Dagor Dagorath

[Serenity]

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Introduction​

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A whispering of evil had begun to creep slowly over the land. It was easily ignored by most. The Elves were the first to sense its presence, but their warnings fell on deaf ears. Mortal memory was too short. Their eyes too blind to that which they did not wish to see. And so, it was only the Elves who remained vigilant over the years that passed. But even they discovered too late its source. An ancient evil was rising. One greater even then Sauron.

The evil came on the heals of the Valar’s diminishing power in Arda. Fulfilling a prophecy that had long been forgotten. The prophecy of Dagor Dagorath that foretold of the return of Morgoth through the Void into which he had been banished many millennia ago. He shattered the Sun and the Moon, plunging Arda into darkness and chaos.

The races of Arda must unite once more to drive back the darkness for a final time. To destroy, once and for all, the corruptive and corrosive stain of Morgoth from the land.

XoXoXoX​

Nairë​

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Nairë sat on a patch of grass, her face upturned to the sky, her pale hair trailed in the grass, long strands of it blowing across her face in the light breeze. She was lost in thought as she studied the stars. The only source of natural light to grace Arda in over a month. She marvelled at the twists life took. Many of the Elves that remained had chosen to sail west in the face of the growing evil sweeping the land. Her mother and father had urged her to go with them. And she had made her mind up to do so, despite the feeling she had that she wasn’t finished in Arda.

She had left a few days after them, with every intention of meeting them in the Grey Havens. It was during her travels that the Sun and Moon disappeared. The evil they had all felt growing reaching its peak and finally revealing itself to the world. Throwing everything and everyone into chaos. She continued on, though more then ever she felt the pull to stay. To help somehow. Indecision was wearing on her by the time she reached Lindon and she tarried there until she met a stranger. An Elven male who convinced her to join him on his quest to gather together the missing pieces of the Sun.

It seemed an impossible task. But impossible tasks have been completed before, as proven by history time and again. It was better then doing nothing. Better then running away. She was ill equipped for such a journey. She had no weapons save a long knife kept in a sheath on her waist. And while she wasn’t helpless, her fighting skills were little more then rudimentary. Her primary focus through out her life had been healing. She had determination on her side though. It felt right, and rooted in that feeling was the knowledge that had her brother been there he would have made the same choice to stay and fight for the freedom of Arda.
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[Artemis]

Gilraen Bereniel was traipsing through the wilds near the Gulf of Lune, having spent the day (well, she assumed that it was the day) in the Grey Havens. They were a beautiful sight, and she enjoyed the breathtaking nighttime view of the sea from the docks. She herself was never a sailor, and never planned on sailing, but she certainly enjoyed the presence of the ocean.

She was born and raised in Ithilien, Gondor, and had spent most of her life there. What had brought her here was a sense for adventure, for curiosity; some of her father's tales spoke of this place, and of the magic it seemed to hold. After all, wasn't this where Elves like Lord Elrond of Rivendell had come to sail West? It was almost a sacred place, and to be here, to smell the air and touch the city, it was like a pilgrimage had been made.

But of course, heroes and legends had no place in this day and age, right? Was her itching bow hand just a dream, a wish of hers? Ever since the sun had gone out, she had had a feeling that something big was coming...and she wanted to be a part of it. The only problem was trying to figure out how - it's not like it was in the stories, with a council coming to create a fellowship. So what to do?

As she was lost in thought, she spotted a figure in the distance, sitting on a patch of grass, and she froze. Raen had not expected to run into anyone else out here, and wondered what the other could be doing out here. It looked...vaguely female, perhaps? Finding out their purpose - and name - would require getting closer. Raen took a deep breath and walked closer to the person.
"Hail friend, what brings you out here?" She greeted, trying to be cordial...cordiality was not her strong suit, so some of the words came out a bit rough and a bit fast.

Elerondiel Miriel Peredhel had been travelling for a few months now, with a companion she'd acquired in her hometown of Rivendell. He seemed like a trustworthy sort, having told her and her family that he was a ranger from the north - he was born in...Fornost, was it? She wasn't really sure - those tales he'd told them seemed a distant luxury now. Her horse's tail swatted away a few flies, and she glanced over her shoulder at the man riding beside her. He was taller than she, and taller than any other man she'd ever met. (Though, to be fair, her experience with Men was limited to some degree.)

She remembered about a month ago, how the sun had suddenly gone dark, and how they had decided to go ahead to Gondor, where they might find more information on what had happened to it.
"So...anything interesting on your mind, ranger?" Elerondiel inquired softly, just barely audible over the sound of hooves as they rode along. "I'm afraid that I'm out of conversation ideas for the moment, myself, and I feel that a bit of warm conversation chases away the coldness of the dark."

In the darkness, lit only by stars, she was a bit harder to see, but she had the dark brown hair and the grey eyes of her kin, her eyes which reflected the starlight in silvery pools. She was also tall, like most of her kin, and very lithe. She was an agile figure on foot, and weighed much less than a human woman of the same stature.
​

 

[Garrison]

Aldwyn, Ranger of the North, slayer of monsters, babysitter of young elves... no that wasn't quite it, Companion and bodyguard of an elven scholar... that was a bit more like it. It was easy to forget that despite her fair face she could have been easily 3x his age. Thats not to say he didn't like her company, It was honestly quite nice to have a companion to while away the monotony of the road with, even if the road had become much more dangerous of late. With the light of the sun gone the world had become a much darker place, and not just literally. Evil stirred in every corner of the land pervading its putrid presence, perverting once beautiful lands into dens of orcs who had no need to hide under the mountains from the light of day anymore.

...at least he had company for the end of the world...

Aldwyn was stirred from his thoughts by her question, even when swimming in his mindscape he had his ears open and listening otherwise he would have been warg shit a long time ago. "Well Lady Peredhel, It has been striking me oddly that instead of using the name Randir you insist on calling me Ranger, But if it is warm conversation you are looking for, I might have a story or two If you would be interested, may help the road go by a bit quicker" he offered

His voice was smooth and soft as he spoke, warm like a hearth fire. his dirty blond hair softly illuminated by the dim starlight, his amber colored eyes still every so often drifting wearily to the corners of his vision and then back making sure they were not being followed. Aldwyn was a man of great stature and strong build that would never betray how light he was on his feet, or how quiet he could be, when he needed to be.

If he could have his way he would speak loudly and proudly letting all those who could hear listen to his tales, but now wasnt the time for that....

 

[LeaT]

The day the sun fell was the first time young Moira had seen anything resembling panic in the tranquil borders of the Shire. All were frightened and convinced it was the end of days. However unlikely, the Thain, had restored some sense of order by calling for a Shire-moot, which at least gave everyone something to do. In quite practical hobbit character they decided to bring in the harvest a little earlier, the grains and fruits would not be as fat and ripe but neither would they spoil on the stalk or vine. Moira was frustrated that none would reach out beyond the Shire to learn of what was happening and what was to come. The hobbits preferred to stick to their own lands and people, sitting on their stores and provisions they would simply wait it out and trust to the men and elves and other more adventurous races to figure it all out.

Most hobbits Moira's age had never been to a Shire-moot, but now not only had she experienced such an unusual gathering, there was now word of a Shire-muster, mobilizing the militia of Hobbitry-in-arms. She had only come of age the summer before last but it suddenly seemed like ages ago. That summer she had sat on a fence at the edge of the Shire dreaming of adventure and living in interesting times like the War of the Ring. This was nothing like what she had in mind though, she longed to feel the warmth of the sun on her face once more, surely this wasn't the end? She had not even learned to love.

