board77

Posted: Sat Aug 14, 2004 1:56 am

click, click The soft sound filled the room. 64 small stones in different colours filled 32 hollows of the board. Kalaha, the game of wandering stones. And the game was coming to an end. Areanor frowned. click, click, click Ah, now she had made a mistake. She sucked air through her teeth. Yes, that was it. But she lost the game with dignity. That was easy when playing against herself. Anyway it had helped her to clear her thoughts. The Gondorian folded up the board and stored it away. Then she took up the unfinished scroll to fill it with letters.

The feather scratched across the paper. She was concentrated on the words she was putting down, when a sound from outside the room let her head turn. It sounded like a Mûmakil in distress. There it was again. Areanor shook her head. „I hope this snoring doesn’t come from someone who is to get aboard with us.“ Then she smiled. „At least it might shoo the sea ghosts away.“ she murmured. Now steps were heard and voices. And the snoring stopped. With a yawn she sealed the scroll and put it on the small desk. Her boots were already placed next to the chair and now she placed her clothes on it. Another yawn accompanied her way to the bed. She nearly fell into it and before her head touched the pillow, she was asleep.

What seemed only seconds later to her she woke again. “Awake” In her underwear she jumped out of the bed, snatching her sword from the chair next to the bed. In her mind she registered the leather sheath on her left forearm, which she never took off. The dagger was still in it.

Barefoot she sneaked to the door, listening to the sounds from outside, ready to defend herself or to make a sortie, if needed. But first she wanted to know what was going on.


Areanor listened to the noise outside. The yell had been in the deep voice of the corsair. But there seemed to be more men on the corridor. Slowly she loosened the laces of her shirt, determined to take all the chances she could get.

She stood right to the door, preparing to turn the handle, when suddenly it was wrenched open. Her left arm with the sword swung forward, but a club came down on her wrist and with a shriek of pain she let go the hilt. But the thief hadn’t reckoned with the dagger in her right hand which took the life out of him right now.

Before she could draw back her knife, a giant shadow opened the door wider and another man caught her wrist in his hand. Now defenceless, she had to allow him to press her against the wall, both her wrists painfully squeezed in his hands. She could see his eyes lighten up, when his gaze wandered down beneath her throat. “Ah, what have we here, little flower?” His grin showed bad teeth, while his eyes wanted to discover what the loose laces promised to hold. “Maybe I can have a little fun, before I let life flee you.” Nearer he leaned, fumbling to get both her wrists in one of his big hands.

And her knee was faster than his wits.

While he still wroth down, holding his most precious part of his body, she took his own dagger from the floor and buried it deep in his back. When she straightened up again, she spat on him. “Never, you b@stard!” Then she collected her sword and dagger and peeped round the door into the dark corridor. “I hope, they don’t set the inn on fire.” she murmured, risking a glance back to her pack and her clothes. No time to dress properly, she decided. Her white short trousers were full of blood stains, but she couldn’t help it.

Slowly Areanor sneaked out into the corridor. It was lit by a few torches and she could see Kalin fighting against men with their face covered. From out of the corner of her eye, she saw a door open farther down the way and four figures coming out of it. She caught a glimpse of red hair. And at once this group was surrounded from men coming out of the shadows. The Gondorian started towards the corsair, but her leg choose that moment to give way and she fell onto her knees, crying out loud. Which proved to be her luck, for above her head a blade swished through the dim light. Not heading the pain, she turned round on her knee and let her sword swing in a wide circle until it met the flesh of her attacker. And in horror her eyes widened, when she realised two more shadows next to the one that fell down now.

Finishing her circle she moved on upwards, letting her sword go and cutting the belly of the second man with her sharp short blade. But before her feet had a sure footing, she felt fingers around her throat. This assassin couldn’t use his club, because the other figures hindered him by stumbling against his arm. Areanor stared at him, her hands desperately trying to bend his fingers away. Slowly he increased the pressure, showing a mad grin on his lips. And finally he had his arm that held the club free to swing.

Areanor closed her eyes, expecting the hit. Then, to her surprise, the fingers loosened the grip. When she looked again, she saw a dagger growing out of the man’s own throat. She struggled to get rid of his hand and coughed. A dark hand fell down on her shoulder. “You alright, lass?” Still coughing, she nodded. Hoarsely she tried to speak, but no sound came out of her mouth. Again she coughed and pointed down the corridor. And two voices, a hoarse one and a deep one, said two words: “The Halfling!”

Again the Gondorian had to collect her blades. She watched Kalin take out his dagger from the dead man’s throat and storming on, while she still tried to get her breath back to normal. Then she followed a bit slower, dragging her leg, until she nearly bumped into another member of the group, who came out of the next room.

Posted: Tue Aug 31, 2004 8:01 am

Billowing hilltops lay before him, bathed in the golden-red light of the sunset. A lake in the small glade reflected the remaining rays of the sun, like a hundred diamonds surfacing from the water. The trees around the glade stood tall and proud, their leaves wavering in the soft breeze. The melodic sound of singing birds was once again heard in Eryn Lasgalen, what once was Mirkwood. Aglanor smiled. He had felt the change over the last few months. Slowly the darkness had faded and gave birth to life and light. Eryn Lasgalen was free from evil and it was noticeable. Of course, there were still enemies in Middle-Earth and some chose to seek shelter in the Great Wood. Aglanor's task was to make sure they didn't leave. Today a group of Orcs had emerged from Moria and came quite a distance into Eryn Lasgalen, but beyond that small glade would be their last resting place. He signaled his men, and slowly the group of rangers moved slowly around the glade nearing where the Orcs had made camp. The loud talking and the three campfires the Orcs had put up were like a beacon to the good eyes and ears of the elves. They would have no difficulty with this encounter. Aglanor raised his hand and nearly two dozen bowstrings were pulled backwards, arrow ready to be fired. When Aglanor dropped his hand, all that could be heard was the soft, whistling sound of arrows flying. After that there was only silence. As Aglanor had predicted, there was no need for a second round of arrows. The elves, knowing their task, took the bodies, stripped them and moved them to where a cart was waiting. The Orc corpses would be brought to the Eastern borders where a pyre would be built and lit. It served two purposes: It was a sign of another victory and a warning to the enemies of the Woodland Realm. Eryn Lasgalen prevailed. While the cart was riding away slowly through the darkening woods, a messenger rode up to Aglanor and dismounted. "Sir Aglanor, Thranduil requests your presence. A message has arrived from the West and your advice is needed."

"Hantalë tercáno. Head back and tell them I will join them shortly." Aglanor was worried. What kind of situation in this day of peace would require his advice? He overlooked the woods and almost every trace of the Orcs' presence had vanished. The elves were experienced after all these years. He knew that his presence here was no longer required. His officers would make sure that everything was done to the detail and after that return to the elven camp. Aglanor turned to the west and walked to the elven camp where his horse was impatiently waiting. Craban was a pitch-black horse with gleaming skin and dark, sleek manes. It was a horse that was bred for speed and agility and he was both. He nodded his head when he saw Aglanor walk towards him and showed his impatience to run once more across the woodlands from here to the North. Aglanor smiled and mounted Craban and without need to dig his heels in, the horse knew where to go and started running. It gathered speed quickly as it made it's way to the path that winded up to the Woodland Realm. The sun was already long gone when Aglanor came onto the realm of Thranduil. Though not as beautiful or ethereal as wonderful Lothlorien, it was still a sight to behold even for one who has lived there all his life. But Aglanor was in a hurry, so he spurred his horse and came unto the Gates to the Halls of Thranduil. He dismounted and walked through the arch. No guards stood outside, but Aglanor knew there were guards hidden among the trees. Even now after the war of the ring, Thranduil took no risks. Easterlings and skirmishing Orcs still came too near Woodland Realm to be completely comfortable. Beyond the gates of Woodland Realm was a long hallway that ended in Thranduil's Halls. Halls being quite an understatement for the vast cavern it is. He nodded his head to the different people he came across, but didn't stop to talk to any of them. His counsel was needed, and he was in hurry to found out for what. Walking into the main room he noticed the usual club was gathered. All the wise men and advisors were there to aid Thranduil in his decisions and plans. Aglanor bowed to his king, then spoke business immediately. "My lord, the Orcs that were crossing Mirkwood have been taken care of. There remains have been taken away. Your messenger arrived me late in the evening, and I hurried back here to find out what peril my counsel is needed for." He took a seat next to Orolinde and waited.

Thranduil spoke. "My trusted advisors. On the morrow of yesterday, a messenger came with a letter. It was a seal I had not seen in awhile and which never brought heavy news. Alandriel Elessendil has sent a letter asking for help on a quest. She does not offer much detail regarding the quest. All it says is to seek her out in Mithlond."

Orolinde stood up to speak. "My guess is that her quest is linked to the recent increase of activity in the South and East. After Sauron's fall the Orcs were taken back, for they thought their master invincible. They were shown otherwise in a mere moment. They scattered out of fear and confusion, but at this moment they're gathering again, forming strong groups and roaming through the south and the east. The same goes for Easterlings and Haradrim. I think that Alandriel has taken it upon herself to fight back these groups of enemies. I definitely support the cause and suggest we send a warrior to aid her."

Orolinde's story made sense in a way, but something bugged Aglanor. "Why gather in Mithlond to fight at the East or South front? Surely Alandriel would have chosen the location of Minas Tirith as a place to gather allies, especially now the true king has taken up residence there. Minas Tirith has grown since the fall of Sauron and is once again the mighty keep it once was. Although, there may well be a link with the re-emerging of old enemies, I think Alandriel's quest takes place elsewhere. The most logical place would be to the North. However, I have not heard of any activity there since the old days."

Thranduil nodded. "I agree that North is most likely. But the question is not where her quest will take place, but whether we will join in. I trust Alandriel would not ask for help, were it not necessary. Is anyone of this Council against sending aid?" It was silent. "Thus we are agreed on that. Now on to the question who we will send forth. Aglanor, you know our men best as their direct leader in the field. Any suggestions?"

"Maelgwn is a good choice. Last time I saw him was decades ago, but he was both ambitious and skilled. I think he has only grown since. Do we know his current whereabouts?"

"No, we haven't heard of Maelgwn since he was last here a few decades ago, I believe." Thranduil said, before Aglanor could continue. "We can only guess his current residence, but there is no way we can guarantee to reach him in time."

Orolinde coughed subtly. "Actually, we were considering to send you, Aglanor." The room became silent. A few advisors had the decency to blush at least.

"My advice is no longer necessary, it seems. Choices are being made without me, even when I’m involved." He looked at Thranduil. "Has my advice been slacking lately? Have I disappointed you, to be so easily dismissed out of important discussions?"

"You’re not being fair, Aglanor. You were running late, and we cannot talk about this forever. We were merely discussing different options and one option that was to our liking was to send you there to aid Alandriel."

"Ah, you've found a better general then? Someone to take my place? Correct me if I'm wrong, my lord, but are we not still fighting Yrch in these very woods? I can leave my men to do their tasks for a few days, but we do not know how long this quest will take. You ask me to leave my men at a time when they may need a leader? And why ask my advice when your mind is already made up?"

"Your first lieutenant can easily take command for the time that you're gone. Trust in your men and the training you have given them. They know their tasks and are trained to do it with the utmost efficiency. Besides, even if Maelgwn were here, we'd still prefer someone of higher rank to go there and join Alandriel. We do not merely want to send a soldier, but someone to aid her with difficulties that may arise on the way. Your expertise and knowledge may be required, especially since we don't know who else will join her. Any soldier may have potential in either wisdom, strength of arms or both. But an important aspect of a mission such as this is experience, of which you have no lack."

Aglanor sighed. He wasn't much one for travel and the call of the sea was strong to him. He had always managed to resist it, because he was needed here. Now that they so easily wanted to send him away from his daily routine, he felt confused. And the last time he was in Mithlond it was to wave his daughter farewell, when she and her husband chose to sail to the Undying Lands. The lure of jumping in the ship and sailing with them was strong at that point. Yet he resisted, knowing his tasks in Mirkwood were not done yet. However, this time might be a whole different story. He weighed the options in his head, knowing that he could refuse. However, he understood the reasons for sending him. And even though he was not glad that they had already made that decision before he had even entered Thranduil’s Halls, he really did not have any other choice than accept. With a sigh of exasperation Aglanor nodded. "So be it. If you need me in the West I will travel there. I will take my leave when the sun rises."

