Elrond continues. "Irime allowed herself to be exposed, taking on her living form. Legolas is still unaware that she was not as perceived, believing that the long lost princess had been sequestered here in Rivendell away from all but the knowledge of a select few, for these long eons. That is not far from the truth. I would understand if you have powerful feelings about all of this, but please do not cast your blame on him. Instead, direct your anger to me, for I am the one who authorized this endeavor.
"But before you do, know that your part in all of this was critical, and though you did so unwittingly, the role you played was the most important, for it was each of you that was dragged into His mind. No, not the mind of The Master, as we expected. The dream world that you explored was the very realm of dark memory of Sauron himself!"
You hear Arwen exhale nervously. Glorfindel's gaze never leaves Findegil. Erestor looks into the distance behind Elrond, and Gandalf contemplates the smoke wafting out of his pipe bowl.
The Lord of the Last Homely House tugs at his gold and silver embroidered vest and attempts to sit up a little straighter. "You have proven yourselves worthy of our trust, though we have not proven ourselves worthy of yours. Before I ask you to recollect your experiences in the dream world of the Enemy, I offer you the chance now which was not given before. This Council is at your mercy. Ask of us what you must, charge us as you will, but understand that what was witnessed through your closed eyes may steer the destiny of Middle-Earth."
For long moments, Findegil still waits for more words of revelations to fall.
When his psyche absorbs the realisation that these figures await his fellowship's words, he gathers his wits, and opens his mouth.
"Assembled lords and ladies, I am Findegil, son of Durothil, knight of Minas Tirith, and I..."
I could hide some of the despicable truth.
"...am willing to tell you all that I witnessed, and all that I did."
Cereidh looks off into the clear light around them, trying to gather her thoughts with more energy than she's bent herself to exert since falling to the Shadow.
"How did you find us as we lay there? It is of no important, compared to everything else that may come to pass of this ... Yet. It seems a great kindness all the same, and I'd like to know how it came it pass, to convince myself that it did come to pass."
Éothain assumes that they know him without introduction, since he was part of their plan. He looks around the spectacular scenery for his esquire Folc while readying his words.
Sitting up in his chair and leaning forward, he addresses the council, "I want several things. The first of which is information: where is my esquire? Where exactly are we? In what ways might we exact revenge or at least harry the schemes of the Enemy." The last word drags out as he savors its first use as the newest target of his vengeance.
Lady Arwen addresses Cereidh's question. "Irime's final act was to appear to us and tell us of the resolution to this plan. She told us your lives were still in peril. Glorfindel was dispatched at once.
"You should also know, Cereidh, that Irime believed you would prevail inside the dream, and it was not until the very last moment that Sauron revealed himself to her."
Lindir waits for Arwen to finish, then he replies to Eothain. "The boy under your stewardship has kept busy while you recuperated. Interestingly, his mind seems to have been much more resilient than yours to the strife of the dream. Yet, he has his dour moods, and when he does, we allow him to work in the stables. Once this Council adjourns he may rejoin you in your quarters.
"This place is Imladris, the deep valley along the eastern rise of the Misty Mountains in the northern dale. We sit in the Council chamber of the house of Elrond, long a sanctuary for the weary and oppressed; it is a safe haven where the memory of all that had been fair can be preserved from the injuries of time."
Glorfindel leans forward but Elrond raises a finger and the fair-haired Elf rests. "We must know of your exploits inside the mind of the Enemy before we can plan our next actions," Elrond responds.
Éothain nods at the answers as sufficient. Then, the rider of Rohan will the tell the story of the dream from his perspective. The cadence and word choice are only two or three revisions ready to become a heroic ballad.
He allows and incorporates his companions comments and perspective into his telling.
Please roleplay the highlights so we can gave some actual dialog. You're speaking with legendary characters - this should be fun! Everyone can be involved in this.