She had not been summoned to the Shire-muster however, it was for the 'men-folk only', apparently she being a girl was seen un-fit to carry ancient weapons and parade about clumsily. For a week now she had watched them guard the edges of the Shire looking nervous and foolish. Moira toiled day and night, well it felt more like night and night now, helping to gather the harvest and put it in stores. But now the crop was in and there was little to do but wait. Most hobbits were well suited for such a strategy, but it chafed at young Moira to sit and do nothing while the world was changing so rapidly and not for the better.

The Thain scoffed at her desire to venture forth, in fact he forbid it. "You will only attract attention to us, and that young lady is not what we need right now." She could see that the Thain was afraid as were many of the hobbits. Their instinct was to hide in their hobbit holes and wait it out. Moira made up her mind to take another path. She began to pilfer the supplies and equipment she would need. She was a stealthy creature, even by hobbit standards. She usually practiced her stealth playing tricks on troublesome boys her age and a few particularly cranky adults. She had managed to gather a fair pack of gear for a proper adventure, all she needed now was a fast pony and the courage to set out. She knew just the one too, and with no more harvest to bring in, it wasn't like he would be needed. She hoped for some sign or signal, or perhaps a group of adventurers to pass through the Shire as she really had no idea where to go or whom to turn to in this desperate hour.

 

[BennyQ]

Elvëon
Gulf of Lune

---

For many, the perpetual darkness was unnerving. The repetition of day and night that governed the routines and habits of countless individuals was now broken by the return of an entity none of them understood. How could they believe such tales and legends that supposedly occurred some six or seven millennia before their time? Elvëon did not judge them for their worry, their anxieties, or their fear and mistrust. It was not hard to empathize with their lack of understanding for he himself did not truly know the scope of the catastrophe now looming over Middle-earth. But indecisiveness was not his forte. He had been assigned a task, to recover the fragments of the shattered Sun, the first victim in the onslaught of the ancient Enemy. And now he set every fibre of his being to seeing it through.

It had been millennia indeed since he was last on these shores. He was not bothered by the dark, for he could remember a time when there had been no Sun or Moon, but starlight or the mingling of the light of Two Trees which was only remembered in song. Now an equal devestation had taken place and whoever among the mortals and remaining elves could be found to confront the Darkness, he now had to seek out. Yet there was little cause for doubt, as Elvëon already found one willing companion not prone to paralyzing fear.

She had joined him, the first of their company to seek out some restoration to the natural balance of things. Or perhaps she alone did not see his arguments about triumphing over the Darkness as the ravings of a lunatic. With the young wood-elf, they sat on a patch of grass beneath the twilight sky. It might have been high morning had the catastrophe not occurred but who could tell now. It was cold regardless and would be from now on. He had dressed accordingly. Against his flesh kissed the hard steel of a coat of chainmail, down to his knees. Above was a long robe, tight fitting and warm, with breeches tucked into his boots. A grey travel cloak and hood hung about his shoulder. He was armed only with a sword, ancient, of elven-make so that it would glow blue whenever orcs were near.

While Nairë lay and mused over the stars, Elvëon poured over a map he had been given of the lands. He had one report to go on already, the sighting of a “falling sky” far to the north of Eriador. His finger traced along the parchment where the supposedly object had crashed from its fall. The Mountains of Angmar.

He knew nothing of that land or its histories yet he felt a chill nevertheless at the name.

His elven ears barely heard the approaching footsteps before any person came into view. A skilled huntsman or tracker, no doubt. Yet he could tell this was no ambush or attack as the footsteps did not seem confrontational. He was behind a tree and thus out of sight when the greeting was called out but he sprang up to his feet, stepping out from behind the large oak tree with the map in hand. His eyes came upon a woman, one of the human race.

“Hail traveler.” Elvëon answered in a polite tone, though he had an accent to his speech that would show he was not from these lands or anywhere close by. “We might ask you the same for I heard no human lives near to the Lune. But perhaps your coming is fated. You are a traveler, yes? You know these lands well? I’m afraid I do not. These places, Shire, Breeland, Arnor, Rhudar…, are but names on a map to me and I’ve never been.” He had just announced too he had intention to travel north into the abode of evil men and orc infested hills.

“I’ve heard of a falling star to the north of us. I and my companion seek it.” He further explained, gesturing to Nairë. “I am called Elvëon.” He introduced himself and allowed Nairë and the stranger to do the same if they wished. “If you can render aid to us, whether with news, knowledge, or guidance, at least to the Shire and Breeland beyond, I would be most grateful.” Elvëon requested, stepping forward a bit to size up the human female more closely. She looked formidable but his judgement of humans was old and outdated.

 

[Serenity]

Gulf of Lune

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Nairë​

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It was a fault of Nairë’s to lose herself to her musings, and so it wasn’t until the woman spoke that she knew her and Elvëon were not alone. The rough tone caught her slightly off guard, and she stood up quickly, one fluid motion that made the skirts of her dress, and the hem of her cloak swish about her ankles. She was clearly startled though she assessed quickly that the stranger meant them no harm. A flush touched her pale cheeks for a moment. Embarrassed at having been caught off guard. That would be a poor thing to happen should they truly be approached by the enemy.

She turned briefly to look at Elvëon as he stepped from behind the tree. She was quiet through out his greeting and stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She examined the woman. Taking in her manner of dress and her weapons. Her keen eyes picked out the scars on the woman’s face, even in the dim lighting. It was clear she was no stranger to fighting. If she chose to help them Nairë felt she would be an asset.

“I am called Nairë. I was travelling to the Grey Havens, to sail West with my kin when my path crossed Elvëon’s.” She paused for a moment, her gaze assessing. “There is danger in what we propose. Everywhere the evil is growing, travel will be unsafe.”

She felt that this woman would be afraid of little, though she felt it necessary to caution, if only to be sure the woman was informed, should she choose to help them. Nairë truly hoped that she would help. Despite living her entire life in Arda she had travelled little and so was of little use in this regard. She could navigate to an extent, but she had no idea the best roads to take nor the safest routes to travel. Though she supposed there was little safety to be had in these times.
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Altáriel
Aldburg​

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It was an ill advised journey. Many people had warned her father against taking to the road, but the warnings fell on deaf ears. The sun and moon had been gone for a little over a week, but people still had to earn their living. Her father was no different. At some point his business would have to resume, and he could delay his trip into Rohan no longer. But Altáriel had refused to let him go alone. It had been quite the argument. She refused to back down, something told the young woman if her father left her in Dol Amroth now she would never see him again. Times were too dangerous and too uncertain.

No one in Dol Amroth, nor the entirety of Gondor, from what she had gleaned from the guards on patrol, knew what was going on. And the fear and uncertainty only seemed to be growing with each day that passed that did not bring a rising sun. She almost felt it would be a relief to escape the city for awhile. To be on the road with only her father and his hired guards. She was not a foolish woman, it would be dangerous. But at least, for a time, she could leave the chaos of the city behind.

~*~*~*~​

Now, Altáriel felt as though she had made a mistake in not trying to convince her father to stay in Dol Amroth. Their journey had been plagued by difficulties. The worst coming two nights before when they were attacked by a band of orcs, no doubt drawn by the fire they used to keep warm on the particularly chilly night. One of the men had grabbed her and thrown her on her horse, swatting the geldings behind to spur him into motion. It was all jumbled confusion and adrenaline. The last thing she remembered before waking up in an inn in Aldburg was a sharp blow and the world spinning into blackness before her.

