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Old 06-27-2003, 01:16 PM   #241
Amanaduial the archer
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Aman flicked a strand of hair from her face with a sharp head movement as she heard someone enter the kitchen, her hands occupied with a pie dish. She glanced up quickly to see who had come in, straightening, and grinned at Derufin.

“Back from the evils of over-consumption of alcohol, Derufin?” She teased, her voice like one about to do a lecture, then changed to her usual voice. “Looking better than before, certainly.”

“No thanks to you, Aman.” The stable master shot back, also grinning. But there was something vague in his grin, faraway, as if he was thinking deeply about something else- Aman was pretty sure she wasn’t the only thing making him smile. On cue, Derufin sighed happily, reinforcing Aman’s feeling. She cocked her head to one side.

“Good grief, Derufin, what’s wrong with you? You sound like a love-sick puppy!”

Sure enough, Derufin looked startled and almost guilty, and to Aman’s surprise, a slight flush began to creep over his neck. But he was saved from further comment from Aman when the pie dish in her hands, obviously bored of waiting to be put down as the Innkeeper chatted, burnt her hands through the thin dish cloth she had put between her hands and the dish. With a yelp, Aman put the dish down quickly on the table, almost dropping it in her hurry. Cook jumped slightly and turned, tsking quietly and shooting a disapproving glare at Aman before she bustled past out of the kitchen. Derufin took advantage of the moment as the Innkeeper stood sucking hard at her finger and having mutinous thoughts about treacherous dishcloths.

“Get it off the table, get it off the table!” He hissed urgently. Aman took a moment to comprehend, staring at him, confused, then realised, and her eyes widened. Gingerly, she took up the dishcloth, despite its recent treachery, and picked up the pie again, transferring it from the wooden table to a chopping board. Cook would have murdered her if she had seen that…but her troubles were not over. Cook bustled back in from the bar, and Derufin made do with subtly clearing his throat. Aman looked over and almost cursed aloud when she saw that the table had been burnt by the steaming pie dish. She started towards it, to try and clean it off, futile as that may have proved, but Cook was already turning. Derufin hastily flung another tea towel, decorated with a map of the Shire, onto the burn, covering it as Cook turned. Aman grinned at him, relieved and grateful. But Cook wasn’t stupid, and as she saw the Innkeeper grinning at Derufin in such a relieved manner, her eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” She said, slowly and suspiciously. Aman’s face immediately became a practised picture of innocence.

“What is what, Cook?” She inquired angelically. Cook’s eyes narrowed even further and she transferred her look Derufin, who hastily had a coughing fit to cover up his laughter at the hobbit’s suspicious glare. Aman hastened over to him, thumping him on the back, and providing a fair distraction for both of them. Cook wasn’t convinced, that Aman could see, but she let it drop. Aman furtively whispered her thanks to Derufin, then returned to the over to take out the second pie- there had been four in.

“I was thinking about drinks,” She started, in an attempt to get the subject completely away from herself and Derufin’s ‘guilt’, at least until she could deal with the burn completely. Cook tsking intensified, and Derufin’s grin widened as he rolled his eyes. “And you were telling me off-“

“No!” Aman cut him off, rolling her own eyes. “Not like that, and well you know it! I meant the drinks for the Naming Ceremony.” Cook gave a small, curious ‘Hmm?’ noise, and Derufin also straightened slightly. Aman continued, “I saw something down in the cellar when I was down there earlier- a sort of drinks making machine. I would like to take a closer look at it-”

“Oh no…” Derufin groaned, seeing what was coming next.

“And I wondered if you would mind going down and bringing it up, so we can have a better look?” She finished hopefully.

Derufin spotted a ray of hope. “Does whether I mind matter?”

“No.” Aman and Cook replied in unison.

“Didn’t think so,” the stable master sighed. Turning, he left the kitchen. Aman put down the pie on the board beside the other pie. Both were apple and raison and smelt delicious. Once more the Innkeeper thanked her lucky stars that Vinca Bunce had come with the Inn, and her incredible cooking skills. For a few minutes, she and Cook busied themselves with their own things, Cook with finishing off the main meal, and Aman doing the desert.

“Do we not have enough drinks anyway, Aman?” Cook inquired.

“Well, its mainly for the children, I was thinking. Milk and apple juice are all very well, but this looked like it would be able to make lemonade- one of my friends in Rohan made that his speciality, and I’m pretty sure they were at least similar, from the quick look I got.”

“From the quick look you got?” Cook’s voice was curious. “Why didn’t you take a better look when you were down there?”

Aman hesitated. Now was the time to decide whether she had truly heard something- and whether it had been anything important. She had heard that rustle, and was sure she had heard movement behind her when her back was turned- but then she had been scared when she had thought so, and a scared mind can imagine all sorts of things. Besides, it was probably just a cat or something! But would a cat make a rustling noise, like clothing, like a dress…

“I just…well, I wanted to get a message off to Butterbur pretty quickly.” She improvised. “There was a man going to Bree tonight and I, er, I didn’t want to…keep him waiting.”

“Oh yes?” Cook’s voice was a little disbelieving once more, but Aman hoped she had got away with it. “Did you send the message eventually?”

Aman closed her eyes as she realised her story had just completely broken down. She hadn’t send the message. “I...I...” She began slowly, until a crash distracted them both. Cook jumped, as usual, and Aman couldn’t help doing the same. Aman dashed out into the bar.

“The sound came from the cellar, I think.” She called to Cook. Her heart was beating wildly- Derufin was there. She immediately thought of the rustling and the movement she had heard and her heart beat even faster as she came to the top of the stairs, peering into the gloom of the cellar down the stairs...
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Old 06-27-2003, 01:49 PM   #242
Alatariel Telemnar
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Tolkien

Alatariel continued out of the stables and into the inn. She was tired after her long day, and decided to rest. She went back to her room, and lied down on her bed. There was a small candle on the table. She didn't bother to even light it, but went straight to the bed.

She continued to lie there, unable to sleep. Trying as hard as she could, yet she sat there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. As tired as she was, she walked over to the window. There was a wooden rocking chair, the side facing the window, turned just slightly. She went over to it and sat down starring out the window. She took off her coat, and laid it on the window sill. Her long blue gown shined in the light. The small room had no breeze, it was so stuffy. Alatariel got up off the wooden rocking chair, and opened the window.

The wind blew in with so much force, Alatariel was blown back into the rocking chair. She was happy to have a breeze, but was cold. She found a blanket at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulder. Her pouch lay next to the bed. Pinking it up, she sat down on the bed and began to rummage through it. Spending a few minutes with her arm half in the bag, she finally found what she was looking for, and took out a gem. It was a sapphire, and it was huge. It wasn't attached to a chain or anything. It was just a sapphire. Alatariel starred at it for a few minutes, when she heard a rustle from outside the door, and in one quick movement put it back inside her pouch. Walking back to the window, she heard a door shut and close from outside. Alatariel sat back in the rocking chair and looked outside the window, as if she was waiting for someone.

[ June 27, 2003: Message edited by: Alatariel Telemnar ]
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Old 06-27-2003, 03:10 PM   #243
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Sting

"True words you say that one would not tell another of their business. However, this Ranger of the north has at the present time an advantage," Silvanis said with a smile, as he turned and walked away toward the stairs. Kaldir watched him go with a rather sardonic smile of his own playing at the corners of his mouth. He saw Silvanis drop a nod to the desert lady's hobbit friend before vanishing up the stairs and into the lady's room.

No doubt gone to tell her all about me, he thought to himself. Set her on her guard. He was a little disappointed that what had earlier promised to be such an easy catch was now turning out to be nothing of the sort. It was a setback, yes, but not catastrophic. If nothing else, Kaldir was immensely patient. The lady would drop her guard again eventually. When she did, he would be there. In the meantime, he decided to enjoy the hospitality of the Inn.

He was just tipping his tankard to his lips to finish the last swallow of the Green Dragon's excellent brown ale, when the thin elflady he had noticed earlier, the skittish one with the pale golden hair, abruptly got up from a table and dashed out the front door, nearly upending a pair of hobbits who were on their way in. Curious, he walked across to the window and watched her progress across the stableyard until she vanished into the stable itself. She ran heedlessly, as though a pack of angry orcs were on her heels, her long hair flowing out behind her like a mantle. There was definitely fear in the elflady, fear and something else, but he wasn't quite sure what the other element was that made her run like that. He turned it over in his mind as he finished his ale and set the mug aside. She interested him professionally. She was definitely running from something. What he had to determine was what - or who - was in pursuit.

As the stable door closed behind her, Kaldir realised there was something familiar about her, not so much about the elf woman herself, but more something in the line of her delicate features. The echo of a description he had heard in the south played through his mind. "Tall and thin, with golden hair, she is quick of hand and foot." Thoughtfully, he gazed across the yard at yet another closed door. "Her eyes are the blue of the midsummer sky, her skin as smooth and fair as the Lady Galadriel's..."

His eyes narrowed as, for the second time that afternoon, a deeply buried memory stirred at the back of his mind. Intense heat and fire. His skin burning. And another delicate-featured elf woman. laughing soullessly. Pain and inpenetrable black smoke. He flinched visibly as a spear of remembered pain shot through his smashed cheekbone. No, it is merely coincidence, he told himself. This can't be she. This one is afraid. The other one did not know the meaning of mercy or fear.

Kaldir bowed his head and, with a great force of will, pushed the memories of the other elf woman back down into the dead place in his mind, the place where he stored the pain. Twelve years had passed since his release, but he still was not equipped to deal with the horrors of what he had endured in Mordor at the hands of his captors. He would go mad. Even so, the terrible beauty of Naiore Dannan, the Ravenner of Mordor, still hung before his eyes like a shroud. He had only seen her once, briefly. She had passed over him without a glance and killed the man beside him. She looks like her...

Moving toward the door, Kaldir cast a quick glance over his shoulder toward the upstairs door of the desert lady. With a no doubt broken ankle, she would not be going anywhere soon, and he was not the sort to sit outside her door all afternoon like an obsessive terrier. He slid out the door and moved silently across the stableyard.
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Old 06-27-2003, 04:46 PM   #244
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Sting

‘By the One, it’s dark down here! She could have at least given me a candle!’

Derufin muttered his way down the stairs, picking his was carefully step by step. Once his foot nearly slipped on a pile of old rags stored to the side of one of the rough wood steps and another time he stumbled over a stack of old ledgers left mouldering there once the pages had been filled. To his left on the open stairway was a small shaft of dim light where the last of the evening’s light crept in through a small dirty window near where the top of the cellar cleared the ground it was dug into.

Funny, he thought, that the small window should be open. ‘I should see to that,’ he said into the cool air that drifted in through it. ‘Too many edibles down here, don’t want some critter getting in to eat his fill and make a mess of everything.’

He paused at the foot of the stairs, getting his bearings. Beneath the staircase he knew was the pantry where cook kept the root vegetables and spices that needed cooler storage. To the right of the stairs, taking up the length and most of the width of the Inn building above it was where the casks of ale and mead and bottles of wine and flagons of other spirits were stored. Being on The Great East Road, the Inn often saw a heavy flow of traffic, and it prided itself on never having to turn away a customer’s request for a drink.

To the left of the stairs, as he remembered from the few times he’d been down here, were floor to ceiling shelves, packed with all those ‘necessary’ contraptions the Innkeepers through the years had thought they needed. The poor light from the dingy window gave him just enough light to pick out the ‘drink thing’ that Aman had so vaguely described.

