The Ice Crystal

[Gwyn]

April 30, 3021 Third Age

While at Annuminas, the capital of the Northern Kingdom, King Elessar received errant rider from the lands of Forodwaith, a frozen wasteland far to the North. The news he received was both astounding and very distressing. But for the Icemen the northern lands were all but uninhabited and yet these same Icemen had sent word of a find so utterly unbelievable the King had ordered the man to be remover from the chamber. Only when Elessar recalled hearing stories of his kinsmen that were lost long ago did he have the man brought before him once again to hear his full story. It was true, the impossible had happened; one of the lost Palantíri had been washed up on shore.

Elessar had been King for less than two years. The United Kingdom was still fighting a guerrilla war with rouge bands made up of men from Rhûn and surviving Orc and Uruks. Were the Palantíri to fall into the wrong hands it would add several years to the struggle and cost many lives. It was not a simple matter. Times were still difficult, men and information could be bought. What was needed is someone or a group that was above being bought, every precaution must be taken. The call was made and the riders went forth. In four or five days the riders would be receive in both Imladris and Lorien. The messages were written in the ancient Elven script of Quenya, who few beside the elves could read. From the two Elven lands their own riders would go forth. Once again the fate of Middle Earth would rest in the hands of a small company.

[Bessain]

"Ten silvers for now. Another ten when you get back," bartered Old Dysen, with an especially stubborn elf. Dysen hired this particular one quite often, but tonight she was not being at all courteous.

Bessain sat with her feet propped up on a nearby chair, nursing a goblet of wine. "I do not want your merchant's silver, Dysen. Pay it in full, or find someone else."

Dysen grumbled low in his throat. Were he in his younger years, he'd have a mind to put this elf in her place. The elleth would be quite reasonable some days... others it was almost impossible for him to save money. But she always came back as fast as she could. Unlike those other idiots who took his gold and ran with it. No matter her skill, Dysen would not let the elf win this round! Someone needed to teach her a lesson and fast. "No deal," he growled, and went back to bartending. The old man made a mental note to spit in the elleth's next drink.

The elleth shrugged indifferently and turned away from the bar, her hand involuntarily slipping under the table down to her almost-empty purse. Bree was the place to be for hired hands, even if some of the employers were barmen. But thats what made it great. With most of the immediate dangers of the world gone, people felt better about going out for a drink. The towns had built several other taverns to keep up with the demand.

Bessain waited patiently until her seat became too uncomfortable, and old Dysen turned in for the night. She went over to the far side of the bar, scanning the new bulletins for any interesting work, which would be more than what she had now. Nothing looked too good. It consisted mostly of farmers looking for cattle hands and night watchers, the kind of work Bessain hated doing. She went through note after note until, finally, something caught her eye.

A tan piece of parchment, now starting to age with water rot, reveled a letter that was so familiar to Bessain, she nearly passed it over. Pulling it out from the pile, she simply sat and stared at the text that the elleth knew so well, she was nearly insulted that no one had taken it yet. But then again, Quenya wasn't exactly a native tongue to men. It was only natural that it had been thrown aside.

Making sure Dysen or any of his buddies weren't around, the elleth folded the parchment and slipped it into her pocket.

[Naucoaran]

It had been a rather eventless trek to the next town on his list. With the chaos in the world finally cooled down to minor skirmishes here and there Dagoron could finally travel in relative safety without having to sleep with one eye open. He had taken his time making his way to Bree because the towns were so close together in that area. He hated sampling new ale while his head still swam from his last sampling. he was fully recovered now, and it was perfect timing as he crested the hill that opened the view into a dark and mostly sleeping Bree.

Hiking up his thick leather belt and repositioning the satchel of bolts at his hip, Dagoron trotted down the hill. The first tavern he came too looked like it was either a high class building or was freshly build. He decided on it being new because high class people wouldn’t live in Bree. Pushing through the door he drew a deep breath in through his beaky nose. The new smell tickled his nose and reminded him of freshly cut timber. The smell made him wrinkle his nose. The tavern didn't smell like a tavern. Where was the earthy smell of ale that assaulted you at every turn? Where was the gamey smell of hen cooking in the back? He took another sniff then grumbled.

It was at this time that he realized it was rather dark in the tavern. It was true that he had better than normal vision in the dark as all dwarves tend to but no candles burned and the fire was dwindling down to ashes. Had he really taken so much time in getting to his next stop? His Ale sampling quest would have to run on better time schedules if he wanted to get a hot meal and a cold drink.

He made his way over to a table and peered around. Spotting a rather lithe woman he waited for her to pass by then gave her a particularly firm slap on the rump with his meaty hand. "Hey! Would y'get me a drink? I have a feelin' for some bird too if ye can manage that." He said in his gruff tone as he folded his hands then cracked his knuckles. From what he could see from the woman she had frozen completely and seemed to be trembling. Her one visible hand was clenched at her waist. "If ye canne' take a slap on yer rump then why are y'workin in a tavern lass?" he said with a hearty laugh then slapped his knee.

