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"I remember the cold darkness of those dreadful tunnels. I remember fierce battle in the remaining light and many goblins. I remember a sudden yell and then a blow and then nothing else until right now."
Findegil looks about.
"The keep. All of us made it? By the Valar, a fine outcome!", he says, his own fire returning.
Then he groans.
"I would take your hint to heart, Gylwinth, and rest longer."
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The smell of pipe smoke brings Amalina up out of a dreamless sleep. With a nearly jaw-breaking yawn, she stretches and feels the crackle of the dried blood and gore that still coats much of her body and gear. Winter continues to lay curled into a tight bundle of fur near the warmth of the fire. His eyes closed as he breathes the deep breathes of sleep.
Seeing Findegil up and recuperating, Amalina offers the knight a warm smile. "Welcome back to the land of the living my friend." She says rubbing the sleep and grit from her eyes.
"Indeed, survival is always preferable to the alternative, although this last time was a bit too close for my own comfort." Closing her eyes, she could still see and hear the never ending goblin horde coming at her with their deadly knives and chattering cries. A shudder runs along her back. "And no offense to Gylwinth's shield wielding skills." She says with a soft chuckle to try and break her dim mood. "But I would not like to face such a situation again. It was fortunate they came upon us in that narrow tunnel and not earlier."
Gathering a bowl of water and some soap, she begins the long slow work of cleaning her weapons, gear, and as much of her body as modesty allows. When finished, she settles in for her watch. While on watch she spends the time sharpening and oiling the blade of her axe. Running the whetstone gently across the nicked surface with a careful, expert hand. She had purchased the blade from the old trader in Rhosgobel, not long after Radagast had introduced her to Winter and she had started scouting for Ingomer. The trader had always claimed it was dwarf-made, but she'd always thought that was just a way of getting a few more silver from her. A smile comes to her face as she remembers haggling with the man for much of the afternoon, much to the disappointment of Winter who'd grumbled and gruffed at standing around for such a long time.
Dwarf-make or not, the blade had proven its worthiness. She no longer thought of it as a simple weapon or tool. No, at least to her, it had become something more. A killer of dark things, an unwavering barrier against the horde, a grounding center of strength in her never-ending hunt and fight against the shadow. Like Winter, it was now a part of her, a symbol and extension of who she now was.
"What shall you be named?" She whispers softly to the blade. "What would be worthy of your deeds and sturdy, sharp strength?"
She ponders for a long while. Listening and staring out into the night and early morning twilight as she sat her watch. Finally, she remembers the way the lantern light had reflected off of the blade in that dark, grim tunnel. She remembered thinking that as long as her blade still flashed with the light she and her companions could survive. That hope and drive to survive had kept her going. Hope and the fury to fight against such creatures of evil, terror and darkness. Hopes Fury. She nodded once. It felt right to her and she could feel the blade's comfort with the name.
"Hopes Fury it shall be then." She leans back a smile and look of contentment on her face despite the remaining cuts and bruises of battle. Hopes Fury resting comfortably on one side, Winter on the other and her companions sleeping, recovering themselves as she kept watch for any sign of danger.
Cereidh follows Amalina's lead, carefully cleaning herself and her kit. She leans closer to Gylwinth. "Hobbit-leaf? I've never had the opportunity to try; fine wine would be fit for me, but alas I have had to carry water with me, as an uncouth traveler."
She contents herself with how the smoke drives out the smell of stone and misery in the old keep.
"Findegil, thank you for your ferocity tonight - and Amalina, thank you twice over."
"Hobbit-leaf?" Wulfgith asked with a raised eyebrow. "There is a leaf named after those of myth?" She added with a small chuckle.
"Aye Amalina, Gylwinth held the line but you demolished theirs." She pointed out with a respected nod to the Woodwoman. "Though I agree we shouldn't test our luck like that again..." Wulfgith breathed out with a small shake of her head.