"We will have food prepared for the journey. Stop by Imladris if you need more. Elves are always welcome there. However, keep in mind that haste is needed. We do not know how long Alandriel will wait or how long her letter took to get here. She may already have sailed out. However, presuming she also sent letters to Rohan and Gondor, I think she'll give people enough time to travel. If you come across Maelgwn in Imladris let him know about the quest. He may be interested to join you, since he knows Alandriel. And it's never a bad idea to have a little additional aid.Mae Lelyanen, Aglanor."

"Hantalë, my Lord." With that Aglanor left the Halls to return to his own quarters. Upon arrival he realized how long he'd been gone from this place. Dust had settled on his furniture and sunlight hadn't reached his room in months. He cleaned up the room quickly to make it livable again for a while. He would only be here for a night before traveling again. He settled on his bed, weary from the days in the field and the traveling. He fell into a trace-like state of rest, thinking of what may lay before him.

What seemed like only minutes later, he was woken by a servant who stood ready with a decent breakfast. Aglanor sent him back to Thranduil and quickly ate breakfast and had a bath. Only half an hour after waking, he was clothed and walking to the Great Gates, where Craban was ready. He checked whether he had everything ready, and nodded firmly. Enough rations to last him for weeks, the letter of Alandriel, and his prized possessions. His fur cloak and his sword. He smiled to himself. Whatever situation may be forced upon him, he would handle it. He beckoned Aralwen, his first lieutenant. "You know the situation, you know your tasks. Keep the different squads spread over the forest, unless you run into heavy resistance. Try to keep it at defending and not launch any assault. Lure them into the woods, where we are at our best. I trust in your expertise and skill. Good luck."

"I will not fail you, my Lord. Have a safe journey!" He saluted Aglanor befitting his rank as did the soldiers. Aglanor saluted back and spurred his horse. The sun was just peeking over the trees when he rode away from Thranduil's Halls, westbound.

It was a mere six days later, when Aglanor reached Imladris, having ridden most of each day at decent speed. It had been years, even decades, since Aglanor had last set foot in Imladris and it still looked the same serene, almost ethereal place. He walked through the arching trees reaching the main doors to Elrond’s domain. Elves were sitting in the trees, singing and waving at him. He waved back and rode on. He had always loved to visit Imladris, but hadn't been here since the Second Era. So much had happened since then. He came onto the stables and dismounted, giving Craban over to the care of the stable master. He walked through the doors and the mood switched. From serene and ethereal outside, to friendly, warm and comfortable on the inside. As many before have admitted, it was near impossible to be sad in Imladris. He smiled and went to the main room, and saw Glorfindel and Erestor, two of the wisest elves Aglanor had met. He smiled kindly and raised his hand in greeting. "Mae Govannen, Erestor and Glorfindel. It's been too long, since I've had to pleasure to speak to you two. How fare you?"

"Aglanor!" Glorfindel proclaimed in surprise and not without reason. "An era since we last saw you in these regions. You should've dropped by more often. Imladris fairs very well now that the One Ring is destroyed. How are things in Mirkwood?"

"Things are well. There are still enemies roaming the woods, but with the power of the Dark Lord gone it has diminished. There's only small groups of Yrch that come into Eryn Lasgalen, as we’ve renamed it. I would love to spend more days here in wonderful Imladris, were it not that I'm on an important quest. We received a letter from Alandriel where she asked aid to her cause. It is not yet known what cause that would be."

Erestor frowned. "We’ve heard about Alandriel seeking people to join her, but we do not know what it is about either. So I can only suggest you go to Mithlond and find out. You may be interested to know that Jaeniver Elendi has traveled to Mithlond as well. I believe you two have met eachother on ocassion?"

That did surprise Aglanor. He hadn’t seen Jaeniver in years. They had only met for business purposes and not always on the same side in the discussion, but Aglanor had had some pleasant talks with her and respected her, even when he didn’t agree with her. "That is news to me. It will be nice to see her again. Can you tell me whether the East Road is safe enough for travel?"

"It is, but we advise you to travel fast. The East Road is still being patrolled, but there are both Orcs and bandits taking advantage of the open area. They stay clear of Imladris, but the surrounding country side is unprotected were it not for our rangers."

"I'll be careful when traveling to Mithlond then. In the meantime, could I rest here awhile? I mostly want to give Craban a breather. The poor animal has been going at near gallop two days in a row with only a few hours a day rest. He has held up better than I would've thought and deserves a few hours of rest."

"Of course. You're always welcome here, mellon. Rest and join us in songs and poetry if you like. Or just go outside if you want peace and quiet." Erestor smiled, and Glorfindel and he walked away. Aglanor decided to go outside and play a bit on his mandolin. With all the hours in the field, he'd had little time to practice his musical skill. He played old melodies, mostly melancholic and sad. He had never been one for merry poetry or singing. He liked it, but never found inspiration in the good things of life. After a few hours in a tree, Aglanor suddenly woke up from his trance. He'd been playing longer than he had meant to. He dropped down the tree and went to Craban. He patted the horse and ran his had through Craban's manes. The horse whinnied and bowed his head. Aglanor checked his gear and with a smile discovered that some Lembas was added to his inventory. Enough for two weeks. As if I didn't have enough as it was. Still, there would undoubtedly be someone without, so maybe this had been a smarter move than was obvious at this point. Aglanor mounted his horse and set out again. Craban seemed renewed; Rest had down the animal well. He galloped away, easily maneuvering himself over the small path, winding through the beautiful forest and onto the East Road.

Riding for five more days, brought him in sight of Mithlond. Once he would have called it beautiful Mithlond, but it seemed that the city had decreased in both beauty and mood. Even in a beautiful night as this, the city looked dull. The torches spread throughout the city were mere blurry spots, due to fog, and the building seemed to have gone into decay. He rode on at easy pace and his expectations proved right. This wasn't the city that it used to be. Suddenly he arrived at his destination. 'The House of the Seven Stars.' Aglanor frowned. He would have thought Alandriel to have better taste than to pick this pirates den. Still, it was clear on the letter. Aglanor dismounted and walked around to the stables, which were luckily still open. He tied Craban up in a nice spot and saw that the door to the inn, was also open. Muffled sounds were heard from within. Wary more than paranoid, Aglanor pulled out Aigurth silently and slowly moved through the doorway. Before him moved a dark silhouette, which turned around as Aglanor stepped in. Haradrim??? Before he had time to speak or think, the Haradrim hissed and jumped at him, knife going for the throat. Yet two eras of training don't leave you with slow reflexes. Aglanor brought up his slim blade, blocking the knife's path and moved it sideways, crashing the Haradrim's hand and weapon into the wall. With a curve, his blade made a swift downfall and left a slash from the Haradrim's right shoulder to his left side. As the Haradrim fell to the ground Aglanor took his time to adjust his eyes to the light and take an overview of the situation. Orolinde may be right after all. The Haradrim we left on the battlefields of Gondor have regrouped and have come back stronger. With what purpose, though? He looked around. The inn was not very big, but there were enough hallways to get confused. He had to find a way up. No doubt most of the others who answered to Alandriel's cry would be sleeping or are already fighting the Haradrim. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft footstep. Quickly he turned around, to see a dagger flying through the air aimed for his head. He rolled sideways, dodging the hair by a hair's length, and stood up as fast as he could. As the Haradrim aimed for another throw, Aglanor ran into him, blade piercing the dark man's heart. Two corpses in less than two minutes. In a place I had thought safe, no less. Knowing his help might be needed, he found the stairs and sprinted up to see what was happening on the second level of the inn.

Posted: Fri Sep 3, 2004 2:57 am

Kalin stood back and wiped his hand across his face. The hand was sticky with blood, but as it was not his own, it mattered little to the Corsair. He gazed down at the three bodies that writhed on the floor. Then his eyes flicked up to the five men who still opposed him; four ahead and a single man who crouched behind him clutching a bloody arm.

“Shall we dance some more gentlemen, or would you like to pick a piece of the floor to die on?” smiled the pirate, his bloody visage pushing terror into the hearts of his opponents. Or so he believed.

The four men parted, and a new figure stood there. His face was shrouded by a black mask, only bright fierce eyes were visible and a curious gold medallion. Kalin stood back and took in his black baggy clothing.

“Yashami!” Kalin muttered under his breath; a skilled assassin of the deserts. Now what was he doing here, tonight of all places. Kalin sized up the man, noting the curved daggers the man held. “You decided on yer bit of floor mate?” he said, and lifting his scimitar lunged.


Legyviel tossed and turned. She lay in her uncomfortable bed; the coarse boards were so different from her cot in Lothlorien, or even the bed she had in the North. And the noise of this house; the snoring, the shouting and the bellowing outside. Swearing under her breath, she pushed back the blankets to get up and complain when the door flew open and the bloody body of Kalin el Dineen shot across the room and slammed her back into her bed.

“Arrgh,” moaned the pirate as he lay across the bed. Legyviel looked in horror as three men stalked into the room with cruel grins and long curved knives. She was pinned by the bulk of Kalin, trapped against the wall. She looked down at the blood-splattered face of the Corsair, who looked back at her and winked.

As the first man closed, Kalin slammed shut his legs, trapping his assailant. The man looked startled, as Kalin pulled him down and punched a knife into his throat. The other two shouted something, and rushed and Kalin leapt forward, knives stabbing and long legs lashing out at the two thieves. The first fell clutching his shattered kneecap, the second in a spray of blood. Kalin stood over them, and administered the coup de grace before checking up and down the corridor. Then he turned to the elf and bowed, unsteadily.

“Sorry I had to bust in on you me lady,” said Kalin, wiping a pair of oddly curved daggers on the clothing of one of the corpses. “I found meself in a bit of a predicament after I had dealt with an assassin. These three tossed me into your room, if you will excuse the phrase”. Kalin smiled, and realising he was staring at the elf a little to admiringly, he turned away and pulled the tatters of his silken shirt across his compact chest.

“Why were you fighting outside My room, Kalin el Dineen?” she said, her eyes suspicious.

“Because we wanted to impress you with our martial prowess.” laughed Kalin.
“What do you think all that noise was in the corridor, hummm. The inn is awash with harbour rats and desert snakes. Now cover yourself up, and get yourself something sharp. This whole scenario ain’t right.” The Corsair turned quickly, and hissed. There was something in the corridor.

“What is it Pirate? More for-“. She stopped as she saw the figure enter the doorway and realising who was there she held her tongue. The Bard she had seen seeming dead on her pallet earlier, stood there, with her lute clutched tightly in her hands.

“It’s alright,” said the Pirate turning to Legyviel “It’s just that singer-“. The Bard moved swiftly, and smacked Kalin across the back of the head with the lute, poleaxeing him to the floor.

“But she is dead ” screamed Legyviel " I saw you dead." She drew her two long blades, and stepping forward to face the lifeless eyes of the Bard. She did not know what had happened earlier, and did not care, But she would kill this ensorcelled singer once and for all.

" Watch her Elf. She is Lesina, cursed.” said Kalin as he sat on the floor and stared at the ghoul who towered unmoving above him.

He knew what she was now in the legends of his people. A dry and dusty drinker of blood, like the wastes of the Bozish-Miraz. A vile creature, the animated body left when a tortured soul is ripped free and a servant of the darkest night. But they were myth, childrens tales.

He tried to stand, but the creature brought the remains of the lute down again and Kalin fell into blackness.

Posted: Fri Sep 3, 2004 9:35 am

• ~~~ The Seekers II - Flight from Mithlond ~~~
  

"You know this assassin?" Dindraug hissed. His knife pointed at Arunakhôr's chest, ready to strike should the Southron but blink.

The corners of Alandriel's lips crinkled in amusement yet as she stepped up to Jaeniver who stood at the ready the Ranger's tone was cool, matter-of-fact.

"He stole your purse?" Jae only nodded in reply. "That does not surprise me. Check his effects. I believe you shall find it, most likely without coin." Alandriel's eyes held a glint as she added: "You will also find a dagger that once belonged to me."