[Bessain]

((This is a joined post brought to you by Erbis and Bessain.))

She knew that voice. There was definetly a dwarf in the area from the foul stench his people were known for... and she defintely knew that voice. With a clenched fist Bessain spun around and slugged her friend in the face, knocking him clear out of his wooden chair. The elleth felt her knuckles crack, as a sure sign that she had not needed to punch someone in a long while. She stood there, seething and ready to kill the annoying rascal the moment he got off the floor. The people in the tavern took this only as another issue between elves and dwarves, and wisely kept to their own business.

Suddenly he was on the floor and the copper taste of blood stung his tongue. He could see her face in the low fire light now and he couldnt contain his laughter. He spat some of the blood on the floor then swept his stubby legs out at her. Unfortunatly the dwarf's legs were too short and the elleth too fast and she danced away. Climbing to his feet he grunted out a laugh as he crouched then lunged at her, his aptly named barrel shapped body barreling into her. The lunge successfully uprooted her and a table in their wake.

"He's laughing?!" her thoughts screamed. Anger flared, as Dagoron caught her around the waist and the two sailed away into another table. The tavern itself was not high matinence, Bessain couldn't think of a tavern of men that was, so most of their furniture broke as the two fought on. If they noticed the tavern guards approaching, neither the elf nor dwarf noticed. The normal tavern brutes had been hit once or twice as the quarreling pair thundered past. Most of them being drunk, came back from the few accidentally landed punches looking for a fight. Bessain didn't care.

"Idiot dwarf, I'll kill you!" she roared, trying not to notice the circle of angry bar drunks forming around them.

"Ye'll have t'try much harder'n that skinny lass!" he roared as he landed a fist on a guards knee. The man stumbled back, wondering why his leg was giving out on him and not really feeling any pain. Turning back to Bessain his eyes widened as a chair leg flew at him and hit him in the forehead as only an elf could throw. Seeing his options limited he picked up the same chair leg and threw it back. It was at this tiem that he could feel the guards and drunks circling around them. Thinking quickly he climed onto a table with more than a little trouble and redied himself to fight either the drunks or Bessain again.

Bessain looked to Dagoron, and then to the quickly advancing threat. "Truce?" she muttered.

"Bah, afraid o' a lil drunks?" he said with a grin. The mob advanced. "Truce," he said suddeny then turned his full attention on the mob.

She nodded as she picked up a discarded wine bottle in her injured hand, and kept her other hand an open fist. The brutes fell in all at once, a true sign of their overconfidence that had blinded them from their cowardice. As in every fight, Bessain took as many hits as she gave out, trying to move with them in her limited space. She kept as close to Dagoron as much as she could, and they passed drunkards between each other.

The dwarf seemed to enter a frenzy as he began to fight, realizing that he would not be able to drink this taverns ale. Most times he was unarmed as his brutish arms slugged drunk after drunk while taking many hits back. One rather unruly man had smacked Dagoron in the head with a lead mug utterly ruining the drinking utincil while slightly dazing the hard headed dwarf. After shaking the stars away Dagoron found the man holding the cup and grabbed him by the jerkin. "y'don't hit dwarves on the head y'son of a goat!" he said roughly as he smashed his forehead against the mans face, smearing the poor souls nose to one side of his face. Laughing, the dwarf tossed the man to the floor.

The two fought on and on, even as the town soldiers came to break up their brawl. The guard eventually broke through the throng, and made to grab at the surly dwarf, because there was no way an elleth could be held personally responsible. Bessain saw this, and grabbed Dagoron by the arm, dragging him in the direction of the stables. It took awhile, but he finally got the idea, and sprinted alongside Bessain, collecting their packs and mounts as fast as they could.

He was saddened that they had to leave so soon and he even tried to take a small keg for the journey but Bessain had urged that they depart at once. Grumbling at this but happy that she got him a brawl before they left, he complied. After packing up the mounts at an absurdly fast pace the reunited duo fled like they had set the place ablaze, leaving angry guards and angrier drunks behind.

The entire comotion had obvioulsy woken up old Dysen, and Bessain caught him glancing about wildly in disbelief. The elleth caught his eye, offered an enormous smile, and rode on.

When they were safely out in the wilds again the pace slowed. "Well now lass, what brings ye out this far to the west?" he said in a casual tone as if they had never been run out of town.

Satisfied that the town they left behind was too busy to follow them, Bessain dismounted and walked alongside Dagoron and her horse. Her hand went down to her pocket, and pulled out the lately forgotten notice.

"The job, Dag," she said with a strange little smile on her lips. "Always the job."

