not with words, but by her kindness to a wolf pup. Falowik's eyes lost their haunted look, and softened. He went over to Eswen and reached a tentative hand to ruffle the fur of the sleeping pup between its ears. She did not say him nay. His touch was light and careful. A smile spread on his face unlike any of the half smiles and ghosts of smiles Eswen had seen until now. His eyes sparkled in the firelight.

"I am glad you are with us, Eswen." His voice was gruff. She smiled. Then Falowik became aware of himself and coughed into his hand, excused himself, rose, and went back to his place.

[ November 16, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Imladris]

Lira

The wolf cub shuddered and wailed plaintively in Esgallhugwen’s arms as the elf carefully bound the two broken legs. A tear trickled down Lira’s cheek as she sensed the incredible pain of the cub and the outrage of Eswen. “Dear Eru,“ she murmured as she kneeled down besides her, and sang a wordless song of comfort to the wretched cub. Corn fluttered over and alighted upon the cub’s the back and ran his beak gently through the wolf’s matted fur, smoothing the tangles from it. “Eswen,” he croaked softly.

The cub soon stilled as the soothing melody that Lira sang wove its spell and calmed the wolf’s troubled spirit. The fur was stretched tightly over the its bones, its yellow eyes were pale and dull…lifeless. “His heart is barely beating,” Esgallhugwen said, her eyes stared into Lira’s: rage and sympathy burned in them as she turned back to the cub.

“Who would do this, Mellon?” Lira whispered to Esgallhugwen as the elf bandaged the legs. “It would be difficult for a cub to break both his legs in open wilderness.” Lira shivered as she again felt the dark premonition that had assailed her earlier.

Rising, Lira took an iron pot, filled it with water, and put it on the fire. She untied her leather herbal bag and tossed in some lavender seeds and peppermint to make a soothing, warm tea for the starving cub. The steam billowed into a moist cloud as she poured it into a cup and crept towards Esgallhugwen, put it into her hands, and said, “Here. This is for the cub.”

[Elora]

Uien

Between the emptiness of the lands and the peaceful passage of day and night, Uien struggled with both the urge to seek Falowik and his company and the guilt from diverting him from his responsibilities. She would gravitate to him by the fire, or during the day as they rode further north and east. Her horse would fall back until she rode nearby. She would trade a smile for him and ride in silence but for a time, until she felt guilty. Falco made sure that she did not interfere in his watch, muttering about distractions.

Sometimes, all she would permit herself was a glance. Other times, when possible, she find her hand brushing Falowik's. Esgallhugwen's pup was the one thing that eased Uien's thoughts. The wolf cub had drawn the group together in many ways. Even Falco had sucuumbed to the pup's charms, but not before he made mention of the additional mouth to feed.

Through this all, the weather remained calm but for an afternoon shower that washed the heat of the late summer from the lands for a brief respite. The days had a similarity that could be comforting or unsettling by turns. There was no sign of ruffians and brigands, though they continued to set watches through the night and move with caution through the day.

Still, the lands were starlingly empty. It was as though they waited, though for what Uien could not say. To their right the beginnings of the North Downs passed for two days. It was not until the fifth day of travel that Thoromir announced that they would make Fornost the following morning.

This announcement came as they drew in for the night. Esgallenhugwen and Lira gathered around the wolf pup, who was proving both playful and resilient as it recovered in their care. Anson and Gorby were quick to get a fire going, hungry as they were. Uien, for her part, set about preparing the meal for that night.

Falco was up to his usual commentary on the "astonishing good fortune we are having in avoiding ruffians, bandits and kidnappers in the Wild." His meaning was clear. He sat, watching over the meal preparations, explaining it one more time to Uien.

"Very fortunate, we are. Open country, not much cover, and not once have we come across those who may mean harm." Uien gave the pot a stir and let the laddle drop against the side of the pot with a audible sigh.

"Perhaps you would have it otherwise, Shirrif. Would you be happier if we were waylaid?" Her voice held the beginnings of terse irritation. Falco smiled annoyingly at her and waved his hands.

"No, no.... not at all. Mind that broth doesn't burn."

Uien recollected the laddle, swallowed a burst of angry retorts and resumed stirring. Thankfully, it was soon ready. Uien called to the others.

