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Child of the 7th Age · 09-14-2003, 06:43 AM

The forest lay wrapped in darkness as Saelonia and Azunal retired to their tents on the far side of the clearing. The single sentry on duty patrolling near the edge of camp sat down for a moment to rest, his body perched on a log as he leaned forward listening to the chirp of crickets and the solitary croaking of a nearby frog. Their melodies intertwined and reached out to his mind like a gentle lullabye.

Once, he nodded, then twice, as drowsiness assailed him. He found his eyes growing heavier until they locked shut in sleep, with his body slumped wearily against the trunk of a nearby tree.

Peachblossom sat up inside her prison staring down at the chains encircling her wrists and ankles. Believing that she would never try to flee, her captors had left her hands free, but soldered the final links of each chain onto a thick metal bar that was set across the back gate of the wagon. The Entwife remembered the discussion she had heard through the window of her caravan while she was slumped onto the floor where the guards had haphazardly left her, deeming her to be unconscious. These were words whose meaning was readily apparent:

As long as no advance warning is given to these weak men of Gondor, we can not help but conquor. Our forces will sweep down from the north and strike a mighty blow against the city of Minas Tirith.

Peachblossom stared out the window of the wagon and shuddered. Innocent people would die, large numbers of them, unless she did something to warn someone about the Easterlings. She was stronger than her captors. That she never doubted. But they had always threatened to take revenge on her sisters if she ever attempted to escape. She had believed them and been afraid to do anything at all. It was the same way these evil folk had cowed and ruled those enslaved on their plantations.

Peachblossom recalled the other words that the man had spoken when he described the place where the armies of the Easterlings would meet to begin their assault:

The marshlands that lie north and west of Minas Tirith. At a point called the Wetwang or the Nindalf. A wet land near the base of the Rauros Falls, just off the Anduin River. A spot that is desolate and largely unguarded....

These words meant nothing to her. She had no map to look at, and it had been too many years since her kinfolk had last set foot near the Anduin. Yet something inside whispered a warning. You must tell someone, tonight. Someone who can help. Not even your fear for your sisters must stop you from doing this.

With a strength born of desperation, in one mighty jerk, she ripped loose the metal bar that had been placed across the gate. Heaving the crosspiece up into her arms, she slipped cautiously out the back of the wagon, her wrists and ankles still encircled with the chains that were soldered onto the bar. The shackles chafed miserably against her arms and legs, but she found she could go forward a little at a time, and carefully made her way out of the encampment and into the dark woods.

As she walked gingerly along the track, some ancient part of her that had been asleep for a thousand years revived and came to life. Something drove her on. Some instinct or feeling she did not understand. By the time the first rays of the sun crept out over the horizon, Peachblossom found herself on the edge of another encampment, this one much smaller than that she'd left behind.

She peered into the camp from behind a grove of trees and noticed a handful of travellers waking up around a smouldering fire, which one of them was trying to tease back to life not with living wood, but with the dead twigs the trees had shed onto the ground. Not knowing exactly what to say or do, but certain that these folk were the right ones, she blundered forward into the clearing, the chains and metal bar dragging heavily behind her on the ground.

____________________________________________

Brinniel's post:

The sun was only beginning to rise when the small group awoke. It was still quite early, yet everyone seemed relieved to pack up their camp, for none had slept soundly that night. Instead, each of them dreamt horrific images that continued to haunt them even after they had awoken. Calentoliel did not remember dreaming something so terrifying since the day of the Black Beast.

"We cannot remain here long," Radagast commented as Anarya fed the small camp fire dead branches in an effort to keep it burning. "The enemy draws near. We must leave before they are upon us."

"But what enemy is it you speak of?" asked Kalir. "Is it the huorns? Or perhaps something we do not know of?"

No one responded to his question, except Ajada, who whispered something rather harsh to him.

Kalier gave a large frown. "I am NOT plotting ANYTHING, I tell you!" He spoke in a loud tone, gritting his teeth with anger.

"Hush!" Mattius cried out, raising his hand in the air. He gazed into the distance, as if he had heard something.

All took heed of his word and suddenly, it was silent. Not even the slightest breeze could be heard. But the silence did not last long. Beyond the trees and in the direction Mattius was staring, heavy footsteps could be heard, followed by the sound of cumbersome chains dragging behind.

"Someone comes," whispered Avery, nervously.
"There is no need to point out the obvious," Ajada said, rolling her eyes.

Endereth put her finger to her lips, silencing them both.

The company did not move from their camp, but instead waited as the footsteps grew closer. After what seemed like several minutes (though it was only seconds later), a shape finally came into view.

It was a large, tree-like creature bound in chains and it held a rather frightened expression on its face. Calentoliel stared at the creature in awe. Her mind raced back to the stories Rothalle had told her of Fangorn. Her sister had adventured in this forest many times and knew much about this strange place and what dwelled here. And now, the stories became vivid as she gazed at the creature. Oh, if only Rothalle were here now!

"What is this...thing?" LinGalad whispered to her.

Calentoliel smiled. "She is an Entwife."