[Gwyn]

Aquilla and his brothers rode on slowly, none of them in any hurry to reach the Old Ford Bridge crossing. The issue they hoped to avoid had been on their minds for the last 3 days but no one had broached the subject. Aquilla’s younger brothers had every intention of taking the old forest road back into the shallows of the Mirkwood and home, but Aquilla would not. Resolute in his decision, he would cross the bridge, and move on to Lorien where Haldir his close friend and fellow warrior resided. Aquilla had fought at the side of the Lorien Captain when the final drive to decimate the warriors of Rhûn and their allies from Mordor was made. Though much blood had been shed in the months of fighting Aquilla still refuse to return to their elven home, to a home where his father had drawn his blood and dishonoured him. With these thoughts on each of their minds the final few leagues seemed to pass to quickly. It was Aquilla’s younger brother who finally broke the silence.

“Will not now ride with us to our home brother?”

Aquilla smiled. “Home… he paused. “I dearly wish to see the forests of home and live in the new peace. I dearly wish to see my sister, to hear her sing and to sit at the King’s table once again. Yes nothing would give me more pleasure but I cannot and you know this. I am steadfast in my decision brother and you know this also.”

The sound of a sword being drawn cut the conversation short.

“A rider.” warned the other brother.

They all stopped and watched the rider approach. Aquilla had taken his bow and a shaft and stood ready. There were still rouge bands of the defeated foe that wandered the countryside so a rider approaching fast was a cause for concern. The rider was elven and wore the uniform of Lorien. He reined in his horse a furlong from them, dismounted and walked to them.

“I bring word from the Lord of Lorien for Aquilla Dagmor.” He said it in a very official manner.

“I am Aquilla.” He said reaching out for the parchment.

The letter was sealed with the signet ring of the Lord of Lorien. Aquilla broke the seal, unrolled the notice and read it through. His brow furrowed and he looked at the elleth.

“Do you have anything further or is this all?” Aquilla asked. “This is all my lord, I have no further word for you, though I was bidden to take your reply to my lord Celeborn.”

This was all very unusual. Aquilla was an elf of Mirkwood and served in the House of Lord Thranduil. This notice was from the Lord of Lorien, in which Aquilla was asked to ride as swiftly as possible to Imladris, and report to the lord Elrond, lord of that land. Aquilla paused for a moment and then replied.

“Inform your Lord that I shall do as I am asked.” He then tore the parchment and threw the small pieces into the river.

“What is all this brother?" One of his brother asked bewildered at his brother’s actions.

“I don’t know. He replied. “but I am told I can say nothing of this. Well my brothers, it would seem that fate has also decided that I am not to return home with you. I am asked to ride a quickly as I can. Give my love to our mother and sister.”

“What of your father?” the youngest brother asks him.

“I have no father.” Aquilla said bitterly. “he saw to that.” Without a further word Aquilla rode off to Imladris, a ride of 50 leagues over the Hithaeglir (Misty) Mountains, a rider of three days with few stops.

[Naucoaran]

It took some prodding before Bessain would open up and read the note to Dagoron. After digesting the words and looking for any clues in the script the dwarf furrowed his thick brows. "So we're travlin' to meet this summoner o' elves eh?" He gave a sly smile "Why would he want you?" he said in jest as he poked up at her with a laugh. Apparently not in the mood for levity the elleth glared down at him.

Blowing a sigh that ruffled his mustache the dwarf took off his metal cap and scratched at his scalp. After examining his nail for whatever he scratched off he plopped the cap back onto his head and looked up at the moon. "How 'bout we take a rest eh? I've been walkin' all day and was lookin' forward to a drink or ten before ye hit me." thinking back to the punch he reflexively lifted a hand to the swollen cheek. He muttered something after feeling the tenderness of his battered face "I hope yer hand hurts more'n me face." Eventually Bessain agreed to set camp for what was left of the night.

The banter continued back and forth as camp was set. Eventually they settled into sleep that would only last a couple hours. This, of course, was entirely not enough rest for the dwarf. As they woke early next morning his complaining and foul tongue was slightly reminiscent of an orc in labor. An hour after walking that morning they came upon a small farm. Dagoron was able to procure a small pony after some shrewd bargaining to make the trip faster than on foot.

"Damned nag was over priced." he griped as they rode on to Imlandris, his new pony grunting with his weight. Bessain glanced over at him and smirked at the sight of him riding the pony. "It's a runt, just like you." she said slyly with a laugh. This brought a jumble of curses and half formed words as he urged the pony on faster. "We'll be there in a couple days Dag, you can eat the pony after that for all I care." She shouted into the wind as they plodded along.

"It'd probably taste worse than that one boar we found soaking in the watering hole in the moor lands!" he barked as he wagged his tongue at the memory.