"The broth is ready." Gorby had already fetched the last of their fresh bread and guiltily swallowed the early nibble he had taken from it. He handed it around as people gathered with bowls for their evening meals, watching each piece with some remorse for he was hungry indeed after 5 days of riding. Uien laddeled broth into bowls, one after the other, with a smile and a nod. She had already set a smaller cup aside with cooling broth for the wolf cub. Lira collected it with thanks.

Falowik came last of all, and she took his bowl with a warm smile that she aimed at his blue eyes without hesitation. Filling it, and passing it back, their fingers brushed again. Uien soon took up a seat beside him with her own bowl. Falco, who had been amongst the first to be served, took the opportunity to open discussion as he helped himself to a second serving of broth.

"What do you suppose we'll find at Fornost, aside from ruined stone houses of Men," he asked. His gaze slid past Uien, as if expecting her to bite once again, as he looked around the group. With them all gathered, he thought he'd take his opportunity to see if he wasn't the only one thinking they were on a goose chase. After five days of nothing beyond a wolf pup, field mice, squirrels and birds, Falco was reasonably confident that others would have questions.

[Imladris]

Gorby

It was pitiably poor fare we were served, as always. I shivered uncomfortably: this trip wasn’t what I had thought it was. Lots of traveling, but no true adventure -- save for the rescue of the wolf cub. I wondered if Eswen would name the thing. Listlessly, I dropped my hand and scratched his ear -- the tyke was such a cute little thing.

Sighing, I watched Falowik’s profile in the flickering fire’s light. Nobility was there in its rough features. The more I gazed upon him, the more I wanted to sketch it -- it would make a most interesting profile…forcing myself to my feet (which had somehow managed to fall asleep) I tottered to my bags and dug out my pen and a small blue bottle of ink. I held the ink up and realized that it really was only one small bottle of ink and that it wouldn’t last long. I sighed: there was only one thing for it and that was to use it sparingly. I sighed again, dolefully: so much for keeping a careful record of our ’adventures.’ Of course, if we didn’t have any adventures there would be no use to record them.

Moving to a different spot from around the fire so that I’d have an angled portrait, I pressed a piece of parchment against a plank of smoothed wood to get rid of the wrinkles that had been caused by the travel. I studied the man intently and decided to start with the nose. I thought it was slightly hawk-like and tried to convey that feature to the paper. Then the shaggy eyebrows that sat on his eyes and then the deep set eyes. Them eyes: difficult things them. They were such a pretty blue -- so much pain, such much hidden pleasantness, and such dignity and nobility were mirrored in their depths. How could one draw such aspects upon paper? I tried, and wished I had some paints, but I had not been able to bring them. His hair was also particularly difficult: fair and gold it was.

As I drew our second in command, I wondered why we had not come across anything that would give us answers. No sign of ruffians or scaliwags at all. No sign of the man of Rohan -- his name escapes me at the moment. I hated to admit it, but it seemed as if we were on a “wild goose-chase’ as Falco said it. I scowled: I did not think Falowik would lie. If an elf trusted him that was enough for me. From what I’ve hear, elves have impeccable judgments and tastes and Uien seemed no exception. However, I could not help but wonder if we were going in the wrong directions. Evil ones were uncannily clever: I couldn’t help but wonder if we were being duped.

By this time, I had finished my rough sketch. I sighed, and stared at the outcome. I wasn’t really quite sure if it was good or not, but I had tried.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lira

A day from Fornost, and the shadow had continued to grow on Lira’s mind. Something dark was there, lingering among the deserted ruins. Pushing the thoughts away from her, she walked silently beside Uien, a soft smile lightening her face as she saw the beauty of the Downs. Nevertheless, the foreboding returned as they set camp.

The hobbits eagerly gobbled down their dinner and she wished that there was more for them. “What do you suppose we'll find at Fornost, aside from ruined stone houses of Men," Falco asked.

Lira looked at him and frowned. He took things too light heartedly, too confidently, too narrowly. “We’ll find more than that, I suppose,” she said softly. “Something lingers there -- sorrow and darkness.”

Gorby spoke up and said, “I certainly hope we’ll find some sign of the marauders, because they certainly haven’t been up to anything lately. Not that I’m saying I doubt Master Falowik,” he added hastily, bending down over a sketch of something, “maybe we mistook their direction.”

Turning to Uien, Lira whispered in elvish, “We must be careful when we enter Fornost -- I fear it is tainted with evil.”