Jae exchanged a glance with Dindraug and upon his prompting approached the Corsair who had pulled himself up and now sat with his back resting against the wall. A trickle of blood - the wound he had received earlier had opened again - flowed down his cheek, further marring his face contorted with the effort of holding his temper in check.

"You haven't answered my question ranger." Din's voice rang through the room. "What is your connection to this…..Don't you as much as twitch!"

Din's reminder as much as Jae's blade that the elf now precariously balanced one-handedly against his throat as she began her strip search with the other wiped the wry smirk off Arunakhôr's bronzed face.

"Yes I do know this rogue." Alandriel contemplated before turning her eyes to the old elf. "I would not call it 'knowing' though for I but once had …. the pleasure of his acquaintance …. and that was long ago. His face is familiar here and there, particularly in the more unsavoury parts of many a town yet he never stays long enough anywhere to leave but a fleeting impression."

The jab, although spoken to Dindraug was meant for Arunakhôr's ears. That Alandriel had once spent considerable time and effort trying to track the Corsair down without much success still sat ill with the Ranger.

"One thing I know though…"

The Ranger's voice trailed off as she pondered, watching Jaeniver relieve the Haradim of his possessions. She found a purse. It jingled softly but with disappointment she noted it was not hers. "I'll keep it safe until you produce mine in exchange" she murmured to Arunakhôr as Alandriel picked up again.

"He has no master. He follows no-one but himself. To say that he is involved with anyone anywhere would be claiming the sun rose in the west."

"And what about the Serpent Star you hold? You can't explain this away so easily now or can you?"

"I took it off someone that tried to run me through this afternoon." Her voice was level turning colder as she added: "What I would like to know however is how you come to call it Serpent Star. What do you know of these affairs?"

Suddenly the outcry of "AWAKE!" rang out almost immediately followed by clangs of steel on steel.

"The Inn is under attack!" The last blade Jae had just removed flew out of her hands as she spun around. Past the small pile of assorted weaponry and personal items it skidded to come to a clattering stop at Alandriel's feet. It was the her old dagger.

"You keep him under control!" Dindraug bellowed to the astonished Ranger as he quickly bent to share the weaponry between him and Jae. "He is your problem."

"A problem as much as an asset," Alandriel retorted, pulling Arunakhôr to his feet. "Is that not right my friend?" Pressing the edge of her repossessed blade into his side she added, satisfaction at his predicament ringing clearly in her voice: "Your life for your ship."

Arunakhôr chuckled. He knew full well that once out of this ill fated Inn he would find an opportunity to get away. The alleys of Mithlond were many, as many as he had slipped away in the past. Furthermore, the thought that his ship, should he fail to escape which in his opinion was highly unlikely, would be no use to the red head without an intact main sail was rather amusing. He could just about picture her face.

"Aye, lass. It's a deal."

"Shall we then? After you!" Alandriel said, as the door swung shut with a bang behind Jae and Din. Arunakhôr made to move.

"No! Not that way, pirate!" She pulled him back and swung him around. "This way!"

"Through the window?"

"Is that not more familiar to you?"

"If you insist." Arunakhôr grinned and quickly bent to retrieve his necklace that lay discarded on the floor. "But only with my lucky charm."

Alandriel, twisting the blade a fraction deeper into his side as a warning, took it off his hands and slipped it over her head.

"An insurance, that's all."

She directed him towards the desk where she paused. Hastily gathering the most vital of her belongings and stuffing them into her travel pack with one hand while keeping the Corsair in check with the other was an awkward matter. Inwardly she cringed for she knew she had to leave many useful items behind and the chances of being able to come back and retrieve them later were slim. The increasing racket outside left her in no doubt that they would have to flee the Grey Havens this very night.

The pack flew out of the window followed by her sword belt with the Eket and her cloak.

"You about done? Not going to take some spare shifts?"

"I'll have your hide as a shirt if you don't watch it. Now off you go!"

Thankfully the vines growing on the weather protected side of the Inn were both numerous and strong. The last six feet of drop Alandriel took in a leap, landing on her feet, dagger at the ready as Arunakhôr almost leisurely stepped onto the ground.

"And now what? Parlay?"

"Over there." She prodded towards where her belongings lay. Walking around him, dagger trailing until it came to rest over his heart she said: "Pick them up and put them on me. Tell me everything about your ship while we wait for the others to regroup."

Posted: Sat Sep 4, 2004 5:51 am

She is Lesina, cursed.....

Legyviel's breathe hissed through her clenched teeth, forming clouds in the air that was suddenly freezing. Her eyes narrowed to two ice-blue slits in a face carved from ice. Her stance changed, shifted, until she was crouching in front of Kalin's prone body. A cold smile twisted her lips and she looked down at the blades in her hands. They were enough. They would have to be enough.

The Bard lunged.

Her unsteady, shuffling stride carried her faster than it should have, but the elf was faster. She spun away but the Bard, instead of tripping over Kalin, turned with her. Her mouth gaped open, a greedy tongue licking the dead flesh that passed for lips. Smooth as silk, Legyviel stepped forward, her blades dancing in a complicated series of strokes that confused the Bard, drawing her right, then left, then backwards. Always backwards, so that her back would be against the wall and she would have nowhere to run. Trapped, with her back against the wall.

She hissed angrily and lunged forward, but Legyviel stepped back, her swords continuing their dance, leaving countless cuts and bruises on the Bard's skin. Blood dripped to the floor, making it a slippery mess, but the elf was light on her feet as she continued moving backwards. To one looking in, it would seem that the Bard was now winning, that she had suceeded in unnerving the elf and was pushing her back, but if that one looked closer, the numberless cuts on the Bard, all of them small but deep, would become evident, the cruel look in the silver-haired elfess's eyes would become evident, the floor awash with blood would become evident.....

And so it became evident to the Bard.

The elf was playing with her!

Legyviel took one more step back, felt the bed behind her and backflipped onto it. Her eyes gleaming coldly, she threw down the blades with reckless abandon and picked up her sword. The blades were made for playing, but her sword....her sword was made for killing. The sapphire in its hilt blazed with colour, blinding Legyviel's adversary, lacing her sightless eyes with pain.

The Bard threw back her head and screamed, an unearthly, inhuman shriek the shook the inn and made anyone who heard it shiver. It was a scream not meant for living ears, a scream from those on the other side of the grave. Legyviel crouched on the bed, tears stinging her eyes as the sound lashed her delicate ears. She edged forward, but the Bard screamed again, this time in triumph as she sensed an advantage. Legyviel snarled, in pain and frustration, and lunged at the Bard. They both fell to the floor and rolled, caming to rest in a tumbled heap against the far wall, Legyviel on top with her sword a hair's breathe away from the Bard's throat. The dead thing clawed at her, snarling, fighting and the elf pressed harder.

"Lesina..." she hissed, eyes blazing. The Bard shuddered at the word and went still, the unholy light in her eyes dimming. Legyviel frowned at the sudden change, then her head snapped up as Kalin groaned and raised his head. Bloodlust and fury still coarsing through her viens, she saw him as a potential enemy and snarled at him, shifting her blade. His eyes widened in surprise......

Nails whispered over her skin, caressing seductively until they clamped down on her shoulder. She moaned in fear, for she remembered the feel of those nails, had felt them cut into her flesh before. It had only been earlier that night, in fact, yet it felt like so much longer. She looked down, and the woman looked back at her. Her sword was at the woman's throat, not the Bard's, but her body wasn't listening to her anymore, her sword wouldn't press down and give the killing blow.

The woman smiled and pulled her forward. Legyviel's unbound silver blue hair whispered over her skin as her head was bend towards the woman and she was powerless, powerless to stop it until the woman's teeth clamped down upon her neck, cruely, hungrily.

She screamed then.

Blood. So much blood.

Legyviel stared at the Bard, stared at the Bard's head hanging from a thread of tissue from her neck. She tried to psuh herself off the body, but ended up staring at her hands in horror. They red to the wrists, covered in blood. Not her blood. Thank Eru, not her blood.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she looked bleakly into Kalin's shocked eyes. She tried to pull away, suddenly very aware that she wore only a sleeveless, silk slip for sleeping in. The effort of pulling away, in the end, was too much, and she found herself slumping into the Corsair's chest. Her head was spinning, and for some reason, blood was slipping down the side of her neck. Why was it suddenly so dark?

Somewhere far away, the woman laughed her cold, cruel laugh.

Posted: Sun Sep 5, 2004 5:56 am

Dindraug ran from the room, and into the first of the thieves. He barely spotted them, slamming one against a wall. A second fell to his blade. He heard Jaeniver shriek behind him, but he left her to it, ignoring the indignant comments. He looked about and saw the carnage in the narrow corridor. He could hear the clash of steel on steel, and the thuds and screams as said steel hit home.

“What is going on?” whispered Jae as she came up behind him.

“I do not know,” said Din, simply. He gazed up the corridor and listened. Somewhere a window smashed, and something ran down the stairs. Din motioned and the pair crept on, avoiding the bodies.


Tibo yawned and sat up. The crash outside had woken him. His hobbit mind, still in a daze from the day’s events, did not really take in the noises outside but he was very aware of them.

“This is not on, not on at all.” He said to himself as he slipped out of the oversized bed, and reached for his clothes. “Mr Brûnir may complain about noises from my room, and yet let that racket go on.” The Halfling looked about him for a stout walking stick. These were rough places and a hobbit should be protected. Reaching up, he opened the door.


Dindraug almost killed Areanor. She was walking up the corridor, dragging her leg and leaning heavily against a doorway. He stopped as he saw the flash of her Gondorian tabard, the white tree like a blazing sigil in the dim light.

The air was suddenly rent by an abhorrent howl, causing all to look about them in horror.

“Who in the nine halls of Morgoth are you?” the Avari asked, lowering his blade and looking up and down the corridor. “And what was that noise just now” The banshee wail shattered the night, and again it ripped through the ancient stones.

“I am Areanor of Gondor, companion of Alan-“ she started but the Avari brought a spare hand to cover her mouth.

“Then we are companions, of a sort. I am Dindraug. This is Jaeniver,” he indicated his sidekick. “We need to get out of this house, and to the harbour before whatever is making that noise finds us. Do you know the others that our red haired leader has gathered?”

“I do, but not where they sleep. I think the snoring came from the Halfling’s room”. Areanor indicated the door to her right, just as it opened and the tousled head of Tibodom Took poked out.


Kalin gazed down at the blood-splattered woman in his arms, and a myriad of thoughts ran through his brain. His eyes flicked up and took in the carnage in the room. The bodies that littered the floor, one at least still twitched. But not the Bard. He gazed down at the singer’s remains, the skin that had shrivelled up and dried out even as the vorpal strike had severed its head. Now the shriven skin clung to the bones like some forgotten corpse in the desert. Only the single black gemstone that hung around its neck showed any sparkle as the light from a lamp caught the white inset.

Kalin looked away, and back down at Legyviel who clung to him. His eyes gazed past the shimmer of silver hair and the thin silken shift. He tried to look away, but his eyes would not. He could feel her heart beat against his chest.

He looked around; a decision had to be reached. Bending down he gently lifted her and moved towards the bed as she moaned in her sleep. Then he looked up and saw who had stepped into the room.

“Kalin el Dineen?” said Dindraug, looking at the corsair with some contempt.

“You know this pirate?” said Jaeniver.

“We have a mutual business partner. A thief and a trickster, who hires scum like him to do his thieving” sneered Din.

“Ahhh, but he hired you too Dindraug” muttered Kalin, gently laying down Legyviel on the bed and pulling down her shift to cover her modesty. Dindraug looked at the pirate, his eyes unreadable, and then lashed out punching him.

“What did you do that for yer pointy eared freak!” snared Kalin, wiping fresh blood off his mouth.

“Cair Andros” said Dindraug. His eyes steely, his voice cold.

“Ah, that.” Kalin looked down at his hands. “I may have deserved that then” He looked about him, and down at the unconscious Legyviel again. Sighing deeply, he covered her with a blanket and turned to the Avari. “So, firstborn one. What now?”

Dindraug looked at the Corsair, and turned away. He looked at one of the bodies that littered the corridor outside; the dark robes caught his eye.