Waking to find herself in the presence of such lofty folk Amalina stays quiet and for a while wonders if she is simply in another dream world. The peace, warmth, and comfort of the Last Homely House simple too much of a blessing to be true after the dark horrors of Dol Guldur. But eventually the realness sinks in and she allows herself to take a small pleasure in the food and comforts provided by the elves.
When the council is called she hesitantly and warily leaves the secluded spot under the trees she and Winter had found near the river. A perfect place in her mind for being quiet, alone, perhaps even at peace.
At first she is unable to really understand what Gandalf and the others are saying. Ireme a ghost? The dream was a part of....his mind? A shudder runs through her body and her stomach churns at the thought of the Dark One knowing her so....intimately.
When asked about their experience she listens to Eothain's tale, nodding but mostly remaining quiet until the point where they became separated.
"There was a...a night in the dream, where many of us...we're...separated, or perhaps simply drawn...to something from our own people's past." She starts off haltingly, struggling to find the words. Unused to speaking before such lords and ladies, but more because so much of the dream itself was a confusing jumble in her mind. "I met a family of woodfolk on the Field of Heroes. We fought several wargs, killing them. One lay dying, but Trena healed him and Winter." Her hand reaches out giving the big hound a light scratch on the neck. "Then she showed me how to heal using the ancient songs of our people and some of the soil from that field."
She glances over at Cereidh. "It was a fortunate thing to have and came in useful near the...the end." Her eyes close as she tries to forget the sounds, sights, and smells of the slave pit under the mountain.
"But what I do not understand, is if this was a place within His mind. Why or how did this help come about?" She asks, puzzled and then shivers again. "And since we were in his mind, how well does he know us? Will he seek us out even more than before?"
"When the good Woodwoman says that her people’s healing came to our aid in our darkest hour,” Cereidh says, ”she means she brought me back - briefly as it was - from the death of a blow right over my heart.” She touches her collarbone briefly.
She looks up at Lindir. ”Lindir, I saw you in the dream. In the Elf-Tower, where we fought a Barrow-Wight. I hope that that battle went better for you in the daylight of real time.” She smiles very slightly for a moment, if not mustering much real mirth.
Lindir is clearly caught off-guard when the tale of the encounter with the Barrow-wight in the Elf Tower is recounted. He looks at Cereidh quizzically, and with supreme interest. "I--" he pauses, looking first to Elrond, then back to Cereidh. "I withdrew from that unnecessary entanglement. As I recall, Glorfindel, you were scouring Angmar at the time, and Lord Elrond was in--" He stops himself again. "Indisposed. Therefore the task fell to me. I was quite able to provide a report of the Enemy's activities in the region via a brief sojourn into the forest." Lindir sits back, mildly embarrassed.
Gandalf listens intently to the stories of Amalina and Cereidh, and when they finish their remarks he offers a dark reasoning.
"You have asked two excellent questions, my dear woodwoman. The answers may prove deeply unsettling but it is right that should hear it. It may help to begin at the beginning..."
Gandalf continues. "The Enemy - Sauron - comes from the beginning of... everything. Older than the Elves by far, he was one who helped to shape the world, and there are those who yet roam Middle-Earth that knew him then. But he was turned by Morgoth, the Fallen, ensnared by the desire for power above all else. Morgoth was defeated long ago, but Sauron escaped, and has, in the intervening eons, sought ever to increase his power, his influence, and his domination of this realm." The Elves shift uncomfortably as Gandalf recalls this lore.
"For thousands of years, Sauron has sequestered in some fortress or chasm, but he does not sleep, as do some others which were similarly corrupted. Sauron is ever-plotting, ever-working, ever-searching. In the domains where he claims governance, all creatures might serve as his eyes. Even the trees listen for him. What you experienced was the manifestation of that limitless reach, though it is as he perceives it now, through the accumulated connections between events in time. There is another who has such a power, young woodwoman. Perhaps you know him?" Gandalf smiles with his eyes at Amalina.