[Gwyn]

Aquilla did not look back as he rode off and took the Old Forest Road West. The ride was some 10 leagues to the Old Ford Crossing of The Great River, Anduin and he hoped to make the crossing well before the sun was to set and then he would push well on well into the night. The parchment bid him to make all haste and he would push both himself and his horse to the limit if need be. The note from the Lord of Lorien puzzled him for it said nothing but to make great haste to Imladris but he was also instructed to destroy the parchment. This was all unusual and not something he would have expected since the enemy had now been routed for near on two years. Here was an elf of the Mirkwood, given a parchment from the Lord of Lorien and told to make all haste to the house of the Lord of Imladris. It was something strange indeed but in this new age many things have changed.

He made the Old Ford Crossing two hours before sunset and stopped to rest and water his horse on the western bank of the river. He remained on the Old Forest for another ten leagues to where the first of the low rolling foothills of the Misty Mountains changed the landscape and the disused roadway began top climb. Aquilla found one of the many artesian wells that bubbled out water from the melting snows high in the mountains and made camp in a secure copse with a rock bluff to his back.

The morning brought with it a wind that held the smell of rain and before long rain lashed the mountainside. The old road became more of a trail and in places the water ran down gouging the trail and making it treacherous and slippery for the horse to walk on. When he could he took shelter from the heaviest of rain for the trail had now turned into a creek and drainage ditch once maintained had long washed away. Late in the afternoon the ski cleared and a fresh wind from the south blew in, soon the remaining waters had soaked into the ground and disappeared. He had made only 13 leagues this day and was well aware that a night ride with the condition of the trail would be very unwise. He undertook therefore to walk and allow his horse to follow him. They walked well into the night and made only another 9 leagues that day. The moon set at what would have been shortly after 2am.


He made camp again and lit a small fire with what dry wood he could find closed by. The fire crackled and spit while tack and horse blankets dried. Aquilla did not sleep. Something troubled him; he could sense someone or something not far off. What ever it was it had been there for some hours and was slowly drawing closer. He sat behind a larger out cropping of rock and watched the terrain below him. His fire though small would draw the attention of whoever is was and he was banking on this and so he remained hidden in the dark and just waited. It may be nothing more than someone travelling the same trail but to do so at this time of night was unusual. He loosed his sword and his dagger was ready, now all he had to do was wait.

(OOC if someone wants to meet up with Aquilla and enter the story here that’s fine by me. Just remember none of us know who else may or may not have been called to Rivendell l/ Imladris)

[Bessain]

Bessain rubbed her fingers over the knuckles on her right hand. In the dim morning light, she could make out the outline of teeth. Her hand did indeed hurt. But if the dwarf's thick cheekbones did this too her, she could only imagine the imprint it left on the inside of his mouth.

She stretched and tested her bruised limbs from the tavern brawl the day before. Most of them ached but gave little resistance, while the rest screamed to remain docile. With a wince, she climbed up into the saddle of her steed, ignoring the dwarf's pleas to remain sleeping.

"Dagoron," she said at long last, looking back to make sure he was sober enough to understand her. An old habit. "I am not so sure I can take you along this time. The note was not meant to attract dwarves."

He grumbled.

Quite clearly it either did not matter, or he was not yet awake on his pony.

~

They rode straight into the next day, Dagoron constantly switching from his pony to sit behind Bessain. Despite all they had been through the duo made good time, with moments to spare to clean up when they finally walked down the cobblestone streets of Imladris.

Bessain would have liked to have avoided their host, but the Lord Elrond it seems would not stand for it. Not when complaints traveled faster than horses, carrying tell of a tavern ruining she-elf.

[Gwyn]

It wasn’t much longer before the smell reaches Aquilla, unmistakably Orc. The Orc played it very safe craning it’s neck to try and see what lay beyond the fire. Aquilla wondered if this was a loner out for his own gain or a scout. It was unusual for an Orc to be on it own and they were even more careful since their downfall. The creature left and went up hill. Aquilla figured the Orc likely picked up his trail a league or so down the hillside and it was likely heading up for reinforcement, likely a band of stragglers waiting further up. He doused the fire and moved his position to where he could watch up hill. The big question was whether they would come down to him or were they waiting to ambush him further up the trail.

It was a very good chance the band was a mix of Orcs, men and Uruk. Groups of these bands still wandered the more remote areas of the north and launched opportunistic raids on small homesteads or small groups of travellers. Aquilla wasn’t waiting for them come to him. He spoke a few words to his horse then sent it into the forest; he then followed the Orc. For fifteen minutes he followed the Orc before arriving at a well hidden camp. There looked to be seven in the camp, not much of a challenge for a hidden elf.

A large black clad Uruk rose to his feet. “What have we got?” he shouted at the Orc scout.

“We shall eat well this night.” The Orc hisses. “Sweet meat.” He licks his lips. “There is a horse and an elf.”

“An elf, are you certain of it?” the leaders mood changes.

“Yes, yes I am certain of it. I saw him before he made camp. Just one big fellow…no one behind.”