“It looks like one of the Haradrim we saw in the street,” mentioned Jae. Din nodded and looked over the body, bending down and pulling a small cylindrical bone case from the man’s belt. He looked with surprise at the wax seal, and slipped it into his clothing before looking up. The corridor outside the room was quiet now, save for the moans of a few thieves who still clung to life. From below, the sounds of battle raged but the corridor was quiet.

“We have a ship in the harbour. Grab your gear, stay together, we go now…what is it Halfling?” Din stared down at Tibo who was tugging at his tunic.

“I am Tibodom Took, of the Shire. Can I ask who you are and why you hit my friend Kalin, and who this Cair Andros person is?” The hobbit had a stern look in his eye. He had never met an elf before last evening, and was not impressed with the one he saw now.

Din just rolled his eyes, and bent to check Legyviel.

“She is not hurt bad, but we need to get her out of here. Jae, can you wake her and dress her, and make sure this pirate does not try to help. No wait, Kalin….”

“What?” The pirate had been watching the door.

“Take the hobbit, take Mr Took, and go and get both your packs. I will meet you at the top of the stairs. Jae, come help me with this Silvan. I will not leave her in this room with that monster” Din picked up Legyviel wrapped in a blanket and carried her to the door.

“I am not a monster” muttered Kalin, splashing water from a bowl on his face and wiping the worst of the blood away “Am I?” he asked, looking at Tibo.

“I think he was referring to that.” whispered the Halfling softly. Kalin glanced at him and saw the Halflings face was contorted in confusion as he looked at the twisted corpse on the floor. Kalin knew that look, and knew he had to get his friend out of there. Taking him gently by the hand, he led Tibo from the carnage, followed by Areanor.


Din stepped out and retraced his path back to Alandriel’s room. He dipped to check the bodies he passed; four men had died on the corridor floor. Gutter thieves by the look of them, smelling of sweat, docks and cheap spirits.

At the room he laid Legyviel out on the bed and went into the hidden room. He grabbed the two travel packs, and the spear, and glanced quickly at the poem on the wall again. A dark expression flashed across his face. Turning to Jae who had brought the silver haired elf’s gear he smiled and ran from the room. Nodding to Areanor, Jae ushered the males from the room and set to work.


Din pushed his pack about his shoulders and readied the spear in his hands. Not ideal for use in a corridor he held it loosely, and turned to run back to the stairs. There were still noises of fighting, but it was quieter now. He stopped and stared as a figure stepped on the base of the stairs and started to make his way up. It was a face he had not seen since the war, since the battle of Dale. He looked at the elf that walked up the stairs wiping blood off his blade with a rag.

“Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlie’n aurë,” said Dindraug, causing the elf to stop. “Aglanor High Captain of Thranduil. You have left Eryn Lasgalen at last, and for these lonely shores. Why should I not be surprised to see you here?”. He smiled at the Wood elf who looked as surprised as Din for a second.

Posted: Sun Sep 5, 2004 1:25 pm

With the sound of the door slamming shut behind them Din and Jae managed to surprise the group of thieves that were waiting for them. Din took the first one out by making the head of the man collide with the wall and second fell to silence with one fast movement of his knife. One managed to slip past Din and grin his teethless grin infront of Jae’s face. She let out a cry of both frustration and anger and drew her blade. Silver flashed and the man fell to his knees. A bit shaken with the sudden turns she looked up from the motionless body at her feet to Din who, without complications, knived another. Sounds of a greater fight came from the corridor as Jae moved behind Din.

“what’s going on?” she moved the blade restlessly to her other hand. “I don’t know.” Din replied. Shadows moved and suddenly Din motioned her to come along. Slowly she followed . Downstairs soon words were exhanged between who looked like allies. Areanor of Gondor. And soon the head of a Hobbit appeared. Jae blinked for a moment as it was not common to see a Halfling in these parts or she she had thought. Being pulled out of her amazement by Din who dragged her off to another room she followed abeit it slowly.

There in the room a pirate held a woman close to his chest.Almost careful not to let her go.Dindraug took in a sharp breath when he saw the pirate sitting on the bed. “Kalin el Dineen?”

With a frown Jae’s eyes shot back at the elf.”You know this pirate?” Din’s explanation did not entirely satisfie her. ‘If he hires scum like him that what does that make you to be associated with the same dealer.’ But she wisely kept her thoughts to herself looking away from from him and back to the woman lying on the bed. Moving away from the pirate and Din she cast a glance out of the window. Bodies. A lot of them, laying around like waiting shadows. Waiting for something. ‘But what?’ Jae bit her lip as her gaze wandered to the woman who she learned was a Silvan.Her eyelids trembled slightly with each deep breath though her chest hardly rose.

As soon as all got explained about the ship Din set Jae to work while he picked up the elf and made for the stairs. Searching for the pack of the woman she avoided the dark corner with the corps.A shiver went down her spine. Hoisting the pack over her shoulder Jae made her way back to Alandriel’s chamber where Din turned to smile at her holding two pack and a spere and left the room.The others too were present but she immidiately pointed Kalin and the Halfling to the door. Areanor opened the pack of the Silvan as Jae began to take off her silk attire. She felt cold and yet the silk clung to her body. Whispering comforting words to her the silk got changed for a more warm clothes. She worked slowly and calm to let her sleep for a little longer but in the end she gently shook the elf whiping away a few strands of silver hair out of her face.

“wake up lady, it is time for us to go.”

She squinted hard with her eyes and it took a while before her eyes were opened. She moistend her dry lips as she looked confused at both the women. “What…who..”
Jae already jumped up and grabbed her pack. “No time to explain everything now you’ll have to trust us.”A hint of a warning could be heard in her voice.The silvan mumbled something that sounded like “spinning…room.”

“Do you think you can walk?”

Brave she nodded and got to her feet but it didn’t take a minute before her legs stopped supporting her weight. Areanor quickly held her straight. “I beg to differ that Jaeniver.” And she nodded. “Alright then we’ll support her down the stairs. Come on, we have a ship to catch.” And she picked up the pack and slipped an arm around the waist of the elf. Only a few steps down the stairs the voice of Din made Jae reach for the blade. She exchanged quick glances with Areanor who looked tense herself. Her hand hovered above the knife for a few moments then found its place around the woman’s waist again.

“Dindraug,” she called questionally “All is safe?”

Posted: Mon Sep 6, 2004 2:34 am

Staggering between Areanor and the strange elf- Areanor had called her Jaeniver- Legyviel looked up from a haze of pain to find Tibodom Took looking concernedly, but hesitantly, at her. She forced her lips into a smile and felt it become genuine when he blushed under her gaze. She would have said something to him, but the two women supporting her propelled her on. She wondered detachedly why she felt so dizzy.......

And then felt the trickle of blood down her neck. She looked down, saw that she still clutched her bloodstained sword and felt bile rise in her throat. Hastily blocking the images of what had happened only a few minutes ago from her mind, she pulled out of Jaeniver's hold and reached hazily for her pack. The elfess made a sound of surprise as Legyviel threw open the pack and began searching frantically through it's contents. Where was it? it had to be here! There was a nagging feeling at the back of her mind, for there was something odd about that wound, something odd about the meticulous way it had been administered.

"Lady, what is it you seek?" Jae asked, worry lacing her voice. Crouching at the foot of the stairs, Legyviel shook her head to clear it and reached up to touch the wound on her neck.

"An ointment. It will not stop bleeding..." she murmured. Her eyes lit up suddenly and she pulled out a bottle full of some sparkling blue paste. Beside her, Jae motioned for Areanor to go on. Legyviel didn't notice, instead, quickly unscrewed the cap of the bottle, dipped her finger in and dabbed at the wound. Pain laced through her and she cried out, dropping the ointment.

Jaeniver was fast-she caught the bottle before it crashed to the ground and shattered. Clenching her teeth, Legyviel tried again, but the wound burned, hurting more then than when she wasn't trying to heal it. More blood spurted out when she tried touching it with the ointment, and went back to a steady trickle when she stopped. The elf cursed viciously and stood up, eyes blazing. Jae, growing impatient, stood too and took her arm.

"You are not well, Lady, you look feverish. Come, we must leave from here at once," she said firmly. Legyviel looked at her resentfully for a moment, then smiled suddenly.

"It's Legyviel. Right now, I don't feel very lady-like," she said. Before Jae could reply, a man lying on the floor nearby groaned and rolled over, reaching for his blade. Both elves moved at the same time, the man was dead in a moment and coming to a silent agreement, they moved on quickly. Legyviel's hand pressed down on her neck, and blood trickled out between her fingers, but she walked on her own, her thoughts racing.

"Why wouldn't the wound heal?" she muttered suddenly to no one in particular. Jae glanced at her and shrugged.

"Perhaps there was something wrong with the ointment," she suggested. Legyviel shook her head and stepped on a moaning Haradrim's hand.

"There was nothing wrong with the ointment, believe me. I've used it before, and it's very effective. It should have worked," she snarled in frustration. Jae paused and looked at the elf more closely.

"How on earth did you get cut there and still have your neck intact afterwards?" she asked, incredulous, as they emerged into the cool night air. Far away, light glowed faintly on the horizon, and Legyviel gulped in a breathe of fresh air before replying.


"It's not a cut. She bit me," she sighed. Jae's mind raced back to the scene in Legyviel's room, she remembered the lute still clutched in that dead hand and shuddered.

"The Bard?" she asked. Legyviel hesitated.

"Well......yes. And no, because it wasn't her, it was the woman," she whispered. A chill swept down Jae's back when she heard the bleak tone in Legyviel's voice.

"Who-" she began, but Legyviel cut her off.

"Look, there is Areanor! Come, we must hurry," she said, increasing her pace and very deliberately stopping Jae from asking the one question she didn't want to answer.

Posted: Mon Sep 6, 2004 11:49 am

Tibodom stumbled back into his room, or rather into his cupboard, which no other costumer would have accepted without major complaining. The door slammed shut behind him, and even if he was aware that he had minutes only, if not only seconds, and that there would be no breakfast with crispy bacon and fresh eggs, he was just glad for a moment to be alone. No more screams and shouts, no more bodies and wounds and fears. He had not understood the scream he had heard, but it had affected him. He felt like frozen inside and the kind of cold that does not vanish with a warm cup of coffee and a few pipes among friends.

His walking stick was still in his right hand; he even held it tightly gripped. But it had been of no use and would not be of any, as long as knives were pulled out in dark corners. Tibodom sighed. This was not what he had expected to find when following a rather harmless sounding letter in the Green Dragon and accepting a mission under the admiring eyes of Daisy Cotton. Not at all. He had not thought of hordes of assassins, hungry mornings and wounded fair elves who should sit in silk clothes in fair halls and be admired for their beauty only.

Yet, when he stepped out of his room again, and much to his own surprise, he was the first of the company to be ready and packed. All his belongings were now in his backpack. His walking stick attached to it and for the first time he had fixed around his waist a gift from his cousin Pippin, one of the knives Frodo had found when they had been attacked in the hills after the Old Forest. Neither Pippin nor Merry had told a lot about it, only that it had belonged to the Dunadan a long time ago, but that he now did not need it any more. Pippin had smiled handing it to him, telling that it had taken him through great danger, and would surely bring Tibo safely home - and if not, his cousin would have to pay with a year of pipe-weed. All hobbits had been laughing, and Daisy's eyes sparkling - but Tibo had not imagined using it for good or encountering any real dangers. How far this seemed now. For the tiny hobbit, it was like a small sword, and it was more beautiful than he did really know.

He found himself alone in the corridor in a very unlikely moment of calm amidst the maelstrom of destruction that had found the inn in this night. Where was the corsair? Where was the Gondorian woman? Were they all still alive? Where were the two other elves he had seen earlier in the night, in the fight? Especially the arrogant one, who had treated him as if
he was a child that someone should take care of. Tibodom was decided to show this ethereal creature what a real hobbit was made of !

The second in the corridor left Tibodom for the first time a moment to think. Now, I already hear you say, reader : but he had all time to think while he was in his room ! with an exasperated sigh about the slowness of the hobbit. Maybe you think that now is time for action and that Tibodom should take his feet in his hands (if possible without tearing out his beautiful toe hair) and run down the staircase, hurry in order to catch the ship, find the protection of the powerful elves and sail off with them to an adventure beyond what he has imagined. Now if you were to run off, would that be the behaviour that you would choose for your companions ? Running without thinking and hurrying without knowing where, why and with whom ? Tibodom has not often in his life slept as little as this night, and if he could choose, he would rather have an early breakfast. (Don’t roll your yes, everybody would, only Tibodom is honest enough to admit it) or return to his sheets. He is here already. All is packed, he is armed. What more could you expect from him?