"That is how Sauron know what he knows. Those parties which you visited were there, as Lindir has acknowledged, seen through the eyes of the Barrow-Wight or the wargs, or perhaps a spider hanging from a nearby tree, or a crow flying overhead. That you interacted with them, well, that is because you do not live inside Sauron's mind. You were guests, as it were. But you are also yourselves, and you influenced the dream in ways He could not."
"Wizard speak," Lindir scoffs.
"What is important," continues Gandalf, nonplussed, "are the events you witnessed beyond your immediate influence. What did you see happen before you interacted with it? That is where we need to delve."
Amalina's brow furrows in thought as she tries to recall the earlier portions of the dream or parts where she was just a witness to events. Finally she speaks quietly, a bit hesitantly, trying to remember as she goes.
"Well...we saw Haycombe as it was before the raid. It seemed a pleasant town. There was the boy, I can't recall his name. He guided us to an inn where we ran into a story teller. But there is little there of import that I can see other than remembering those who fell to the shadow long ago. The city was destroyed despite our efforts to help." She says sadly, taking a moment to regain her calm and voice.
"There was that place along the Anduin. After we'd been separated. A quiet pool where Cereidh, Thorgrim and I could see a struggle took place and that Findegal and Eothain had been there." She pauses, frowns again. "But there were also other tracks in the mud there. Small in size, similar to a hobbits. But I really don't know what that would mean, since whatever happened took place before we happened along."
"Perhaps that is where Findegil found the ring?" Cereidh forwards. "Since wherever that happened, it happened outside of our witness, Amalina's and Thorgrim's and mine." A shadow passes over Cereidh's face at Thorgrim's name. "But it would be an odd place for that fate to pass. A humble place. Not like the Elf-Tower at all."
Findegil returns the gazes, trying to maintain dignity in his stance, as would befit a man both of Gondor and of noble line.
He speaks.
"We dreamt of a time before the defeat of Dol Guldur. As Amalina has noted, we were separated for a time. Éothain, myself, and two squires from Haycombe passed close to Isildur's Field. Which perhaps explains what we witnessed later. A pair of hobbits in a boat - and one murdered the other! Éothain was swifter to react, and the three of us ended up in a struggle with the raging hobbit. And then...then we saw it. Isildur's Bane itself! I was instantly overcome with a lust for it. I could justify it a little by referring to the power to strike down the enemies of the White Tower and to restore my family's prowess. But right then, I cared for none of it. I roared like a man possessed and was willing to fight and kill all present if they got between me and seizing the treasure. Éothain was wiser and kept his head, I imagine trying to send the treasure back into the Anduin riverbed."
"Haleth. Haleth put it on and fled. Thus, the three of us whom remained were locked in common purpose to track the squire and retake the treasure. So we rode to Dol Guldur, to the secret entrance that Cereidh referred to. Thus, we rejoined the others."
Glorfindel bolts upright. "Isildur's Bane! How can this be?"
Erestor turns on Elrond. "Then He knows where it is!"
"The situation is more dire than we realized!" Glorfindel continues, stalking into the center of the circle. "We have been asleep while Sauron has been searching for his prize. How long will we wait here and do nothing?"
"Sit down!" Gandalf booms. For a moment, you see a side to the old wizard you did not expect - powerful, commanding. He waits for Glorfindel to return to the circle, then continues, resuming his grandfatherly facade. "Thank you for your candor, Knight of Gondor. When this boy, Haleth, put on the Ring, did anything unusual happen? When you arrived at Dol Guldur, did you find the treasure which consumed your thoughts?"
Cereidh, knowing the answer is yes, looks silently over at Findegil and waits for him to say his piece.
Amalina's eyes grow wide and she stifles a choking cough as she realizes what ring is suddenly being discussed and what happened is those last horrible, terrifying seconds after the Alderman fell.