And wouldn’t you just know it,’ he grumbled, reaching his arms above his head. ‘It was someone’s bright idea to store it up high.’

The ‘thing’, a large, awkward metal contraption had been the pride and joy of one of the Innkeepers before the War. Some passing tradesman had seen the beaming Innkeeper as a prize pullet and plucked him fully – selling a lemon-squeezing device he’d been unable to unload since he’d been conned into it Rohan. To his credit it did squeeze twenty lemons at a time, but the thing was so large and so cumbersome, it became an ordeal to get it out and then put it back when needed. The cook at that time had put her foot down about it taking up space in her kitchen. So the fabulous lemon juicer had been put away these past ten years, and now sported a heavy coating of dust and cobwebs.

He had just stepped back with one leg, and shifted his weight to it, in preparation for pulling the squeezer down and to the floor, when he heard a rustling noise behind him. ‘Who’s there?’ he called, his arm muscles already tensing for the pull. He looked over his right shoulder and saw something scurry deeper into the shadows.

‘Hey!’ he yelled loudly at whatever had moved.

His movements to see what was behind him threw the juicer off balance on the shelf, and before he could move out of the way it came crashing down on him, knocking him on his back - coming to rest on his left lower leg, pinning his ankle between its bulk and the unforgiving hardness of the packed earth floor.

Stars and indeed entire constellations exploded before his eyes, and curses poured from his mouth which would have made a corsair cower . . .
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Old 06-27-2003, 05:08 PM   #245
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Sting

[img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] Notice of New Game Opening! [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

Arien and Maikafanawen invite you come see their game:

~*~*~*~*~*~ The Fall of Greenwood the Great ~*~*~*~*~*~

6 Elves from Greenwood Forest (later to be known as Mirkwood) are needed. 3 males and 3 females.

Read the game proposal then submit a Character Description WITH a First post for your character.

It should be a very fun game!

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator
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Old 06-27-2003, 06:07 PM   #246
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Sting

When the storm had, for that time at least, passed, Vanwe pushed herself back from the now damp mattrass. She sat, arms wrapped around herself, and glanced about the stable loft with eyes that could pierce the shadows of night. Eyes that the villagers had said were wickedly cursed by her bloodline. She could make out the drawers that stood against the sloping roof of the stable, empty apart from a scattering of a few possessions in the topmost drawer.

Vanwe rose, walking across to open the drawer and retrieve the length of braided leather that she had carried with her. She'd found it the night she began her flight, after she'd taken a knife to the leather braid that had marked her back and shoulders too many times in bloody anger. It had lain in small pieces at her feet by the time she had finished, and she had dropped the knife and instead picked up one small length.

A knife would have been of greater use, but she had carried this fragment over all the miles since as a reminder. Vanwe wrapped her fingers around it, solemn and grave for a moment. She could not forget. She could not return to that. She would never permit it to happen again. With her other hand, she scraped back strands of hair and straightened her back. Noone stood over her now, wordlessly grunting as they let the braid rise and fall. Noone gathered in a circle around her now, chanting supersitious oaths against witches and Elves.

Instead, she was free in a way she had never been before. Her feet went as she chose. She worked and laboured as she wished. She had only to free her mind and her heart and she would be worthy of her father. The leather braid she clutched was a powerful symbol, one that she had made out of the fear. In the darkness of the stable, the horses below were the only witnesses to hear her whisper, "I will be free," with a startling intensity and desperation.

When they had faded from hearing, they blazed still in her heart and mind. Vanwe turned from the dresser and moved to the furtherest edge of the loft to open out the hay doors. They swung smoothly on well oiled hinges, and she stood there looking out over the inn and the immediate surroundings.

"Free," she repeated again. She did not need to skulk in shadows any longer if she did not choose to. Vanwe soon had flint to candle and a small flame sprang into life, gently flickering. She set that down and retrieved another possession, another lump of wood. This time it was smooth yew, a piece she had collected on the long road.

Sitting by the candle, Vanwe removed her belt knife as she rolled the yew around in her hands. It spoke of many things to her, and soon her knife started to rougly carve out the shape she felt resonnate within her. Below a horse shifted in its stall, Vanwe ignoring it, and instead fell into another song, one she heard mothers sing to their children in the village. It was sweet, simple and soothing.

Shavings fell to the floor and over her lap as she worked, small chunks and finer curlings depending on the stage of the carving. The wall behind her creaked faintly, as if the timbers were settling in around her. For some reason, the creak lifted her head. Instinct demanded she look about even though she was safe in the loft, far away from the village. Feeling a little foolish and unsettled, Vanwe set the roughly shaped wood aside and reached for the candle. She rose, candle and knife in each hand and walked to the edge of the loft so that she could peer over the edge at the horses below.

She stood there, still, for a while, scanning the lower stable, until she came at last to the newly installed horse at the far end. It was that horse which was restless, and knowing what it was like to be alone and frightened, Vanwe moved to do something about that.

She stowed her belt knife and nimbly climbed down the ladder. As she came to the stall, gently murming soothing meaningless phrases, her senses were hit with something else. Wolves, fear, injury assailed her. Vanwe blinked, startled, and continued on. She set the candle well out of the way of the straw, and moved into the stall.

The horse was skittish, shivering as her hands ran over it's coat. Vanwe steadied herself as the horse sent flashes of wolves, and fear. Most of all it was fear and pain she sensed. Untrained by either her mother or her father, Vanwe found it difficult to make sense of it all. Still, her quick hands soon found places needing attention. For the second time that day, she sensed for the wrongness and attempted to heal and put it right.

When her senses found something that was not a horse's flank or leg, something more wrong and much more dangerous, she fell back with a gasp of shock. The horse whickered fitfully as she stood, unsure of what she had found, and retrieved the candle. Instinct said that someone was there. If there was, she needed to know... foe or not? The memory of what she had stumbled across suggested the answer.

Someone was there, nearby, and she should run. The candle cast a golden glow over her features as she peered about the stable. Her fingers worked at her belt knife frantically. Run, her instinct screamed. No, came the response, like a tolling bell. She would not, not this time. She had already decided she was tired of running.

"Who is there," Vanwe called in a voice half question and half a bravado challenge.
She moved out of the stall and into the more open area of the stable.

"Who is there? Do you need help," she asked, remembering the wrongness she had sensed. How anyone could live without healing for that, she did not know. The silence of the stable, the occassional creak of the walls and roof, could not mask the insistant screaming of her instinct. Her muscles coiled in readiness as Vanwe tried to pierce the evening darkness held at bay by her candle nub.

Unable to see anything, she fell back on her senses and extended them. The wrongness, the pain, struck harder this time. They were close. Fearful fancies flew through her on ghostly wings. She grasped candle and knife harder, and waited for the first hint of movement.
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Old 06-27-2003, 09:05 PM   #247
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Sting

Alatariel got up out of the rocking chair. She felt the stallion, something was wrong. Picking her sack up on the way out of the room, she ran to the stables.

"Who's there?" she heard a frightened voice yell from the stallions stall. "Who is there? Do you need help?" the voice said. Alatariel ducked back into a nearby stall as the person, came out of the stallion's stall. She saw the elf, she seemed frightened yet worried. Alatariel saw that she was grasping the knife at her belt.

"Please let go of the knife, I wish you no harm," Alatariel said rising up out of the stall, and into the middle of the aisle of the stable, "What do you want with my stallion? Why are you in his stall," Alatariel asked the elf-maiden, who loosened the grip of her knife.
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Old 06-28-2003, 12:07 AM   #248
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Sting

Vanwe blinked at Alatariel's appearance from another stall, momentarily at a loss. What she saw did not match what her senses told her.

"I am the Stable Master's assistant. I heard movement and sensed your horse was in need of healing," Vanwe explained. Even as she did so, her senses stretched and still the wrongness pervaded what she felt. Vanwe glanced at her meagre belt knife and realised that in her patched and worn dress she must very much resemble a beggar or thief. She lowered the knife, but did not put it away. The wrongness she felt did not emanate from Alatariel, but it was still there.

"I have some small ability to heal," Vanwe further offered, "I could not sit above and let your horse suffer through the night. My name is Vanwe."

Vanwe attempted a fragile smile at the wary Alatariel. Understandably protective about her horse, Alatariel moved to inspect what Vanwe had been doing in the stall earlier. She found his condition greatly improved as she looked him over.

"With some rest he will recover well," Vanwe said. The Elf maiden ventured another smile, again it was a little unsure upon her face. "I do not mind sleeping in the stables, but sometimes the noises of the night play with me," she tried to explain. The result was far from satisfactory. Alatariel straightened and favoured Vanwe with a sceptical look that spoke volumes.

"The inn has wonderful fare," Vanwe went on, "Do not miss it on my account. I am sorry to have troubled you so." Vanwe bobbed a curtsy in the straw and dust of the stable to Alatariel and withdrew to climb back up her ladder. Her heart was still thudding in her chest, and her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. A prize fool she had been, all on account of a creaking stable and intuition.

Shaking her head, Vanwe set the candle nub on the dresser and stole a breath of clear evening air. The candle, only a small remnant winked out shortly thereafter, leaving only the growing brightness of the summer night sky to shimmer through the open hay doors at her. She still held her knife as she stood by the dresser as though graven in stone. Vanwe attempted to still the urgent whirling of intuitive danger and ignore the memory of what her reaching senses had found. Such injury, such wrongness! She rubbed a hand over her face, as though to wipe the memory from her.

When again the darkness around her seemed to move around her, Vanwe startled and whirled around to stare back into the loft behind her. Who or whatever it was, it was real, it had not fled at Alatariel's approach and it was in the loft with her. Vanwe raised a hand as if to part the veil shadows, her wrist a pale glimmer in the darkness. Her other hand tightened again around her small belt knife.

"Who," she breathed, "is there?"
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Old 06-28-2003, 04:08 AM   #249
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Sting

The Dwarf didn't know what was to become of him when he stepped out of the door and he spotted four riders coming up fast, leaving clouds of dust behind them as they galloped forth.

He stopped, and retreated a step, but to his relief, the horses halted with the riders' commands. They were fine beasts, brown with gleaming reigns and sparkling eyes. The rider in front slowly dismounted his horse, holding a small envelope in hand, on the back it was sealed with dried red candle wax.

The rider was a Dwarf, or a child, juding from his stature. This surprised Theoric. Children weren't usually given such valuable horses.

The rider removed his helmet. It was a child, maybe of the age of twelve. He was from Rohan, Theoric could tell by the look in his eyes.

"Is there a Theoric Windcaller in the house?" asked the boy, who came up to the Dwarf.

"It is he to whom you speak. What is this about?"

"I am sorry, you'll have to prove it by showing us the Alànthèor," said the rider.

Theoric pulled up the sleeve of his roughly torn brown leather tunic to reveal a small marking of a mountain upon his shoulder. Yes, the Alànthèor, a small marking of Theoric's family. Only Theoric and his brother, Tallon have that marking, because they are the last of their kin.

The rider shook his head and handed Theoric the envelope. "It was addressed to you by a Tallon Windcaller. He did not give it to me personally, but only recently a bird came into, carrying this in it's claws along with a sidenote, telling us your name, background and your estimated location."