When Findegil recovers some strength, he seeks his equipment.
He is pleasantly surprised to see his greatshield already gleaming.
"Gylwinth, while I would not have thought of it consciously, I am glad that you took up this shield in our moment of gravest peril."
"I do not feel up to smoking but will sit and savour the scent regardless."
Amalina blushes at the compliments of her companions. "We all fought bravely and with great courage." She says quietly. Somewhat shy. "If not for the bows of Wulfgith and Cereidh, we would have surely failed. If not for Gylwinth's quick shield work, I certainly would have been overwhelmed." Her eyes turn to Findegil. "And of course, our good knight of Gondor struck many a vital blow before succumbing to ire of the goblins."
"We must decide what to do next." She says, suddenly turning the conversation to cover her own discomfort. "Wulfgith is still missing her fair companion." She unconsciously rubs Winter's head, the thought of losing him, generating sorrow in her heart for the Rohirrim's own suffering. She knew how the riders valued and thought of their mighty steeds. "I tracked the horse`s trail to that cave, but I do not think it is there. At least I hope not. For I can only think of one end for a horse in those tunnels." She shakes her her slightly. "No, I think this Captain we seek, would have taken such a fine horse as his own. Having a horse of Rohan would surely give him something to brag about and create envy among the other bandits. And he wouldn't have to walk wherever he is going. I believe if we find the Captain, we find our missing companion."
She leans back in her seat. "At first light, Winter and I will search for our enemies trail. Once we find it, we should leave this cursed place." She looks around the dirty stone walls and blood stained floors, her eyes shrouded in sadness. "There is nothing here but sorrow, loss, and death. I for one am ready to leave it far behind."
"Even the trolls are lured out of their stinking holes by the promise of the fair, bright, and treacherous treasures of the goodly sunlit world - would not this ambitious Captain be even moreso? Not that I distrust your instincts, Gylwinth, but."
The company settles in for a well-earned long rest, with expectations of a brisk start come morning to pick up the trail of the Captain and to recover Wulfgith's equestrian companion.
About halfway through Gylwinth's watch, you become aware of deepening shadows within the common room of the Keep where you have made your camp. You feel the hair stand on the back of your neck, and the room becomes so quiet that you can hear your companions breathing as if it were a windstorm in your ears. Then, a familiar voice pierces the stillness.
"You were wise to heed my advice during the battle. It is some small solace to know there are still clever warriors who value life above pride."
When you look for the source of the voice, you see a vague glowing outline of a person near the entrance to the stair, but it appears to wait in shadow.
"It would be best to rouse your companions now."
Also, Gylwinth, role Lore and then Shadow-Lore.
Before Rest
"Those tunnels..."
Though the very thought makes him shudder, Findegil continues after a brief pause.
"Those tunnels may contain secrets that could aid us against the captain. Though I do not relish the thought of returning there."
Amalina cracks an eye open as she feels the second or possibly the third nudge. Tiredly rubbing her eyes she barely stifles a yawn.
"Gylwinth...I think Cereidh was next on watch after you." She says, wrapping her blanket tighter around her shoulders. "And for goodness sake put some more wood on the fire...it's freezing in here."
Those of you not on watch dream fitfully; the endless horde of goblins torments you once more. But this time you cannot win - they overwhelm and chitter endlessly in your nightmares. It is a cold comfort to be wrested from such a sleep. When all the members of the company are finally waken, the focus of Gylwinth's attention presents itself.
Now the deep shadows recede, and an apparition glides forth from the stair. Plainly female, her appearance is that of a young woman clad in glittering raiment, her hair lying on her shoulders as pale as polished silver in moonlight. Her beauty seems immeasurable in mortal terms; the only blemish is the heavy collar of iron she wears around her neck. Fiery runes glitter along its surface.
