Morning light

[tomcat]

The morning came bright and blue, though the air was still crisp with winter's final throes. In their private accomodations that had been extended them by the gracious city, each of the Company awoke taking care of personal needs and then beginning to gather their things. Clothes were folded and packed into saddle bags and blankets were rolled. The packs and baggage were then carried to the stable yards of the royal court where the horses had been tended to these many weeks.

Edrahil smiled to Dirnhael as the Sindar came into the stable, his few items in his hands and over his shoulder. The Dunadan looked tired and a bit forlorn, the Elf thought, but Edrahil knew that Dirnhael had spent the better part of the night with Ioreth. The Elf's thoughts were broken from the sound of a click of a tongue behind him; the two friends turned to see Nain as he led his pony into the building. The Dwarf's small pony was laden with many things for the road ahead. It was not long after that Fengel and Durgil also arrived. The Company was ready to leave. They mounted and rode out of the city in silence. Though none knew, a few sets of eyes watched them as they left - a father, a sister, and a devoted love.

They continued down the Greenway that ran from the doorstep of Fornost to Tharbad and beyond to the realm of Gondor far to the south. Their goal for today was the town of Bree and the King's Roost Inn - the establishemnt in which they had stayed many months ago when they had been on the road to Rivendell. After a while the silence had began to bother Nain and the Dwarf began to talk, mostly about things that concerned he and his kin and for the most part unheard by his comrades.

What the companions did not know was that there was another set of eyes watching them - they rode along the Iaur Men Formen and their observer followed along, quiet and stealthy, but also quite interested.

OOC: Wiseman, be prepared to enter here as you wish or if I decide to throw a curve in the road.

[Palandil]

Feeling the extra weight of the new longsword that he purchased, Fengel remembers his decision to give Cerduil to Dirnhael. Riding close to him Fengel says, "Dirnhael, I am greatful for the use of Angbor's Cerduil, but it belongs in the hands of a noble."  Pulling the sword and sheath from his waist Fengel passes it towards Dirnhael, "It is not Andúring, but it too is a great sword."

[sdrotar]

Feeling the extra weight of the new longsword that he purchased, Fengel remembers his decision to give Cerduil to Dirnhael. Riding close to him Fengel says, "Dirnhael, I am greatful for the use of Angbor's Cerduil, but it belongs in the hands of a noble."  Pulling the sword and sheath from his waist Fengel passes it towards Dirnhael, "It is not Andúring, but it too is a great sword."

OOC: Palandil, I had Ioreth pick up a longsword for Dirnhael. It seemed to fit the story - plus Dirnhael would want Fengel to have Cerduil.
First, Fengel deserves it in his eyes, and he likes that it will travel from the homes of the Dunedain to that of the Eothraim.
Second, the way I've written Dirnhael, wielding Cerduil will just remind him of his greatest failure, while knowing that Fengel wields it fills him with pride that his friend is never wholly lost.
Third, I haven't completely giving up on Andúring yet...

Anyway, maybe it's good that we have an extra generic blade in the party... we never know when a new friend in need might show up.

***

Dirnhael looked at his friend with appreciation.
"Fengel, I thank you - but that blade is yours, for you and your house. The steel that Ioreth gifted to me is stout enough for my needs," he said while patting the sheath at his side.
"Besides," he said with a wolfish grin, "I would hate to see you part company from us without so much as a memento."

He had seen the Eothraim in action with spear and with Angbor's ancestral blade - it was obvious to him that Cerduil had found its new owner more than worthy...

[Palandil]

OOC: Sdrotar, Fengel didn't really want to part with it, but he thought that it was honorable to offer anyway.  Really I was hoping that Dirnhael would not except because I want to have Fengel train with two weapons so that eventually he could get the Two Handed Fighting  edge, after of course he gets the Ambidextrous edge.  Let me ask you, would it be more realistic if Fengel were to use a short sword instead of a long sword?

*****

Dirnhael looked at his friend with appreciation.
"Fengel, I thank you - but that blade is yours, for you and your house. The steel that Ioreth gifted to me is stout enough for my needs," he said while patting the sheath at his side.
"Besides," he said with a wolfish grin, "I would hate to see you part company from us without so much as a memento."

He had seen the Eothraim in action with spear and with Angbor's ancestral blade - it was obvious to him that Cerduil had found its new owner more than worthy...