Theoric nodded his head as he quickly opened the envelope. It read:

Dearest brother. It has been not too long since we parted, but already I feel as if we have been seperated for years. Lately I have gone on an expedition with Bayin, our dear friend. The expedition leads deep into the Misty Mountains. There seems to be no sign of a storm yet, but crossing into the mountains, anything goes, and nature shows no mercy. I shall speak to you later.

Behind the first letter, there was another one. Again, he picked it up and began reading from it.

Dearest brother. I am afraid to say that Bayin, our life-long friend, has been taken by the storm. It was early this morning when a great lightning hit the tree that Bayin was standing by. Bayin was crushed, and the storm almost claimed my life as well. Now I sit, mourning the death of our companion and writing in this letter. I am sending Dalethorn with this letter to Rohan, along with a sheet telling where to locate you in the Shire. Dalethorn is my trustworthy bird that I saved some time ago from a fallen nest. I am afraid to say, I shan't survive this. I am quickly freezing and I fear that much more of this shall result in my death. This is the last letter I shall send to you. I am to die, but think it joy when i die, for I can pass on to places unknown and--.

Theoric closed to the where it ended. A tear rolled down his cheek as he bowed in front of the rider. "Thank you, for this," said the saddened Dwarf.

He turned and walked into the inn, sobbing greatly, and everyone in that inn turned to him.
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Old 06-28-2003, 10:47 AM   #250
Amanaduial the archer
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Aman barely noticed the dwarf as he came in, standing at the top of the stairs and peering down.

"Derufin?" She called.

A stream of curses came in reply. Aman felt almost relieved- he was alive, anyway. She started down the stairs slowly, not waiting even to grab the lantern from where it always sat behind the bar, and behind her a curious Silvanis following her. "Derufin, what's wrong?"

"I'm here!"

"Good Gods..." Aman ran over to where Derufin lay, as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The drinks machine- well, contraption- had fallen right over lower right leg. Quickly, she hastened to his side, grabbing one side of the machine, and nodding to Silvanis to grab the other. The man grudgingly assisted her in lifting off the machine, then quickly scooted from the cellar so as not to be asked to do anything else. Aman knelt beside Derufin's side as he sat up, rubbing at his ankle and wincing.

"Grief, Derufin, what happened?"

The stable man hesitated, and seemed about to speak, then shook his head slowly, then more strongly. "No...no, it was nothing, Aman. I just...slipped."

"You slipped?" Aman was doubtful and it showed in her voice. She knew how reliable and solid Derufin was, and greatly doubted he could have slipped just like that.

Derufin nodded forcefully. Too forcefully? "Yes, indeed Aman. I wasn't concentrating?"

Wasn't concentrating? Derufin?! Aman was about to speak again, to question the truth of Derufin's story, when she heard a noise behind her, and turned her head quickly, jumpy because of what she had heard when down in the cellar before. She searched the gloom with her eyes. "What is it?" Derufin asked in a low voice.

Aman hesitated, as he had before. Should she tell him? No, foolish thoughts- she was simply imagining things. She shook her head, as he had. "Nothing. I just thought I heard...no, its nothing."

Derufin contemplated the Innkeeper for a moment, his expression puzzled, then struggled to his feet, with the help of Aman. "Come, we'll get an ice pack on your leg." She supported him across the floor and up the stairs. It was only as they reached the common room and Cook began to fuss worriedly about Derufin that Aman realised the likeness of her denial to Derufins story...
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Old 06-28-2003, 01:58 PM   #251
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Sting

To refresh everyone's memory:

Green Dragon Inn Facts:

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is:

Aman – a young woman from Rohan. Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Derufin, a Man from Ethring in the Ringló Vale, is the stablemaster and general handyman/jack of all trades for the Inn.

Vinca Bunce, Hobbit – ‘Cook’ – widowed runs the kitchen

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff and Postmaster; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

Amaranthas Bolger – very old, crotchety Hobbit from Hobbiton, nicknamed ‘The Dragon’

Piosenniel – Elven, Innkeeper prior to Aman; married to Mithadan; has two children: a twin boy and girl; as yet unnamed infants.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

At present it is a pleasant early evening in the Shire. The season is mid-Summer.
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Old 06-29-2003, 01:08 AM   #252
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Silmaril

Madea glanced out from under the hood of her black fur lined cloak which she had put back on. Strange, this place is indeed strange. she thought to herself, her black eyes dancing. Oh, i am just asking for trouble arent I? the girl was laughing on the inside.

A dwarf had now come in, looking slightly down. A dwarf? whatever for? she asked herself again. Madea was quite scared by his appearance, then again, she had been afraid of the rangers, and they had turned out to be fine after all. I think i wil stay to myself for a while, well at least unyil i can see someone who would have a conversation with a runaway. she thought, and again stared at the fire in the corner of the room.
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Old 06-29-2003, 01:11 AM   #253
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Alatariel watched the elf maiden climb up the latter, and disappeared into the loft above her. She stood there momentarily, her mind blank. The black stallion neighed from inside his stall. Jerking her head in his direction, she felt how badly wounded he was, he could not stay here. She felt the elf maiden had great heeling skills, but knew that he would need more. The gashes were deep. He must go back to her homeland.

Alatariel walked up to his stall, he seemed to grow weaker by the minute. Knowing that her homeland could be many miles away, she decided to take the risk. They shall leave by morning, if not sooner. She stroked his mane gently, 'It's not like you to get caught up with wolves, there must have been something else... We shall have to avoid that part of the land when we travel back to my homeland.'

He whinnied at her, making her smile. She whispered something indistinct in his ear, and headed back towards the Inn, she needed some rest before leaving in the morning. She walked by, the several groups of people and back to her room, where the window had been closed, and the blanket folded back up and laid at the end of the bed. Taking off her coat and bag, she lied down in the bed, and tried to sleep.
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Old 06-29-2003, 05:37 AM   #254
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Léspheria had nearly been knocked off her feet when Vanwe had suddenly bolted from the commons like a frightened mare. As she gained her balance and helped two young Hobbits that hadn't been so lucky, back to their feet. She saw Kaldir watching the young elven woman through the commons window, a chill shiver ran down her spine as she watched recognition sweep over the rangers face, and she distinctly felt the darkness and pain that emanated from him in great waves that made her head pound, Had Vanwe done some wrong to this man, No! she shook her head. She had perceived nothing but fear and pain from the young elf.

She continued to watch the ranger, but just then she was disturbed by a scream and a dull thud, she instinctively turn to see were the scream had come from and as she did she saw Aman rushing down to the cellar, knowing that who ever had screamed was now in capable hands she turned her attention back to the ranger.

She was slightly alarmed to see that he was no longer there, she pulled the apron from her waist and handed it to Ruby as she passed, the hobbit woman looked at her askingly, "I need some fresh air, I will be back shortly" the hobbit woman wasn't convinced , but Léspheria didn't have the time to reassure her, she just looked at her apologetically, turned and made her way out of the crowded common room.

As she reached the door she felt for the small belt knife that sat in her pocket, she did not know what she would find when she found the ranger and if it was trouble her small knife would be of no use to her, she looked at her short sword that sat with the weapons of the other patrons and hesitated for a second, she knew fine the rules of the inn and she hated to use her sword in these times of peace if it could be avoided, but she also knew that Vanwe would be no match for the ranger. So thinking only of the young elven woman's safety she grabbed her sword and belted it about her waist and made her way to the stable were she was sure Vanwe would be.

As she reached the stables she heard voices, she quietly slipped inside and using the ranger skills she had learnt in another age. she looked around for the voices, but before she located them she saw a dark shadow pass at the far end of the stable, she crouched behind the nearest stall, the horse next to her nickered quietly at her presence but she didn't take her sharp elven eyes off the shadows.

She could vaguely hear the conversation between Vanwe and an other woman who she could not see. she then heard the click of a stall door opening and the soft clipping of a horse being lead from the stable, the shadow moved and as it did so did she.

She saw Vanwe pass up the ladders to her meagre sleeping quarters, enough she though I tire of shadowing a shadow, she swiftly came on the shadow, her hand placed comfortably about the hilt of her sword, as she stood infront of the ranger she spoke,

"What is this woman's crime that you stalk her to her place of rest?" her usually calm and diplomatic voice now taking on a demanding voice, although not raising in volume.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]
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Old 06-29-2003, 07:54 AM   #255
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'I wonder where I am,' Droggo Underhill thought to himself.' The Green Dragon' he said as he read a sign that was hanging next to the door. Every now and then the door would open and a hobbit or two would stumble out; most looked a little tippsy like they had one too many ales.

Droggo walked through the door, almost knocking over a pair of exiting hobbits, he walked over to the corner of the room to an empty two seated table next to the fire-place. Once he sat down, a little old hobbit popped up from a third seat that was covered up with a pile of blankets.

'W-whats this?' he asked, sounding a little sleepy. 'Who are you?'

'Droggo Underhill, sir. I'll find an empty table if ya like.'

'No, no, lad, stay, stay. Lets talk, tell me of your adventures.'

'Well I don't really have any adventures. But I can tel you of how I saved an elf girl from a Cold Drake.'

At hearing the words "Cold Drake", his eyes grew big. 'Go on then, don't me all worked up and not tell me the story then.'

'Well it was a warm morning. I was walking through Mirkwood after a small breakfest. As I was walking along a trail my eyes wandered over to a nearby tree. There were these giant claw marks all down the trunk. There was a large area at the base of the tree in the dirt, like something struggled in a fight against some creature smaller but equal strength. I started to look around to see if I could find anything. When I turned a tree I found the corpse of a giant spider.

'As I walked around it to see if I could find out how it had died, it's entire body flenched causing it to jump towards me. Right when it was in mid air, I drew my sword and cut in half. I decided to try to find the creature that had killed the spider.

I went through some bushes. An hour or so later, I came across an elven girl with a scar on her head. I ran over to her to find that she was knocked out. At that moment I heard it. It was like a hoarse scream. When I looked up I saw it. The Cold Drake. It was flying staight towards me. As I drew my sword it was almost right on me. But it was to slow. My sword sliced right through it's right wing. But it hit me right in the side. As I turned holding my side, I seen that it had it had crashed into a tree.

It was either dead or knocked out, but I wasn't going to wait to find out. I walked over to the heap of bleeding un-moving creature. I took my sword, raised it and dropped it right through it's neck.

A little while later the girl recovered and recalled her tale of how she came up and found the giant spider and the Cold Drake fighting. She tried to run but the Cold Drake finished off the spider and flew after her.

We talked a little and walked down the trail until a fork came up and we walked our seperate ways'

'Well I never seen someone to take on a Cold Drake and live ta tell the tale. I've heard tales from big men who ran at the sight of one. Your pretty brave lad. Let me buy you an ale,' said the little hobbit.

'Yes I'll take a half pint of ale and get me brave friend here a pint of ale.'

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]
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Old 06-29-2003, 09:51 AM   #256
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"What is this woman's crime that you stalk her to her place of rest?" demanded Lespheria, as she came to stand before Kaldir, one hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

An ironic smile danced around the corners of Kaldir's mouth as he looked down at the
determined set of the elflady's face. My, what a lot of busybodies there are about this place, he thought to himself. "And what woman would that be, praytell?" he asked mildly. "Surely, a man may check on his horse or the disposition of his saddle."

"By skulking about in the shadows?" asked Lespheria. "What need have you to sneak up on a horse? I saw the way you watched my friend, Miss Vanwe, through the window. And now, here you are, lurking about her very doorstep."

