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alaklondewen · 03-12-2005, 11:15 AM

Nilpaurion Felagund's post

While her body laid motionless on the frigid ground, Bethiril’s mind was in a place of violent turmoil.

Barely a month ago, the decision would have been easy. Erenor and Angóre meant nothing to her, and she would have betrayed them, despite their kinship, to fulfil what she had hoped to do. But now, despite the feebleness of the bond between them, the act of treachery needed she needed to do could not now be done without a great struggle.

She did not want any of them to be freed by force. She wanted this crisis resolved peacefully. Surely, the Orc chief’s plan made sense—with a land to call their own, the Glamhoth would, perhaps, no longer need to take up arms. Then the Firimar, seeing that the Orcs are no longer a threat, would follow suit. A lasting peace—all she had to do was make sure that none of them escaped. All she had to do was bring to their captors knowledge of Erenor’s concealed weapon. All she had to do was warn the Orcs of a plan to assault their camp.

But her heart, which she had kept under control for so long, now rebelled against her mind. Bethiril had begun to love her fellow emissary, the love of an older, wiser sister for a younger sibling with wisdom of her own, but who too often moved impetuously. She had sometimes thought of trying to win Erenor over to her cause, yet realised that in stifling the free spirit within, she would destroy her.

And in betraying your friend, you would destroy yourself.

She was roused from her thoughts by Ereglin, who wanted to know whether she was fine or not. There must be other ways of fulfilling my mission, she said to herself, as she set all thoughts of treachery aside.

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alaklondewen's post

The flickering of a nearby fire seared Ereglin’s opening eyes, worsening his already excruciatingly aching head. A groan slipped from his dry, rasping throat as his hands instinctively pressed his temples, trying to relieve the throbbing pain that clouded his mind. After a moment, the elf attempted to open his eyes again, but he only managed to squint at his surroundings. He took in a deep breath of the chill wind that swirled around him and lifted his hair from his shoulders. As he let the breath go, an overwhelming nausea surged through his body and he retched into the grass beside him. Once his body purged whatever was left of the poison the foul creatures had fed him, his mind became clearer and he was able to take in the components of his environment.

Berethil lay crumpled nearby in a fitful unconsciousness. Behind the Counselor a handful of orcs bickered in their abrasive tones. The elf assumed that these were their guards as none were closer, and the other orcs, beyond their fire, were paying no attention to the captives. Ereglin slowly turned his eyes around to the other emissary, Erenor. The lady did not appear to suffer the illness he felt, but with her eyes closed, she displayed peace and control.

Ereglin laid his head back against the cold ground again as tried to contact his young guard. Rôsgollo… The lord let his thought carry in the wind hoping he crossed the mind of one of his guards. He called again after several moments of silence and was greeted this time by the hopeful voice of his guard’s thought. Lord Ereglin! How do you fare?

I am well enough…weak from poison, but I will survive. Ereglin opened his eyes and studied the stars overhead. It seems I am several miles west and north since I was last awake.

Yes, my lord. We have tracked the orcs’ progress and are just outside the camp now. Rôsgollo answered quickly.

That is good, my friend. Ereglin paused as the throbbing in his head returned and he grimaced with pain. After several breaths, the aching began to lessen again, and the Counselor spoke again with his guard. How many soldiers strong are you?

Several moments passed before the young guard answered the question. We are four strong, my lord…my brother and I along with the Elven guard, Angóre, and a Dúnedan youth have come for you.

And what of the Dúnedain army?

03-12-2005, 11:15 AM	#4
alaklondewen Song of Seregon Join Date: Feb 2002 Location: Following the road less traveled Posts: 1,193	Nilpaurion Felagund's post While her body laid motionless on the frigid ground, Bethiril’s mind was in a place of violent turmoil. Barely a month ago, the decision would have been easy. Erenor and Angóre meant nothing to her, and she would have betrayed them, despite their kinship, to fulfil what she had hoped to do. But now, despite the feebleness of the bond between them, the act of treachery needed she needed to do could not now be done without a great struggle. She did not want any of them to be freed by force. She wanted this crisis resolved peacefully. Surely, the Orc chief’s plan made sense—with a land to call their own, the Glamhoth would, perhaps, no longer need to take up arms. Then the Firimar, seeing that the Orcs are no longer a threat, would follow suit. A lasting peace—all she had to do was make sure that none of them escaped. All she had to do was bring to their captors knowledge of Erenor’s concealed weapon. All she had to do was warn the Orcs of a plan to assault their camp. But her heart, which she had kept under control for so long, now rebelled against her mind. Bethiril had begun to love her fellow emissary, the love of an older, wiser sister for a younger sibling with wisdom of her own, but who too often moved impetuously. She had sometimes thought of trying to win Erenor over to her cause, yet realised that in stifling the free spirit within, she would destroy her. And in betraying your friend, you would destroy yourself. She was roused from her thoughts by Ereglin, who wanted to know whether she was fine or not. There must be other ways of fulfilling my mission, she said to herself, as she set all thoughts of treachery aside. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- alaklondewen's post The flickering of a nearby fire seared Ereglin’s opening eyes, worsening his already excruciatingly aching head. A groan slipped from his dry, rasping throat as his hands instinctively pressed his temples, trying to relieve the throbbing pain that clouded his mind. After a moment, the elf attempted to open his eyes again, but he only managed to squint at his surroundings. He took in a deep breath of the chill wind that swirled around him and lifted his hair from his shoulders. As he let the breath go, an overwhelming nausea surged through his body and he retched into the grass beside him. Once his body purged whatever was left of the poison the foul creatures had fed him, his mind became clearer and he was able to take in the components of his environment. Berethil lay crumpled nearby in a fitful unconsciousness. Behind the Counselor a handful of orcs bickered in their abrasive tones. The elf assumed that these were their guards as none were closer, and the other orcs, beyond their fire, were paying no attention to the captives. Ereglin slowly turned his eyes around to the other emissary, Erenor. The lady did not appear to suffer the illness he felt, but with her eyes closed, she displayed peace and control. Ereglin laid his head back against the cold ground again as tried to contact his young guard. Rôsgollo… The lord let his thought carry in the wind hoping he crossed the mind of one of his guards. He called again after several moments of silence and was greeted this time by the hopeful voice of his guard’s thought. Lord Ereglin! How do you fare? I am well enough…weak from poison, but I will survive. Ereglin opened his eyes and studied the stars overhead. It seems I am several miles west and north since I was last awake. Yes, my lord. We have tracked the orcs’ progress and are just outside the camp now. Rôsgollo answered quickly. That is good, my friend. Ereglin paused as the throbbing in his head returned and he grimaced with pain. After several breaths, the aching began to lessen again, and the Counselor spoke again with his guard. How many soldiers strong are you? Several moments passed before the young guard answered the question. We are four strong, my lord…my brother and I along with the Elven guard, Angóre, and a Dúnedan youth have come for you. And what of the Dúnedain army? Last edited by piosenniel; 03-24-2005 at 12:46 PM.