"Wait...what!?" She says too confused and too overcome with shock to remember where she is and with who as the memory of those last few moments floods back into her mind. The massive flaming black eye, that devastating voice thundering in her mind, filling her body and soul with utter terror and hopelessness.
"That...that...was The Ring that fell from your hand?! That the boy gave you?" She shouts, her voice a combination of fear and sadness. "Is that what drew Him to us? Why...why...he came to know us? Why you jumped..." Her voice stammers and trails off as she covers her face with her trembling hands and sobs softly. For the moment all she hears is that evil voice filling her mind and seeing the madness in the once noble knight's face as he leapt from the tower. Leaving her and Eothain alone as the Shadow took them all to chase the golden leaping golden ring.
Findegil nods, looking at the grey wizard.
"Aye. He vanished from sight. Much as I did when the boy, with burns on his fingers, handed me the ring in Dol Guldur. Once I put it on, my sight changed utterly. I could see the radiance of the living and the utter darkness of the undead. I could sense the moments between moments. And...and I could feel *his* gaze."
"I could not be seen and I used that to strike at first a troll-like abomination, and then the Alderman. The Bane then slipped from my finger and I...I leaped after it. Nothing else mattered. Not my cause, not my oaths, not my very life. Only the Bane."
"So it is true," announces Elrond. "After all these long centuries, the Ring has been found."
Gandalf stares into the far west. "A Hobbit found Isuldur's ring," he murmurs, repating Eothain's own words from the dream. "A Hobbit..."
"But if Sauron knows the identity of the ring-bearer, then he may have already found it for himself!" exclaims Glorfindel.
"If that were the case, the White Tower would have already fallen, and an army of orcs would be marching on us as we deliberate here today," Elrond surmises. "No, I do not believe the Enemy has yet recovered his Ring. And these memories which our frinds here were forced to relive are half a thousand years old, and Sauron did not come to know the passing of the Ring until sometime later. Our mysterious Hobbit ring-bearer would not have stayed put with the Ring acting on his mind. Indeed, by the events described here, he was already under its wretched influence. A weak mind makes a susceptible host. The question now is, where did he go, and what has become of him? Those answers may be more difficult to come by, for the Ring would have concealed its movements."
"We must assemble an army and march on Mordor at once!"
"To what end? Until the Ring is found, we are at an impasse. Sauron knows this too."
Lindir leans forward to ask, "How can we find a thing that causes the one who wears it to disappear from plain sight?"
Gandalf rises and strides to look out one of the many archways into the valley. "The Ring wants to be found. It wants to return to its Master. There are other ways to find such a thing, as we have already come to know. We must now be more vigilant than ever, watching for the servants of the Enemy." The Grey Wizard chews his pipe, his westward gaze unblinking.
Finally he turns to regard the group. "You asked another question: what does He know of you? We must consider this carefully."
"Let us break for a midday meal, if we have the stomach for it," says Elrond. "Lindir, prepare the hall for our guests. We shall reconvene in the afternoon."
Cereidh gets up to speak with Glorfindel, not in the lowered tones of stealth, but the lowered tones of introspection and concentration. "You understand, it may be dangerous to know even a little of the Ring and the plans of the mighty for it - but after all this, I shouldn't like to be idle, if plans are to be made and soon. - You understand."
Findegil stands quietly for a spell and then approaches Erestor.
"Lord Erestor, a moment? Is there any way to prepare oneself to better withstand the lure of Isildur's Bane? Is such a thing possible? I ask, because I would still oppose its master, and may have the misfortune to encounter it again."
Glorfindel appraises Cereidh. His gaze is penetrating, and though he looks only into your eyes, you feel like he can see into your soul. His legend is well known among the Elves of Middle-Earth, but his origin is shrouded in secrecy; He has long maintained residence in Imladris, so that his presence in the Court of Thranduil is exceedingly rare. Whether Thranduil knows Glorfindel's history is in doubt, and not even Legolas has heard his father speak of the Golden Flower, or at least such conversations are well beyond your sphere of knowledge. That Glorfindel and Elrond share a common purpose is long understood.