Kaldir crossed his arms in front of him and leaned one shoulder casually against the front of the nearest stall. "Since you ask, Lady Elf," he answered. "My horse, Nico, is a temperamental beast and prone to kick." At least, the kicking part was true. "One should approach him with care."

"And, as for your friend," he continued. "She resembles an acquaintance of mine from the South. I was curious to learn her name to determine if it was she. I was hesitant to approach her directly as the last time we met was under, how shall I say it? Less than optimal circumstances."

"Since you have now obliged me with her name," he finished with a friendly wink of his right eye. "I see that I was mistaken. So, relax, my lady. Put aside your sword." He lounged away from the stall door against which he had been leaning and moved in the direction of Nico's stall. "Your little chicken is safe from me. Now, if I may see to my horse?"
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Old 06-29-2003, 01:34 PM   #257
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~*~*~* Want to be play an Elf in an RPG? *~*~*~

Here’s your chance: (click on the gold letters below)

Arien and Maikafanawen are looking for 5 more Elves to accompany them on their journey from King Thranduil’s halls in Northern Greenwood the Great (soon to be known as Mirkwood) to the southern areas of the forest, in hopes of discovering why the Shadow is falling heavier on this area.

Come check it out!!

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Old 06-29-2003, 03:51 PM   #258
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Derufin leaned heavily on Aman’s shoulders and hobbled up the stairs slowly. His ankle was on fire and already he could feel it begin to swell and stiffen. So concentrated was he on not crying out in pain, that he forgot that there were hazards and traps for the unwary that lay innocently on the steps. His foot slipped on a thin sheaf of papers filed on the next one he stepped onto and without thinking he stepped hard on his right foot to balance himself, sending a spasm of pain shooting up his leg.

He twisted and sat down hard on the step, his face pale. A line of sweat broke out along his upper lip, and he clenched his hands hard against his thighs until the fiery furor abated. When he opened his eyes again, Aman sat next to him, her eyes wide with worry. Cook had come down to see what was happening and stood on the lower step, in front of him.

She handed Aman the candle lantern she had thought to bring with her, telling her to put it up on the stairs behind her and open it wide so she could see what she was doing. Her hands went down to left his right leg gently up toward her. He winced as she did so, taking in a ragged breath and holding it.

‘Best we get you upstairs and quickly, boyo. Your ankle’s pushing hard against the leather of your boot, and if we wait much longer, we’ll have to cut it off.’

Between the two of them, she and Aman hauled the injured man up the stairs and sat him in a kitchen chair. Cook directed Aman to stand behind him and hold on firmly to the chair back. Derufin she told to get a tight grip on the edges of the chair seat and take a deep breath. With a practiced hand, she lifted his lower leg and pulled quickly and surely on his boot. It came off with an effort, followed quickly by his sock.

The ankle was puffed up and beginning to turn a lovely shade of deep purple, and his toes stuck out like fat sausages ready to burst their seams. Buttercup came running in, a roll of linen bandage in her hands.

‘Here! Miss Cami gave me this from her medicine chest, and sent this along, too.' Cook took the small pottery bottle from the girl’s outstretched hands and popped off the cork. The thick sweet aroma of poppies filled the air, and she poured a small tot of it into a spoon.

Derufin protested, but Cook was having none of his manly protestations. ‘Drink it and be quiet! I’ve got to wrap your ankle tightly and I’ll not have you passing out on me.’ She fixed him with a steely look. ‘You don’t want me to do like I did my own boys, do you?’

Aman raised her brows in question. ‘You pinch their nose tightly and when their mouth pops open you let the medicine run down the back of the throat.’

Derufin relented, and was glad of it. Soon, under the deft hands of cook, his ankle was bound, and rested on a pillow on a chair in front of him. Aman returned, breathing hard, from the icehouse near the spring. Cook had given her a small leather pouch to fil with ice, and now Aman placed it gently over his ankle.

Buttercup brought a round of ale for all of them, and they sat round the table, drinking in silence. Cook, ever one to get to the bottom of things, sat her mug on the table and looked at the both of them.

‘What in blue blazes went on down there? I remember that contraption as being large, and somewhat unwieldy, but a man of your size could handle it easily. Just how did it come to fall on you?’

Aman looked quickly at Derufin, then lowered her eyes to her ale, studying the rings of foam on the sides of it. Derufin, for his part, said nothing, only shrugged his shoulders, his eyes sliding quickly to where the Innkeeper sat, and away again. Cook's eyebrows raised so high, Buttercup thought they might soon meet her grizzled hairline. Her eyes narrowed, and she spoke firmly to both of them.

‘If you have any hope that anything but cold rations will be served to you and to the guests in the Common Room tonight and tomorrow and the day after that. Then you’ld both better come clean with me.’ She stood, crossing her arms across her ample bosom, and looked from one to the other.

Derufin’s stomach chose at that time to pick up the protest of its still empty condition, and a great rumbling issued forth. He smiled ruefully at Cook and placed a hand on his gut as if to shush it. ‘Well, the both of you it seems have got me in a hard positon.’ He sat up straighter in the chair, and spoke hesitantly.

‘Now, I’m not sure what it was exactly that caused me to turn while I was taking down the juicer. I didn’t really see it. But . . . behind me, to the right of the stairs, in the shadows, something made a rustling, scurrying noise. And when I turned at the sound, something fleeting moved there . . . in the darkness . . .’
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Old 06-29-2003, 07:24 PM   #259
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Silmaril

Vanwe was frozen were she stood as a voice she recognised and another she didn't floated up from below. Lespheria sounded grim and displeased, but it was not that which set an icy column of dread in her stomach. The man's voice, and that which she sensed from him, was as if the very voice of doom. It rolled through her head as she stood in the darkness of the stable loft, still as a statue and pale as marble.

He had her name. Vanwe pressed a clammy hand over her mouth and shrank to the floorboards so as not to make a sound in her fear. He recognised her and he had a name. It was not the first time she had encountered this. Memories of what had unfolded in another place, where she had been recognised and her name known whirled like autumn leaves on the wind, scattering through her. The image of the rope at Kaldir's belt flared in her mind's eye. She would be lucky, this time, if all he did was throw her in a cell.

She could not stay where she was. In the loft she was trapped if he found her. Nor could she flee into the isolation of the lands around her, alone with noone to see. Perhaps he did not yet know what her name meant, and would cast her aside. It was possible, she desperately thought. He could only recognise her name if he was a mercenary familiar with the South, and those fled from it.

It would not be the first time they had sent a mercenary to fetch her back. Vanwe weighed her decision. She could flee, and abandon any hope of a home such that she had here at the inn. Or she could remain, face the risk that Kaldir was a mercenary and endure life hiding from who and what she was. Certainly, once news that the daughter of Naiore Dannan came to the knowledge of those at the inn, the stable loft would no longer be hers and Derufin would not smile upon her. Noone could, once they knew and noone had.

It had been a few short, and often bewildering days at the inn, but it had been the closest thing to safety that she had come to. Noone had ever intervened on her behalf before either, like Lespheria presently was. Vanwe was baffled as to why she did so now, but the fact remained that she felt a warmth in that knowledge that flight into the wilderness could not provide. Her decision made, Vanwe slowly stood.

Having spent her life up until now trying to avoid even being seen or heard by those around her, Vanwe had developed remarkable abilities to walk and indeed run silently and swiftly. She negotiated the boards of the stable loft carefully, distributing her weight as she moved so as to not set off a creak. Equally slowly, Vanwe crept down the ladder. The sound of Kaldir and Lespheria's conversation grew louder, and her heart thudded all the more faster.

Contending now with the straw, dry and capable of betraying her presence no matter how careful she was, Vanwe ghosted across that with the barest of rustling as she made her way to the door at the back of the stable. Guiltily she crept through where Derufin lodged, feeling the intruder pushed by need into a place she had no right to be. In the stalls, the horses were restless, smelling her as she passed.

"Your chicken is safe," Kaldir was saying. Chickens did not live long, as Vanwe well knew. Her life depended on getting out of the stables. Should she be returned to the village, she knew with a certainty that she would die one way or another. Her heart ached at the very prospect. Almost lightheaded with her desperation, Vanwe extended a hand towards the back door and pushed it open.

She half expected Kaldir to magically appear beyond the threshold, but she could hear him make for his horse instead. Vanwe put on a burst of speed as she darted out the door and ran headlong away from the stables. For the second time that night, she almost collided with Lespheria.

"Inside," she panted in a voice drenched with pleading. Lespheria turned a worried face back to the stables, as Vanwe pulled at her arm. When the Elven woman at last conceeded, Vanwe all but dragged her up the stairs to the inn and through the door. The light and warmth of the room hit her face in a shock, leaving her somewhat dazed.

"This time," said Lespheria as she placed a firm hand on Vanwe's shoulder, "you will tell me what is going on." She fixed Vanwe with a stern glance, and Vanwe nodded mutely. She allowed herself to be drawn away from the door, but looked back over her shoulder. At some point, she would have to go back, if only for the braid, for she could not sleep in the kitchens. Kaldir was still there. It was to that room Lespheria towed her now, and found it quiet. Cook and Aman and Buttercup, for starters, were absent.

Lespheria sat Vanwe on a stool, drew one for herself, and regarded the other's face steadily. Vanwe's eyes held a bright gleam, sharply blue and lit by fear and something else. Her skin was pale, cheeks flushed, and she watched the maiden hurridley clench hands in her lap, noting their tremor.

Vanwe opened her mouth only to find Lespheria held up a hand to forestall her.
"This time, the whole truth mark you. What, in the name of Elbereth the Fair, is going on Vanwe?"

Vanwe's mouth closed, and her head drooped a little. The gleam of tears caught the kitchen's light.

"Please, Lady Lespheria, you cannot tell anyone," Vanwe begged. Shame and something far deeper than fear swirled in her face as she spoke. Vanwe waited for Lespheria to nod her assent, warily, and decided to trust that rather than her chances in the wild with pursuit hot after her.

"I am a runaway, from Harad," she began. Slowly, in a voice that halted when the telling became heavy and difficult, Vanwe admitted to what she could. She told of how she was to remain in Harad, never to leave, and how she had left because of the hardships of living amongst people who feared and reviled you, without kin or parents, in the harsh Haradian Waste. She told of her life, of the brutality that comes from hatred.

Yet whilst Vanwe was in the telling, there were some things she did not, could not release. The name of her mother, was one, and that of her father, for Lespheria may know of either one. Nor could she go into express detail of her day to day life. Carrying the memories was hard enough. She gave sparse details about village life for her, yet what lingered behind the words was not missed by Lespheria'a perceptive mind.

"But who are your parents," she asked when Vanwe fell silent. Vanwe shook her head.

"That I cannot know, yet," she replied. It was in one sense true. She did not truly know who Naiore and Menecin were, aside from names and half-remembered tales of two Ages since passed. Lespheria fixed Vanwe with a stern glare.

"I know only that I am of Finarfin's kin, but not what such things mean. It is just a name," Vanwe offered, honestly, to placate Lespheria.

"And what of him, the ranger," Lespheria asked. Vanwe instinctively looked in the direction of the stables, as if she would see through walls if she could.

"I do not know him, but I have learnt to be cautious and wary of most things and people, even my own kindred. Fear is never more than a hair's breadth away. I hate it," Vanwe said in a whisper. She met Lespheria's gaze in a flash of fire.