The apparition surveys the company, her dark, cold eyes looking at each of you for several long moments. Then she speaks: "I have been called with many names since I entered Arda, many long years ago, but here in the West I am called Feredrûn. I think you may be the ones I’ve been waiting for."
To be in the presence of Feredrûn is like standing in the middle of a great cave, or at the opening of a deep valley — all sounds seem remote and near at the same time, as if they were echoes carried by the wind. Her other-worldliness, and her power, is clear for anyone to perceive.
Cereidh considers her with wary respect, but looks sidelong at her companions to see if any of them recognize their visitor, in kind if not in name.
Findegil bats at dreamed-of killers as he is roused but swiftly realises it was indeed a dream.
The waking reality, he soon finds, is even stranger.
The knight takes a long gaze at the apparition but does not recall anything of use.
"Feredrûn, I confess that I know not your name or deeds. Who are - were - you?"
With another kick from Gylwinth, Amalina grumbling softly forces herself upright.
"What's the prob...." Interrupting herself as the dark apparition finally registers in her battle weary mind. She tries to recall the name Feredrun from any of her studies with Radagast or during her time in Rivendell, but she doesn't really recall anything of particular relevance.
With a sudden panic, she looks about the room to see the keep in all it's broken down, ruined state and slowly let's out a breath. At least they didn't appear to be caught in another dream of the Dark One.
Her head tilts to the side in thought as she notices the rune marked collar around the ghostly neck.
"Were you the one imprisoned in the foul place underground?" She says, remembering the broken chains and same cold feel of the shadow that now marked this creatures presence.
Cereidh and Wulfgith, roll Insight.
Wulfgith rubbed her eyes when they woke her. The dream wasn't a good one and Wulfgith was more than happy to leave it. However when the sleep was pushed from her eyes and her vision clear, her eyes widened.
This woman before them didn't seem to be of their worlds, and the thought of that put Wulfgith on edge with the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
Wulfgith bit her lip as she stood from the place she had made her bed. She needed to fix this if she could. "Please, forgive us." Wulfgith began as she stepped forward. "I am Wulfgith, daughter of Wulf of Rohan, and Calanril of the woods of Lórien. My allies and I have just had a very rough time. Suspicion runs deep within at the moment. Feredrûn you said yes? I hope I said that right." Wulfgith said, trying to make up for what she saw as a miss step.
"She gave us her name, we should be respectful enough to give her ours in return." Wulfgith told the group as she looked back to them. "It is rude not to."
Then she looked back to Feredrûn and bowed her head. "Please forgive us for not returning the respect you showed as quickly as we should have."
Feredrûn's eyes follow Wulfgith while she bows, then she acknowledges, "Such are the are the ways of Men. But there are worse creatures in this world."
She pauses to allow the rest of the company to introduce themselves.
Slowly, but finally, gathering her wits about her, Amalina follows Wulfgith's advice.
Running a quick hand through her disheveled hair, she then bows to the spirit. "I am Amalina Storm Hearted of Mirkwood." She says in the most formal voice she can muster. "And this is Winter my fine companion and a hound raised in Radagast the Brown's own house." She adds placing a hand on Winter's back while the big dog merely watches this newly arrived spirit with interested but guarded curiosity.
"Indeed what Wulfigth says is true. We fought many creatures of the shadow during the past day and needed to rest and recover from the wounds of such a hard fought victory. If this keep is your domain, we meant no offense, but believed it to no longer be inhabited."
Findegil reddens as he realises his grave error.
"My apologies for my breach of decorum. I am Findegil, son of Durothil, knight of Minas Tirith."
Feredrûn meets the eyes of each member of the company in turn, then she returns her gaze to Wulfgith.
"I am an unwilling servant of the Shadow. The body you see before you is my prison, cast in flesh and bone. Once I roamed free in the void between songs, unclad and formless. The Dark Lord called me out of the Night, lulling me with honeyed words. He promised me new experiences, such as I could not dream of, in exchange for a simple task, and then I could return to the void if I wished it…
"Truly he is named the Deceiver. When I came into the world and kneeled before him, Sauron placed this collar around my neck, binding me to his will and that of his servants. He sent me to hunt for his enemies, and later to search for Elven rings. I obeyed, unable to oppose his will.