As it turned out her fathers guard had delivered the blow when she tried to go back and help her father. He had left her at the inn, a few days paid in advance and gone back with what guards the city could spare, which were few, to try and help. The innkeeper’s wife had cleaned up the small gash on her forehead. That had been three days ago. One day past word had finally come. Some of the cities guards had ventured out to investigate when no one returned. There had been no survivors that they could find.

Altáriel was consumed by grief and uncertainty. What should she do? She had her gelding, and a full purse. But no direction or purpose. She spent some of her evenings in the common room of the inn, sitting close to the fire. She interacted very little with the other patrons, though she drew some attention, a lone woman in riding breeches, and a fine tunic. her dark hair left loose to fall down around her back and shoulders. Though some of them knew her story, passed on in whispers by the inn keeper, most did not and so she was a bit of an oddity.
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[Artemis]

Raen turned to look at the man who'd addressed her.
He stood easily over a foot taller than her, and seemed agile for his size. She stopped walking when she was only a couple of feet away, scrutinizing his fair appearance.
Raen blinked once, then twice, and let out a chuckle.

"Um, it's nice to meet you, Elvëon...and Nairë." She drew the words out a bit, looking him and her up and down. It wasn't the first time she'd seen an Elf, but she always found them unearthly beautiful. She cleared her throat, and drew back a bit, meeting Elvëon's indigo eyes with her violet-blue ones. "My name is Gilraen Bereniel, I am a hunter from Ithilien, Gondor." She smirked. "And it's your lucky day! I know of the places you're seeking."

She moved closer again, peering at his map.
"I'd be happy to help you on your quest. I've been looking for something exciting to do with my life." She told him. "Chasing falling stars seems exciting enough..."

She wore a leather corset, leather pants, leather boots, and a light grey travelling cloak trimmed with a golden-colored thread. She was armed in the ways of a hunter,
with a longbow of Gondorian make, a quiver of arrows, a Gondorian longsword,
and a trio of daggers strapped to her upper thigh. Her hood was currently down,
revealing her dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders in choppy layers. Her eyes were full of a kind of mirth, despite the perpetual darkness all around her, and she did not shy away from the Elves, who were taller than her.

Elerondiel chuckled, looking at Aldwyn again.
"I'll quit calling you 'Ranger' when you quit calling me 'Peredhel'." She told him,
laughing a bit. "But yes, Randir, I'd love it if you regaled me with some of your stories." Her voice was light and airy, like the caress of a warm breeze on a summer's day. "Unless you'd rather hear me talk about some of the events I read about in the libraries of Rivendell..." She smirked a bit. "I'm sure that you find the genealogies of Eärendil the Mariner and his kin super exciting..."

She rested her hand on her horse's neck, rubbing it gently. How much had she been through so far with Vanya? The sun going out...travelling through the darkness,
wary of everything that crept in the darkness...she was not the best fighter, but she did her best to not be a burden to her ranger companion, Randir. She rubbed her horse's neck and scritched its mane gently, staring out into the darkness before them, which was lit only by the twinkling stars overhead.
​

 

[LeaT]

The Shire - Just West of Brandywine Bridge

Moira may not have been welcome to take up arms in defense of The Shire, but she was certainly expected to help cook and feed the men-folk that were. While many a warm pot of stew or other victuals was busy providing the six meals a day most hobbits expected, it also had to get taken quickly to the various outposts set up around the borders of The Shire. Moira was a fair cook, but her long (for a hobbit) legs were usually put to work doing the delivery. She enjoyed the relative freedom that gave her and also helped her get acquainted with one of the fastest ponies in all the farthings. A painted pony from the South Farthings named Tom.

Despite the lack of sun the hobbits seemed to know meal times almost instinctively and there was much grumbling if she was delayed. It seemed to get worse as the darkness continued and with no obvious threat emerging the pickets began to get a bit lacking in their vigilance. Often times she found them more concerned with the food she was bringing from behind them than keeping an eye out on the unknown in front of them. As she approached the Brandywine bridge, at least four of the six hobbits-in-arms met her and Tom with no regard for the road to the East.

"Nathaniel Bolger..." she scolded "...shouldn't you be watching for orcs, not pinning for your second breakfast?" She hopped lightly off of Tom's back and stood nearly half a head taller than the Sheriff in charge of this particular outpost. She had been in school with Nathaniel and had once tackled him for pulling on her braids one too many times. She was sure she could best him in a fight if it came to that, but instead she focused on unpacking the hot food that seemed to be the focus of hobbit life even now.

 

[Garrison]

The eastfold

Randir


Aldwyn chuckled a little even cracking a smile "No, No. There is No need for that, I am already well acquainted with all of that Elerondiel" as he pushed his horse forward, the plains of the Eastfold stretching onwards.

"I think I could manage a story before we get to Aldburg, we can replenish our supplies there and maybe find you a descent bed to sleep in" his eyes wandered as he began to think, digging into his memory for a story appropriate for the "young elf" "no... no... no...Aha here is a good one, it was many years ago now long before I met you in Rivendell I was.. gods was I 30?" he rambled a bit, those warm dulscet tones filling the cold night as if it were the embers of a warm fire, drifting along as they crossed miles and miles of Rohirim Territory.

It was a long story full of adventure and daring and only a few parts of it were made up, purely to increase the dramatic tension, so maybe instead of falling flat on his face his friend Gullimane had managed to successfully blind all the trolls with 3 flaming arrows loosed from his bow all while doing a backflip and saying something so cool, it cant be recounted here....

"And that is how I came upon this, In that dark ruin was a horde of treasure the likes of which no man had seen in an age, we guessed it might have been a dragons cave before the trolls. and the Uruks. and the Wargs moved in" And with that he pulls out his sword from its sheath, with a blade black as night, with an edge that shone with a pale fire and a cross guard to match, all except for underneath it, where the crossguard met the hilt where it was a dark blood red. "It was actually in many pieces then, but they were in this ornate case so I figured it had to be special.. and I had this feeling..." he drifts off a moment "Like I was meant to come across it..." the last words no more than a murmur "but anyway the minute I grab the case the entire cavern starts to rumble and collapse, luckly for us it wasnt the first time some bastard tried to drop a mountain on my head. he knocks on his head for emphais "Anyway about 2 years later I managed to skin this group of elven blacksmiths in the greenwood in cards, and instead of you know paying up like normal people, they offer me their services, Guarantee me that whatever They make would put any other smith to shame! so I bring out the pieces of this sword I had found and ask them to reforge it, and you should have seen them, you would have thought that I had asked them to make me a sword out of the sun itself... though I would suppose that would be a bit more useful in our current predicament. Either way with some... persuasion they agreed, and when they were done they called it Erintenu.. the morning star, Son of Anglachel"

and with his big finish he took a long breath with the city finally within site.

 

[wiki234]

Yazumen the name of the wandering protector of his tribe in his homeland of the harsh desert in Harad but now broken off and living by himself with only his weapons, fighting spirit, and the ways of survival which are the only things he has left to carry with him. His whole life growing up had been a harsh one as he was born into the age of endless fighting and war to dominate the various territories that the other clans had controlled as well as having to eventually fight and defend their own territory himself along with other young warriors whos time had come and will have passed just like him.