The fair-haired Elf Lord pauses interminably before responding. Finally he speaks: "Lady Cereidh, what you have witnessed of the true nature of the One Ring is but a pebble amidst a mountain range, and for that knowledge, He will hunt you. We have put your lives at great risk with this plan, but I now see the merit of it." His summary of events feels cold, and you realize that Glorfindel's conception of events is much more profound, like he has placed your name into a line of hundreds or thousands which have come and gone during his long efforts to defeat Sauron once and for all.
"I have previously spoken with Elrond and Gandalf. As he alluded to just now, we believe the key to finding the Ring is to find the agents of the Enemy, for they will now have the advantage. Tell me, what do you know of the Nazgûl?"
Erestor regards Findegil with some distrust, but speaks freely. "The dwarves have a mysticism, cut from the depths of the earth, whereby two aspects of ore are drawn to one another from a short distance. More powerfully, a needle of such ore, when refined in their great cauldrons, fabricated, and cooled, will align along the north-south line when hung from a string of hair.
"You are such a needle, now. For even though the Ring has not actually come into your possession, you have glimpsed Sauron's thirst for its power, and some of that power corrupts your mind and will guide your actions. How to withstand the lure, you ask. No, you are more susceptible to it now, but like the mysticism of the dwarves, you can be shaped into a more useful tool to help find it.
"Do you understand? The only way to avoid further corruption is to leave the path on which you are now set. But you can no more stray from the path than the needle can be made to point to the west; only by force, and never for long."
Having spent part of the break calming and recomposing herself in solitude under the trees of Rivendell, Amalina eventually returns to the gathering and food offered by Lindir. Seeing the lady Arwen, the young wood-woman takes a deep breath and shyly approaches the lady bowing her head slightly while holding her hands nervously to the side.
"Excuse me my lady." She says quietly, a slight tremor in her voice. "I don't mean to interrupt your meal, but I'd like to apologize for my sudden outburst during the council." Her cheeks shine red, and she sighs heavily. "It's just that...well that I still feel the fear. Feel it deep within me. I've lived under the eaves of Mirkwood for all of my life, fought and killed evil creatures of many kinds, survived the terror of battle. But this was different. The power, the hatred for all that is good." Her eyes close and a shudder runs through her body.
"I'm afraid this new fear will overwhelm me. I've heard you are a great and kind healer. Can you tell me, is there any way to heal this wound? I'm not afraid to work hard, struggle, fight. But against....that...what is there I can do?"
As she stops talking, Winter nuzzles Amalina's hand gently and with a soft whine, his golden brown eyes filled with compassion, love and worry for this new mood that has befallen his companion.
Amalina approaches Arwen; the Lady appears lost in her thoughts. When she is roused she says,"Many feel as you do. I know the fear - have known it for many years. It does not penetrate this House, yet the knowledge of it is inescapable."
She admires Winter and smiles warmly. "Your journey into the past, and the tale of crossing the High Pass and fighting the orcs - that was a time before my mother was--before she passed to the West. There are some wounds which cannot be healed."
Her eyes meet yours. Dark and soulful, they betray a sadness in her heart which may only be revealed to those who have experienced some of that fear, as Amalina has in her short life.
"The temptation is to close yourself off from those who would care for you. That is a weakness the Enemy will exploit. Open your heart to love. It is the only remedy for that which afflicts you." Arwen's eyes well and she wipes them. "It is an easier thing to say," she smiles again and laughs lightly. It occurs to you that she may also be searching for that same healing power.
Smiling and wiping away her own tears, Amalina nods solemnly at Arwen's words and the lady's own display of her feelings.