"But I will not run! I will stand now. I am sorry to have been so difficult and wearisome, Lady Lespheria, and I thank you solemnly for all you have done. I must face my fear, and you have shown me much in how to go about it," Vanwe said. She did not relish what her words meant. She had to stand and face Kaldir, and anyone else, if she was to claim this place as her home. She had to tightly wrap the very things she had been desperate enough to run away in order to find, bury them deep. Though Vanwe did not know it, her hope was perhaps in vain for the past could never be hidden and she would in time have to face that as surely as she had to face Kaldir. But the painful lessons of the past could not yet be shaken. Vanwe knew what Naiore Dannan's name did.

"I am sorry to have brought you trouble, Lady Lespheria," Vanwe said softly. Telling of the whole truth would only bring that and more upon those at the inn.

Lespheria, Aman, Derufin, Cook and so many others had been untouched by the poison of Naiore Dannan. Vanwe would not willingly change that, especially after Lespheria's defence. She owed her at least that much. Vanwe felt a wave of fatigue wash over her, and lifted a hand to push her hair back from her face so that she could meet Lespheria's gaze. She would not run and she would not harm those so generous to her. Her shame was hers alone and she had borne it alone all her life. It was heavy, but there was little she could do about the realities of life.
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Old 06-29-2003, 11:43 PM   #260
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Sting

The Dwarf stopped the tears as he looked around. The place returned to normal as he pulled a worn, black hood over his tear-drenched face.

He went to the bar and sat, re-thinking the previous ten minutes. "My brother has died, and so has my life-long friend. What is there left for me?" he moaned.

"There is nothing. I must go, and be with my brother and my companion. I will go into the Misty Mountains, and I will die with honor. I will die fighting the fiercest of storms."

The Dwarf was crazed. He knew nothing right and sacred now. He was angry and dumbstruck, like a dragon deep inside of him had been awoken.

He stood up straight, fire in his eyes. He ordered a drink, and then another, and gulping them all down he stomped out of the Green Dragon to sit outside and weep.

[ June 30, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]
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Old 06-30-2003, 02:22 AM   #261
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Madea had sat, writing in her journal for what seemed like hours to her, she was getting very lonely in her corner.

The door of the inn opened, the familliar figure of a tall man entered, he was covered head to toe in a long dark green cloak, underneath this the garb of the Dol Amroth guards could be seen as he walked. Madea sat paralised with fear for a minute. The man stood in the middle of the floor for a while. The girl pushed herself into the deepest recesses of her cloak.

The man walked up to her table. "Madea?". Her heart stopped. "No, sir, i know not of whom you speak, perhaps you would ask the innkeeper i am but a traveller." she said. "Come now! Madea, its me, dont you recognise an old friend? Besides, what traveller is so well spoken as yourself?" she pulled the cloak from her black head of hair.

"Hathorn! Is that really you?" she asked with a sigh of relief. "Yes, look we havnt much time. I left as soon as I heard. Your father bribed some farmers you befriended in Rohan, he knows where you are. Look, we need to hide somewhere, at least until they have gone from the inn." the man replied.

Then smiling said "Looks like you will turn seventeen in freedom." Madea looked sharply at him as they went out the back door. "Dont you want to know why ive gone?"
Hathorn looked intently at her, as they stood at the door waiting. "I know. And I have come to offer you an alternative, I will talk to you about that later."

Madea stopped, "What alternative do I have?!" she cried. "If you must hear it then-" he said slightly annoyed. "You know im fond of you, and you me to some degree i suspect." Madea's eyes widened "go on" Hathorn frowned. "The man you father wants you to marry is a fool, but you no doubt know that yes?"

"yes"
"Then marry me." he said turning to her. "What?" said Madea. "You heard me." he said. "It will be fine, as long as we are friends, and it will rescue you from what awaits you, now later, quiet." he said silencing her.

[ June 30, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]
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Old 06-30-2003, 03:21 PM   #262
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"I know there is a bounty on my head," she explained quietly. "Just as there is for all of my tribe... or what is left of it. It goes back to the war and before..... Please sit."

She gestured to the chair I was in earlier. I sat quietly, seeming not able to take my eyes from Benia.

'As you wish m'lady.' I said as a concerned look came upon her face as she continued speaking,

"Of late, I have been careless and too quick to trust, but my instincts tell me you are a man of honor."

I looked at her closely, for if she knew that which I had done against her people in the war... well she may think otherwise. But something told me there was much more to her than what was before me, so I said,

"I try to do what is right, m'lady,"

I could see Benia was pleased to see that I did not take her and try to return her for the bounty, and I was touched she trusted me enough with such information. I was intrigued by the direction the conversation was taking and her slight smile was both assured and apprehensive. Her melodic voice went on,

"While I feel I have intruded on your kindness too much already, I find I have no choice but to ask one more favor of you."

I had no idea of what she would ask, but as we searched each other's eyes, I could see much distress in the lady. After a brief moment, which seemed to me longer than it was, she broke the gaze to speak again. She spoke of her kin and of one being in the hands of the remnents, which was what the King's men called the sporadic bands of holdouts, usually led by Captains under Sauron who wished not to give up power over people. As I listened to her, my eyes remained locked on hers...

"As you probably know, before I fell on the stairs, I was preparing to depart the Shire on a rather urgent journey."

She went on about her impending trek.

"It seems that one of my uncles, someone we had thought long dead, still lives. My mother's eldest brother, Sahlman, is still being held by a renegade group of tribesmen who remain loyal to the memory of the Eye. My uncle is old now and not in his right mind, from what they say, but he is still my kinsman."

I listened intently to her story, nodding and finally saying to her,

'I understand, m'lady, but what is it you wish me to do?'

I left this open for her and was curious what she would ask. If for a moment on my journey south I could do battle with some remnents, it would bring a sense of accomplishment, and also to serve the interests of the Lady Nightshade. She looked down at her hands for a bit, then her eyes looked up as she leaned forward to speak softly,

"Merely deliver a message. I was to meet a small party of my fellow tribesmen. We intended to journey south to the desert and locate this tribe of renegades. We had hoped to attempt a rescue, but now... now such a journey is beyond me..."

A sad look came over her as she looked at her ankle, and I went on,

'And you wish me to find your tribesmen and let them know that you cannot accompany them.'

I knew the chances would be slim in finding her uncle, it would be a long time before I would arrive there, and I would still have to conduct my business. I didn't think I could serve the lady in such a manner so I said.

'While I have a familiarity and, indeed, a fondness for the desertlands, the desert is quite a long way from The Shire. You ask quite a lot of an old Ranger.'

She looked at me with those dark eyes and smiled as she said,

"Oh, no, that would be a favor indeed! Actually, my father's people are Breefolk. All I ask is that a message be delivered to them in Bree. They know how to contact my mother's people. If I do not appear as expected and send no word of my delay, they will fear me lost as well. You see my situation."

' I see.
I said, then looked at the door before asking her,

'But what of Kaldir, the Ranger downstairs?'

She put her safety in being among the Shirefolk and her own wiles, but I knew that if Kaldir really wanted her he would have little obstacle. But maybe Kaldir's knowing I favored the Lady Nightshade, he would find other opportunity? I looked back at Benia as she met my gaze with a look that penetrated me. It seemed awhile when she asked,

"Will you help me?"

This question has gotten me into more scrapes since the war than any other, yet I felt the desire to help her, so I answered,

'I will help thee m'lady, even if it were to go to the deserts again. For whilst in the north this winter, the fell winter winds and snows gave me a chill to the bones, and I remembered dweating in the desert with the sand flies biting, and it was a good memory I longed for once again. But to seek out a renegade band without the King's help... well, it could go bad.'

I saw she was looking at her ankle, and also the aroma of the cooking for the evening meal was seeping up through the room. Fresh loaves of bread I could make out, and I asked Benia,

'Would you like assistance downstairs to partake in the evening meal?'

She nodded and offered her hand and I helped her up and supported her. Saying to her quietly as we started on our way,

I will go and pass the message you wish to be known. But can you tell me where in Bree would he be found? I am sure Barliman will know if he can be bothered, but if you know of where I could start, I would greatly appreciate the knowing.'

We paused at the door as she whispered to me,

"There is a metalsmith near the west gate, not far from the Prancing Pony where the knowledge of iron has served well some of my people, for though they once worked in the smithies of Sauron, now they work free. You will find them there."

I nodded as she seemed to want to keep the knowledge limited, and I reached for the door of the room. Getting the door open and making our way down the stairs one step at a time, I looked about and could see that Kaldir had left, so it would be appropriate to seat Benia there.

'Kaldir, the one who I suspect seeks you, has left, though I sense he is not far. Have a seat m'lady and you will be well watched and tended to.'

I made sure Benia was set comfortable in the common room with a chair and a knitted blanket to support her leg in comfort, letting her ankle heal.

With her now sitting comfortable, I took her hand and with a light kiss to the back of it, I took my leave of her, letting her know where I would be for the night if she should have need of me before I left, and I turned to leave the common room.

I could see as I was on my way out the young Gondorian woman who had been enjoying her ale was writing on a book of parchments. I could see little of what she wrote as I walked by, but could tell her easy flowing script was that of one well-schooled. When another came into the Inn and recognized her despite her seeming attempt to not be recognized, it was apparent she was a fugitive. Not one that Kaldir wished apparently as she was well observed earlier that afternoon, and I wondered if this man was really a friend, or was maybe bribed to bring her back to her father as well? The words about marriage caused me to smile as I checked my belts and pouches to see if I was again ready for travel. Smelling and seeing the bread being baked for the evening meal, I offered to buy a loaf for myself for part of my trail ration.

Having procuring some from the cook for a fair sum, I took the wrap and went over to the door, opening it but not stepping out. The westering sun glistened as it lit the common room, and I could see Blackveil calmly grazing upon the far hill where I had slept the night before. But now I could hear words in a distance and so I decided to investigate. I stepped out and headed toward the stables where the words were coming from. Pausing outside the side of the stable to listen, I recognized the voices as that of Kaldir, Vanwe, and the elf Lespheria. Much was at hand, and I decided to watch how it all played out....

[ July 01, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]
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Old 07-01-2003, 08:24 AM   #263
Hilde Bracegirdle
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Sting

After Kaldir had left, and hearing no signs of further distress from Benia, Gilly felt she could relax a little with Myrtle. She had wished the ranger and his rope good riddance dismissing the thought of him with a flick of her wrist. Perhaps he had only stopped to refresh himself, she tried to tell herself while with out doubt she knew that it was not so. The lights and the comforting smell of supper easily obscured the shadow the ranger had cast on her heart, but the hobbit had not noticed the departure of Vanwe that had sparked his interest, or ever-vigilant Léspheria follow shortly after….

She found her neighbor settled at a table near the kitchen sampling a plate of Shire cheeses, her reward for helping out Miss Vinca. Before long they were deep into the finer points of cheese making and comparing tips that the old timers had handed down, when a crash was heard down in the cellar along with emphatic yet mercifully garbled shouts. The two hobbits were speculating on the probable cause of such a clamor when Aman darted past followed shortly after by the plump matronly figure of Cook.

By this time Gilly was convinced that an animal had found it’s way into the cellar, but Myrtle disagreed saying that it sounded as though a shelf of preserves had undoubtedly tipped over. They proceeded to analyze the character and qualities of each link in the chain of noises until they got to the oaths at which point Derufin emerged supported by Aman and Cook, his boot in one hand. The man was in obvious pain, with the whole of his foot swollen and discolored. Gilly felt ashamed of her part of the discussion, and vaguely wished that the strange elf maid were there to help ease this discomfort, but the situation seemed well taken care of.