Now grown up and becoming a full battle hardened desert warrior, Yazu has decided to leave his home as a way to leave the past as well as the loss of his father who had fought against the other clans but eventually fell himself behind him. Now wandering into the town of Aldburg it was wise for him to at least stay in the town for a few days to get his strength completely back and set himself on a planned course rather than continuing to hopelessly wander around hoping to just find his purpose so quickly. Luckily this had been mostly easy since judging by his appearance no one seemed to want to confront or talk to him about anything in particular besides either of the inn keepers who had asked if he ever needed anything to which he had politely declined most of the time, but accepting the help when needed.

 

[BennyQ]

Thromi Shortbeard
The Shire – Brandywine Bridge

---

He could smell it even before the Bridge gate came into view.

Thromi was not used to traveling through the Shire. The recent ban by the King of Arnor disallowed any men from entering the Shire but though dwarves were not included, they still respected the wish of the renewed monarch in the north. Unless they had business or some great need pressed them, traveling companies of dwarves really entered in these days, preferring the east-west road further north that let them get to their mines and halls in the Blue Mountain. But that was before. With the sun gone, almost anywhere outside of any inhabited region became tremendously dangerous. Orc parties and warg packs were rumoured to be out in force. It was not safe to travel alone anywhere anymore. Without the sun, all matter of evil things were starting to come forth again.

So this time, since he often did travel alone, Thromi decided he would pass through the Shire and hopefully avoid the worst dangers further north. It immediately was showing some fruit in that regard as Thromi at once picked up the scent of hot, delicious food. No one would be cooking if there was danger about, hobbits least of all. They were quite crafty like that. He himself would not be sneaking up, coming along the road in open sight. He was armed, though his axes at his belt were concealed by the folds of his cloak. But between it the gleam of his chain mail glinted in the reflection of the torch lights. He wore a helm and looked quite formidable for his size, a good foot taller than most of the hobbits.

They saw him of course, beginning with little Clovis Bracegirdle. He jumped up, nearly spilling his hot stew all over himself. “Someone’s coming!” He hissed to the other hobbits, pulling on his feathered sheriff cap and picking up his wooden stave. He was young and thought every little movement in the dark was something evil and malicious.

Thromi saw the frantic activity and paused a few paces from the outward gate, on the far side of the bridge from where the Hobbits were. He quirked an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting to be addressed and challenged by the guard. He would not enter or trespass against their laws but he hoped they would not turn him away, as going back and detouring back to the road would add days to his journey. In truth, he figured it would all amount to naught if the sun did not come out ever again. “Thromi, son of Fromli, at your service!” He said cheerfully to the gatekeepers. “Just a humble traveler, wishing to stay at the inn, have a mug o’ good beer, and be on my way if it’s acceptable.”

 

[LeaT]

Moira Brandybuck
The Shire - Brandywine Bridge

---

As Moira or 'Brandy' as the younger hobbits called her, unpacked Tom's saddle bags, the hobbits scrambled for their dishes. She was pleased to see that Nathaniel did keep two of the hobbits-in-arms focused on watching the bridge and nearby water even as the others eagerly queued up for the meal. "What did you bring us Brandy?" One of them asked as she began to open covered containers as if she were hosting a picnic and not feeding an outpost. It was all just a little surreal, no hobbit in living memory had fought anything like a battle, they didn't even fight among themselves for the most part. The hobbits her age still talked about the day Brandy had flattened Nathaniel and made him promise to never pull her hair again. "Sausage stew Rollo, your favorite as I recall." She said with a wink to Rollo Lightfoot, who resembled his given name much more than his family name, was a pudgy little fellow with a round face and a quick smile. She strongly suspected just about everything was his favorite.

Moira made the rounds, even delivering food to the two left 'on duty' and she was just beginning to pack up when she heard little Clovis call out that someone was coming. She steadied Tom as he snorted at the bustle of activity around them. Two hobbits drew bows as the others made ready staves and short swords. Nervous sweaty little hands, more than one trembling a little, knuckles white with holding so hard as to not drop them. "The Shire is closed." Nathaniel shouted from his end, trying to sound more confident than he felt. The lone figure on the other side of the bridge looked fierce indeed, the glint of armor from his chest and helm reflecting off the torch light which seemed wholly inadequate as it approached noon. "Do you think there are more of them?" A nervous Rudolph Hairyfoot asked, expressing the fears of the others.

As a strong voice replied from the other side, announcing the name of the traveler there was a flurry of small voices all talking at once. Despite their elaborate duty schedules and flourishes of weapons, they really weren't sure about what to do about peaceful travelers. Men were not supposed to come to The Shire but this was not a man. "He's a dwarf." Moira whispered, having come up from behind them to stand behind Nathaniel. She listened to the plans of the dwarf along with the others. Nathaniel's voice called back again. "The Shire is closed, you must go....Owww."

The hobbits voice was cut short by a thump to the back of his head. "He is a dwarf Nathaniel, not an orc, he should be welcomed." Moira's voice was clearly feminine though the dwarf would need an elves ears to hear her properly at that distance. "Besides, he might have some word of what is going on." Moira wasn't really the type to wait for permission. It was her voice that called across this time. "Come forward friend, and be recognized."

The other hobbits looked among each other with uncertainty. Moira decided she would need to act to keep one of the nervous archers from shooting their first contact with the outside world since the darkness fell. She pushed past an angry Nathaniel, who seemed to splutter a few unkind words about a 'she-devil' but didn't try to stop her. She slipped easily under the gate and walked to the middle of the bridge. "I am Moira Brandybuck, welcome to The Shire friend dwarf." She gave a small bow. She knew she had very practical and good reasons for welcoming this dwarf to The Shire. She was less certain of the reason she felt the need to smooth out her long skirt and throw her shoulders back to emphasize her femininity. "We don't have any beer but there is some warm food left if you are hungry." Her smile was genuine though most of her facial details were hidden in shadow with the torchlight behind her. "Come and eat then I can guide you to the inn and that beer, it is on my way."

 

[Serenity]

Gulf of Lune

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Nairë​

---

A hunter would certainly be of good use to them. They were often well versed in roads and routes, as well as the less traveled paths. And that would certainly come in handy. It was fortunate indeed.

Nairë followed Gilraen to the map that Elvëon had set out and been studying a few moments ago. She smiled as her gaze touched on the two realms she had called home. Rivendell and Mirkwood, renamed Eryn Lasgalen once it had been cleansed of the evil that lurked there. She sent up a quiet prayer that the evil did not try to reclaim her beautiful home, and that Rivendell remained a safe haven for those that had chosen to remain.

The only thing that would really save them was the success of the mission Elvëon had proposed. The more people they could gather the better. It was good to hear Gilraen’s enthusiasm. Nairë looked up from the map, the small smile still playing about her lips.

“We are glad of your help. As well as your enthusiasm. It will be needed in the days to come…it will also be good to have another warrior in our midst. I fear that I will be little use in that area as my talents lay in healing.”

Nairë knew her skills were equally as important. But having another fighter amongst them made her feel more at ease. Though, despite knowing the time would come, she hoped neither skills would be needed. But that was woefully optimistic, she knew better. She had grown up in Mirkwood after all. The same evil that had pervaded her home now ran rampant through Arda once more.