In his mind Tibodom saw it again and again: the body of the dead thief falling, the vision of the torn limbs and the face of the silver haired elven lady, pale like a winter morning. Still bravely, the elf had smiled at him. He had never seen anybody dying before and it was not a sight that he had liked. He had never seen wounds and pain, and in his mind was slowly dimming a glimpse of what this adventure could mean for the rest of his life. He had seen Frodo a few times after his return from Mordor, but never paid attention to his paleness. He had heard some stern words of his uncle and cousin about how dangerous it was - stepping out of your front door. But they had not really meant something for him.

Luckily, in this very moment, Tibodom heard footsteps in the aisle. Legyviel and the other elf, whose name took him a short moment to remember: Jaeniver came down the stairs, and he was just glad to see the elven lady up and walking on her own feet, even if her features were still pale like hell and there was a shadow in her eyes, that he had not seen before. Areanor joined the arriving women and in the same moment, Tibo could hear heavy footsteps on the wooden ground which must be from Kalinel, but he was now surrounded by too many tall people to see from where he was coming.

" We have to get out of here, quickly and go to the harbour, where a ship is waiting for us "

Thus reminded the commanding voice of the corsair, and the halfling saw his friend fraying a way through the women to get to his side.

" I am glad to see you, Master Hobbit. " Kalinel almost shouted and bent down to Tibodom, an inquiring glance in his eyes that showed a concern and worry the hobbit had not expected. He tried to nod bravely while the idea of a ship strangled him from inside.

" Legyviel and Areanor ? will you be able to walk or should we look for a horse or my mule, ehem Kalinel’s mule in the stables ? "

Even in this tensed moment, the hobbit’s innocent question brought a smile to the faces of the big folks, a short moment of relief maybe even more important than rest and food to find the strength for the next step of their adventure.

And off they were – Kalinel leading the group, followed by the women and Tibodom closing the line. When he set his foot (which was obviously bare) on the first wooden stair, a cracking sound made him turn around. It was not the wood that had cracked under his step – as a hobbit Tibodom had the gift to walk more silently than all of the big folk, even if he had not the elegance of the Eldar. The last door of the range swung open and yet another men almost leapt out of it – dressed like the other had been, it was not difficult to guess that he was one of the assassin conspiracy. It was even that easier to guess as he was carrying a sharp dagger in each hand and heading towards them with. Had he only lowered his eyes and seen the hobbit? Nothing was surer. Both of his arms lifted high towards the two elves, he ran over Tibodom – or he would have run over Tibodom, if the halfling had not done something that he would have never believed he was able to do. In the very glimpse he saw the assassin heading out of his room, his little hand wandered to the sword that he had attached to his waist, his fingers gripped around it – and in the second, he would have been overrun, he sunk his blade into the man just above him, as had Frodo done with Shelob in another fight. The man fell neatly, immediately, in the middle of his movement, barely leaving the time for Tibo to draw his weapon out of the body.

With huge eyes, Tibodom stared at the blood on his blade – rather Merry’s blade in fact. All seemed silent around him and he was somehow aware that the others were looking at him.

“Well done halfling” seemed to say one female voice out of the twirling fog in his brain, but he was not sure about it. For a second, Tibodom felt as if he would fall. Now, that he lay on the ground, the man did not look threatening any more – and he had been a living creature only seconds before. The hobbit did not feel the tears on his cheeks, but the others could see them.

In fact, the silence lasted only for a second, but it seemed so much longer for Tibodom on this turning point of his life. Not only a dead assassin was lying there, but also an entire part of his life came suddenly to an end and he entered a world, which he had not even known to exist. A world in which you have reasons to kill someone. The air had the taste of lost innocence to him, a taste that reminded him of cheap pipe-weed which smells like burning wood…

The smell brought Tibodom back to reality

“Fire” he yelled all of a sudden. “The inn must be burning.” And from the sniffing of his companions, he could conclude that he was not the only one to have smelled it.

“We must hurry.” shouted once more Kalinel, turning to the staircase again, and now they were all running, running to get out, before they knew if the smoke was there or only a flicker of their imagination. But even now, Tibodom looked back one last time at the body lying on the ground…

He would never forget.

Posted: Thu Sep 9, 2004 4:06 am

"What ‘others’?" Arunakhôr asked, one brow arched.

"A small party, elves and men."

Looking up at the window he then shifted his focus back to the redhead and resolutely shook his head. "Ye honestly don’t think that, even for one minute, I’ll consider allowing elves on me ship?!"

"Temper your voice," Alandriel hissed warningly, concerned he would attract the attention of the attackers. "And yes, I do think you will allow them to board.... After all what choice do you have?"

He again shook his head. Having elves in his company for what would be a couple of weeks would be like provoking a wild bull. He had no idea about the outcome of such a confrontation. Not that he had the intention to sail any of them to the north. The idea alone -that he in the end would have no choice- gave him the feeling of a caged animal. And some animals could better not be caged. For that, an escape was much more than an option: it was a duty. But not yet.

"Let me tell y’bout one of the many old but nevertheless very essential sea rules: everyone on board does his -or her- share of the workload. That means every single one of them," he hissed. "I don’t want no lazy landlubber’s bum aboard, whether that concerns an elven bum, a ranger’s bum…" He looked her silently in the eyes before he continued. "If not, they’ll have better use as fishfodder… And to the fact ye wanne go north this time of year?" He picked up her pack and swung it over his shoulder to then unfold the bundle that was her cloak.

"I say y’re cracked, but north it’ll be then. Like ye said: I’d only deliver the package. Once y’re on land, I wish ye all the luck, and y’ll need it if ye wanne survive that blistering cold…" He threw her cloak around her shoulders with a wide gesture, clenching his teeth for the movement tormented the stabwound in his side. "…wrapped up in this mere fabric." With a wink he whacked her forearm after having clasped the ends of the cloak together on her chest, not noticing how she clenched her teeth.
The load of the backpack he then shifted from his to her shoulders made her flinch yet his focus already was on the cobblestones again. And she, too proud to confess the weight of her backpack tortured her wounded shoulder, kept silent.

As the Corsair picked up the last object laying on the ground -a scabbard containing a sword- a strange feeling came over him. Slowly he straightened himself up and eyeing the weapon he slowly grabbed the hilt with his bloodstained hand. He felt the dagger’s tip pressing harder against his chest, but paid no attention. Slowly he unsheathed part of the sword and his eyes grew wider when they beheld the unparalleled craftsmanship he had not looked upon for many a century.

"Númenor…" he whispered at last, and his breath caught. For a moment he stared blankly at the weapon and snapped back to reality when he felt Alandriel’s dagger almost cut the skin above his heart. Giving a firm poke against the end of the hilt he sheathed the sword again and looked at the ranger while he made to wrap his arms around her.

"Twas ye who said I had to put y’r belongings on y’r person, heartie," he grinned and ignored the dagger, which she now pulled back as he drew nearer. His hands met behind her back and grabbing both ends of the belt to which the scabbard was attached he drew his hands to her front again, brushing them slowly along her waist, grinning crookedly. Then he strapped the buckle with swift moves, tying a secure knot at the end. Throughout, his gaze had not wavered once from her face but then he frowned, noting the so far complacent look in her eyes had changed:

"Why y’re looking like ye have a sea urchin in y’r pants?" His eyes caught the manner in which she squirmed with her shoulder under the pressure of her backpack. The arrow – of course! Grabbing behind her back he mumbled something when she took a step back, holding her dagger dangerously close to his heart again. He sighed: “Don’t be silly, lass, and lemme carry that for ye.”

It was at that moment that a scream, as if someone was skinned alive, resounded somewhere within the Inn. Alandriel froze – Arunakhôr hesitated in his attempt to grab her backpack anew. He looked at her for an instant, her eyes wide open, and her hand that now held her dagger in a loose grip, the dagger’s point slightly trembling. If he would ever get a perfect opportunity to make for an escape, this would be it. But he could not, for there was always the chance more of that filth would turn up out of nowhere, and be a threat to her. Even though he was unarmed at the moment, and loathed the fact he was getting involved -already was involved- into something he cared naught about; he couldn’t take off right now. Taking a hold on her pack he took the weight from her back and swung it over his shoulder.

"So ye wanted to know about me ship…" he mumbled, trying to distract her from the sound that had startled her. "Well let us agree first on that important note: MY ship. I make the calls and I don’t take no questioning. I’ve sailed enough seas under all kinds of circumstances so I know what we’ll be facing. If ye don’t trust me judgement, there’s no one who’s forcing ya to use me services…”

"It's not a matter of using your service Corsair," Alandriel mumbled through gritted teeth. "The deal was and is: your ship for your life."

"What good is a ship to ye without a captain who knows her?" he snorted back. "Especially for a trip up north where we might encounter ice floats and bergs. Me ship will hold although I would prefer one of a heavier built yet none at anchor here is more worthy of commandeering than me 'Agannâlô'. None would make much further than past the Cape of Forlindon...." His voice trailed off yet soon he fixed her once more:

"How far north do y'intend to go?"

Posted: Fri Sep 10, 2004 6:03 am

The man nearly run into her, but jerked back when he noticed the sword in her hand. Before Areanor could even lift her dagger, he took to his heels and ran. For a moment the Gondorion stood motionless. Then she smiled. A quick look into the room showed her an untouched bed. Her smile changed into a frown. Hadn't the landlord stated that all his rooms were occupied? She let her gaze wander along the corridor. Kalin had vanished around the corner and save some shapes on the floor, some moaning, some not, nobody was to be seen.

She bit her lip and decided it might be a good idea to hurry back to her room and get dressed. Running around with a teared shirt might cause some inconveniences she wanted to avoid. So she returned to her room as quick as she could, not for the first time on that day cursing her leg and whoever it had been that wounded the boar that was guilty of her injury. Hastily she slipped on her trousers and the rest of her clothing. Then she grabbed her saddlebags and was glad all her belongings were in it.

While she made her way along the corridor, she stumbled over a red-haired thief. So this was the one she had seen a bit earlier. She didn't count the bodies lying there but it was clear that the corsair had left a bloodstained trail on his way.

And again a door opened, but she managed to stay out the way. To her surprise it was an elf, smaller than her, but with an arrogant air around him, like if he owned this place and everybody in it. Silently she watched him ordering people around and silently she helped Jaeniver taking care of Legyviel. She only broke her silence when she saw the face of the halfling after he felled his foe. But for more words was no time, as they all hastened downward, with the still bleeding Legyviel in their midst. The guest room was dark and seemed deserted. Vestiges of a fight could be seen, but no trace of the opponents.

A dim light fell out of the kitchen door behind the bar. Kalin went to investigate but returned with a grim expression on his face. “That freak is in there and some other. He shouted at me to get you all out of here. He will follow.” Again he grimaced and Areanor asked herself if something had got his goat.

When they were outside the inn, they let Legyviel glide down to sit on the ground. Jaeniver stayed with her, while Areanor traced her steps to the side of the halfling, who watched the door of the inn uneasily. Lightly she placed her hand on his shoulder and said: “The world is full of peril, Master Tibo. You have met your first one, but I fear there will be more ahead, waiting on our road. Don't burden them all on your shoulder as that load might be too heavy for you.” Then she smiled.

“As for the question you put up some time ago, we will see if Legyviel needs the help of your.. - of Kalin's mule. If she does, we can at least take it with us to the pier and leave it stabled at the messenger station there until we return. Because I doubt, it will be wanted on the ship.” She looked up and saw Alandriel walking towards them. Next to her a tall figure with a rather seedy appearance stepped into the light.

Posted: Tue Sep 21, 2004 1:12 pm

Aglanor turned swiftly with his sword held, prepared to face another Southron, when he recognised the language spoken. Out of the darkness a man stepped forward, smiling. Aglanor hadn’t seen him for many years, and surprise bloomed on his face as Dindraug stepped towards him saying his name. The Avari seemed surprised himself. “The Halls of Thranduil are many miles away, Silvan. I did not expect that Thranduil would let his captain of the guard wander the bright world when all of his were dimmed”. Aglanor shifted. He had talked with Dindraug about this before.