"Your kindness, wisdom, and affectionate words rekindle in me the strength and courage to face this, my lady." She says still sniffling a bit, but with actual warmth returning to her eyes and smile. "I am humbled, for I did not think that you might have to bare such a burden for so long a time. I only hope I have the fortitude to carry my piece of this...shadow...for the few years of my time in this world with such grace."
"Thank you for your gift, lady. If there is ever any way I might be able to repay your kindness, or that Winter and I could help you and Lord Elrond keep the shadow at bay, I would willingly do so." She says with a bow of her head. "Now I will let you return to your meal in peace. I'm sure we'll all need our strength for the rest of the council. The men-folk do tend to talk and talk and talk..." She adds with a another smile this time accompanied by a quiet laugh and joking twinkle in her eyes.
Before Glorfindel's glory and confidence, Cereidh almost bites her lip in shame when she realizes that whenever this lore was discussed, she must have been off in the woods, hunting, or at least daydreaming of doing so. She keeps herself from being distracted by the arrival of another human woman with effort.
"Precious little, Lord. Although it probably isn't the largest bit of ignorance standing between me and helping with this long quest."
"We shall soon see," Glorfindel says ominously.
Erestor regards Findegil with some distrust, but speaks freely. "The dwarves have a mysticism, cut from the depths of the earth, whereby two aspects of ore are drawn to one another from a short distance. More powerfully, a needle of such ore, when refined in their great cauldrons, fabricated, and cooled, will align along the north-south line when hung from a string of hair.
"You are such a needle, now. For even though the Ring has not actually come into your possession, you have glimpsed Sauron's thirst for its power, and some of that power corrupts your mind and will guide your actions. How to withstand the lure, you ask. No, you are more susceptible to it now, but like the mysticism of the dwarves, you can be shaped into a more useful tool to help find it.
"Do you understand? The only way to avoid further corruption is to leave the path on which you are now set. But you can no more stray from the path than the needle can be made to point to the west; only by force, and never for long."
Findegil thinks long and hard on Erestor's words.
"Then the path it is. Duty before all else, so long as I do not go mad first."
Leaving Arwen to finish her meal, Amalina followed closely by Winter, walks back into the council chambers only to find it occupied by a person she has never seen before.
"Oh! I'm sorry." She says to the woman dressed in simple, travel worn leathers similar to her own. "I didn't expect to find anyone else in here yet."
She smiles at the woman, but the friendly warmth is overshadowed by the tiredness and strain that is clear in her eyes and overall burdened appearance.
"I don't recall seeing you earlier. My name is Amalina." She says with a slight tilt of her head and then gesturing toward the big hound. "As this is Winter. He's friendly enough, although a notorious jerky snitch, so be warned." The hound snorts in response causing Amalina to chuckle softly while scruffing the dog behind the ear.
"Are you here to join the afternoon's council?"
"That is - quite true. I am glad to see another human woman in these halls, though, as fierce and steadfast as our Amalina has been on our quest."
Cereidh glances at Glorfindel. "Indeed. But - I suspect you've already made up your mind if you're here. That said. Even a little bit of knowledge may be dangerous."
"In the wrong mind, any amount of knowledge may be dangerous," echoes the familiar voice of Gandalf. He and Elrond have returned to find all of you in the Council chamber with Gylwinth. Erestor and Glorfindel arrive soon after. Lindir remains absent, likely to direct the reset for the evening. His meal was excellent, by the way: freshly harvested blacktail deer in a red wine reduction with mushrooms and scallions picked from the valley, mixed with fresh cream and seasoned with chives and a dash of rosemary. On the side, he added turnips, carrots, and asparagus in freshly churned goat butter. The mead offered was the most remarkable vintage ever sampled. Glacial spring water is available for those who wish to retain full faculties, and is encouraged.
Your group takes their seats, and there are more than enough extras for Gylwinth to choose any perspective she likes.