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[BennyQ]

Elvëon
Gulf of Lune

---

“Mae govannen Lady Bereniel.” Elvëon greeted more formally when the mortal woman introduced herself. He did not know whether she was actual nobility of her race or not, though it didn’t matter. He could perceive she had the spirit and bearing of one regardless, almost like an elf-woman herself. He felt his heart quake with excitement at the chance of finally having a guide who could take them through this indomitable darkness. Perhaps with Gilraen’s help, it wouldn’t be indomitable for long.

“Not as exciting as it might be.” He then said in a grave and serious tone. “Make no mistake about what you are being asked to do. Your skills of hunting and scouting may very likely lead us into a den of goblins and trolls to find a piece of the fallen star. While I will accept no boon of safety for myself until my task is done, I do not ask you to undertake this peril under any charge or obligation. You are free to lead us as far along the road as you deem yourself fit to. But know with every step, whether east, north, or south, the danger will increase. This I warn you, Lady Bereniel, and you again, Nairë. This is not a cake walk or a milk run we go on.”

They both looked capable and strong, to which Elvëon could rely some hope on. But he knew nothing of their strength beyond what he saw currently. “If you are still eager to partake upon this journey, then prepare yourself. I see little time in wasting here anymore and we shall strike out east towards this land of Rhudar as soon as may be done.” He stated, collecting his pack and minor gear, hefting the heavy bag. He had special vials crafted by the hands of the Valar themselves for holding the pieces of the fallen Sun.

