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Seeing the troll, Galadhon shouts a challenge to it, banging his spear across his shimmering bulwark. "Come and fight me, troll! Here is Galadhon!"
Galadhon doesn't carry a bow, but is impressed by his sylvan companion's archery. "Save some for us, Caunlaigdir! Will you kill them all before we reach the foe?" So saying, he rushes after Ayluin (whose safety is after all his chiefest duty), pulling the cover from the Bulwark of Ecthelion and joins the Dunedain in battle, yelling his challenge to the foes of the Free People. "Elbereth! Galadhon is upon you! Flee and live yet awhile!"
Galadhon listens, agreeing more strongly with Caunlaigdir's initial point than his latter. His people have little history of woodcraft. "I agree. The residents of the outlying farms should be gathered here and this place made as stout and defensible as possible. But you have present emissaries from great powers, and to these you must turn for such advice and succor as they may be able to give you, for their strength is great and their wisdom may be the margin upon which you survive this assault," he says, indicating Radagast and King Thranduil with respect.
I'm out for a day or two. I'm sick as a dog.
"You are mighty, Lord, but the mightiest warrior cannot stand alone against an army. The shadow in the south grows strong. Dragons and trolls return to the world. The Easterlings grow powerful. Perhaps you would outlast all other realms, but that would be cold comfort when the Necromancer crosses the river or the hordes of the east sweep into your woods at last. If the Battle of Five Armies taught any lesson at all, it was this: that in these latter days the Free Peoples must stand together or fall separately."
"The Woodland Realm is the greatest and oldest kingdom in Rhovanion," says Galadhon. "Yet mighty are the deeds of Men and Dwarves, to say nothing of wizards. If you would have my counsel, Lord, it is that the Younger Races need your counsel. They have energy and might, but not your long vision or experience. They have not lived through ages of the world. Great though your realm may be, your true strength, it is said, lies in your wisdom and experience. It is this I would urge you to share at the Council called by Radagast."
Galadon keeps his counsel in the great wood, allowing Caunlaigdir to set the tone, though he marvels at the idea that one tasked with delivering a message to a king would reveal it to a mere forest patrol. He nods with approval when Caunlaigdir refuses to make so light of the Brown Wizard's task. Galadhon bows low, for he knows the King of Mirkwood is great among both the Sylvan elves and the Sindar, a kinsman of the elves of lost Doriath. "I am honored, great lord," he says. "I am Galadhon, son of Oronthir of the House of Finarfin. I offer you greetings from Master Elrond. Long have I desired to look upon your land and I see the tales were no exaggeration."
Glad you're better!
Galadon smiles. To be entrusted by one of the Istari is a great honor, and much in keeping with his charge by Lord Elrond to advise and safeguard the young Dunadan on his path. "Long have I desired to look upon the Halls of King Thranduil," says Galadhon. "For they recall the glories of the Thousand Caves, it is said, and in their folk is recalled much not only of the Sindar but of our kin long sundered since before even the Thousand Caves were delved. Gladly will I go, if Master Caunlaigdir will vouch for me, for maybe there is little love in the Forest Halls for one of my race."
"Or they have strayed far from their fastnesses in search of we know not what. But seldom do the yrch stray so far from home save at great need. It would be well to waken our guest and ask him what it was they sought."
Galadhon is not going to try to impress the wizard. He knows what high order Radagast is from. He instead simply introduces himself. "Master Radagast, I am Galadhon, of the folk of Imladris. I am here to learn of your wisdom, as my people did of old in the West."
Galadhon is no fool. He cannot treat the wizard as he did the folk of Tyrant's Hill. Yet he knows his long years in the library of Rivendell have done nothing for his courtesy. Instead he sings a tale of Lindon and the landing of the Istari a thousand years before, intended as a honor to Radagast.
"Glorfindel was tall and straight; his hair was of shining gold, his face fair and young and fearless and full of joy; his eyes were bright and keen, and his voice like music; on his brow sat wisdom, and in his hand was strength." ___________________________________________________________________
Suggestion to GM:
This could represent the figurative Eye of Sauron. Galadhon has a (bad?) habit of announcing himself wherever he goes, deliberately annoying the servants of the Enemy. Word of this instance could get back to Dol Guldur or Barad Dur. Galadhon notices something in this woman's features, her hard and unforgiving eyes, the set of her jaw that says she is moments from starting a fight that will end poorly regardless of who wins. He steps forward, spear in hand and shows forth a fraction of his true power, a Lord of the Elder Children of Iluvatar. To some there it will seem as if an old legend has arisen unbidden from the depths of time. Others more wise may perceive a figure wreathed in pure white starlight, the light seeming to pour forth from him and through him. "Hold! I am Galadhon of Imladris and by the ancient laws, this man is under our protection. Seek to lay no hand upon him or that hand is forfeit. When he is tended to, we shall hear your tale and judge whether and where to bestow him."
Thought you might like to know that I have written a guide to the Pathfinder Transmuter Wizard. You can find it here: Tarondor’s Guide to the Pathfinder Transmuter Wizard The discussion page for it is here: Discussion Page
Galadhon attends, trying to be useful to Aeddan.
Been there, DM R. Surgery was the answer for me. Good luck and I hope you feel better.
Having a Noldo's love of craftsmanship, but little regard for personal wealth, Galadhon spends the winter dispersing his treasure among the Woodmen, helping the poorest and lending his insight to their craftsmen and his judgment to their lords.