"Welcome to this Council, Gylwinth of the Crescent Moon," Elrond begins. "I am pleased to see that you have already met our other esteemed guests, Amalina, the Storm Hearted, Cereidh of the Greenwood, and Findegil, Knight of Gondor. It is with no small amount of disappointement that our representative from the Rohan had an urgent need to return to his homeland with his squire, and they will no longer particiapte in this fellowship. His service to our cause was commendable, and he will be missed.
"You may also be concerned for the Beorning Thorgrim. He was restless, as you may expect, and he departed for his homestead in the Anduin Vale several weeks ago. As did Hobwise, though he pledged to return to 'see it through,' without knowing what 'it' is to be!"
Gandalf snorts and smiles into his pipe.
Elrond continues. "Now then, before we return to the matter at hand, we would be well-served if the four of you," The Elf lord's eyes meet each of yours in turn, "would grace this Council with a more thorough introduction."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Gylwinth looks at Amalina over the circled chairs and smile faintly: "I am. Elrond invited me to attend. I am Gylwinth. You look like you've been through a lot..." she asks with a friendly smile.
Ah. Yes. My companions and I are just...recovering...from a long and difficult journey." She says. There's a slight tremor in her voice and the first two fingers of her left hand tap nervously against her thigh. "I don't really understand all that happened, but the worst of it was a direct encounter with the Dark One himself." She swallows and closes her eyes for a few moments, forcing the memories back and remembering her conversation with Arwen. Calling on her own inner strength to suppress and drive off the dark terror and memories.
Forgive me." She says with a blush. "Some of the memories are still a bit...overwhelming." The big hound pokes his nose into her hand, then swipes it several times with his long tongue causing her to laugh and genuinely smile.
"But enough of that. Have you traveled far to be here? You've the look of a Beorning are you here representing Beorn at the council? Not long ago we met..." She's interrupted when Gandalf's voice echoes through the hall and the others enter the chamber.
Quickly taking her seat she nods her understanding at the departure of her former companions and quietly wishes them safe and restful travels.
When asked to introduce herself, she slowly stands and looks at the faces of some of the most powerful and noble people she's ever encountered. An intimidating group to say the very least. But then her eyes fall on the lady Arwen who offers a slight encouraging nod and she remembers the elf's kindness and genuine openness. Calming her nerves, her gaze meets that of Gandalf and Elrond.
"I am Amalina Stormhearted of the Woodfolk of Mirkwood. My clan has traveled under the eaves of the great forest for generations, but alas fell to the shadow some time ago. I sheltered under Radagast's roof at Rhosgobel for several years where I learned much and was blessed with the companionship of Winter." The dog barks once, somehow giving off a much more noble manner than his mistress. "I have hunted and been hunted by shadow..." She pauses, taking a breath and then standing a bit taller, prouder, showing more strength than she has since waking in Rivendell. "And I stand ready to fight the shadow and its allies. To keep the land safe and free from His malevolent darkness so that others may never experience the terrors that my companions and I have witnessed and suffered."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Findegil drifts back into the hall, his thoughts - and stomach - slowly churning. He draws upon the resolve of his station and his people and puts such thoughts aside. The knight finds a place to stand and hears out his hosts and joins with his companions in speech.
Assembled company, esteemed figures, I bid you greeting. I am Findegil, son of Durothil, knight of Minas Tirith, and heir to a fallen line of Gondor nobility. Perhaps one to rise again in days to come, though perhaps not. I pledged sword and shield to a task set during the first Gathering of the Council of the North. Ever since, I have journied with this fellowship into ever-greater peril. I took great pride in our deeds, as we battled orcs and opposed the Shadow."