“And you came straight here you fool. Did you watch your back, did you wait before you took the cut?” The large Uruk grabs the Orc and lifts him so that he’s face to face. “Well, were you followed?”

Before the Orc answers an arrow slices through his neck and the tip protrudes out of the Orc’s mouth. The Uruk tosses aside the Orc’s body. The Uruk captain draws his blade.

“Elf!” is the last thing the Uruk leader shouts before falling over with an arrow in his forehead

Aquilla shakes his head. “Fools.” He mutters under his breath. Another quick arrow falls another Uruk. From somewhere in the camp a horn sounded and at least a dozen or more Uruk and Orcs flood into the camp. The situation changes quickly.

“Find him and kill him.” Orcs and Uruk Hai fan out into the surrounding forest, suddenly the odds have turned against Aquilla. A couple more quick arrows and Aquilla takes to the woods. Sword drawn Aquilla begins to back track. His first fight is with an Orc and it’s easily dispatched but the sound of swords clashing brings the others in. His second fight with a Uruk is much more difficult. The Uruk laughs as he drives Aquilla back a few steps with the sheer brute force of his blows. The sounds and shouts of others converging on the fight is all round Aquilla. He finally manages to kill the Uruk and knows it’s time to go. He runs through the forest twisting and turning looking for higher ground so he can turn to his bow and even the odds a little. In the dark he sprints up a small treeless knoll only to find someone there. He stops part way up not sure who or what stands before him.

[Naucoaran]

Soon after arriving word spread that Bessain was a tavern wrecker and she traveled with a stout dwarf who was also a breaker of taverns. Not wanting to be confronted by the baleful Lord of the land Dagoron quickly slipped away down one of the hallways that led out to a building made to house visitors. Having been to Imlandris a handful of times before, Dagoron knew the patron of the building and he knew Dagoron. Grumbling under his breath about how Bessain still owed him a drink the dwarf shuffled into the building with a rather violent shove to the door to gain entry.

A rather surprised and frail looking elleth wearing an off white apron and deftly carrying a serving platter with drinks and food with one hand was almost knocked over in his sudden appearance. After she steadied herself she smoothes the apron while still holding the platter in one hand. A small sigh escaped her lips as she recognized the surly dwarf. "Always back for more master dwarf?" she said with a subtle curtness covered in a warm smile. Tales of his tavern fight had spread even to here already and she was not about to let him start a fight here.

The dwarf smiled a toothy grin and patted the air as he realized what she was thinking. "I en't here t'wreck yer buildin'. I just want me drink that Bess ruined fer me." he explained as she led him to a seat at the bar. "I might need a room t'stay fer a couple days too." He said this to her back as she started to make his drink and he saw her hair bob as she nodded. Satisfied that he had made all necessary preparations for himself, Dagoron started to relax by taking off his heaviest gear and laying it by his feet.

The door opened again, this time much softer, and a figure walked in just enough to stand in the doorway. Curious, Dagoron turned around to spot an elf with angular features. It occurred to him again as it always did when he saw many elves together that they all looked the same. Every elf he met was lithe with angled eyebrows and high strong cheekbones. Why aren't there any fat elves? he wondered then chuckled at the image of a squatty elf romping around in the trees.

The chuckle brought the attention of the new elleth, maybe she thought he was laughing at her, and she walked over to him. "What’s so funny, dwarf?" she said in a neutral tone as she looked down at him as he sat on his chair.

"I was picturing ye if ye looked like a dwarf." he said with a grin then winked and chuckled again. "Seeing as Bess en't back from wherever she is, sit with me lass. No enemies o' each other in Imlaanders." he said with a laugh. "Name's Dagoron." he said as he offered a calloused hand to the elleth to shake.

The elf looked hesitantly at his meaty hand then scooted a chair a little farther away from his then sat down. "Bellasiel." she said simply as she took his hand. He could feel his fingers on the other side of her hand and laughed inwardly at the frailty of sylvan hands then stopped abruptly when he remembered the sting Bessain's similar hand delivered to him days ago. "Another round fer the lass!" he declared suddenly as the maid walked by with his drink.

[Gwyn]

“Aquilla glare dad!” Aquilla threw himself to the ground and heard the sounds of elven arrows whistle over head and thud dully as they found their targets. He lifted his head and saw several figures at the top of the hill. The hill below him was littered with the bodies of those uruks who had joined the case. Three small groups of elves run down the hill and into the forest from where sounds of battle are heard.

“Mae Govanne kinsman.”

Aquilla stood. “Mae Govanne Eruvellas, your arrival was timely my friend.”

“Hmm very timely I would say. We had word that you may be using this road and we knew this troop of uruks had recently moved in to this area." Eruvellas gives him a look over. "You’re looking well and whole in spite of yourself Aquilla. The wines and foods of Dorwinion agreed with you, but are you still as fast with a bow?