“We make at once for the land of Shire. Take what refreshments you can now. We will not rest again until a half day’s march is complete…”

~~~
Thromi Shortbeard
The Shire – Brandywine Bridge

---

His announcement seemed to create a lot of confusion on the other side of the bridge, causing him to quirk a smile in bemusement. No, this wasn’t your average military outposts, with challenges and bowmen watching your every step. Did they even have bows on the other side of the bridge? At first he was told the Shire was closed, to which he accepted with a bow of his head and made ready to seek out an alternative path around. You must go…aro…? Around? That’s what it sounded like the Halfling sentry was trying to tell him. Well but of course, I cannot go under or over! But there was no use discussing it with the gate guard it seemed.

They were still discussing him. Would an orc really come and offer his service to a Halfling? These were truly a guarded, secretive little people with no knowledge of the outside world. Well his judgement was a bit hasty there as a female voice seemed to beckon him forward, remembering the concept of hospitality. Thromi was grateful for it and he came forward to the gate to be seen in the torchlight. He was mostly a head taller than the hobbits, armed, armoured, but looking weary and certainly thirsty. The others seemed to regard him with distrust but who wouldn’t in these dark times? His eyes scanned the crowd until they settled on the Halfling woman who must have spoken and gestured him in. She came through the far gate to meet him halfway. He bowed to her.

“My pleasure, kind lady. Thromi, son of Fromli, at your service!” He said again in gratitude and beamed when she returned his manners with manners of her own. “I thank you for your welcome.” He said as he fell into step with her, allowing himself to be led inwards to this inn in question. “I will not impose upon you for food. I have plenty enough of my own to sustain me for my march. Just a drink and some news too, if you have some. The world all around seems to close in against everything else. It’s good to see some happy souls who will ask first and judge before fencing themselves in.” He noted as he came over to the far side of the Brandywine, now officially in the Shire. It would only be a few days journey to reach the West Farthing and the border.

Moira Brandybuck she said her name was. Curious… “Tell me, Lady…you would not be related to the famous Meriadoc Brandybuck, who once journeyed with Gimli Elf-friend, the most famous of my race in recent days? You have a proud name.” A proud name for a pretty face he also noted, looking at Moira’s pretty features, or at least what he could glimpse, in the faint torchlight.

 

[LeaT]

Moira Brandybuck
The Shire - Brandywine Bridge

---

It was rare for Moira to have to look up at someone but she found it a somewhat pleasant experience. Though she had come of age, she really hadn't had much interest in the boys of the Shire, finding them somewhat lacking in energy and enthusiasm. The soft life of the Shire did not seem to hone the male features in a way that attracted the young shepherdess hobbit. She tried not to stare, though found herself drinking in every detail of the dwarf's formidable features. She had the advantage of the torch light behind her and her eyes sparkled in reflection of the light shimmering off of the fine chain mail beneath his cloak.

As they approached the defending hobbits they did not immediately move to let them pass, each one looking uncertainly towards each other and their leader. A stern look from Moira though and the last of their courage seemed to fade as they all new Moira's temper in one way or another. As hobbits went, she could be kind of high strung. "I will escort our new friend to the inn and then I am sure he will want to meet The Thane." She told them, not bothering to ask the proper permission of the Sherrif. Somehow after seeing this glorious dwarf, her own kind seemed somewhat...diminished in her eyes.

Moira wasn't sure why but she was disappointed in his rejection of the offered food. She had considered feeding the other hobbits almost an indignity, but somehow she felt much more domestic in the presence of the solitary dwarf. Of course it wasn't like this was her cooking or anything, she had only delivered it. "I'm afraid you still have a bit of a walk before you can taste our beer but we should be there by nightf..." She laughed uneasily as she looked at the sky. "I guess we still try to think of time in its rightful place." She turned to him and for the first time the light shown on her face. Green eyes showed just a hint of the fear she felt at the perpetual darkness over the land. She had a fair yet simple face, not a radiant beauty like an elf, but a homey domestic sort that might make one think of warm fires and warmer beds.

Her fear melted into a joyous pride when he mentioned her famous fore-bearer. A smile spread across her face as she replied. "I am and please, my friends call me Brandy and we are not so formal here in the Shire to consider ourselves lords and ladies." Again she found herself throwing her shoulders back and smoothing her skirt. One of the guard gave a small snicker and her pleasant eyes squinted at him as if in warning before she turned back to her guest her smile returning as quickly as it faded. She began to pack up the remains of their dinner, somewhat ignoring the protests of those who were not quite done. Quickly and efficiently she had Tom packed and led him by his reigns. "If you are ready?" She asked, eager to be off and away from the pestering of her fellow hobbits.

 

[BennyQ]

Thromi Shortbeard
The Shire – Brandywine Bridge

---

A soft smile spread over his lips at the authority the young hobbit female portrayed, eyeballing the other halflings into silent submission at her decision to welcome the dwarf. Here was someone not afraid of the uncertain and mysterious, as most would present their sticks or stones to drive any stranger away in these dark times. He shared her laugh over the misjudgement of what time it may be. Who could really tell, unless they were more attuned to the wind and passage of stars rather than the sun and moon. “I’ve been walking for days- nights really.” He said, correcting himself. “A little while longer will be of little concern. I can endure a little bit more, especially with such lovely company.”

He flashed her a smile and his own eyes twinkled with glee, for not only having some company for the road but attractive, well humoured company for the road. “Brandy. Suitable. Soft like the gentle waves of the river and yet hiding a deep strength veiled by modesty.” Thromi remarked with a charming smile, not catching the snicker another gave at the praise he gave over her ancestor. “I will not apologize for the formality. You may not think so but you certainly do have the bearing and manners of a lady. Yes, let us be off. The call of a cold drink beckons.”

It wasn’t long to the bridge inn, a single storey building since most halflings preferred their quarters and rooms beneath ground rather than above as men might. The place wasn’t very busy. There wasn’t much to be cheerful for in the perpetual darkness and only a few brooding patrons were in attendance, keeping to themselves. The fire was burning brightly though and Thromi dumped his packs near a table close to the hearth and spent a minute warming his hands, rubbing them together and sometimes rubbing his jaw, as if to spread the heat. Fire and warmth had a lot more value now, since there was never any sun now that would rise up and bathe the land in light and heat. Fire seemed the only source left for that.

“I have coin for the drink.” Thromi would quickly say. “Indulge me this honour of buying the first few rounds. The least I can do for your hospitality. And in turn, you may give me news. How fares the Shire in regards to the darkness? Some lands have fallen into total anarchy but I see some order and centralized authority still exists here.” He inquired, taking his seat with both hands around his foamy topped mug. “With the sun, crops have been failing and famine seem to have taken hold right across many lands. Hunger has a way of driving folk to despair and madness.” He grinned after a long sip of the cold drink, feeling the aftertaste in his throat. “In a land that loves food and meal times as this, I must say I am very surprised there is still order here.”

 

[LeaT]

Moira Brandybuck
The Shire - Brandywine Bridge

---

Between the dwarf's homage to her kinsmen and his flattery towards her bearing, Moira was quickly warming to Thromi. She was glad to leave the guarding hobbits behind her as she set off down the road towards the Bridge Inn. She knew she would need to ride hard to make up the time she would lose but she wasn't about to pass up such a unique opportunity to talk to someone about the outside world. "I never knew dwarves could be so charming." She said with a smile once they were out of earshot of the guard. She seemed to relax appreciably when it was just the two of them, as if they had been traveling together for years and not veritable strangers.

She accepted his offer of a drink but could not hope to keep up with him in that arena. Besides she still had a long ride ahead of her and was too eager to ask questions than to drink steadily. She took his coin and returned with two tankards, well what passed for tankards among the little folk of the Shire, and placed one before him. She seemed to enjoy serving him though she lacked the simple cheery disposition of a true barmaid. Instead she questioned him about his travels, "were their dangers about?" "Had he been attacked?" "Was there any hope?" It was this last question that showed her true fear as her eyes glistened in the firelight. In a way she wanted to cling to him like a drowning woman a bit of cork, though he was much more solid.

She answered his questions as well. "We have stores enough for now, we took the crop in early this year. It was as much to keep everyone busy as anything else I think. But now there is little to do but worry." She was an insightful girl and seemed realistic about the situation. "But we cannot stay like this forever, without the sun it will be the last crop and then what?" She didn't expect him to answer, they all knew the need for the sun. "We are an orderly people, but I fear even we have our limit." She sat and drank with him, bringing him more tankards than she could count before they bid their good nights. She promised he would see her again before he left the Shire.

By the time Moira left the inn she was behind schedule and needed all of Tom's speed to get back to Whitfurrows to pick up the evening meal. When she arrived however she found she had been given a new task. The Thain wanted to see the young dwarf who had entered the Shire. She was given a letter to extend all courtesies to their guest and to offer an invitation to meet the Thain in Tuckborough at his earliest convenience. Moira was excited to be given the duty of being his guide during his time in the Shire, a much more interesting task than feeding hobbits six meals a day.