“I had to at least keep you in line, Alvaric Dindraug. Your tendency to propensity has ….disturbed my Lord. It appears that your actions Under the Trees have left you few friends in the North.” The Silvan stared back, as he had that day under the boughs of Mirkwood.

“They had broken, Aglanor, and they were dead the moment that happened. I would not see wild animals hunted for sport, as your Lord knows well. They would feed the wolves and the spiders-“ sighed the Avari, his eyes snapping up as the Wood Elf interrupted him.

“The spiders who feed on travellers, and who we have to cull every year.”

“That is an old argument, and one I do not necessarily want to repeat here. I assume you are here on behalf of the Woodland Halls, responding to Alandriel’s summons?” Aglanor nodded at Din, who smiled and laid a friendly hand on Aglanor’s shoulder. “Then in spite of our past differences, I am glad you are here.”

They both turned as they listened for noises of battle nearby. Aglanor watched Din looking around, watching the turned-over tables and fallen chairs. Aglanor only now noticed it, now sounds had dropped to complete silence and no assassins seemed to be here any longer. “The fighting didn’t last very long on this floor. I came across several men; Haradrim judging from the descriptions of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. I don’t know how many have escaped, but I killed two of them.” As they started walking towards the common room, Aglanor noted their corpses were no longer there. “They took away their dead, apparently. What’s the situation upstairs?”

“Common villagers, by the looks of them. They died like vermin.” Aglanor looked at Dindraug. The Avari’s hatred for Men was known to the Wood Elf, so he didn’t comment. He’d seen the slaughter Dindraug had left behind after the Battle of Dale and had heard different rumours of his past. The rumours were varied but the core was always the same. Aglanor couldn’t blame the Avari for his hatred, though he’d never share it. Din walked into the kitchen and Aglanor followed and saw a man lying on the ground.

He looked at Aglanor confused and then at Dindraug. Recognition replaced surprise. “You were here before.” There was more behind the statement than Aglanor could figure out. Dindraug kneeled by him, and gave the man water. “I was. You should’ve sent for me earlier, Brunir. People have died that could still be alive this night. Regardless, I found the red-head. However, I do need to ask you what you know about these Haradrim?”

The man crept slowly towards the cupboard and leaned against it, shrugging at Dindraug’s question. “Six days ago they arrived, coming ashore from big galleys. They said they were here to trade, but they hardly traded anything. They were always around, asking questions, specifically about the North, the King and the Elves. No-one knew why they needed the information, but they sometimes paid well for it, so their questions were often answered. It was also rumoured that they held tight links with the Thieves in Mithlond. We always had one Haradrim in the Inn, except for tonight.” The man coughed up some blood and looked around the inn. Aglanor had sat down nearby, keeping an eye on the doorway and the halls, as Dindraug was helping the man he had called Brunir. “Look at my Inn. It’s nearly destroyed. I wonder what the one who built it would say if he saw it now.”

Aglanor heard Dindraug snort. “That one would be me, old man.”

Brunir sighed as the words started to make sense to him. “This night leaves me empty-handed then. It was told that one day you’d return. You’ve come back to lay claim to the Inn?”

“The last thing I want to do is run an Inn. I leave you as caretaker, and ask you to fix it and protect it. Cirdan will help you if you ask.” He fumbled round for the pouch he had shown in the inn earlier, and gave it to the old man. “And here’s gold for the expenses.”

Aglanor had followed the conversation with interest. He had never known the Inn had belonged to Dindraug. It apparently was a well-kept secret, as Aglanor had never even heard a rumour of it. As Dindraug handed the old man a bag of gold pieces, Aglanor spotted Elves and Humans leaving the Inn. Dindraug followed his gaze. “They’re friends, Silvan. Companions on this quest.” The two Elves stood up, and Aglanor followed Dindraug outside. The Avari pulled a parchment from his map case and looked at it intensely. “Himling. The Southron had a map of the route to Himling. Have you ever been to sea, Aglanor?”

I’ve been to the sea, but never actually set foot on a boat. Rivers and creeks at most, but not something like the sea. What you about you?”

“Once. It was a long time ago and I rather not have it repeated.”

“It seems my companion, you don’t really have a choice.” They walked along the dark path, as they saw a silhouette waiting for them. As they got closer, Aglanor saw another familiar face; “Jaeniver Elindi. It’s a pleasure to see your bright face again, even under these grim circumstances.”

Posted: Mon Oct 4, 2004 3:41 am

Ice floats…… bergs.

A sinking feeling crept over the Ranger. Many things Alandriel had considered, calculated, anticipated during the long days of waiting prior to the gathering of the company yet much had turned out completely different. Her plans so far had all but come to naught. The last thing she needed to hear was the mention of bergs and floes. Not once had such hazards even crossed her mind. Being thus put on the spot by, of all people, Arunakhôr stung. Silently gritting her teeth she gripped the dagger, still pointing at the Corsair's chest, a fraction tighter.

"I'm glad you think so highly of your ship, Master Arunakhôr," she retorted, "for, undoubtedly, her seaworthiness will be thoroughly tested, just as your skills as skipper will be."

That he would not be alone in this task but, voluntarily or not, assisted by Kalin she failed to mention. He would find out soon enough for himself – and so would Kalin. It would be interesting to see how these two would 'rise' to the task and how she in turn, and the group, would cope. She took a long in-breath: 'May the Valar lend me strength'. As soon as the thought formulated it was 'answered' by a baneful snicker, full of loathing and vileness, brushing against her mind. Her eyes shut close to block the intrusion and the stab of pain she fleetingly felt against her cheek yet before her mental barriers shot up it was already gone.

"How far north…..?" Arunakhôr was about to repeat his question when Alandriel forced her eyes open once more and intercepted:

"As far as needed. Now move!" Her dagger slid towards his shoulder, the pressure indicating to him to step out ahead of her.


They were just rounding the building when Alandriel saw Areanor talk to Tibodom, catching her last words: "… we'll see if Legyviel needs the help of your… - of Kalin's mule….."

"Legyviel is injured?" Alandriel had prodded Arunakhôr forward and was now facing the Gondorian. Tibodom stood by silently, his eyes as big as saucers taking in the dark faced Corsair.

"She is," Areanor nodded and then pointed to the group standing not far away. "She was bitten apparently. Jaeniver and I got her out of the Inn."

'Bitten?' Alandriel thought with deep consternation, remembering the unearthly howl of only minutes ago but aloud she said:

"Master Tibo, do be so kind as to fetch your donkey – and any blankets or coverings you might find in the stables. Bring as many as you can – even if it should prove that Legyviel can make it to the pier walking. Areanor…." A frown came over the Ranger's face as she suddenly realized the woman was covered in splatters of blood.

"It's not my own, don't worry," she said to Alandriel's relief. "But with my hurt leg I won't be able to run very fast."

Prodding Arunakhôr a step forward, both Areanor's and Tibodom's eyes widened at the Ranger's words:

"We must hurry and get to the harbour as fast as possible to board the Agannâlô , the ship that my friend here has so kindly volunteered. Perhaps you should ride, Areanor, you and Legyviel. Surely it could manage such a load for is it not a formidable and brave beast, Master Tibodom? The alternative although more practical, for then he would feel less inclined to do something stupid, would be less to your liking: to be carried by this Corsair."

Posted: Wed Oct 6, 2004 12:13 pm

Kalin stood back in the shadows. He heard the conversation, the term ‘Corsair’ attributed to one such as that one! He sneered deep in his coat, and pulled a tri-corned hat from the rail by the door, pulling it low over his eyes. It would be better for now if that ‘lugger pilot’ did not see him or recognise him. His reputation amongst the captains of Umbar was not so good that it could be bounded around this port, not now.

Besides, what did he, Kalin el Dineen, child of the deepest desert, have to fear from mere ice?

He watched the group start to walk away from the Inn, the flash of light from blades still glinting as they watched every shadow. Every shadow but the one behind them, that glinted with its own inner life. Kalin sighed, and saw that self imposed lummox Dindraug pass with another of his kin. ‘Elfs’ he muttered under his breath, watching the two popinjays sidle off down the hill. He could still see Alandriel, the red haired wench, sway down the road, and the elf maid who had had held him so close. He watched as they propelled her up onto the saddle of some short horse or donkey. The moonlight showed her supple form. He smiled, and then turned away. He had work to do and could not spend time gawping at fillies. This ship that had been mentioned, he looked about him; noting the city guardsmen who were approaching the inn. Thinking fast, he sped off into the shadows, and took a by way to the harbour and the Agannâlô.


Shadows watched as he passed. They glinted in the dark, like the motes in Eru’s eye. They would have struck, but the elves in blue and silver that had closed in on the Inn were too close. The would-be assassins sank back, into the dark night.


Kalin was less than impressed with the Agannâlô, he had sailed scows better. That they now rested in the deep blue was not the issue, this ship had seen better days, the ratlines were full of rodent bites and the spanker deserved to be. And the stores were empty, nothing. Even the rats that infested the bilges looked emaciated. But like the inevitable tsunami that lashes the far coast of Rhûn, Kalin remembered that this was not the only ship loading for sea this night.


Yashin slipped out of the shadow by Kalin el Dineen and snorted. The Corsair jumped, turning with hands floundering at his knife scabbard, to find it empty. The Haradrim assassin threw the blade into the deck at the sailor’s feet where it stood quivering.

“You know this will kill you Kalin el Dineen. Your story has been of interest, Great One. Do not end it in the cold sea as feed for the fish”. The Haradrim’s voice was laced with intent. His eyes were as cold as the desert night.

“I don’t think you should be talking to me about sealed fate Yashin of the Black Dragon. I had thought you long since gone to the ash with your petty god. They say two Halflings killed him, forever this time.” Kalin smiled, not a pretty smile but one that knew a history of scorn and hate.

“We will be watching you Corsair, Bokor. Better than the harbour master who thinks he is loading a Gondorian war ship. I hope your bribe is sufficient until the pack rats you hire as crew arrive.” The assassin’s smile was as cold and empty as the serpent he had worshipped.

Kalin looked at him, and snarled “Get off my ship, slayer of children. Crawl back to your stone and hide like the scorpion you are. You will not succeed here tonight”

The assassin bowed, and slid back into the shadow. He slipped from the ship and made his way to the Galley that waited. He had lost many soldiers tonight. He could not strike the Red haired Witch and her party tonight; he had wounds to lick and the town was now astir with guardsmen, Elves that could see into the dark, and men in bright armour with cruel swords. But on the cold sea, he just might have the advantage.


Kalin watched as the last of the stevedores left the ship; the cargos of food and equipment stowed in the hold. He watched as the Galley sailed past him, vanishing into the night. He watched until she faded from sight.

He was most surprised to hear a voice behind him say “What are you doing on my ship?”

Posted: Wed Oct 13, 2004 3:05 pm

Areanor looked from Alandriel's face to that of the man she had introduced as Corsair. Another one? But she wasn't here to put up questions. So she grinned at the red-haired lady. “If I get a hold of the mane, I'll manage quite well, thank you.” And as she looked into Alandriel's pale face, she added: “Maybe this corsair should carry you as well.” Areanor was rewarded with a grimace. But before she could get a response, she turned and laid a hand on the halfling's shoulder. “Come on, Master Tibodom, let's fetch your donkey.” “MULE! He is a perfectly ordinary mule.” the hobbit corrected, every inch of him a proud mule owner. A sad expression crossed his face. “Though it's not mine anymore. Shouldn't we wait for Mr. El Dineen, as it's his mule now?”

The Gondorian had already taken some steps ahead to get to the stables. And when the halfling had caught up with her, she answered. “Last evening he didn't look very eager to care for that beast. If he's interested in the fate of the mule after all, it will surely be a comfort for him to know it is in the keeping of the king's messengers rather than in the unkempt stables of a mindless innkeeper.” Tibodom Took gawked at this statement, but soon remembered to close his mouth and hurry behind the tall woman, who made with long irregular strides for the stable.