Grinning from ear to ear Fengel nods to Dirnhael, "Thank you.  Cerduil shall be an heirloom for my house so that the deeds of Dirnhael the Dunedain, my friend, and brother shall be known forever."  He then straps the sword back around his waist.

[tomcat]

The silence amongst them ended, they rode on under the bright sun chatting and laughing, Fengel speaking excitedly of his far off land and Nain telling tales of the magnificence of Khazad-dum.

Around the companions, the signs of spring could be easily perceived. Birds flitted from bush and tree collecting materials to re-build their nests, singing their cheerful songs as they did. The winter snow had not yet completely melted, and patches of the bland whiteness sat like islands in the midst of the rich green grasses. Trees showed evidence of buds and the dogwood's had even burst revealing their white blossoms; and lastly, twinkling in the sunlight, the dew stuck to the gossamer that clung to the shrubs that they rode past. It was quite a pleasant morning to be riding, thought Dirnhael, compared to that cold rainy morning when they had left Tharbad so long ago.

His attention was suddenly drawn to the sound of a soft voice singing and the Dunadan and Eothraim turned to find the source to be Edrahil. The Sindar's pleasant song began to paint images in their minds, although the words were in an old tongue, and the companions envisioned a land of long, rich green pastoral fields and mountains that reached to the highest clouds. The imagined surrounds were highlighted by a rich gold light but softly backlit by silver and seemed so real as if they could reach out and touch them. In the center of it all stood the source of the lights - two brilliant trees.

The soft voice of Edrahil carried far and it was heard by more than his companions. The tale of Aman and the Two Trees, Telperion and Laurelin, which the Sindar wove, interested the one that followed the riders at a distance, and seeing no threat, he decided he would acquaint himself with them - at least his kin. So it was that Seriand, Elf of Lorien, rode out of the forested land that followed the road, down to the five companions...

Edrahil was the first to see, and his voice hissed silence as he gave whispered warning, "Someone approaches."

[Wiseman]

Riding along with his friend and companion, the steed Faerdhínen, Seriend enjoyed his surroundings, he too watched as the signs of spring were beginning to form about him, but his looking had more purpose than those of the party riding forth from the lands of the Dunedain.  Seriand was a scout sent forth by the will of the elven king of Lorien.  His life was one of constant moving about, his duty was to his brethren, to search the lands in and around Lorien and insure the safety, security and sovereignity of the elven Kingdom.

For years he had trained with various tutors, his skills increasing as an average pace, average for the elven lifespan at least.  Feeling no sense of urgency to complete your training and to find your place within the world was a facinating feeling for Seriand, he had met a mere handful of humans in his recent travellings to and from Lorien, and the one prevailing feeling he got from them was that they were always in a hurry to complete the next stage in their life, in a hurry to complete their current objective, rushing to find their place in the world around them. 

Seriand enjoyed that he never felt this way, having to rush through life how could the mortals ever truely enjoy that which the Valar had given them?  How could they enjoy life?  This is why elves were superior to the humans in almost every way, they were able to improve their grasp of philosophy and attain a higher level of understanding, a deeper meaning to many of the truths the mortals of Middle Earth clinged to.

It was these thoughts that the Sindar was pondering as he rode along the path he had long ago chosen one that would lead him far from his homeland, he watched the buds form on the various trees and bushes that were scattered along his route, he watched them for a much different reason than the Duendain party was though, for he was watching for signs that the Enemy was threatening Middle Earth, that the Enemy's agents were sulking about and preparing their forces.  Soon Seriand heard a song familiar to him, the tongue that of his kin, the Sindar.  With a flick of his wrist he changed the direction that his horse was taking, immediately taking them on a course that would intercept the song and sound he was able to hear.  Down the road a bit he saw a strange sight.  Man in the company of an elf, elf in the company of dwarf, dwarf in the company of man AND elf, a suprising collection to say the least.

The Sindar halted his horse and let the party come to him, watching their actions and the way they reacted to his appearance before them.  As they came within range for his keen ears to overhear any conversation and thus telling him the elf within their party would be able to hear him as well, Seriand sat up a bit more straight in his saddle, prostrating himself before them.  "What business has such a strange assortment of man, elf and dwarf to be roaming about?"

It was Seriand's nature to question everything and trust noone, the presance of another Sindar however gave this group an advantage that they would not have had otherwise, for his trust of his kin was without reproach.