[Nurumaiel]

Anson wrapped his blanket tighter around him and tried to look comfortable. If this was what adventures were like, they weren't too bad, save that they were unbearably cold. He longed for the warm fire that always lit up that cozy little hole back home. They did have a fire lit now, but it wasn't the same when the cold winds could come and go as they pleased with no sturdy walls to stop it.

He glanced over at Gorby who was sitting a little distance away from the fire, his head dropped low. He seemed to be concentrating on something. Anson crawled up behind him and strained his neck over his friend's shoulder so he could see the drawing. Gorby became aware that someone was breathing directly in his ear, so he turned his head. "Oh," he said, smiling. "Hello, Anson."

"Hello, Gorby," replied Anson, sitting down alongside his friend. "What are you doing?"

"I'm drawing Falowik." Gorby hesitated a few moments, gazing at the drawing. After those few moments he looked up at Anson, uncertainty on his face. His voice low, he murmured, "Tell me, Anson, just what do you think of it? Do you think it's all right."

Anson screwed up his face and looked from the drawing to Falowik, and from Falowik back to the drawing. He did this for about two minutes, then he let out a long sigh and smiled at Gorby. "It looks just like him," he said. Gorby didn't look convinced. "Really, Gorby. I think it's very, very good."

"You think everything is good," Gorby sighed, but secretly he felt pleased that Anson liked the drawing. He received no answer from his friend, so he looked up from his sketch. Anson's face was once again screwed up, and he appeared to be thinking very hard. "Well, Gorby, I don't quite know what to say," Anson replied. "I think everything is good, you tell me. But isn't everything good?" Gorby could make no answer. "Oh, and by the way... these adventures aren't too bad. They're just awfully cold. It will be nice to go home to my family and tell them about the adventure I've been on." He grinned at the thought, then he stood up and patted Gorby's back. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Gorby."

[Imladris]

Gorby

I thought about how Anson thought that everything was good and about how dratted naive he was! Don’t get me wrong, he’s the best friend I have, but how could he think that everything is good when we are going on a chase after a man who might be already dead? After what had happened to the Shire under Sharkey’s rule? I shuddered as I remembered Sharkey and his thugs.

But maybe Anson had a point? What is good? Good is relative. Most people assume that “good” is good -- like King Elessar and Merry and Pippin and the other hobbit heroes. Nobody would willingly do what was bad to them, would they? So bad guys -- men that made rangers disappear -- would think they would be doing good because everybody knows that people don’t consciously do what is bad for them. So good to us is bad to them and good to them is bad to us. It didn’t make sense.

I shook my head: the world was too convoluted to be understood by a hobbit like me. I glanced again at the portrait of Falowik I had drawn. Anson had said it was good and he didn’t lie. My eyes strayed to Falco and then to Anson, huddled under his blanket near the fire. The world was good, I suppose. Except for the people who were evil and tainted it with their deeds.

[Lumiel]

When Eswen had saved the young pup, Lumiel watched quietly from where she lay. She had a passing curiosity about it but let it rest until the morning. In the morning, she took a look at the animal and saw its wounds and a look of pity passed over her face. She hated seeing others in pain, even if it was just an animal. Yet it seemed to recover quickly or nearly so and enjoyed the affection of most of the company. Lumiel had to admit, the pup sure did grow on you. She often would wrestle with it when they stopped for break, using only her hand to tussle its fur and gently play with it being careful of its still healing wounds. She laughed as it growled at her and yipped, and she growled back playfully, laughing at its antics.

Now though, it was evening and they were near Fornost and yet still they had seen no sign of anyone, let alone brigands of the sort they were searching for. It was strange, she thought. They couldn't possibly have missed the signs, there were too many of their party who had excellent tracking skills, herself included, to be so easily fooled or deceived. No, there was something more and she didn't like it. Silence and peace were all well and good, but not when waiting for an unknown danger. As they rode, she began thinking. What sort of people were they dealing with? Were they merely desperate bandits? Or maybe an organized group with some darker intent? Or had they all been duped and the truth was something else altogether? She glanced at Falowik. She doubted he would lie, she felt no concern over whether or not what he had told them was the truth, at least from his point of view. The truth is the truth, but the prism of perception more often than not distorted it into colors of the same thing. Yet still. Falowik did not seem the type to cry Wolf. The nagging feeling persisted at the back of her mind where it had taken root. Doubt clouds all, Farin had once told her. There was nothing to do about it at the moment except hope for some light about the matter soon.