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Buying a house, moving (or more to the point, not moving yet), being sick. It's been a bit of a storm. Sorry for not posting. Tomorrow, I get to take a day off and wait at the new house for a five hour window in order to meet the plumber and some delivery guys. So maybe I'll be able to post more then.
Galadhon steps forward to challenge the strange creature, but stops when Ayluin staves in the foe's head. The noldor regards the dunadan and reflects that the age of man is surely coming. "What did you see inside, Caunlaigdir?"
Galadhon is lost in moody thought and says little on the river, only dimly aware of what passes around him.
Galadhon is learned in lore, though much of that has to do with elvish history and tales of the Enemy.
And -i- will be in the process of moving into a new house...for the foreseeable future. I will endeavor to remain in regular contact.
Of note, Galadhon; a Spear of the Last Alliance is a Great Spear.
Galadhon smiles thinly and attacks, savage and startling in his ferocity. "Flee! Galadhon is among you!"
After the devastating opening attacks, Galadhon will remain in a Forward Stance, daring the enemy to come to him.
Galadhon's advantage is his position. Stand atop a small hillock a little way off from the entrance to the barrow, he has a commanding view of the battlefield and a slight advantage in height.
Galadhon nods at Ayluin's words. He can sense the spirits here. "This is not the mission you have set yourselves and which I have joined. But if delays our search but a little while then I agree. But the wraiths of the Enemy are not to be set lightly aside, for they too are fell creatures out of the ancient world. Let us be wary." Galadhon stands forward and pulls the white cover from his shield. The myriad crystals shimmer in the light, flashing like a thousand stars upon a field of blue and white. "I am ready."
Galadhon listens to Ayluin's words and says nothing for a time, pondering the significance of the dúnadan's find. At last he unships the shield he has been carrying and pulls back its plain white cover to reveal a shield of surpassing beauty and obvious antiquity. Silvery runes are etched on its surface in the ancient language of the West. He watches Ayluin for a time before saying "I recovered this last summer. It had lain in the lair of a long-dead wyrm in the northern reaches of Ered Luin. By its markings it is the bulwark of Ecthelion of the Fountain, lord of Gondolin, who slew the Balrog on the walls of that city. It, too, came to me out of legend as if by unlikely chance, though I do not think that chance is rightly the name we should put to such happenings." "Still, If doom it be, then it will come of its own accord. We who abide on the Hither Shore can do little to hasten or delay the tale of years. Our is but to play our part." "Tell me of him we chase, if you will, and of the precious thing he stole."
"No chance meeting is this, Master Aeddan," says Galadhon. "For I come at the bidding of Elrond, Master of the Last Homely House. At his urging did I cross the Hithaeglir and the Great River, though it gladdened my heart to take to the road again and seek my friend. So I shall join you if your company will have me." "Mae govannon, Caunlaigdir," says Galadhon. "Long has my heart desired to see the mighty woods of your home, so different from the pines and redwoods of Lindon. Perhaps our road will lead us thither at some point and you shall show me such trees as even my forefathers have not seen in ages of the world." With grave courtesy he turns last to the dwarf and greets him in proper dwarvish fashion, with a low bow. "Greetings, son of Óin the Renowned! Galadhon, at your service. Your folk were well known to mine when I dwelt beyond the Ered Lindon, and I met your doughty father when he sojourned in the House of Elrond some sixty summers ago. I see his features in yours, if I may say so."
Tall and fair, Galadhon is clad in autumn gold and ember red, and bears a shining spear of bitter steel wound about with a garland of living flowers. Youthful he seems, Like a young lord of Men with no more than twenty summers, yet in the depths of his eyes are years without count, a memory of ages past. His countenance, stern and lordly at a distance, melts into a broad smile upon seeing the ranger Ayluin. Now he seems no different than any carefree elf of the deep wood. "There you are, Master Ayluin! A pretty chase you have led me across mountain, field and fell. And now I find you wandering in Wilderland. Have you lost your way at last, Master Ranger?"
God bless your family and friends! Family takes precedence always. But thank you for taking the time to let us know the situation. We'll be here when you're ready.
Galadhon is ready to enter play whenever you give the signal, DM R. He's been (very slightly) retooled to meet your build directions.
Soooo... anyone know where our GM is? He and EW are also missing from my TOR game.
Galadhon accompanies the search party, noting what the more experienced Explorers do.
___________________________________________________________________ "Such a creature almost certainly has a barrow nearby," says Galadhon. "And driving it forth as we did will not end its accursed half-existence. We should find the barrow and expose the wight's bones to the blessed rays of the sun." "But I fear for the little folk," continues the elf. "The torments of the goblins await them if we do not reach them first. And so this wight must await its destruction until we return. For now we must rest and then press forward at first light."
Galadhon leaps forward into the fray. "Don't let this vile spirit escape to trouble others!" he exhorts the fellowship.
That's awful, Brandy. Take your time. Real life always takes precedence! Hope your Mom is alright.
Starting a new job today. I probably won't be posting again until Wednesday. Thanks for your understanding.
take a free Attribute Bonus (Heart).
"Begone! These mortals are under my protection. Get thee back to thy bed lest ye be sent naked and uncloaked before thy lord!"
Galadhon glowers after the wanderer as he leaves camp, He says nothing, but the whole company can feel his ire like a flame burning just beneath his breast. The elf calms down on the journey, but says little as they proceed, brooding in silence.
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