"Recent events gave me cause to doubt myself. But I now believe that in itself is a chink in armour that the Shadow could exploit. While I am a Man, I shall fight as one, no matter the peril. Thus I pledge."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
"Elrond speaks the truth. I am Cereidh of the Greenwood; and I have no greater pledge than that the Enemy is the Enemy not only of my people's safety, but our birthright, what we ought to be and that good which we safeguard. - The same, perhaps, as can be said for all Goodly peoples in this time. But I have been sent from my Lord's hall on an errand of friendship, thinking that such might be difficult with mortals and strangers; it is the same errand, and while I grieve that it's become not only difficult but dire, I will not re-name it, for friendship is a good name for standing against such a Shadow as the Enemy. And so, Gylwinth, I welcome you - and doubly so for being of our old elf-friends the Dunedain. Although we will need both old friends and new before the fight of this Age is over."
"Indeed, Findegil of Gondor, one can never have too many friends in this world," states Gandalf.
"Now then," the Grey Wizard continues, "One question remains to be answered: what does Sauron know about all of you. You have been allowed some miniscule access to his own mind - a deep recess, some scrap of memory. Well, whether the Deceiver's memories can be trusted is beyond our sight into the past. Many of the events of which you spoke are chronicled and we have reviewed some of that history. If He does now know that the Ring was found in the Anduin where it fell from Isildur's hand, then he may also have insight as to where it went next, be it on the finger of some Hobbit or the belly of the beast that ate him.
"We are aware of His agents scouring the land for the Ring, as far north as Angmar. Perhaps the presence of spirit of The Master is foreknowledge of your activities in the Vales. We cannot know with certainty; but regardless, Sauron knows of you now - of that we are most assured."
Gandalf leans back in his tall chair and draws deeply from his pipe. "However, there are many in Middle-Earth which count as His enemy, and many He would seek to destroy or corrupt before bothering with the likes of any of you. His resources are finite, same as ours. Lord Elrond and I believe you are not in immediate danger, which is not to say that you should be careless in your adventures. Sauron never forgets. But we feel confident in sending you back into the world." His summation ends without clarification.
There is a pause while Elrond allows everyone to resettle. Finally, he resumes, "There is a matter of immediate importance we wish your group to investigate." He nods to Lindir, who is only now returning from his duties following the break. The seneschal departs and momentarily reappears with a trio of worse-for-wear dwarves in tow. "Welcome," Elrond says, "Bedar, Vinar, and Gindar. This Council has assembled to hear your tale. Please."
The one referred to as Bedar steps tentatively into the circle. His round, bald head features many prominent scrapes, as if he was only recently involved in a frightening tussle. "Err, thank you, Master Elf." Bedar turns his cap in his hands nervously. "We was attacked at night as we camped along the East Road, ambushed by bandits and a few trolls, too. And something else: a horrifying creature – a massive Ogre right out of old legends!
”It musta been their leader; Big. Fast. Nothing so massive has the right to move so quickly, like one of the great mountain bears. He bore a wicked notched sword. It was huge. He cut poor Narvi in half with a single stroke! One of the bandits called him, ‘Captain’. I never seen anything like him.”
Vidar steps forward, his face and build so similar to that of Bedar that they could be brothers. He walks with a signifcant limp and wears the pain of a recent injury on his face. "He was surely an Ogre, from the old tales.” His voice drops to a hoarse whisper that still manages to carry far. “And he spoke the Black Speech."
Finally, Gindar, the smaller of the three, joins the other two dwarves in the center of the chamber, and says, "His voice… Till the end of my days, I will hear that voice… Like fear, given breath… And there was someone with him, something else that kept to the shadows…
Elrond listens quietly and then adds, "One of our scouts, Gondril, happened to be patrolling the Trollshaws and witnessed this ambush in progress. When the dwarves scattered he managed to save these three and return with them to Rivendell."
"Never been so happy to see an Elf," says Vidar with a heavy heart.
Elrond almost smiles and addresses the four of you. "Now, your first task will be to retrace the steps of the dwarves and find clues to the location of the bandit camp somewhere in the Trollshaws. We must learn more of the machinations of this 'Captain'. We may have more to discuss, but so long as the dwarves are here now, please take this opportunity to interview them more thoroughly."