“We shall see my friend." Aquilla replies with a laugh. "Well I didn’t quite expect this rouge band to be so large, they’re usually about five or six. So what brings you all the way here from Eregion, surely not these fellows? I would have expected Haldir and a troop from Lorien to be sent to clean this up?

“We’ve been sent escort you to Imladris. I’ve been told to keep you out of trouble and to get you there as quickly as possible. What’s going on?” asked Eruvellas .

“I don’t know Eruvellas. I got word to make for Imladris with all haste and beyond that I know nothing. Aquilla replied.

“Well Bessain and the dwarf Dagoron arrived just as we were leaving and that in itself is odd. They may also have been summoned, otherwise I wouldn’t expect either one of them to show up in Imladris.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, I don’t how she can put up with that dwarf, yet they seem to be joined at the hip somehow. I hope he’s bathed.” Aquilla comments.

After twenty minutes the elves regroup. With all the uruks and orcs seemingly dead they are left to the vultures for there is no time to stack and burn the bodies.

“We aren’t going to burn them? Aquilla asked. “I’ve never heard of leaving them like this, they desecrate the earth?”

“Warriors from Lorien will arrive tomorrow and they will look for stragglers and burn the bodies” Eruvellas assures him. “Nothing was to delay us, nothing at all.”

The elves had suffered only light wounds that were tended quickly so the return trip to Imladris was started almost immediately.
-------------------------------------------------

A day and a half of hard none stop travelling brought them to the gates of Imladris. Aquilla had only been here on two prior occasions and was still fascinated by the view. Lord Elrond was there to greet them when they arrived. Aquilla and Eruvellas bowed deely as he approached.

“Aquilla I’m glad to see you have come to us safely. I know you must have questions but they will wait till this evening. Go now take time to refresh yourself and rest from your travels. And you Eruvellas I bid do the same for you will also be joining the company that will take you all to Annúminas.” The elves bow and followed the servants of Elrond to their quarters.

“Annúminas?” said Eruvellas. “That is the new Northern Kingdom capital. King Elessar has return to Annúminas and holds court there now. This may prove to be interesting.”

“Interesting?” Aquilla replied giving Eruvellas a side glance. “It may well prove to be much more than that. Why are called to Imladris in such haste and then sent to Annúminas? Why are we being sent to the King of Gondor for he surely has enough warriors of his own? I think this will be more than interesting, though there is one good thing in all this.”

“And what might that be?” Eruvellas asks.

“If Bessain and the dwarf are to accompany us I won’t have to put up with him on my own. I’ll see you at dinner.” Aquilla smiles at Eruvellas’s obvious discomfort.
As they enter their rooms neither elf can fathom why they were chosen for this matter and what may be expected of them.

In their rooms both elves find some refreshment, a hot bath that has been prepared for them and fresh clothing in the style of Imladris has been laid. Lord Elrond’s reputation for being an impeccable host has again been proven true.

[Bessain]

With an annoyed sigh, Bessain left the main hall. She ran a hand through her hair as she leaned up against the opposite wall, contemplating the last few hours of her life.

Elrond had been absolutely livid that a daughter of Imladris had very nearly brought about a war amongst men and elves. Bessain had wanted to point out that she did not hail from Imladris, and that labeling the incident a 'war-starter' was a little exaggerated. But she wisely kept her mouth shut and took the tongue lashing silently, as if to be some roughhousing adolescent who need to be punished.

Elrond was aware that he actually had a rather limited amount of power over the elleth. So he had threatened to keep her off of the Anuminas escapade. However, since elves were in high demand and very little had shown up, he finally just excused her from the room. The elven lord's continuous threats followed her out the door.

At this moment, Bessain was rather pleased with the fact that she had not pledged service to this ellon, or any other for that matter. Of course, if she had, the little tavern in Bree would still be whole. But Bessain just didn't see it that way.

She pushed herself off of the wall, and strode to the guest rooms. Dagoron, she assumed, was probably in the pub. Bessain reasoned that this would probably be the worst possible place for the two to be seen together right then, so she passed it over.

Besides, they had mission briefing first thing in the morning. The elleth thought it best that she sleep while she could.

~

The next morning, Bessain dressed quickly and went down to Dagoron's room to wake him. She was not at all surprised at his absence from the place. He had very likely just fallen asleep at the bar.

It didn't sit well with Bessain to find that she had underestimated the dwarf. Not only was Dagoron sober, but he had even beat her to the briefing meeting. He sat at a table eating breakfast... and not alone! Eruvellas, cousin of a good friend of hers, was an ellon she thought to have left far behind along with her Eregion troubles. He sat politely with the loud and hairy creature Bessain called her traveling companion, and even seemed to have persuaded a friend to come with him. The second ellon wasn't anyone Bessain recognized and already sympathized for the annoyance to come. She groaned quietly to herself before entering the room.