Thromi was never far from her thoughts as she rode back to the inn. All her riding had her in an almost constant state of arousal. She, like most of her kin was rather reserved in normal circumstances, but these were no ordinary times. She began to fantasize about the dwarf. She had experienced so little in her short life and here was an opportunity that might never present itself again. As she rode up to the inn she handed Tom over to the stable boy. Brushing some of the dust and dirt of the road off of her she knew she needed a bath. Then it dawned on her, the dwarf probably needed one as well. A mischievous look crossed her face. (The bath will be a PM scene cause I'm shy!)

 

[Artemis]

"All right. Well, I have my stuff with me, and I don't own anything else, so...I'll be ready to go whenever you are." Raen stated, gesturing to the pack on her back. "Danger has...well, I don't like it, but I think danger is always around you, even if you're at home and think you're safe. So I think that going headfirst and confronting that which poses a threat - all the while hopefully eliminating it - is the best way of living. So don't worry, sir. I'll follow your
- our - journey through to the end." She smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye.
A dangerous journey? Suited her just fine.

Elerondiel listened intently to the Ranger's tale, as she much enjoyed stories, and hearing how he acquired the cool sword at his waist was a particularly riveting one. She was unaware of how much time had passed until she saw the city coming into sight.

"Wow...that's quite the tale, Randir." Elerondiel smiled at her friend. "I'm afraid that I have nothing quite as exciting to tell - my bow and arrows are from the armory in Rivendell, but I suppose my sword...well, that's an heirloom of my grandfather. Well, my aunt told me that it was originally wielded by my grandfather's grandmother. My aunt gave it to me when I came of age, saying that since I had no brothers to protect me, I should learn to protect myself."

Elerondiel withdrew the sword from its sheath, something she'd never done around Randir before. In the halls of Rivendell, where things were quiet and fairly peaceful, she had had no need. There was a phrase engraved into the blade, in Sindarin Tengwar runes. It read: "Aen estar Hadhafang i chathol hen, thand arod dan i thang an i arwen."
"It says 'Aen estar Hadhafang i chathol hen, thand arod dan i thang an i arwen',
which translates into 'This blade is called Hadhafang, a noble defense against the enemy throng for a noble lady'." Elerondiel explained, despite not knowing if Randir could read the letters or not. "My aunt was a kind woman, and I looked up to her immensely. When she died, I stopped talking about her as much. Eventually, I didn't bring her up at all." Elerondiel shrugged away the tears she was hiding, and forced another bright smile onto her face. "But perhaps my kinship with the deceased Queen of the Reunited Kingdoms is something best discussed around a warm hearth, with something warm to drink, hm?"
​

 

[Garrison]

Aldwin aka Randir

Randir let out a low whistle "I never would have guessed that I, a simple ranger of the north would be escorting royalty" he said a smile gracing his lips as he looked upon her beautiful.... beautiful sword.

His mind stammered a moment a feeling that he certainly wasn't used to, but it was nothing that the hearty ale of the Rohirim couldnt fix. he rummaged in his head for a minute while elves are supposed to be beautiful, and that piece of metal was obviously a masterpiece, not only that but it was wielded by some of the most famous elves of the third age, just to gaze upon it was a privilege. But as the shock of who is company really was faded more of her words sunk in. and he made sure that he had his horse next to hers before uttering the next words. the city gate nearing ever closer.

"I'm sorry, Elerondiel. I cant imagine what death for an elf is like.. Death for men is something that is just par for the course, an eventuality that we all make peace with at some point, even for us dunedine the end comes for us, but for you elves it is something.. optional, you will always be fair and beautiful long after the rest of us are dus-" he caught himself, that was far to somber a topic right now and began to laugh "haha, the fact that the sun is gone is enough to bring down any mood, I shouldnt be helping, that is a wonderful heirloom, to have the blade wielded by some of the most famous elves that I've ever heard of.. its amazing" He smiles brightly as he puts a hand on her shoulder "Hopefully you wont have to use it, because I will be protecting you Elerondiel, for as long as you'll have me"
it looked like he was about to continue when a loud voice boomed
"WHAT DO YOU WANT TRAVELER!" it was an old and crochety looking watchman standing before the gate

"Just here for a few nights gatekeeper, would like tall drink and a bed that isnt filled with stones and sticks if we can find one around here"

"IS THAT AN ELF WI'CH YOU? IT IS.. WELL I'LL BE ME MOTHERS FATHER, never thought I'd get the chance to e're meet one a you. come on in and do not tarry, ev'n here the roads aint too safe, you can find wat ur lookin fer at the Lone rider inn, ya cant miss it. only place fer ya adventurin types"

"you have my thanks gatekeeper-" Randir Began
"FOULIN!" Foulin interupted correcting him
"you have my thanks Foulin" he corrected himself before ushering the elven Lady forward but as he did he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to bristle and he looked behind and saw far off upon a large rock, barely illuminated by starlight a rider of some sort atop what looked like a black mare, clad in furs and wearing some sort of dear skull as a helm.. it looked monsterous... and whatever it was, it was watching him intently, he could feel the things gaze booring deep into his back. But as he blinked, it was gone. Vanished into the long night. Randir tried to put it behind him as he entered the city and finding his way into the lone rider Inn.

it wasnt too long before he had a seat under him and a pint of the local brew in his hand. now that he had thick wood between himself and the wilds, with a warm hearth nearby he let himself relax a little. the room was bustling everyone seemed to have company except for a woman near the fire who seemed to be mulling something over. he waved over one of the servers and asked them to bring a mead to the woman by the fire, she looked like she could use it. before returning his attention to his companion.

 

[Serenity]

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Nairë
Gulf of Lune​

---

The sharp look in Nairë’s eyes, and the set of her jaw spoke of her determination to continue on, despite Elvëon’s reminder of the danger. The moment he had told her of his task, she knew, even if it cost her life in the end, that she was meant to be a part of it. It was much like her call to heal. And while the prospect of wandering into a den of orcs and goblins wasn’t one she was keen on, neither was she frightened enough to abandon the task at hand. She had grown up in the forests of Mirkwood, for a long time it had been her reality.

She was just as eager to begin moving. She gathered her bag from beneath a tree and secured the straps about her shoulders. It was heavy with supplies, mostly the things that she may need to treat injuries that would not be easy to find on the road or in the wild. And food. Enough to last some time if they rationed it wisely.

“There is little that could change my mind on this journey.” She reassured Elvëon as she came to stand beside him and Raen. Her tone of voice was quiet and earnest, though it turned wistful when she spoke again in an effort to lighten the somber mood “…and I must admit that I am excited to see the shire, even in these dire times.” A small smile flitted across her lips. She had never a met a hobbit but she had heard a great deal about them.​

Altáriel
Aldburg​

---

It always surprised Altáriel how busy the inn was when she would venture forth from her room. Everything felt so gloomy these days, with the sun gone, and her father gone. But she supposed life had to continue.
She took up her usual seat in front of the fire, and sat undisturbed for some time before a server tapped her on the shoulder. She smiled and held out a mug.

“For you miss.” She said pushing the cup into her hand.

“But I didn’t or-“

“’Tis from the man and his companion, o’er there.” She said cheerfully, pointing to a table not to far from the young woman. And then the server was gone before she could say anything else, or ask to send her thanks back to them.

She turned back to the fire for a moment, and took a sip of the mead. It was good, and much needed. Though a large part of her didn’t wish to socialize she felt it would be rude not to say anything at all. She made her way through the bustle of people, muttering an ‘excuse me’ here and there.

“Hello.” She said in greeting when she reached their table, a faint smile touching her lips, though not quite reaching her eyes. “I wanted to thank you for the mead, it was kind of you to send.” She looked at both the man and the woman. It took her a moment to realize that the woman was an elf, and when she did her eyes widened and she whispered an awed “oh...”​

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[BennyQ]

Thromi Shortbeard
The Shire – Bridge Inn

---

With a nod of his head in gratitude, Thromi accepted the tankard and took a hefty drink, feeling the taste of ale flush down his throat and refresh him. That felt good. They made small talk at first, about the road and travels. Yes, there was rumour of orc parties and warg packs coming down from the north and east, though he had only met fugitives who brought word of them and had not encountered them himself. But that danger might soon grow nigh even to the borders of the Shire. Was there hope? Moira needed a wiser dwarf, or elf, than Thromi to answer that one.

He agreed with her though. Once the current stores expired, which shouldn’t be so far off, what could they do? He didn’t answer, for any answer he had was hopeless or despairing. “Well chin up, someone will set things right. Evil does not last forever, as all the stories say. There’ll be a fix to this. I’m sure there is.” Thromi said and after a few more tankards than he could keep count with, he felt himself growing drowsy. He beckoned goodnight to the fair Halfling hostess and went off to his rented chambers to catch some sleep. There was still a long journey ahead.

Suffice to say, for once his dreams were not about darkness but of other more beautiful things. Perhaps there could be hope after all.