Tibo was first to spot his mule. Delighted Areanor registered the saddle and reins stored next to the box. No need to lose precious time for searching then. While the Hobbit made his beast ready to move, he noticed the frown on the woman's face. “What are you looking for, Areanor?” “I'm not sure, but I can't see any Rohirric horses here. And I haven't seen the Rohirrim who arrived last night. I wonder if they have left early or what else could have happened. Maybe Alandriel does know.”

She nodded at the halfling and listened to the soft words he gave to the mule. Lutz turned his ears, but didn't seem unwillingly to leave the rotten straw. Snorting he followed his master. When they came back to the assembled group, Areanor could hear the last sentence of an argument that seemed to have taken place there.

“Legyviel, you'll get on that mule. If not, Arunakhôr will have to carry you. And I don't think that will be as comfortable as the back of the mule.” Areanor grinned. This sounded like the Alandriel she had heard tales of. Soon the group was ready to depart and with her saddlebags on Lutz's back and her hand firmly gripping the mule's mane, Areanor managed to keep their pace. She shot a short glance up to the elf who looked rather pale, but didn't know how to express her worry, so she turned her gaze away before their eyes met. Behind them she could hear some snatches of the conversation that went on between the others. “Food” “Fish” and “ supply of water” were the words that reached her ears. As if he had heard it too, the Hobbit, who walked at the other side of the mule, muttered: “I wonder if we'll get a decent breakfast after all this night's work.” Then he looked around alarmed. “Where is Mr. Dineen?” Areanor shrugged and murmured under her breath: “I hope he got lost.” Though she had a blood dept to pay to that pirate, it didn't mean she had to like it.

The Hobbit turned to ask Alandriel about Kalin's whereabouts when Arunakhôr made a sign to halt.”There is my ship.” He stated, not willing to talk more than needed. Areanor nodded and with Jaeniver she helped Legyviel to get off the mule. While Jaeniver supported Legyviel, the Gondorian handed her bags over to Tibodom. “Would you please take care of my bags while I take care of your mule?” And taking a parchment out of the pack, she turned to Alandriel. “I'll be back in five minutes, for I just have to go to the house over there where you can see the light in the window. That's the harbour's messenger station and I just deliver the mule and come back. Just wait for me, I would hate to have to swim after the ship.” And taking the mule by its reins, the tall woman turned to cross the street.

Posted: Thu Oct 14, 2004 1:09 pm

On his hairy little feet, the hobbit followed bravely his dear Lutz. The air seemed chilly in this eventful night, and the Gondorian walked quickly on her long legs, so that he had to hurry to keep up with her.
In the mean time, he recalled the words he had heard her say:
Last evening he didn't look very eager to care for that beast. If he's interested in the fate of the mule after all, it will surely be a comfort for him to know it is in the keeping of the king's messengers rather than in the unkempt stables of a mindless innkeeper.
How could she think so poorly of Master Dineen? Tibodom had seen him fight bravely, and if his mind was now so far more occupied with other questions, it did not mean that he would not have taken care of his newly acquired companion as soon as time and circumstances would permit it. But as Kalinel was a sailor, his first duty would be to think about the ship. And this was only another proof of his loyalty toward his friends. Obstinately, Tibodom tried to stick to this idea while he was walking – no running behind Areanor.

But let’s be honest, dear reader, there are other reasons, why it did not bother Tibodom outrageously to act still as the owner of the mule. After all, is it not the fair elven lady Legyviel sitting on the beast’s back? Would not without Lutz her way through the city be a torture for her fair limbs? Can you imagine how proud our little hobbit feels to be of help to the elven lady? It distracts him from the images of the attacked inn – it might even distract him from the image of Daisy Cotton, but please do not venture to say so in his presence. No, Master Took is as usually preoccupied with the evident: how to go the harbour quickly and entirely. Could there not be a hope to find the time to glide some kid of breakfast in their day before they lave? And if he, in any way, can be of help to the delicate creature that he just met in the Lady Legyviel – he will be more than glad to do so. Don’t tell him already, that the elf is less delicate than he thought. Tibodom will have to grow up early enough on that trip.

The chilly air of the night had awoken the hobbit’s mind and stomach (which are intimately connected, by the way), and he used the time of the road to look at his companions. But Kalinel Dineen was still amiss, and the Gondorian could not answer his question about his whereabouts – only her harsh and muttered answer, which did of course not escape his pointy hobbit ears proofed him that this woman was not trustworthy. How could someone hope that a member of their company, a reliable sailor like Kalinel should go lost? No, he, Tibodom Took would keep an eye on that so-called messenger of the king.

Now, when they arrived in the harbour, his first glance was not for the ship, not even for the sea, but his glance suspiciously followed Areanor’s movements. While Jaeniver supported Legyviel, the Gondorian handed her bags over to Tibodom.

“Would you please take care of my bags while I take care of your mule?”

And taking a parchment out of the pack, she turned to Alandriel.

“I'll be back in five minutes, for I just have to go to the house over there where you can see the light in the window. That's the harbour's messenger station and I just deliver the mule and come back. Just wait for me, I would hate to have to swim after the ship.”

And taking the mule by its reins, the tall woman turned to cross the street. But Tibodom would not let her go away that easily. He grabbed for the other rein.

“Lutz is a shy and smart beast… he would not go with anybody and I don’t want you to be in trouble with my mule.” Tibodom smiled his fairest smile at those words.

“I have taken care of horses almost twice as big, I will handle it alone, thank you for your kindness, Master Took» replied, slightly frowned the Gondorian.

“You know nothing about Shire mules and their habits. This beast deserves your respect… and what was it that you wanted to do with him, in fact?”

The King’s messenger sighed, loudly this time. “Have you seen the ship, Master Took? Do you honestly think that we can take your Lutz, however fine an animal it may be on it? I am a King’s messenger – I have the right to claim care and provision for your beast at the harbour’s messenger station. Will you now let me deal with the situation?”

Tibodom’s eyes widened as he heard her words… how could he not have thought about that? He felt his heart beating very swiftly, all of a sudden. He stopped, turned back and looked at the ship waiting for them…. The sails were attached now, but it must look huge and proud under the wind. The harbour was filled not only with the sound of screams of sea gulls but of the halyards hitting against the masts in the wind. The hobbit felt a chill running long his entire spin. Would it not be easier to run away now, to grab his mule and ride back to the Shire, where his life would find him back, and his however short and eventless absence would make him a hero?

Fortunately, the thought did not last very long. Tibodom was too loyal – but also too naïve for that – he could not really imagine the dangers that were lying ahead of them, although the night had given him a glimpse of it.

“You are right, Areanor, there is no place in this ship for the mule.” He swallowed the words “and me”. “But let met me take care of it, please. I have owned Lutz a long time, he’s a fine beast….”

"I have other tasks at the messenger's relay awaiting me too - so if you insist we can go together"

Tibodom sighed - how could he make the young woman understand that he wanted to be alone in this moment. H swallowed and his voice was a bit shaky, when he asked her kindly: Please let me go alone - it will not take long and your other faring may wait for this little interlude. As I have said, Lutz is a fine beast, and I owe him to remain at his side...

The Gondorian raised her shoulders briefly, but then let the halfling walk off with his precious beast. She could see him walking towards the station, holding the reins of his animal, his head bent towards the mule, obviously talking. “What a strange little person.” She thought –and it should not be the last time.

I took quite a while until Tibodom stepped out of the messenger’s station again – alone this time. He looked at his feet, all the short way back to Areanor, who was impatiently tapping with her shoes on the cobblestones. When he was at her side, he lifted his head and raised his hand: he held a purse in it.

“They paid a decent price. Technically the sum belongs to Master Dineen, but I am sure he will agree to spend in on food and provision for the voyage. Let’s go and ask him.”

Areanor die not follow the small halfling on their way to the Agannâlô, but she watched, and if with his left hand he acted as if he put a curl behind his ears, she was almost sure that he had wiped off a tear or two.

Posted: Mon Oct 18, 2004 10:15 am

Quick and quietly the companions got themselves ready. Jaeniver helped Legyviel climb ontop of the donkey soon followed by Areanor.The Hobbit patted the animal softly to assure him of his new cargo, they meant no harm. Moving further along the dark road Jae became aware of a growing menace.The Elf halted to let her hand seek the cold assurance of the knife that was hidden under her cloak.

She peered into the shadows.Waiting. Nothing came. She became aware that she no longer had a choice.She would have to leave with them to whatever forsaken place Alandriel would lead them, for staying here was no longer an option. She’d be found dead in the street when the next morning dawned. A shiver ran down her spine and Jae shook her head lightly to get rid of the frightening image. ‘Its like the position between wind and water.' an ironic smile curled her lips. Water. Unconsiously every muscle and sense tensed at the thought of boarding a ship and so she nearly jumped when a voice called out her name:

“Jaeniver Ëlindi. It’s a pleasure to see your bright face again, even under these grim circumstances.”

Turning around to face the voice her hand dropped from the knife but she had to swallow a few times before she could manage a little smile as the voice turned out to belong to an aquintance.

“Lord Aglanor.A most pleasant surprise I might add. A strange coincidence running into you here at these …” She paused.There was no word for times where assassins moved around and one nightmare after another became reality…” extraordinary times.”

But neither of them had more time to exchange polite greetings. “So more still gather.” Alandriel appeared, a grim expression on her face as she kept the Corsair close within reach of her blade.The shiny tip dangerously close to his throat. “Yes, so it seems.” Jae smiled satisfied by the glinstering blade on the Corsair’s dark skin. “This is Aglanor, advisor to Thranduil. We have worked together on more then one occasion.” And Jae gave a nod for introduction to the Silvan.

“Looks like we’re ready then.” Dindraug received a confirming nod from the ranger and she began to move down the path that led into the shadows of the city. The mule followed with Tibodom and last came the Elves. Jaeniver grew quieter as they proceeded and when the reached the harbour she only partly listened to the quiet conversation of the other two. The smell of the sea, its movements. Even after all these years they were still very much alive.

As the party arrived in the harbour the Corsair let it be known his ship was not far. Instead they were looking at it. The Agannâlô. “As long as it sails.” was Jae’s only remark before turning to help Legyviel off the mule and slipped one arm around her waist. “We’ll find you a quarter somewhere on that ship.” She whispered to Legyviel who just nodded. In silence she hoped that legyviel would have the strength to recover at sea.

Posted: Sat Oct 23, 2004 5:02 am

Silence filled the ancient fortress; it clung to the stones and seeped from the floor, smothering any sound that dared to make its presence known. It flowed down the long corridors and spiral stairs, it clung to the deepest rooms like a cloak and in the dark there was terror that haunted the night. It lay on the long stone benches along the walls of the great hall and watched from the cold kitchens where frightened churls stirred luke-warm soup over smouldering coals.

The fire popped; an ancient pocket of air trapped in the blackened stone burst out and shattered the silence with the tiny noise. The servants looked at each other in horror, eyes wide and cold, empty of all but hope. Hope that it would be some other who would die this moment. Even such pitiful existence was better than the death she would provide. Out of the corner of each eye they watched the doorway, waiting for death. And that pop, that slightest noise echoed through those halls. Audible even over the storm that beat against the battlements and the steady drip of water as it found its way into the barren callers, to mix with the congealed blood of aeons that stained the dirt floor.

She heard and her head tore round to face the keep. She spat a single word filled with all the rage and hate of the ages and it wrenched through the ancient stones like a fury scattering all it reached.

Then the brooding silence returned, broken only by the hiss of the waves on the beach

The churls picked up their dead, tears in their eyes. They were a dying people, the Petty Dwarves; they had no place left to go in this Middle Earth. They had clung to this island on the edge of the world for untold years forgotten by all, except the teller of tales who had turned them into creatures of spite and mischief. And now they would die, forgotten and cursed, un-mourned and unloved, on a lonely rock in a cold and unforgiving sea.

Death had diminished the people slowly, through numbers and culture that slowly diminished with successive generations. But now a truly cruel blow had fallen with one of the corpses that lay in the kitchen, her sightless eyes staring up at the blackened stones. She had been the keeper of stories, a leader amongst her people, their princess. Now she was gone and with her the accounts of her people.

But at least the others still lived, they still had existence. Not one of the petty dwarves met the eye of another, they could not. They just carried their princess to the postern gate and dumped the three corpses for the gulls and carrion birds to feast on.