[Gwyn]

Aquilla and Eruvellas had been well entertained with the tales Dagoron was reeling off of his and Bessain’s exploits once they left Eregion. At one point Dagoron had returned to his people for a time and only joined Bessain several days ago. What occurred since then was the most entertaining story of all. Aquilla not knowing Bessain thought the dwarf’s tales to be overly embellished for he had never heard the like, and it was typical of dwarves to embellish their stories. In spite of Eruvellas’s assurances Aquilla was sceptical.

Eruvellas looked up as Bessain came into the door way. Both he and Aquilla stood and bowed as she walked to the table.

“I bring you greetings from the Lord Regent of Eregion. I am also pleased to see you once again. It would seem that manadh (fate) has placed us together again. May I introduce a fellow kinsman also from Eryn Lasgalen, Aquilla.” Aquilla bowed in the elven manner.

Bessain pulled out a chair and sat after which the two ellon sat and Dagoron belched.

“I take it we are all here for the same reason. A vague summons, of which we were not permitted to speak. Are we all that have been summoned here, anyone know?” Eruvellas asked.

“There may be one other but the whereabouts of the other party is not yet known. If they are found they will join you once they can.” Lord Elrond walked up and stood behind a chair at the head of the table. “Now that we are all here I will give you an explanation of what you need to know for this stage of your quest. This task or quest if you like is of the gravest urgency and it is worth the life of everyone at this table. It cannot fail for the very future of Middle Earth could once again be in question. The enemy is for the most part defeated but if you fail in this it could quite possibly be a rallying point for them. You are here at the request of King Elessar for he does not trust this task to men. From here you will travel with all speed to Annúminas where Elessar is holding court.” Elrond walked around the table as he spoke.

“You are permitted to travel through the lands of the Halflings for the need is indeed great. Your mounts have been tended to and for their sake you will wait till the morning before departing. Provisions to take you to Annúminas and beyond have been prepared and will be packed on your mounts. Secrecy is paramount and any rouge band of our former foe you come into contact with must be slain to the last man or creature. You may not burn the bodies for it will attract attention so dispose of them as best you can. The enemy has been on the increase in this region but we don’t know if this is due to them having received information of this matter or simply coincidence. Be cautious, choose your battles carefully for will surely meet bands of orc, uruk and men roaming this region. A garrison of solders from Gondor has moved into this region to quell the upturn of these bands and it is quite possible you will come across them at some point in your journey. No one other than those about this table and King Elessar have knowledge of your mission and it must remain that way. If you are asked any question you will reply that you are aiding the Gondorian soldiers. Everything will be ready for you two hours before sunrise; you will depart Imladris at that time. Use the time you have wisely and refresh yourself. Your final briefing will be in Annúminas. May the Valar guide your way and watch over you.” Elrond left the room with no further explanation of the task before them.

“Well that certainly clears everything up. If time is of the essence how long should we take disposing of the Orcs, if we can dispose of them? It would seem that there are now more questions than answers.” Eruvellas comments.

“Annúminas is a week’s journey; we could do it in three days if we rest only for a few hours. It will be difficult but not impossible. Meeting the enemy would slow us considerably yet it seems they expect us to do battle. In that case a week would be good time. We shall see what awaits us though it seems much is at stake and much is expected of us.” Aquilla stands. “I had hoped my return from Dorwinion would be the end of such matters and a time to contemplate our own future. It would seem I was wrong.”

[Naucoaran]

(Brought to you by the Dag'n'Bess Production Co. Enjoy.)

Dagoron scratched one thick stubby finger against his scalp as Elrond departed. He was hoping that this summons would be something exciting. This certainly seemed exciting enough and the impending journey made him livid with anticipation. "I say, we should have another round o’ food! Who knows when the next good meal is goin t'be had!" He declared as he pounded a meaty fist on the thick wooden table.

Bessain stared at him with a worried expression. “Dagoron, do you fully grasp the severity of this mission?" she asked hesitantly.

"O' course I do!" He exclaimed as he peeked around the room for a serving maiden that could bring him more food. "And in seeing the severity o' this mission I say that we need t'be well fed lest we collapse outside in yer forests!" he said as he puffed out his chest. He guffawed at Bessain and waived his hand at her. "Don't grasp the severity o' the mission." he mimicked.

Some of the elves must have heard his cry for another serving of food in the back and brought out another plateful of food to feed the chosen elite to take on the imperative mission.

Bessain gave a subtle shake of her head. Eruvellas was always one, it seemed, to speak on formalities sake. Personally she would have assumed that anyone who would had been stuck in the same encampment with her for a couple years was automatically allotted the right to simply say hello. And what was this Lord Regent business? Was Eruvellas proud of his cousin, or just well beaten? Perhaps such irreverence was saved for when people like Aquilla were not around.

She resisted the urge to physically shrug at her own thoughts and politely greeted the two ellon in the same manner they had shown her. Dagoron was not at all amused at the round of formal elven greeting that had somehow left him ignored. After all, his being reunited with Bessain had been much more interesting and there was no way the two elves could out do that.