[ September 15, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

09-14-2003, 06:43 AM	#110
Child of the 7th Age Spirit of the Lonely Star Join Date: Mar 2002 Posts: 5,133	The forest lay wrapped in darkness as Saelonia and Azunal retired to their tents on the far side of the clearing. The single sentry on duty patrolling near the edge of camp sat down for a moment to rest, his body perched on a log as he leaned forward listening to the chirp of crickets and the solitary croaking of a nearby frog. Their melodies intertwined and reached out to his mind like a gentle lullabye. Once, he nodded, then twice, as drowsiness assailed him. He found his eyes growing heavier until they locked shut in sleep, with his body slumped wearily against the trunk of a nearby tree. Peachblossom sat up inside her prison staring down at the chains encircling her wrists and ankles. Believing that she would never try to flee, her captors had left her hands free, but soldered the final links of each chain onto a thick metal bar that was set across the back gate of the wagon. The Entwife remembered the discussion she had heard through the window of her caravan while she was slumped onto the floor where the guards had haphazardly left her, deeming her to be unconscious. These were words whose meaning was readily apparent: As long as no advance warning is given to these weak men of Gondor, we can not help but conquor. Our forces will sweep down from the north and strike a mighty blow against the city of Minas Tirith. Peachblossom stared out the window of the wagon and shuddered. Innocent people would die, large numbers of them, unless she did something to warn someone about the Easterlings. She was stronger than her captors. That she never doubted. But they had always threatened to take revenge on her sisters if she ever attempted to escape. She had believed them and been afraid to do anything at all. It was the same way these evil folk had cowed and ruled those enslaved on their plantations. Peachblossom recalled the other words that the man had spoken when he described the place where the armies of the Easterlings would meet to begin their assault: The marshlands that lie north and west of Minas Tirith. At a point called the Wetwang or the Nindalf. A wet land near the base of the Rauros Falls, just off the Anduin River. A spot that is desolate and largely unguarded.... These words meant nothing to her. She had no map to look at, and it had been too many years since her kinfolk had last set foot near the Anduin. Yet something inside whispered a warning. You must tell someone, tonight. Someone who can help. Not even your fear for your sisters must stop you from doing this. With a strength born of desperation, in one mighty jerk, she ripped loose the metal bar that had been placed across the gate. Heaving the crosspiece up into her arms, she slipped cautiously out the back of the wagon, her wrists and ankles still encircled with the chains that were soldered onto the bar. The shackles chafed miserably against her arms and legs, but she found she could go forward a little at a time, and carefully made her way out of the encampment and into the dark woods. As she walked gingerly along the track, some ancient part of her that had been asleep for a thousand years revived and came to life. Something drove her on. Some instinct or feeling she did not understand. By the time the first rays of the sun crept out over the horizon, Peachblossom found herself on the edge of another encampment, this one much smaller than that she'd left behind. She peered into the camp from behind a grove of trees and noticed a handful of travellers waking up around a smouldering fire, which one of them was trying to tease back to life not with living wood, but with the dead twigs the trees had shed onto the ground. Not knowing exactly what to say or do, but certain that these folk were the right ones, she blundered forward into the clearing, the chains and metal bar dragging heavily behind her on the ground. ____________________________________________ Brinniel's post: The sun was only beginning to rise when the small group awoke. It was still quite early, yet everyone seemed relieved to pack up their camp, for none had slept soundly that night. Instead, each of them dreamt horrific images that continued to haunt them even after they had awoken. Calentoliel did not remember dreaming something so terrifying since the day of the Black Beast. "We cannot remain here long," Radagast commented as Anarya fed the small camp fire dead branches in an effort to keep it burning. "The enemy draws near. We must leave before they are upon us." "But what enemy is it you speak of?" asked Kalir. "Is it the huorns? Or perhaps something we do not know of?" No one responded to his question, except Ajada, who whispered something rather harsh to him. Kalier gave a large frown. "I am NOT plotting ANYTHING, I tell you!" He spoke in a loud tone, gritting his teeth with anger. "Hush!" Mattius cried out, raising his hand in the air. He gazed into the distance, as if he had heard something. All took heed of his word and suddenly, it was silent. Not even the slightest breeze could be heard. But the silence did not last long. Beyond the trees and in the direction Mattius was staring, heavy footsteps could be heard, followed by the sound of cumbersome chains dragging behind. "Someone comes," whispered Avery, nervously. "There is no need to point out the obvious," Ajada said, rolling her eyes. Endereth put her finger to her lips, silencing them both. The company did not move from their camp, but instead waited as the footsteps grew closer. After what seemed like several minutes (though it was only seconds later), a shape finally came into view. It was a large, tree-like creature bound in chains and it held a rather frightened expression on its face. Calentoliel stared at the creature in awe. Her mind raced back to the stories Rothalle had told her of Fangorn. Her sister had adventured in this forest many times and knew much about this strange place and what dwelled here. And now, the stories became vivid as she gazed at the creature. Oh, if only Rothalle were here now! "What is this...thing?" LinGalad whispered to her. Calentoliel smiled. "She is an Entwife." [ September 15, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ] __________________ Multitasking women are never too busy to vote.