“Beautiful and strong as trees these men are, but uncommonly weak at the root it seems,” Myrtle observed dryly.
“How is Miss Benia coming along?”

“As well as to be expected, I suppose. But it is time that I take my leave to go check on her.” Gilly said excusing herself. “I hope to see you again before you leave, but if not please reassure Carl that I have not become a wayward wife, just needed here at the moment.”

“Yes, I’ll tell him that you’ve spent the day trying to find out about strange men!” she said laughing.

“Perhaps sending a note would be better,” Gilly rejoined smiling and wondering what amount of gossip she was going to have to face when she again returned to her neighborhood.

Going back toward the desert lady’s rooms, she saw that Benia, with the ranger Silvanis’ help, had descended the steps and was now resting at the very table Silvanis had earlier occupied with the scarred man. It was a good choice with access to the outside door and Benia’s rooms, but it was also the one Kaldir had seemed to prefer. Seeing that Silvanis had taken his leave, Gilly approached her friend, “Is this seat taken Miss Benia?” she ventured.

Benia shook her head, “No the seat is not taken, would you care to join me?”

“Yes I would, but grant me one moment.” Gilly dragged away the chair that had been Kaldir’s exchanging it for another at a nearby table, and returned offering no explanation. She plunked down and looked Benia in the eye with a knitted brow, “So tell me, need I be worried about Mr. Silvanis? I have had word that he knows of the other ranger, though they do seem quiet different.”

“Knows of Kaldir?” Benia said softly to herself remembering Silvanis words to her,

'The hooded man I believe seeks you, and I believe for a bounty price somewhere. Be wary m'lady.'

Yet here she sat in defiance, a bird with a broken wing. “Yes, I believe that he might know him, but not closely. He too has given me warning.”

Just then the door opened and Léspheria entered with wild-eyed Vanwe in tow. Léspheria caught the Gilly’s puzzled expression as she guided her charge toward the kitchen, but had more urgent questions of her own that needed to be answered first.

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Old 07-01-2003, 05:17 PM   #264
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Sting

The kitchen was silent for a while as Lespheria sorted through what Vanwe had at last revealed, and also what she had not. The crackle of the fires seemed a little loud in that silence. Vanwe was both tired and on edge. Her thoughts were greasy, slipping around as she tried to sort through their tangle. She settled with the realisation that she needed another candle. It was simple and achievable and she was pleased to be able to do it. Never mind that the candle would hold back some darkness, should Kaldir haunt it. Never mind that there was a darkness in him and also her than a candle was little use against. Vanwe pushed up from her stool.

"I have kept you so long. Truly, all my thanks and my apologies, Lady Lespheria. I will not try your good will or patience again as I have this night," Vanwe said in a quiet voice. Painfully aware that she had no right to intrude as she already had, she curtsied.

Head bowed, Vanwe retrieved a candle from the pantry and toyed with the urge to remain there. She narrowly tossed it aside and emerged to face Lespheria again.

"I owe you much, and will do all I can to return your generosity. I am lost in this world, but not without anything to offer," she said with a faint smile. All Vanwe had to do is determine what that was. Lespheria watched the Elf maiden leave the kitchen, some riddles answered and more not. Vanwe looked around the commonroom at a mix of faces that were now familiar and some that were not.

Benia had arrived, and sat with Gilly, Vanwe mustered another smile for both, another swirl of thoughts breezing through her mind. Unlike Kaldir, Vanwe had sensed no lingering shadow within Benia. She was not the danger that Vanwe had thought her to be earlier. Still, not all was clear about the woman from the South. No matter how much Vanwe might wished to have known more, she remembered her place. Benia was far above her station, and a mere ward with the shame of defying her masters and leaving had no place to question Benia.

Vanwe bowed, something she could rightfully do, to Benia and rose to meet Gilly's openly curious stare. All this secrecy, Vanwe thought, how lonely it can be. Her respects paid as they should be, Vanwe set her candle to another to light it and walked to the front of the inn. Once outside, she was reluctant to approach the stables. She stood, holding a candle, and gazed at the building.

Sooner or later she'd have to go back. Vanwe walked down the steps and stood in the yard that the mathom sale had filled only hours ago. The horse hitched to the post swished her tail at her in reproach. Vanwe looked at it guiltily. By rights she should have stabled it by now. Yet, she would not just yet. Not until she was sure she was able to stand as she may need to do in that stable.

Vanwe looked skyward again, and caught the movement of another. She held Silvanis' gaze a moment and then looked back at the stable. Feeling exposed in the open yard, Vanwe walked away towards the well, candle a bright spot in her hand that cast a gentle light over her telltale hair. She looked back once, over her shoulder, towards Silvanis. She reached the well and set her candle upon the stone rim.

"Stand, not run," she whispered to the well as she wound a strand of hair around her fingers and waited either for her courage to return or Silvanis to follow.
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Old 07-02-2003, 01:26 AM   #265
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Silmaril

Madea and Hathorn were still waiting out the back of the inn. Madea was still contemplating the offer which her friend had made her. "Hathorn." she began "but.. but.. I dont love you..." she said poulling on his arm. He just laughed at her. "Nor i! But at least then you will be free, under my roof." Madea was still wide eyed.

"But dont you want to marry someone else, someone who loves you?" she frowned. "No, not at all, i dont care for that emotional stuff, all I need is someone who thinks alike, and are we so very different you and I?" He had a point. "No", she said "Thankyou Hathorn, You are a true friend, but where will we live?"

Hathron smiled. "Minas Tirith, ive transferred from the Dol Amroth guards to the city guard. Now.. keep youself down." said Hathorn as a group of riders rode down into the yards of The Green Dragon. One stopped, "Hathorn! what are you doing here?" Hathorn ran out to greet them. "The General sent me, told me Madea could be here. He was wrong though, they havent seen her in about a month." he lied.

"If you say so, goodbye" they said and rode off. "That was the most... that was the... thanks Hathorn." she stammered at her luck of escaping. "Now lets go back inside." he said taking her arm.
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Old 07-02-2003, 11:24 AM   #266
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Sting

Alatariel left her room, everything back in its place as if she was never there in the first place. She snuck out of the room and out into the main section of the inn. Standing there momentarily, she scanned the inn one last time. Running her eyes along every living thing in the inn, her eyes saw something they did not expect to see, it was the hobbit lad, in the darkest corner, the very back seat. Their eyes meet once again, making Alatariel feel comforted once more, but she must not forget about the stallion, he was badly injured, he needed help. She knew the elf maiden could help him, but she feared it was not enough. She turned away from the hobbit lad, and continued out of the inn. It was painful to her just to leave him there, she needed to talk to him, but the stallion needed her, she could not leave him.

Continuing to the stables, she quickened her paste. The stallion whinnied at her sight, she found some apples in the back room of the stables, and feed them to the stallion who took them thankfully. 'Its time to go,' she said to him, leading him out of the stall. She walked beside him out of the stables and out into the open, the sun shining on his black scarred coat. His scratches began to look worse. She couldn't ride him there, that was obvious, but she had to get there soon. She started a song. An expressionless song as several of her other songs have been before. She sang for several minutes, the stallion became restless, shifting on his hooves. There was a rustle in the bushes to their left.

Suddenly the white mare appeared; she had a sapphire pendant around her neck. Alatariel took the pendant off the mare, and put it carefully around the stallion's neck,' You'll need this more than Aranel.'

She got on top of Aranel, the black stallion right next to them. They began to ride away from the inn, as fast as the black stallion could ride. 'I regret to leave you, young hobbit lad, but I just have to do this,' she said.
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Old 07-02-2003, 12:08 PM   #267
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Sting

Once more seated in the common room of the inn, Benia looked around for Gilly who quickly joined her at the table that had only a few minutes earlier, unbeknownst to Benia, been occupied by Silvanis and the bounty hunter, Kaldir. The situation with her ankle both frustrated and irritated Benia more than she cared to admit. She felt helpless and tethered to one spot, two sensations which she had seldom experienced before in her lifetime. She watched as Gilly inexplicably switched out the vacant chair at their table for one from a different table.

They talked for a moment of Silvanis and Kaldir, but, all the while, Benia's misgivings continued to grow. She had confided a good deal in Silvanis, a man she barely knew and only a day earlier had feared to be a bounty hunter himself. Now, her doubts tormented her. Why had she given him her family's location in Bree? On the other hand, there were no Nightshades in Bree other than her relations. All anyone would have to do is inquire in the town as to where to find them, and they would be found. On the other hand, while her father's family knew how to contact the hidden ones on her mother's side, there were many buffers and layers of secrecy in between. Few would be able to track the tribesmen by way of the Nightshades. She breathed a little easier, but still felt troubled in her heart. This had been an ill-fated venture nearly from the start.

She looked across at Gilly, who was watching her with a furrowed brow. Benia smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Gilly," she said. "Everything I have done since getting to the Shire seems to be a mistake. I have been too quick to trust, too quick to confide in strangers, and now I find myself trapped here, when the best thing I could do would be to flee. But, in my current state, Mr. Kaldir would be on me like a wolf on an injured rabbit."

Gilly nodded sympathetically, thinking of the scarred man's wolflike eyes. It was an apt metaphor. "What will you do?" she asked.

Benia shrugged. "I don't know. Wait, I suppose."

She followed Gilly's eyes as the hobbit watched the two elves, Vanwe and Lespheria, move across the room into the kitchen. "There is more to those two than meets the eye," she said softly.

Gilly nodded again. "I was thinking the same thing, the one of them so calm and brave, the other so, well... so shy and frightened and volatile all at once. She reminds me of wren or a robin, or something, when there are hawks about."

Benia smiled impishly and gave her a sideways glance. "Kind of like me?"

"No," Gilly answered immediately, but she gave Benia a long, thoughtful stare, taking in the silvery sparkle of the desert woman's facial jewelry and the careful detail of her kohl-lined eyes. "Not like you at all," she continued after a moment, remembering Benia's father. "There is a lot of Jack Nightshade in you, as if wherever you go, that is where you intended to be. When I am around Vanwe, it always seems as though she is balancing on a knife's edge."

Benia nodded, considering Gilly's words. Just then, Vanwe reappeared, passing through the common room on the way to the stableyard with a candle in her hand. Noticing Benia and Gilly watching her, Vanwe bowed before moving out the door. Benia smiled and inclined her head slightly in response. "How precarious," she murmurred. "Perhaps she and I have more in common than I would have guessed. I hope she will be careful out there in the darkness."
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Old 07-02-2003, 02:55 PM   #268
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Sting

Out in the stable, Kaldir picked up a brush and curry comb from where someone had left them in his horse's stall and began to groom Nico's dappled gray coat. He did the work by habit, as he had done a hundred or so times before, his thoughts occupied elsewhere.

As he worked the horse's sleek coat from neck to tail, Kaldir's mind raced ahead to the coming hours of darkness, trying to decide which course of action he should follow. He envisioned the inn's grounds as a chessboard, the players in his particular drama as the chesspieces. It helped him to assess the threat or vulnerability of each player as an individual. With himself cast mentally as the black knight, he saw the two elfladies, Vanwe and Lespheria, as the white bishops. They were quick in their movement and dangerous to a degree, but limited in their power. Hanasian, or Silvanis as he called himself now, was the white knight. Mobile and no doubt as physically strong as Kaldir himself, he presented the largest threat. The desert woman with her broken ankle had been reduced to a pawn, slow-moving and vulnerable, if she could be separated from the protection of the others. As for her hobbit friend... he wavered there, unable to decide if she should be cast as a pawn or a rook. Finally, he decided she would be a white rook. It was always better to overestimate the opposition than to be caught ill-prepared.