[tomcat]

OOC: Hey Wiseman,

I need you to check a map. THe company right now are just north of the Shire... not close at all to the lands of Lorien. I am bringing you into the game now so that you have a chance to play becaus eit is gonna be awhile if they get to Lorien at all.

As a scout, it is possible that Galadriel would have you ranging all the lands of ME to keep an eye on the activities of all Peoples.

[Wiseman]

OOC: Ok, I'll edit my post to fit then.

[tomcat]

OOC: Awesome Shawn... that works!

[GandalfOfBorg]

What odd fortune is this to happen upon another of the Eldar in the wilderness, Durgil thinks.  He knows, if little, of the Elves of Lindon and Rivendell yet this one appears in differing garb and manner than they.  Could this be one of the Golden Wood or the Dark Wood on the other side of the Misty Mountains?  If so, he ranges very far from home and must be on some great errand for his lords.  Curious as he is, the young Dunadan noble keeps his tongue, allowing Dirnhael or Edrahil to respond to the query.

[sdrotar]

Dirnhael opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it.
If the Elf had wished them harm, he could have done so without announcing his presence to them...

He briefly nodded to Edrahil. Certainly, another of his kin would be more... suitable.

[tomcat]

"Hail brother," replied Edrahil. He could sense that the others were of a mind that he speak for them, as this was one of his kin. "Roaming seems an improper term for our travels, as clearly we ride the Greenway towards Bree and have not come upon you out in the wilds. Still, to answer your question we are companions out of Fornost Erain on the road south and then east to Rivendell. As far as our mix, well strange it may seem but these Men and Dwarf are my boon companions and have been so for nigh seven months."

He paused for a moment as the stranger absorbed all that was said, "I am Edrahil and my home is in the lands of Lindon to the west, although I have found that the time spent away from there has broadened my knowledge of the land and its peoples. Cirdan bid me garner information and serve him as ambassador to the lands of Arthedain and Cardolan - this I have done and now will continue in that service to the lands of Rhovanion across the mountains. Fengel here is of the tribes of the Eothraim and we escort him back to his home."

Edrahil thought that enough information and queried some from the stranger, "What is your name and what brings you into the lands of Men? Whence have you come?"

[Stefan]

Giving a snort at the flowery words of the elves, Nain takes a bite out of the apple that he'd fished from his bag while they were talking.  He could count on one finger the elves that he had any use for and this one seemed little better than the pack.

"Let's be on our way.  If we tarry here too long it'll be dark fore we reach the next inn, and I've no wish to sleep on the ground when there's a warm bed and a cold ale waiting for me farther up the road."

Just then Jethro turns his head and takes a bite of the apple that Nain had rested on his leg.

"Ye mangy mule!  I oughta turn ya into glue!"

As he kicks the side of the horse to get it moving again, Jethro whinnies and it almost sounds like a laugh as the dwarf carries on in unintelligible words that sound like curses in every language imaginable.

[Wiseman]

With a nod out of courtesy Seriand looks towards the elf whom has spoken and addressed him.  "My name is Seriand Erine, I call the woods near Lorien my home and was sent forward by my king.  I ride to search for signs of the Enemy, protecting the Kingdom of Lorien and even the less deserving races of Middle Earth."  At that last part he stares at the outspoken Dwarf having trouble wtih his pony. 

"Perhaps if you treat your conveyance better he would respond to you in a more appreciative manner." 

[sdrotar]

Dirnhael couldn't help but chuckle at the exchange.
After spending long months with both Elf and Dwarf, he had come to realize that they weren't nearly as different as many believed.
The constant needlings that both races gave the other... it was silly, Dirnhael thought, and he couldn't help but find it a bit funny.

Of course, the Elves and Dwarves had their long-standing feuds and distrusts - and those still rankled members of both parties, but Dirnhael was but a mortal man, and fighting over what happened centuries ago... they were all Free Folk...

He spoke up when he noticed Seriand's glare at his outburst of laughter.
"We are no thralls of the Enemy, friend. In fact, if you were to travel back along our path, you may eventually hear exactly what the Enemy thinks of us."

Gesturing at Fengel, he continued. "We merely travel the road toward our friend's home, and perhaps stop by Imladris for news along the way. You are free to travel with us, if that is your wish. If not, then I wish you well in your noble efforts against the Shadow." Dirnhael said the last with a polite nod.

Nain was right about one thing - they did need to be on their way soon.