As they made camp once more and settled down, the group seemed to quiet also. Each seemed to have their own tasks to take care of, and Lumiel felt somewhat lonely. She sat and ate in silence, the quality of the food not bothering her as she had grown up with it. When they had finished, they sat around the fire and kept close to keep their bodies warm. She observed quietly, and her eyes fell on the hobbits, Anson and Gorby. Gorby seemed to be absorbed in something in front of him, and Anson watched him work. She listened to the words that passed between them, and then Anson left for sleep. Gorby seemed to shudder for an instant and intent on something, though not his drawing.

Standing up, she walked over by Gorby and sat down, staring at the fire, her cheeks slightly flushed from the heat. "It's cold, but it's a nice evening." she commented. Gorby merely seemed to shudder at the reminder of the temperature and Lumiel smiled. "Think of it this way: it's not raining. What's that?" she asked, meaning Gorby's drawing.

"Oh, just a sketch of Falowik. Only there's not much ink left now." he said somewhat wistfully.

"Well, you could probably ask Eswen if she knows how to make some sort of ink or pigment for you to use, she seems very handy when it comes to herbs and the like." She glanced at his sketch. "Anson was right, it is good. You caught his eyes very well. If you don't get the eyes right, the picture never seems quite right. "The eyes are the windows to the soul" as they say I suppose." Gorby thanked the compliment. To continue the conversation, she went on: "Is it what you thought it would be? The journey so far I mean." she asked, her hair shining like tinsel in the firelight.

[Imladris]

My heart popped into my mouth as the elf sat next to me: me, a humble hobbit and her so beautiful and all and being a member of the Fair Folk...I colored brightly when she complimented my drawing of Falowik. "Thank you, m'lady," I said. Then she told me that Eswen could probably make me a bit of ink if I asked her and I said eagerly, "Do you think she would?"

Lumiel nodded and said, "Yes, I think she would. Is it what you thought it would be? The journey so far I mean," she asked me.

I turned in the corner of my mouth in thought before replying, "I don't really know. I must admit that I thought we would have some sign of them -- it's rather disconcerting that we have seen neither hid nor hair of them."

Lumiel nodded and watched her hair glitter elusively in the lurid light of the fire. Elven hair was so pretty: it was as if their was a shiny brilliance coursing through their strands, like a burning river of light.

"You?" I asked, signing my name; it was actually more like a scrawl. Oh well.

"I, too, thought we would have come across more tracks and I wonder what kind of enemy we face," she said. I glanced at her: something about the way she said what she said, as if she was avoiding saying something caught my attention. I saw her eyes flick over to Falowik and then back to me. "Do you not trust Falowik?" I asked uneasily.

She remained silent for a moment and then said softly, "I just wonder if we are being deceived by our enemy."

"Or enemies," I added, agreeing with her. Yet is troubled me. She said she trusted Falowik, yet it seemed as if she was doubtful about something. I suddenly found myself in a quandry: if Uien trusted Falowik, and Lumiel didn't then where would that leave me? Two Fair Folk on the opposite end of the scale. I looked at Falowik and decided: I would just assume that Lumiel did trust Falowik: she had after all not even hinted that she didn't trust him and I could be reading a lot into a simple glance. Besides, Falowik was a good man.

Smiling brightly at her, I said, "So, my lady, what do you think of Bree?" I asked.

[ November 22, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[Meneltarmacil]

After travelling through Eriador for quite a while, Thoronmir was surprised that the group had seen no sign of their enemies yet. The group stopped for the night at the edge of several ominous-looking rocky hills. Thorny scrub brush and gnarly, stunted trees were all that grew in this desolate place. They had finally come to the outskirts of Fornost.

"These lands were once covered by green forests and plains, and the city nearby was the capital of a great empire that kept this country safe from evil for many years. At least that was how it was before," Thoronmir was saying as they sat around the fire that night. "A shadow had grown and taken shape in the north near the Misty Mountains, and the Orcs and evil men of Angmar, as it was called then, fought many wars against the men of Arnor. Fornost was taken over by their ruler, who was known as the Witch King."

Everybody who had heard of the War of the Ring felt a chill in their hearts at hearing that name again.

