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Eorl of Rohan · 01-30-2004, 08:31 AM

“Ithilien, you say?” Ferethor said lightly, a frown creasing his brow. “Yet I passed through Ithilien when the moon was waning, few days ago. I also sought for news of him there, but it has been of little avail. And as for the reason I seek him,” Ferethor’s hand flashed toward his silver-hilted knife. “Vengeance. I’ve been seeking for him far and wide, to demand payment of my brother’s life, and redeem the honor of our land.”

Ferethor was there on the battlefield with Miradir, Maen's father – a captain powerful yet rational, valorous yet wise. When Miradir knew that he had been betrayed, he gathered the remnants of the soldiers of Gondor and with a last charge forced a way. The long journey over the barren land was harsh – they were forced to battle with marauding orcs, vicious Warg packs, and the incessant snow. He had survived because he was used to cold climate, but the less experienced fell on by one. His brother was one of the those they have left behind on the road. Miradir always tried to arouse hope, while he blamed himself for the misfortune and the each death. And so it was that only a handful of soldiers straggled into the gates of Minas Tirith, after a space of two full moons. Miradir never recovered from the fact that his wrong decision took the lives of soldiers that trusted him, and became a man broken in spirit and harsh.

He had decided to be as truthful to a certain extent, even if it meant stirring up painful memories. “Your brother?” Maen asked suspiciously. “Hirifilen.” Ferethor genuinely smiled, however painfully. “He fell in the battle.”

"I think you know where Guriel Il Garoth is." Ferethor said quietly. "Or at least have a inkling. I heard you mention Il Garoth the accursed in your conversation. If you seek for him also, we'd like to come with you."

"We?" Maen cut him off, her glance straying toward Aelimur, who was drinking beer at another table. Ferethor swore silently, calling for Elbereth.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:20 AM February 01, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

01-30-2004, 08:31 AM	#19
Eorl of Rohan Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Jan 2004 Location: Seoul, South Korea Posts: 602	“Ithilien, you say?” Ferethor said lightly, a frown creasing his brow. “Yet I passed through Ithilien when the moon was waning, few days ago. I also sought for news of him there, but it has been of little avail. And as for the reason I seek him,” Ferethor’s hand flashed toward his silver-hilted knife. “Vengeance. I’ve been seeking for him far and wide, to demand payment of my brother’s life, and redeem the honor of our land.” Ferethor was there on the battlefield with Miradir, Maen's father – a captain powerful yet rational, valorous yet wise. When Miradir knew that he had been betrayed, he gathered the remnants of the soldiers of Gondor and with a last charge forced a way. The long journey over the barren land was harsh – they were forced to battle with marauding orcs, vicious Warg packs, and the incessant snow. He had survived because he was used to cold climate, but the less experienced fell on by one. His brother was one of the those they have left behind on the road. Miradir always tried to arouse hope, while he blamed himself for the misfortune and the each death. And so it was that only a handful of soldiers straggled into the gates of Minas Tirith, after a space of two full moons. Miradir never recovered from the fact that his wrong decision took the lives of soldiers that trusted him, and became a man broken in spirit and harsh. He had decided to be as truthful to a certain extent, even if it meant stirring up painful memories. “Your brother?” Maen asked suspiciously. “Hirifilen.” Ferethor genuinely smiled, however painfully. “He fell in the battle.” "I think you know where Guriel Il Garoth is." Ferethor said quietly. "Or at least have a inkling. I heard you mention Il Garoth the accursed in your conversation. If you seek for him also, we'd like to come with you." "We?" Maen cut him off, her glance straying toward Aelimur, who was drinking beer at another table. Ferethor swore silently, calling for Elbereth. <font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:20 AM February 01, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ There is no signature here.