The group chatted absently about the trip to come, Bessain attempted to ignore the dwarf as much as possible. From the looks of things it was going to be a long trip, and having Dagoron around was not going to shorten it. But her friend had his uses, most of them having to do with battle. It was about the only thing that kept Bessain from throwing him off of their past excursions. This trip was obviously not going to be any different.

Soon the elves all agreed that they should all get to their rooms to get a good nights rest, all the while arguing with the dwarf that it was not nearly time to sleep yet. As the elves started to depart despite his protests Dagoron quickly learned that being alone was not nearly as entertaining as it was to be in company. He soon made his way to his own room.

~

Three loud bangs surprisingly woke Dagoron from his slumber. When he answered the door he took a reflexive step back as he spotted a rather furious Bessain. “I’ve been banging on your door for fifteen minutes you fat hairy beast, we’re late!” She cursed him as the dwarf started to dress.

“Now Bess, there’s no need fer compliments.” He said with a chuckle as he quickly slipped into his gear. “Lead on, ye grumpy pointy eared lass.” He said as he playfully jabbed her in the rump with the butt of his axe.

Dawn was still some ways away as the group gathered together. Everything was packed and strapped to their mounts. Dagoron’s nag of a pony started to paw the ground in a fit of anger, having become a beast of an even greater burden than a dwarf. “Shall we?” he said with a grin, not acknowledging in the least that he was the reason why they were not already on the road.

[Gwyn]

When Bess and Dagoron arrived Eruvellas looked at the muttering dwarf and just shook his head, something’s never change.

“I would like to try and put several leagues behind us before the sunrises or at least be well out of the valley. We shouldn’t meet any trouble before reaching the River Mitheithel (Hoarwell). But if we do I’ll avoid them since we are told we must.” There was a note of resentment in Eruvellas’s voice. “Aquilla you stay to the rear and keep a close watch just in case. We travel in silence my friends” With his last comment he made a point of looking Dagoron in the eye.

Aquilla just shrugged it off, he was use to travelling in stealth but the dwarf might make that somewhat difficult. The company Aquilla was in during the Ring War fought mainly Orcs and Easterlings that were trying to flank Rohan and fall on Gondor from the north eastern lands of Ruhn. The battles united the armies of Lorien and the Mirkwood and elves again fought side by side with men of the northern lands loyal to Gondor. After the war the task changed to one of seek and destroy bands of enemy warriors. This required them to use stealth, to find and then surround and destroy the enemy before they knew what had befallen them. As for the rigid rules of formality Eruvellas had followed in Imladris, Aquilla saw no point in using them outside of the of Lord Elrond’s house.

After a half hour’s ride Eruvellas undid his high collared formal leather vest and changed it for a well travelled vest. He had grown weary of the formality at the High Elven Court in Eregion and volunteered for this mission to return to the wilds.
The easiest route was the Great East Road but they were told to stay to the wilds so it meant traipsing across the forests of Rhudaur to the River Mitheithel (Hoarwell). One did not simply cross the Hoarwell whenever they chose to, dwarf in tow or not. Eruvellas knew Dagoron’s aversion to water and the difficulty they may have getting him across. There was the Last Bridge but crossing there would alert many that there was a company of elves and a dwarf about and this could be a potential problem because of the unusual mix.

They crossed the River Bruinen (Loudwater) without any difficulty riding their mounts through the shallow water well before sunrise. From here on anything could happen. When the sun rose over the Misty Mountains they were already well into the forests of Rhudaur. Aquilla felt quite at home in the woods again even if they were not the Mirkwood. His senses heighten as they rode on and he began to watch the shadows closely. When the hour grew close to midday Eruvellas stopped and dismounted on a small knoll where the last of the tall boreal trees came to an end and below them the land was covered with heavy brush and low growing scrub trees.

“We can no longer use our horses beyond this point.”

Eruvellas stood in front of his mount and stroked its mussel.

“I’m sorry to see them go but they’ll find their way back safely.”

He lifted his pack off the back of the horse and set it aside. He spoke to his mount and sent it off.

“If I remember well enough you will want a meal about now Dagoron. Eat hearty my friend your next meal won’t be till well after dark.”

Bessain was still with her mount as Eruvellas approached her.

“Bessain, Aquilla can I talk to you for a minute?” He asked as he pulled out a map and laid it out.

“I would like to reach the Mitheithel (Hoarwell) sometime before midday tomorrow. I was told that patrols from Eregion and Imladris have prevented Orcs from taking a foot hold this side of the river. Still it won’t be easy; the country side is rough and over grown but if we’re lucky we’ll find the odd trail. I think it will be hard going most of the way and we still have 14 leagues to the river. I’d like to cross the river tomorrow but how do we get Dagoron across without him announcing our presents to the countryside? I take it he still has an aversion to water?