Between his two possible targets, Vanwe or the desert woman, Kaldir decided to wait and see who would provide him with the best opportunity. Sometimes, on the chessboard, it was easier to capture a careless bishop than a cautious pawn. While Vanwe, as the daughter of Naiore Dannan, would bring the higher price if delivered to the right buyer, the desert woman, Benia, as he believed she was called, was of more interest to him personally. He had always been partial to her particular kind of exotic beauty. It would be a pity to kill her, although, ideally, that would be the easiest thing to do. With Vanwe, he would have to deliver her alive, but with Benia, all he really needed was her hands. The intricate clan markings tattooed on her palms would be enough proof of her capture to allow him to collect the bounty. He smiled to himself. This tattooing of women was an odd custom, but it certainly made his job easier.

He finished with the grooming and exited the stall, planning to return to the common room, as it would be easier to track the movements of the others from there. He had gone but a few steps when he caught from the corner of his eye, the sight of a lone figure standing by the well. It was Vanwe. She had apparently just placed a candle on the edge of the well, and stood there in its light, twisting a strand of hair absently through her fingers. Melting unseen back into the shadows of the stable, Kaldir followed her gaze to where Silvanis stood just outside the front door of the inn.
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Old 07-03-2003, 08:23 PM   #269
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"How precarious," Benia murmured. "Perhaps she and I have more in common than I would have guessed. I hope she will be careful out there in the darkness."

“And so do I, walking on a knife’s edge is best done in daylight! Do you think that she means to leave?”

“Leave to go where? I fear she is as rootless as I am.”

“Miss Benia,” Gilly began after a few moments. “I am so very upset that your visit has resulted in this unfortunate twist, if you’ll pardon the expression.” The hobbit lowered her eyes. “ I feel as if I am the cause of it all really. If you’d had been lodged at my home, as you should have, you’d have been safer I’ll wager, though a mite cramped. Now you have elves, dwarves and all manner of folk seeing you in this lamentable condition, and who knows where chance news of you will spread…Bree, West along the road, even South past Sarn Ford.” Gilly’s shoulders drooped at the thought. She began picking at a rough spot in the pine table, while inwardly enumerating how things could have been vastly different, uncomfortable perhaps but safer.

Benia’s expression was softened with understanding when Gilly looked up again. The desert woman reached over and with a graceful tattooed hand and took the hobbit’s in hers, gently regarding her friend with amber eyes.

“Dear Gilly! Please don’t hold yourself accountable for this misfortune. These complexities have dogged my footsteps whichever road I am on, or place I choose to lodge in for many years now. And as you yourself said wherever I go, that is where I intended to be” She paused to gage her friend’s reaction. “Besides, you don’t seriously think you can hide someone like me in your cozy Bywater alley?” As she spoke the fine chain of tiny silver coins swayed slightly. “Times have changed since we were children, and it is no longer unthinkable that foreigners might be abroad in the Shire, even a wolf, and your neighbors will be watching for them. No, I could not have hidden myself there. Be at ease. I would not have.”

“I imagine then we must deal with the problems at hand, such as supper!” Gilly said brightening. “You’ve got to keep up your strength. If you have to resort to Old Jack’s sword you should be able to lift it at least!”

[ July 06, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]
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Old 07-04-2003, 08:00 AM   #270
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Awrygan quietly pushed the door open, but despite his best efforts it still creaked; it was a familiar and heartwarming sound and he slid through the opening like a wraith, his black clothes enveloping him. He looked around the Inn, seeing several familiar faces, but mostly new ones. He had heard of several changes at the Inn from various strangers he had met on his most recent travels. He considered finding whoever was in charge and asking about a room, but decided instead to wait by the fire and think for a time. He was planning a bit of a longer stay this time around.

He brushed past several patrons and found what he somewhat childishly considered "his" seat, a small stool by the corner of the fireplace. Sitting down he wrapped his cloak around his dark features and pulled out his pipe. Reaching into his pocket he discovered that he was nearly out of tobacco. List item #1 he groused to himself. To further complicate matters he was low on funds.

He watched the small flames and embers of the early evening fire dance together. Soon, he guessed, someone would begin throwing the larger logs on in preparation for the outside darkness. He sat absently with the pipe in one corner of his mouth, running the scarred lines in one of his hands with the fingers of the other. A wanderer's hands are like the paths he has taken, the words of his father echoed quietly in his head.

He traced the bizarre scar he had given himself on the left side of his face. His joints cracked and he remembered how nice a bath and a bed would feel. A breeze blew in through the nearby window and ran across his face. He thought of the family he had once had, and was soon asleep.
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Old 07-04-2003, 11:01 AM   #271
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The night was growing late, and it seemed more of the Inn's customers had stayed later than usual. Midnight had come and gone some time ago, but still quite a fair few remained. There was, of course, always the rowdy bunch; tonight it was a group of hobbits who were celebrating Eru only knows what- Aman doubted that, if asked, they would be able to tell her themselves- and had been getting thoroughly drunk all night in this cause. Aman smiled as she thought of Derufin- more than one of these would be in a state as bad as the stablemaster had been.

"Gentlemen, if we could start clearing up now, I'm sure many of you have lovely wifes who will be wondering where you are," Aman's voice was business-like, but she was smiling. At the last sentence, a cheer went up and several almost empty glasses were raised unsteadily in the direction of the red-faced hobbit in the middle, who wore a paticularly outrageous bright green waistcoat. Aman grinned- stag night then.

"Well, y'see, Miss Pio..." Aman let the mistake pass as she gently pushed the hobbit who had fallen against her upright and, taking his arm and that of another, began to lead them outside. "Y'see, Bill here, he's about to mistake that make...I mean, that mistake make...maybe..."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Rumpo!" Aman laughed. She knew Rumpo Brandybuck, this hobbit, moderately well, for he had been a regular in Pio's time, before he himself got married, and still popped in occasionally. Rumpo appeared confused by this.

"Pemisticsic? Whassat?"

"Never mind," Aman patiently helped another few hobbits to their feet firmly, and slowly, the crowd began to make their unsteady way towards the door. After they had left, the Rohirrim Innkeeper watched them staggering away unsteadily down the road, and soon a ragged, good natured chorus rose up from them, of something that sounded like a bawdy version of 'The Wizard and the Hedgehog' but with half the words missing. Smiling and shaking her head, Aman turned back into the Inn, stifling a yawn. At this rate, she wasn't going to be able to go to bed at all. Wiping her eyes, she remained otherwise outwardly alert, and clapped her hands, standing at the front of the room, letting her voice carry throughout the common room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Inn is closing for the night now. It's late, and if you're not staying the night, you will need to start on your way home- 'tis a fine starry night, don't worry."

There was a murmered assent, and a few groups stood, shaking hands over tables formally, or patting one another on the back and embracing, or simply staggering away into the night with a good natured "g'night to Aman. Still a few groups remained though- sober, secretive looking ones, glancing around and speaking even more urgently and furtively. Aman would deal with them in a minute, but first she needed to uproot the various people, mainly weary travellers, who had simply fallen asleep where they sat. She approached one young man, clothed in rather dishevelled black clothing, who had slumped across the table, asleep. The firelight played on his tired face, dancing over his cheeks and lighting the jagged scar on one cheek. He looked peaceful when asleep, and Aman had the feeling that this young man could do with a room, certainly, although she was loath to wake him up when he looked so peaceful. It was a good thing there were at least spare rooms now, though.

"Excuse me, sir..." Aman tried, a little tenatively. The man didn't stir and she repeated this, a little louder. When this too passed without any movement, she laid a hand on one arm lightly and carefully, shaking the man lightly, then stepping back prudently- she had recieved blows before from men waking from dreams, or from grumpy ones who resented being awoken. The young man jerked awake and peered at Aman, and she cut in quickly, as he looked ready to fall asleep again. "It is past closing time, sir. You're obviously tired- would you like a room for the night? Have you a horse that you wish to be stabled for the night?"
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Old 07-04-2003, 12:56 PM   #272
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After Cook had placed a poultice on his ankle, and re-wrapped it for support, Derufin declared himself fit enough, he though,t to make it back to his quarters. ‘Just find me a cane,’ he directed Buttercup. ‘There were several in the mathom sale, surely not all of them have gone.’

Cook put a plate of food in front of him and insisted that he eat, take the sleeping powder she had given him in a twist of paper when he got back to his quarters, and give his leg a healing rest. Derufin nodded his head at her instructions, and mumbled a 'yes' round a mouthful of hot food.

A slice of pie and two cookies later, all washed down with a cup of strong tea and honey, Derufin tottered back toward the stable with the assist of Ruby and Buttercup at the insistence of Cook. ‘Leave me here,’ he instructed them as they reached the great oak tree near the stable. I fancy a smoke beneath the stars before I go in.’ He noted their frowning faces in the moonlight, and laughed. ‘You can tell Cook I’ve got my foot up on the bench here, and will go directly to bed when I’m done.’ He waved them off with a firm look on his face.

It was pleasant beneath the stars. The night was warm, his belly was full, and truth be told, he was in no mood to go to sleep just yet. Nor was he really inclined to smoke, either – it was just a convenient excuse invented at the moment to get the two lasses to leave him be.

Derufin leaned his back against the bark of the tree and re-ran the events of the afternoon in his mind. He was concerned about what he had seen and heard in the basement of the Inn, and wanted to puzzle out what few clues he had.
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Old 07-04-2003, 02:10 PM   #273
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Léspheria walked around the common room with Ruby lifting the empty mugs while Buttercup swept the floor and Aman ushered a rather drunken hobbit party out of the inn, Buttercup and Ruby were chatting and laughing merrily about the great success the Mathom sale had been, Léspheria listened but her thoughts kept returning to Vanwe.

The young elven woman had revealed much to her some of which truly astounded her she could not imagine how hard the elf's life must have been. Léspheria's life had always been a guarded one, not that it needed to be of course, it just always seemed that after her mothers mysterious disappearance she never had to travel alone their was always an endless supply of elves or Rangers to escort her.

As she gazed out the window at the starry night, she hoped that Vanwe would be safe in the stable, just then her thought were disturbed.

"...Aye'n his leg was fair beaten up" "It's well that cook gave 'im that sleeping powder, it will ache some tonight" "Aye Derufin was lucky it were only 'is leg 'n not 'is head that all I'm saying,"

It was Buttercup and Ruby they were discussing the handyman's unfortunate accident in the cellar, Léspheria's eyes shot between to two and then again to the window, the two hobbits looked at her puzzled.

"What is it miss Léspheria" Buttercup asked quietly, but Léspheria had not heard her, she had put down her tray and determinedly strode towards the door, but before she could reach it she felt a firm hand on her right arm. As she turn she saw the disapproving look of the Rohirrim innkeeper. "were are you off to at such a late hour" she asked looking down to Léspheria's sword. Léspheria followed her gaze, she had completely forgotten that she still wore her sword and even worse her right hand was now gripping the leather bound hilt.