"Eventually, Fornost was recaptured, but the shadow remains, and to this day the area is known as Deadman's Dike. I fear that there may still be some evil there. We'd do best to sleep in watches tonight. Two of us will stay awake for an hour, then wake the next two watchers before going to sleep."

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik brooded in the shadow of Fornost. So far everyone had kept their thoughts to themselves about the incident of two days past, except for a curt remark from Falco. Toward noon that day, they had come upon the place where Falowik had witnessed Eodwine's capture. Only, there was no sign of anyone's passage: no hoof marks, no blood on the rock, no sign of dirt displaced where the satchel had been thrown, not even his own footprints. It was as if the event had been erased from the record of time.

Falowik could imagine what they were thinking. It would be some version of what Falco had said at the time: No evidence nowhere for what the wanderer says he saw. Falowik had said nothing to defend himself, save what was obvious to him: The blood and hoof marks are gone, yes, but this is where it happened. He had re-enacted it for them, showing his hiding place, the bloodstained stone, the place where he had found the satchel, the path they had taken north, and where Eodwine had been when he had seen Falowik.

The rest of the party had been silent, except for Eswen cooing to the wolf pup who scrabbled and whined in her arms, its nose wriggling to a cacophony of odors to be explored, no doubt. Even Uien had looked into Falowik's eyes, searchingly for a moment, then hers crystallized with the certainty of his honor, which never ceased to amaze him. Her words were clear: If they have left no trail to follow, we shall have to find a fresh one farther north.

Thoronmir had consented to this. With a raised brow he eyed Falowik with a measuring gaze, then clasped his sword hilt with the opposite hand, pulled it up part way and shoved it home as if to drive home his decision. Whether it is as Falowik says or not, too many good men have gone missing or worse in recent times, and since we're this far, we should do what we can to find them or discover why they've gone missing. He had mounted his horse and led them onward.

It had been by no means a vote of confidence, but it had been the best Thoronmir could have done to rally the group if he doubted Falowik. As they moved out, the raven, Corn, had lifted from Lira's shoulder into the air and glided to the rock Falowik had pointed to as the one formerly bearing the bloodstains. With one clawed foot, Corn scratched three times at the very spot where the blood had been. Then he had cawed raucously, and flown high in the air, circling once, then he had flown north before them for half an hour; then he returned to Lira's shoulder.

Falowik had said nothing about the raven's actions. Though Corn seemed to be saying Falowik spoke soothly, others in the party might say that it was at best chancy to base one's hopes on the strange actions of a bird. The Elves among them might set more store by it, but not all in the party were keen on Elves. Falowik knew that he would have to let events prove his story, and he would have to bear the weight of their doubt in the meantime.

Falowik noticed Gorby out of the corner of his eye, gazing at him carefully in between scratches with a pen on a parchment. Falowik shuffled his feet self-consciously. The lawmen of Bree had been known to draw the likeness of a thief or murderer to go along with a reward bounty. Falowik wondered if Falco had put Gorby up to it. He overheard Anson, and Lumiel, saying that the likeness was good. Falowik sighed. They'd have their "wanted" poster if they sought to accuse him of an evil plan to get them lost and killed in the wild. If they wished it, so must it be. Falowik felt his gut harden with the old resentments spawned from wrongful accusation. His spirit had been sinking already, traveling into the trackless, unfriendly waste. Now his jaw tightened into a set frown and his eyes became icey. His posture became more angular, and when he looked one way or another, his head jerked quickly from side to side. Once he even startled Corn from Eswen's shoulder.

Uien watched him, and there was compassion and sympathy in her gaze, but even her solicitude turned to ashes for him, for it occurred to him that all the good that came from her was born from what she was determined to be rather than from an exchange of love between them. Falowik suspected that, at bottom, he was an object of charity by which she was giving meaning to her life. He did not want that, and found himself sickened by it the more he thought of it. The next time she touched him, he stiffened - and kept his eyes locked ahead of him, and he felt her hand slip away; it was like a cold stone door had been shut between them, and he had been the one doing the closing. But it was as it had to be, for it was the way things really were: harsh, cold, bitter, empty, and ruined; like the wilderness all around them, and like this old, old tower. Such was his life; these last few weeks with Uien had been a dream. He was glad to have woken from it.

Now he was waiting for the brewing storm to strike. One of the doubters would finally fail to hold back their thoughts, and would unleash a tirade against him; probably Falco. Falowik would welcome it; at least things would be in the open then.

[ November 21, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]