~~~
Elvëon
Gulf of Lune

---

Elvëon did not share in the excitement of the journey ahead. While he once did hope to see the vast and intricate lands of Middle-Earth, the circumstances which brought him to these shores did not allow for such luxuries anymore. He was here on a quest, one of vital importance to the future of the world and all beings within. At least he had some hope, for finding two willing companions who refused to be idle and helpless was a tremendous start. It brought warmth to his heart and he was encouraged for it. “Then let us be off. Do not expect feast or grandiose welcome on the road. We eat on our feet and rest only when they can go no further. To the Shire, then.”

And they made great progress in those first few days, for as an elf Elvëon was tireless and they paused only when their human companion needed rest or recovery. They passed through the Blue Mountains and out into the empty lands between their eastern slopes towards the hilly green country to the west. This was the Shire, a small yet cultivated land. Yet despite its richness, or what should have been a richness of soil, they met very few people on the road. The two elves and their hooded human companion caused all sorts of frenzy, usually driving people to fear of what these three interlopers might be up to. There was no point in trying to speak to them for they were met with shut doors, barred windows, and angry remarks. One did not need elven ears to hear those.

Their first real obstacle however was when a star sparkling ribbon of a river appeared before them in the distance. The Brandywine. It was wide and swift flowing, with only a single bridge across. It was gated and by the looks of it, guarded. Elvëon did not wish to stir trouble against these Little Folk so it seemed apt to attempt a greeting. Even he could recognize the telltale signs of a tavern on the roadside, a low dwelling with two wings that sank into the hills behind in Hobbit fashion as they preferred. The door was low, so each of the trio would have to swoop and duck in…

~~~
Thromi Shortbeard
Brandywine Bridge Inn

---

After dusty weeks of travel on the road, it felt good to be washed and clean. Fresh garments, with warm food and ale in his belly, Thromi felt he could travel to the Blue Mountains and then back to Khazad-Dum and through it to the Iron Hills in record time. Especially after the previous night. He felt elated. Now with pipe and quality leaf to relax with, he was loathe to depart again on his journey. He had such fine company here, finding himself at ease in the company of Moira with whom he now sat. Perhaps he could delay.

The door to the tavern was swung open and in stepped three large figures, a male and two female. No, what struck Thromi most was that it was two elves and a human. And the lead elf, the tall male, had such bright eyes they were like two stars that had come down to earth. For a moment they shined vigorously before fading, as if whatever fuel ignited those orbs burned themselves out. By his beard, Thromi hated elves… He watched them with dark eyes of his own.

“Good morning.” The elf said to no one in particular. How did he know it was morning? “I am called Elvëon. These are my companions, the Lady Bereniel and the Lady Nairë. We seek news and guidance across the bridge into the forest yonder but the gate is closed.” He stated. Thromi turned and glanced towards Moira. This was her duty, was it not? The faster they sped on these travelers, the better. But he wondered vaguely what their purpose was. Elves fled westwards to the sea, not eastwards into danger. And not in the company of a female human either, who looked like a ranger. He wondered what their business was but he had no authority to question them on it.

 

[Artemis]

Raen enjoyed the trip to the Shire - even in the darkness, her feet could pick out the trail that had originally brought her to the Grey Havens. She was a dark, lithe figure in the darkness, who preferred to travel by starlight than torchlight. Torchlight could attract unwanted attention from the things that lurked in the darkness, and her eyes were just as good as any Elves' - or at least, that's what her pa had always told her.

The journey was tiring, but she never lessened her pace. She couldn't let the Elves outshine her human stamina, after all! The thrill of adventure and danger pumped through her veins, giving her the adrenaline to keep going, even when she would feel tired.

As they entered the Shire and the tavern, Raen looked around the cozy room. It was a little small, but it reminded her a bit of the taverns back home in Gondor. She smiled at the dwarf when her eyes crossed over him in the crowd of people. She approached him and took a seat near him at another table.

"Hail and well met, ser dwarf." Raen greeted him cheerfully. "How fare you on this day? Well, aside from the darkness and impending doom we're all about to experience." As nice as the Elves had been on the road, it was nice to see a face that wasn't an Elf. "My name's Gilraen Bereniel, but my friends call me Raen."

Elerondiel spoke with Randir in hushed whispers about her childhood, about her friends in Minas Tirith, and her tenuous relationship with her royal cousins. They were nice enough, but they had a lot of money and respect that Elerondiel didn't have. She was drinking some ale, and generally enjoying herself,
trying to forget for a while that the world was going to potentially be destroyed.

When the human woman walked over, Elerondiel looked up and smiled politely at her.
It was obvious from the woman's expression that she had not had much experience with Elves, and Elerondiel wanted to put forth a good expression.
"Greetings, mellon." Elerondiel greeted her kindly. "My name is Elerondiel Half-Elven."
She used the human word rather than the Sindarin word so that the woman would understand. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
​

 

[LeaT]

Moira Brandybuck
The Shire - Brandywine Bridge Inn

---

Moira seemed absolutely radiant the next morning and despite a lack of proper sleep was in perhaps the best mood she had been since the sun and moon fell. The boys about her own age were somewhat wary of her good spirits as it often meant trouble was brewing, but they barely even registered on her senses. Several of the women tut tutted her in their disapproving of her new companion but she paid them no mind. She eagerly brought Thromi a fresh tankard, or a hot plate of food whenever she seemed to think he might want one. She enjoyed being close to him and smelling his pipe and everything about him.

She hadn't yet told him about her task of bringing him to see the Thain. While she was glad to have the excuse to stay with him a bit longer, she dreaded going. The Thain would never let her accompany Thromi beyond the borders of the Shire, she didn't even know if he would be allowed to stay. That thought filled her with dread, she didn't want to part company with him so soon, or perhaps even at all. Still it had all happened so fast and she wasn't even sure what he was planning. He seemed pretty content here at the inn but she couldn't imagine he traveled all this way just to stay in the Shire.

Her worries were disrupted as three very tall strangers entered the door and stood among them. There was a low murmur of voices, humans were not supposed to be in the Shire but then clearly two of them were not human at all, but elves! The Shire was such a closed little society and even with the shock of perpetual night, it had still just been hobbits. Now in two days she had seen (a lot of) a dwarf and now two elves and a human. Clearly there was something afoot. She looked from the strangers back to Thromi, who gave her a look as if she were supposed to do the talking.

The elves seemed friendly enough but the human seemed to ignore her and instead talk to Thromi as if she didn't exist. It sparked her temper but she ignored the human in turn and instead bowed to the two elves. "Greetings and welcome to the Shire" She said, offering her best smile, which seemed to shine quite readily from her face this morning. "It seems to be a day for visitors to our quiet corner of the world." She gestured back to Thromi. "Perhaps you would like to join us? PMay I offer you something for your thirst or hunger?" She felt a little uncertain speaking to such unusual visitors but was eager to learn what she could of them. "Then I can inquire about your crossing the bridge." This might be just the opportunity for which she was hoping.

 

[Garrison]

Randir/Aldwyn
The Lone Rider Inn, Aldburg

Aldwyn enjoyed swapping tales of growing up with Elerondiel, Living in Minas Tirith, The City of kings that must have been a treat, he never managed to get above the second level in the city before he had to go help track down a wandering band of orcs or another more unsightly creature. he kept his voice low as well as he told her of his 3 sisters, Aurora, Teresa, and Freya. how they never really understood his Fascination with becoming a Ranger, how they would rib him for coming home every night trailing dirt and twigs. how his mother desperately wanted him to find a woman that would make a proper gentleman out of him, like that could ever happen.. at least back then, he had a need to see the world, to experience it in all its dangers.

the conversation was beginning to lull when the dark haired woman finally approached.

Randir looked the woman up and down as she gawked at his companion "What, there is no reason to gawk, it's like you've never seen an elf before?" he asked a smile never leaving his face and jest in his voice. "But come, sit, you can repay me for that drink by spinning a tale, if I spend any more time with this one, she'll make do on her promise to tell me about the genealogies of Eärendil the Mariner and his kin" gesturing to his companion, then to the open bench across from them.

 

[Serenity]

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Nairë
Brandywine Bridge Inn​

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Their journey to the shire passed more quickly then Nairë expected. It wasn’t long before the trio had come upon the beautifully green and well cultivated lands of the shire. Even in the darkness the land was pleasing to look upon, though the forests of Arda would always hold her heart she could appreciate the shire in its own way. Though its inhabitants were another matter. She had heard of the hobbits aversion to outsiders but she didn’t imagine it could be quite so bad as it was.

No one stepped out to greet the new comers. Though she could hardly fault them that in such dark times, she supposed. It was the remarks that surprised her the most. Though she dismissed them nearly as soon as they reached her ears.

Soon enough they came upon the bridge, and a tavern on the side of the road. She ducked under the short door frame as she followed Elvëon inside.

“Good morning,” Her smile was warm as she greeted the young hobbit and dwarf, and accepted the offer of hospitality, “We would be happy to join you and wash down the dust of the road with a beverage. But might we know the names of our hosts?” She asked politely. Realizing that the two hadn’t introduced themselves yet.

Altáriel
Aldburg​

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“I-I am sorry.” Altáriel stuttered, her cheeks turning pink with her embarrassment as she realized she had been staring. “Truly I did not mean to stare. I’ve travelled often but have not had the fortune yet to meet an elf.”

Accepting the mans offer to sit she settled herself on the bench opposite the two, composing herself as she did so. “My name is Altáriel. It’s a pleasure to meat the both of you.”

The young woman bowed her head and thought for a moment, of a good tale to tell the two strangers. In the end she chose something light hearted, to chase away her own gloom, and that of the strange darkness that had taken hold of Middle Earth.

She told them tales of her early years travelling with her father. The joys of meeting new people and the excitement of new experiences. How she hated it when he had to leave her behind for the longer journeys. She even found herself laughing as she recounted one instance in particular. In which her father had stopped to help a poor farmer whose cow had wandered into a bog. They had almost gotten the beast out, when her father slipped and wound up covered head to toe in mud…with at least a half day left to travel before they reached the inn.
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