"I have laboured long on his quests and I have grown weary of this shackled body. Now I long only to leave the circles of this world, to return whence I came. But the spells that Sauron laid on this collar are still too powerful for me to break by my strength alone, and here I am after all these years, still leashed to yet another minion of the Dark Lord who imprisoned me.
"But maybe the time has come… My current master is the one you are seeking, Mormog, the Captain. Do you wish to find him, and, perhaps, thwart his plans? You cannot tarry, for some of them, at least, are reaching fruition. I can help you, but only if you promise to set me free."
She awaits your decision.
"I will." Wulfgith spoke up. "I know the pain of being in chains." She said as one of her hands touched the other wrist, still showing damage from the bindings she had been forced into.
"How could we free you? I mean how do we remove your collar?" Wulfgith asked.
The intensity of the spirit grows. "You compare enslavement by the Dark lord to the bindings of Men?"
Feredrûn peers at Wulfgith's rended flesh. "Yet you have suffered. And in this very place which was built atop my tomb so many long centuries ago." The spirit grimaces and stretches her neck. "Long did I try to find the spell to break this collar. But the runes defied every attempt. Perhaps another of the Maiar could break it, but I was unable to escape Sauron's sight long enough to find such a being."
"I would not dare say my suffering was worse." Wulfgith explained. "I only imagined how it must be for you, having been through years of what I suffered for only days... That is all I meant. That even if you couldn't help us I'd help you, because I don't want you to have to suffer any more from something you should have never suffered from to begin with." Wulfgith said.
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Cereidh bows, deeply, to this apparition, eyes still on her. "Feredrun, I am Cereidh of the Greenwood, and it would be a privilege to meet you - were the circumstances not so horrible and dark. I am glad that we have all made it from the caves - even if freeing you from your real chains may be more difficult. I mourn that you have not been able to roam far enough to solicit help from my own folk in the Greenwood, or the folk of the Homely House. There are at the least - earnest mortals there, if not as powerful as the Maiar."
"I know not of these maiar but I would aid you to be free nonetheless. To free you is right in itself and denies the Shadow a thrall."
[dice=Lore]1d20
Cereidh fails completely to recognize the breach in protocol, and when Wulfgith - only half-elven - makes mention of it, it is a personal embarrassment.
Amalina listens to the creature's tale and sympathizes with its plight. But a small part of her wonders if all of it is true. For wasn't the creature imprisoned here, in an ancient Numenorean fort? The work in the room they found in the caverns was not that of orcs or goblins, but of Gylwinth's ancestors.
Holding her peace as the others spoke, she finally, cautiously agrees to help the creature. "Once the captain's threat is ended, I will help find a way for you to leave this world in peace and return to your realm beyond the void." She says, wondering if it would be wise to seek the council of those in Rivendell before they acted too rashly and perhaps unleashed another ancient doom upon the world.
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Findegil waits in an uncomfortable silence.
Feredrûn looks to Gylwinth. "Perhaps you should do that. Return, if you are able, and I will help you once I am freed of the Dark Lord's spell." Then, without another word, the spirit recedes into the darkness and disappears from sight.
Amalina watches the apparition disappear into the darkness and offers a simple shrug. "Well....I'll not be going back to sleep tonight." She says slipping her boots and other gear on. "Trolls, goblin hoards, nightmares, and now dark, creepy and apparently taciturn apparitions from the First Age. Nope. I'm done with this place." It's easy to hear the barely contained hysteria floating in her voice as she continues to pack and roll up her bedroll. "Better off sleeping in the rain under the trees than in this cursed place."
Findegil takes a moment to take stock.
"We can find other shelter, aye."