She quickly let it go and looked deep into the Rohirrim womans eyes, her head swam with turmoil, she had promised Vanwe that she would not say anything, "I saw someone sneaking about the stable" she quickly improvised.

"some of the guests have been complaining of a shifty looking ranger and he seemed to be taking a great interest in our southern guest and a few others" she added thinking it what do well to keep the innkeeper informed of such things. but her eyes still strayed to the door with concern.
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Old 07-04-2003, 04:04 PM   #274
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Pipe

Awrygan was awakened from unpleasent dreams by an arm lightly shaking his. He sat up with a start, and through a blurry haze managed to catch the somewhat jumbled phrases "...past closing time....room...stable...horse?"

He straightened up in his chair, pausing briefly before he spoke in a slow fashion. "I have no horse, however I would gladly take a room." He laughed softly, almost a cough. "You should be forwarned I am as poor as I look." It had been quite some time since he had shaved and his overall appearence was rather dishevelled apart from his piercing gaze.

He blinked, and rubbed a few pieces of sand out of his green eyes. Placing his pipe back inside its pouch he stood up stiffly. "You would be the new Innkeeper?" he enquired.
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Old 07-04-2003, 07:30 PM   #275
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“Can’t we just go in?” the little hobbit lass yawned. “It’s creepy out here.”

“Just sit still!” hissed her young companion. Aietmen frowned. I could appreciate a soft bed right now. Looks like they're closed, though. What did Rosie do without me? The girl must have gone through some rough times before he found her. “You’ll be okay; just stay where you are.”

Aietmen slipped silently out into the road. After one nervous look around, he turned back to Rosie. “Now, you’d better stay…” She was already asleep! Well, at least she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Looks like the coast is clear. Aietmen dashed over to the stable. It was after midnight now, but the moon was bright. In the shadow of the building he stopped to look back. Still no one. Good. He circled the building, but decided the door was his only option.

The door’s creaks and groans made Aietmen wince in the stillness of the night. Please, please don't anyone be awake! Thankfully, he didn’t have to open the stable door very far to slip in. Inside, he froze, listening. Nothing. Whew! It's so dark in here! I wonder if I would see anyone, if they were here. No, no one would be in a stable at this time of night! Well, if anyone can creep up on me, they deserve to catch me. I haven't spent my life on the road for nothing!

He stood for a moment more, letting his eyes adjust fully. Look sharp, bold traveler, it's not over yet! Aietmen moved forward, hands slightly out in front of him, and dragged his feet slowly, instead of lifting them. It wouldn't do to smash into something now! I just need a look around, and then I can get Rosie.

He heard a restless shifting in the stall near him, and looked over at the fine animal. A lady's hack, sounds like. But all's not right. He stopped again, listening hard, but not for footsteps. No, now he had eyes and ears only for the horse!

“Quiet. Quiet, fellow. Yes, I know a good horse when I hear one.” Aeitmen breathed in the horse’s ear.

[ July 04, 2003: Message edited by: Kates Frodo Temp ]
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Old 07-04-2003, 09:48 PM   #276
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Since there was little but intrigue outside as the sun sat, I noted the soft footfall in the stable, and recognized it from years past. Kaldir was there watching, and probably trying to decide who was worth more? Truly a life of Rangers disenfranchised after the war, whether by capture and torture by the enemy as Kaldir, or the waning of the world changing and all he had known such as myself, could lead one to take up varying careers and trades such as bounty-hunting or being part of a secret army unofficially sanctioned, but publcly denied by the King. Yes, Kaldir and I are much alike, yet much different in the roads taken, and only time will tell if any binding of the code of the Dúnedain they once shared still held between them.

I saw the glow of Vanwe's candle as she seemed to pause in the twilight by the well. She maybe did or maybe did not know I approached her from behind. Stepping purposfully on a twig to alert her, she did turn about and I stopped, maybe a yard from her. Unsure if she drew a weapon, I was prepared, and also kept an ear to the stables, for surely Kaldir watched...

'The sunset and twilight is a becoming sight here in the Shire, and it is no wonder the halflings settled these lands so long ago.'

My eyes signalled her that Kaldir yet watched and listened in the stables, and I went on...

'I will be spending the night up there this night for Inns are both expensive and too enclosing, but I believe I have something you have dropped ere days ago.'

I was curious to her reaction to this, and wondered what was really in the pouch which I now held before us. I looked at her and asked,

'What is this worth to you?'
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Old 07-04-2003, 10:35 PM   #277
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"well! this man will have a lovely wife!" said Hathorn loudly which in turn sent Madea into fits of laughter. "And this girl a very lovely husband! from a loveless marriage!" she laughed. Hathron turned with a smile and patted her on her head. "Dear Eru! youre right! this is a loveless marriage! and all the better i say, happiness is the way to go!"

"What do you wish to do first, Madea, now that i have freed you?" he said a grin spreading across his face. Madea though for a while, "I would like to learn how to fight." she said.

"That, my friend, is no problem at all. When you are under my roof, i will fight you personally, every day even!" Madea smiled. "Really? you would do that! This is the best decision I have ever made." she said as they headed up to their rooms for the night.
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Old 07-05-2003, 11:42 AM   #278
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Aldor rides up to the Inn and leaves his horse with Derufin. He dismounts and walks into the inn and orders some he also leaves his sword at the stable, so as not to frighten the Halflings present. He sits down at a bar stool and orders some ale.

Curious Halflings gather and inquire of me. I run my hands through my straggly beard and relate my story, how I served as a captain at the Fords of Isen and cut down many a fierce Uruk with my sword, Uruksbane, leading a company of stout men from the Westfold. I lead them to the fight at Helm's Deep, though many of us were cut down, some still survived to fight at the Pelennor Fields. My eyes shine as I recall the glorious blowing of the horns of Eorl and the gallant charge of King Theoden the Renowned, and thence we proceeded to the Black Gate, where I received an arrow in the leg from an orc, but still stood on feet and thrust Uruksbane into many an orc and even a beastly cave troll.

By now, my tale has reached a crescendo, and the Halflings sit in open-mouthed awe.

[ July 05, 2003: Message edited by: King_Elendil ]
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Old 07-06-2003, 02:31 PM   #279
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Vinca Bunce, Cook for the Green Dragon, was done for the evening. Buttercup and Ruby had finished the dishes, and hung the pots and pans on their pegs, ready for another round of cooking tomorrow. They had taken off their aprons and said their good-nights. Tomorrow would be another early, busy day for them, and they were bound for their beds and sleep.

Cook took off her own apron and hung it on the peg by the door as she entered the Common Room. One of the Big Folk (scraggly-bearded she noted, with a silent tsk!) was regaling the few Hobbits there with a tale. Cook drew herself an ale and sat down to listen.

‘Ah, so another warrior has straggled in – refugee from the Great War.’ She looked about at the Hobbits sitting open-mouthed.

‘Tolman! Halibert! Shut those mouths of yours. The flies’ll be swarming toward you if you don’t.’

Cook turned toward the newcomer and offered to refill his tankard. ‘Your name, good sir. I don’t believe I caught it.’ She nudged Halibert away from the Man’s leg as her tried to steal a peek at the leg wound the Orc had given him.
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Old 07-06-2003, 09:04 PM   #280
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"What is this worth to you", Silvanis asked. There were many answers. It was her past and her future. It could be her freedom or her slavery. It was all she had risked to find and so much more danger. Nightmares, it was, and also dreams of freedom so sweet that they ached within her.

Vanwe's eyes held her answers as she gazed at the pouch in Silvanis' hands. They tumbled about in the blue depths much as the candle flame flickered beside her. He had indicated that another was here, and that sent a shiver down her spine that she ignored. Stand, not flee. Her voice was soft and without doubt.

"Everything," she said plainly as her eyes rose to the Ranger's face. "It is worth everything I have and more."

But what did she have to give? Certainly there were 3 coppers in there and he could have them. She could survive without coin as she had proven before. She could carve and mend things. She was quiet and fast, and she could sense and heal things. But what were these humble gifts worth to one as accomplished as the Ranger before her? Vanwe well knew how little such things amounted to when set against the reckoning of the wide world.

"There is coin inside... three coppers... it is yours," she said earnestly. She stepped closer on a light foot, removing the battered sheath that held her belt knife and held that out to Silvanis also.

"And there is this... it has served me well," Vanwe added. It occured to her that a belt knife against Kaldir would be like a blade of grass against the storm.

"I can work too, and hard. I will offer you that freely, in any way I can serve," she said. Vanwe was all too familiar with hard labour, under thankless and harsh conditions furthermore. One Ranger could do no worse than a whole village of frightened and hate filled people. But there was another thing that Vanwe had, that possibly could be worth a great deal to Silvanis.

He watched her, and she knew that as she stood by the flickering light of the candle beneath the stars, he would likely recall that night in the south when she had defied her masters and lashed out against them by tampering with the stew at their feast. She knew he may also have looked in the pouch he still held, and made out her notes. Silvanis or Kaldir, could profit greatly from her name. Kaldir already had it in his grasp. Could it be any worse if Silvanis also did so?

What she sensed from Kaldir did not emanate from Silvanis. Vanwe let her senses brush past again as she steeled herself and gathered her courage.

"Last of all, there is my name. My true name," Vanwe said in a voice that sang of sadness and shame.

"And what use to me is a name," Silvanis asked closely, curiosity marked in his eyes. Vanwe sighed and choose to embrace her fate instead of struggle against it.

"When it is the name of Naiore Dannan's daughter, much can be gained from the one who brings her to the King's justice, or Harad."

A ripple of recognition danced across Silvanis' features, as would any who fought in the Wars.

"I am Vanwe Dannan, daughter of the First Ravenner of Mordor, reviled of the Free Peoples," Vanwe said with aching sadness for the stain of evil upon her mother. Her fair head drooped a little and she brushed her hand across her eyes before she raised it.

"Take the coppers, use my labour that I give you freely. I will not even flee nor fight you should you take my name and my freedom and use that to your profit or as your duty required.

But know this. Whether it is to be that I find myself in the jails of the King or the hell of that cursed village, there I will not remain for I have lived long enough in chains for the evils of my mother!

You can have it all, including that truth, for that is what it is worth to me. Seems to be fair, as already the other one has it."

Vanwe's voice had not risen, but it had become stronger and more like her mother's polished velvety timbre than Vanwe could know. But also, in her admission, more still of her heritage was revealed in that evening night. Young as she seemed, there was a timeless sense of strength that had enabled her to come so far alone and would enable her to continue with dignity and pride.

Silvanis studied her silently for a long moment, as if unsure what she would next say or do. Vanwe remained still, her knife held to him in her palm and her gaze steady upon his. Sensing his question, she met it with another of her own.

"What would you do to be free of the riddles of your past and to find your future unburdened by regret and sorrow? I risked everything for that, and do so now again, for my choice is made and I will see it through to whatever end it brings me with no complaint.

What you hold in that pouch are all the answers, all I have risked to get them, and the reason I walk forward and do not find a forgotten place to lie down and quit this life. I give you all I have in return.

You saved my life once before. You owe me no such thing now. Do as you will, Ranger. I will quarrel not. I am not strong enough for such feats."

A calm had settled upon Vanwe, a deep stillness. Much hung in the balance now. She was accustomed to the stakes, had lived with them for a long time now. The evening breeze caught in her hair and ruffled it against her cheek, cool. She patiently waited to see how the chips fell this time, all the while aware that another watched. That was another gamble she would have to make if she was to stand, and stand she would.
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