She clutched the battlements, and stared out across the sea. She could feel, in the veins of stone beneath her hands, that her sanctum had been violated by two whom she had not faced in a long age of the world. Old enemies, old score to settle. One had gone, swept away into the night but had left traces she could see. The other was hidden from her, but trapped in the dark of this fortress. She could sense that it prowled in the darkness, deep in her sanctuary; trapped by wards and mysteries that no power in Arda could break. She could not see what waited in the dark, like a spider in its web, but she knew that the spider was caught in a far greater labyrinth than it knew and would not emerge alive this time.
She turned to her Knight, who remained bowed on his knees behind her, his face empty of the remorse and hate which seethed inside him.

“Something is here. Two got in and one did not get out. You have failed me again Osgarcam,” she said turning to her Knight. He shuddered on the cold stone, his knee bowed before her, through fear, or cold from the snow and ice that had built up on him since he assumed that position, even he was not sure. She could feel in him the need to relinquish this world in the deep places of his spirit. She smiled, and punished him. She let him live.

“That which is trapped will not escape, and will be a better guardian for that which it tried to steal than you my prince. So fear not, this day” She sighed and stared out over the choppy sea towards the distant land. She had seen what had happened there, her servants torn to shreds, and carefully laid plans broken. But she still had servants there, and they would serve still.


She watched the Petty Dwarves take the bodies of the dead and cast them quickly on the shingle below her. In her mind the woman knew that she had slain the dwarves, but she could not keep their spirits so she cared not. They made good servants, but would breed and provide more of the little rat folk.

But it had cleared her mind, and now she saw where her vengeance must lie. She cast her eye on the far ship on the Gulf of Luin, and spoke to her servants.

Posted: Thu Oct 28, 2004 10:10 pm

The frothy sea stirred, restless with the wind that plucked at its shores. On the deck of the ship Agannâlô stood Legyviel, looking down at the blue expanse with one elbow resting on the railing. Strands of the breeze plucked at her hair, pulling it out of a hastily arranged bun and across her face. She barely felt it, though, her thoughts wandering in a place far away, a place bordering that same sea……it was hard to believe it was the same sea.

Legyviel sighed and looked up. A faint glimmer of dawn painted the sky a blushing pink, preceding the new day and slowly banishing the shadows of the night before. High overhead wheeled a daring sea bird, screeching its exhilaration with reckless abandon. How she longed to join it. How she longed for a lot of things.

Beside her stood the elf Jaeniver, silent, watchful and grimly fingering her blade. Legyviel glanced at her sideways, and wondered vaguely why she did not leave. No doubt she had somewhere she would rather be than in Legyviel’s silent company. As if feeling her gaze, Jae turned away from the railing and turned her full attention to Legyviel. A worried frown creased her brow.

“You should be in bed,” she said, not to be thwarted. Legyviel sighed- they had had this same argument only minutes ago.

“The fresh sea breeze is doing me more good than any amount of rest could, as I have already told you,” she reminded her. Jae simply shook her head, her eyes on Legyviel’s neck.

“If that wound doesn’t close sometime soon, nothing will do you much good,” she said. Instinctively, Legyviel’s hand- already stained red with her own dried blood from all the times she had tried to stem the flow- flew to her neck. The bleeding had become a trickle now, but she knew as well as Jae did that if it didn’t stop completely in at least a few days, she would die. Her vision darkened briefly.

There was a clatter from below as a man climbed the stairs to stand sure-footed on the slightly tilting deck. He titled his face to the breeze for a moment, grinned fiercely and only then seemed to notice the two elves regarding him. Casting them a dark look, he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “bloody elves,” and stalked away to check the rigging.

He was a corsair, as Legyviel had realized the moment she saw him- no respectable man had long, unruly hair and flashed golden teeth. At his comment about elves, she arched her eyebrows and looked at Jae, who seemed to be keeping her face neutral with some effort.

“Tell me he’s not one of our companions,” the silver-haired elfess said. Jae coughed discreetly.

“Well, technically, he’s not. But he’ll be going with us,” she said. Legyviel just stared at her until she gave in.

“He is Arunakhôr, Captain of the Agannâlô.”

“And his disliking of elves is just an unfortunate quirk, hmm?” Legyviel asked. Jae shrugged unconcernedly.

“At knife-point it is,” she said. Legyviel sniffed haughtily. Even after being insulted by him her sense of dignity was implacable.

“So we are forcing him to take us, against his will and no doubt his better judgment, instead of just-”

“Oh, drop it, Legyviel,” Jae said, suddenly impatient. “His is the only ship that can take us, no matter how unwillingly, to where we need to go. So unless you have an alternative method of travel…..” she gave her a piercing look and turned away. Legyviel felt hysterical laughter bubbling inside her, quickly bit her lip and looked down. Oh, if only she knew….

There was silence for a while and the ship creaked as it bobbed in the waves. A pair of soft, hesitant feet walked across the deck and Legyviel looked up into a pair of dejected hobbit eyes. Tibodom’s attempt at a smile was brave, softening her mood immediately. Guessing as to the source of his misery, she crouched down to his level and took one small hand in hers.

“Do not fret, little hobbit, Lutz is safer than you right now,” she said softly. Tibo sighed and looked at her pleadingly.

“But how can you be sure?” he asked. Legyviel grew serious, her mouth hardening to a grimace.

“Because he is not coming with us,” she said, standing up and looking down at him. Tibodom blanched, then started in surprise as Arunakhôr called him over. Whispering a goodbye to the elves, he left as quickly as he had come. Jaeniver broke the silence first.

“That was a little harsh,” she said quietly. Legyviel shook her head, her eyes still turned in the direction of the retreating hobbit.

“Better he hear it from me than realize it once it’s too late. I don’t think he really knows what he’s getting himself into,” she replied.

“Do any of us?” Jae asked thoughtfully.

“At least we have the means to protect ourselves from the worst. He doesn’t. If anything happens to him…..” she trailed off, unwilling to finish that particular thought.

Posted: Maelgwn Sun Oct 31, 2004 10:38 am


“My message is evidently falling on deaf ears. I have to get to the House of the Seven Stars and I have to get there today”. Maelgwn’s voice, so mellifluous in relaxation, was bordering on roughness in his frustration.

“I’m sorry, sir. I truly am. But if I’ve explained it once, I’ve explained it a thousand times and the tale grows no different in the telling. The inn is out of bounds, cordoned off, to anyone save the city guards.” Warin, the young guards’ officer, reached out a hand to ring the bell that would have this irrepressible peredhil shown out.

But Maelgwn was too quick; his hand reached to gently grasp that of the officer. “Is there not any sort of arrangement we could come to that might help you change your mind?” Their eyes met.

“What sort of arrangement were you thinking of?” The soldier’s hand was still of its own accord now, though his eyes flashed from side to side like a searchlight, nervous and heedful of any potential motion.

Maelgwn withdrew two silver pennies from his pouch and slipped them into Warin’s ink-blotched palm.

There was silence for a moment before he replied: “I’ll take you there.”

Thanking his lucky stars that the age-old morals of authority never changed, Maelgwn followed Warin down narrow back streets, into the quarter he had been trying to get to for the past hour. At the rope barrier, his guide exchanged a few hurried works with one of his comrades and the two of them were permitted to pass.

“What did you tell him?” Maelgwn asked.

“That you were here to investigate the fire and the murders”, Warin replied.

Maelgwn, despite his regularly calm demeanour, must have let some of his surprise slide through. Yet he said nothing and followed; grateful only for the opportunity to keep his long-given word to a very dear friend.

They stopped in front of the House of the Seven Stars; lit in the pale light of the smallest hours, only by torches and the frantic energy that surrounded the dwelling.

“If it’s alright, I’ll leave you here then?”, leaving Maelgwn to take stock of the situation. There was a fine ghostly plume of smoke drifting out from the rear extension to the building, but the lack of any ominous crackle and the obvious presence of men with buckets led him to the conclusion that that matter was under control. The door to the main body of the inn, however, was ajar on its hinges and the sound of low voices could be heard within.

One of the city-guard was perched on a long bench; his tunic rucked up and besmirched with blood and exhaustion. In the midst of the rushes at his feet knelt another, bent over the prone form of a portly middle-aged gentleman, looking very pale, somewhat the worse for wear and more bloodied and exhausted than his helpers. Beyond the little huddle, Maelgwn could make out a lumpen form beside the bar, which upon closer inspection proved to be the body of a woman.

Seeing the intruder, the soldier on the bench leaped to his feet. “The inn’s closed sir. What are you after here?”

“After you it would seem”, Maelgwn smiled, “I was sent by Mireädur, to find out what information you have gleaned”.

The soldiers visibly relaxed. Mireädur, who was indeed Maelgwn’s paternal uncle, was as well known to them as to any in Mithlond and, as Harbour Master, with a need to know what was afoot.

“Not as much as would have been useful is the short and honest answer. As you can see, this poor chap here, Brunir, was viciously set upon by thieves – men of the south he tell us – and unfortunately his good wife didn’t make it. The thieves fled into the night.”

“Are there men following the trail?”

“Of course. But there is more than enough carnage here to have obscured much. It would seem that thieves tried to raid the guest rooms. Misguidedly, if the wounded and maimed upstairs are anything to go by.” Maelgwn evidently looked concerned, for the guardsman was swift to follow: “the villains that is, those who are lying upstairs; all southerners by the marks upon them. The guests it would seem have fled, along with or in pursuit of the remainder of those who attacked them”.

“I’m glad to hear that the guests are well clear, for it’s after one of them that I must ask”. “A red-headed member of the fairer sex. It’s her in particular that I am tasked with tracking down”.

Brunir attempted to half raise himself onto his elbows, as though he would exert himself to make himself heard, but he sank back swiftly under the strain. One of the soldiers helped a beaker of small ale to his lips to wet his tongue. Maelgwn bent down on his knees to be closer to the prone bar keeper.

“Alandriel was what they called her, those who were also seeking her company.” Brunir wisped.

“That’s her indeed, and my luck is cursed to have missed her. Do you have any idea where she was bound?”

“There was a rumour that she was seeking a ship, but to fare where I don’t know”.

“No matter. It will, I’m sure, be news enough that she was here and sea-bound. I am sorry for your injuries and bid you a speedy recovery. If there’s anything you need, do send word to Mireädur and I’ll see that it’s provided”.

The soldiers took to their feet to bid goodbye to Maelgwn in a manner that was verging on obsequious. Then, with no time to lose, towards the harbour-master’s house he hurried.

The dockside in these small hours of the morning was already springing to life in readiness for the day ahead; any idle watcher should have concluded that this city of the elves never slept. Piles of nets lay heaped up ready to be loaded onto fishing boats and the fishermen themselves were making ready to set to water to get out into the currents beyond the harbour mouth before the rising of the sun.

There were other ships too; traders, and the messenger ship from Dol Amroth that had arrived the day before and had taken up so much of the harbour-master’s time. There was another too, a carrack, that would have appeared insignificant if it wasn’t for the buzzing of activity around its deck.

He doubled his pace, convinced by now that there was more to this than he had anticipated. What had started life in Maelgwn’s understanding as an assignation to meet with an old friend was taking on larger properties all the time.

The harbour-master’s house was the most prominent on the waterfront, with its ever burning light in the office window. Inside, Mireädur’s first clerk was working the night shift and in the process of authorising a permit to sail for a fair young woman, wearing the badge of the White City.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve come from the Seven Stars just now.” he interjected

“No matter, I’m nearly done”, the clerk answered without looking up. He slid the parchment across the table to the waiting Gondorian. “There you go madam. Have a safe trip!”

She hovered, clutching the parchment, yet staring at Maelgwn.

The half-elf continued. “I found tidings of the one I was looking for – Alandriel - she wants to charter a boat, so I was hoping you’d keep an ear out for me.”

Once outside, the Gondorian woman accosted him. “I couldn’t but help overhearing. I know of this woman you’re looking for.”

“Do you know where I might find her?”

A flicker of hesitation caressed Areanor’s face.

“She and I go a way back; in case you were desirous of knowing my credentials. She asked for me. Would you help me find her?”

And so Areanor led him towards the restless Agannâlô.