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[Arestevana]

“What do you think of them? Do they serve the purpose that they were made for?" Nephil’s question remained unanswered. Bestialán seemed to be pondering the question, but thoughts did not disrupt the silence. Now even Maulká was becoming edgy. Hours had passed in the threatening stillness, and it seemed that more would follow.

In fact, it was only several moments before the brooding quiet was disrupted. A sharp noise sounded from farther up the hallway, the steady, even sound of someone walking. As the figure approached, Maulká could see that it was a man. He glanced curiously at the three observers, but turned to Kínadhen.

The replacement guard. Maulká realized. She watched him duck his head to whisper to Kínadhen. Now the silence was much appreciated, as the words carried clearly across the hall, quiet as they were. "The Council of Elders has spoken,” The man murmured. Maulká leaned forward to hear the rest.

The man continued, his voice softer yet. “They will hold a night of feasting, to honor the Spirits of the Sea.” Kínadhen nodded, then handed his spear to the other man before leaving. Maulká watched for a moment as the guard took up a wary defensive stance. She smiled inwardly. A night of feasting!

There would surely be a hunt; meat would be needed if the entire colony was to be fed. I will attend that hunt. Maulká decided. Her eyes glowed as she thought about the last feast. It had been long ago, but she well remembered it. The cruel glare of the flames, dimmed as they were by the depth of the fire pits, the long tables set in a rough circle on the jungle floor, the deep shadow of the trees that hid the starlight. The firelight had danced on the surface of the lake, mirrored by the Lights within it.

Maulká quivered with anticipation. It would be many days yet, but the waiting would be worth it. There was the hunt to look forward to as well. She clenched her fist compulsively, imagining a javelin in her grasp, blood and poison dripping from the point. Memories merged with her thoughts: the fear in the eyes of the last catch, a weak, pallid creature, as it was hauled, alive, to the fire pit. This feast would doubtlessly be different, as circumstances changed, but it would be unequaled in the memories of the younger persons; entirely worthy of the Spirits in whose honor it was held.

[Himaran]

Nilpaurion Felagund's post

"Lorien calls me, so I must go now. Besides, we'll be leaving early tomorrow."

Narvi has just been talking with old friends, fellow veterans of Dale. Some had gone on to be official explorers for the Reunited Realm, and a few of them had even gone to Rhûn. Rhûn. Still a funny name.

Despite the fact that none were sent anywhere near the Sea of Rhûn, their knowledge of the terrain of the East has been helpful. But not very hopeful. Rough rocky outcrops as far as the eye can see. Except for a few trickling streams, the land is almost a desert. And yet the men who assailed us came from that part of Middle-earth. How could they have lived there?

There was something else that caught his attention during the description of Rhûn. There have been some sightings of strange shadows trailing those that dared to travel through the Eastlands. Rhûn loathes outsiders, he concluded, followed by a warning, What are we doing?

Of course, heat plays tricks on people's minds, he said jokingly. Joke or not, once they reach Rhûn, he'll keep his axe a little closer to himself.


Eruantalon's Post

Seeing the inn made him feel oddly comforted. There was new hope in a place where everyone could relax. Things couldn’t be rushed but they shouldn’t be made slower either. Now Looking around the inn he saw many travelers. They all seemed to be on there own business and need there own space. It seemed that all of them where preoccupied. Not this traveler he thought to himself. This was neither the time nor the place.

Moving through the inn it was hard to talk to his fellow companions. He needed to get through and find time on his own. Where would he go and how would he do this? He found a place outside around the back of the inn where there was still a grassy yard. He felt a fondness for green things and felt comfortable there.

Just as he sat there a familiar face showed up. A fellow traveler that had been on the last journey he went on for the dwarf lord. They sat and talked for some time and enjoyed the cool air of the night. Things began to quit in the town. This was the time he loved most the simple quit that could cover the land. The two laughed and enjoyed the night till the moon had risen farther up and tale telling was over.

He made his way off to his room and slept a sound sleep. Like a quit before the storm he thought to himself. He hoped for the best on his journey. But he could feel something building in this time around.

[Himaran]

Bali was the first of the company to rise. It was early in the morning, an hour before dawn to be exact. The dwarf knew that most of his companions had stayed up late, and would probably sleep late as a result. But, knowing that it was his duty to see to arrangements for the departure, he dressed and hurried downstairs ungrudgingly.

Heading straight for the bar, Bali ordered a light breakfast; with a full days march ahead of them, one could get sick eating more! The exact details of his meal, however, are unnecessary to discuss. After he was finished, and had spoken at length with the bartender, the dwarf exited the inn and purchased a wide variety of supplies which (he had recently noticed) had not been brought from Erebor.

Finally, after having his weapons sharpened by a local smith, Bali returned to the inn. Dwalin was awake, as was Eruantalon; conversing over a hot meal. Smiling, the dwarf left the commons and went back to his room, where he gathered his remaining items. Bali then ambled downstairs, where he sat in a booth beside Erulon and toyed idly with his favorite knife. It was elvish in make, a prized gift from his elven friend, Halonir. The young elf had gone to live in Lothlorien, and the deadly weapon was Bali's only memory of him.

How long it had been since Bali had been in the Shire! On his past journey to Erebor, Bali had left the knife in the keeping of the innkeeper at the Green Dragon, a popular tavern in the region of the littlefolk. The dwarf had made friends with the elvish caretaker, Piosenniel, and it was she with whom he had left the weapon for safekeeping. Pio had gotten married and left, however, and Bali had collected his knife. Perhaps I will visit her again one day... after all this is over.

Swift movement next to the dwarf caused Bali to break out of his daze. Eruantalon was shaking his arm, and Dwali was laughing hysterically. Bali then noticed that the cup of ale in his right hand had slowly tilted, gradually emptying itself onto the man's sleeve. "Aherm! My apoligizes, good friend."

"None needed or asked for, friend. But sleep in a little later the next time we stay somewhere!"

[Himaran]

Novnarwen's post - the Company leaves the Inn

Considering how early Dwalin had gone to bed the night before, he felt terribly tired. His body seemed to have had enough of the marching, even though the company hadn't walked anything yet. The thought of going all the way to Rhûn seemed like a goal, which he had no chance in ever reaching. The thought of his body aching like this, seemed to him unbearable. Dwalin tried reproaching himself for his negative attitude, as he realised he had called for this adventure. He had approached this, not the other way around. He had a responsibility, which could not and would not neglect.

Luckily, he felt better, sooner than expected, as he found himself laughing hysterically by the fact that Bali had spilt ale on his sleeve. "Sorry, I just found that funny," he said, laughing again. Eruantalon grinned as well. "Too much ale, already perhaps?" he suggested, blinking. Dwalin broke into laughter again, but was forced to stop by the look in people's eyes at the Inn.

The two of them settled down with Bali, discussing back and forth about various things. It wasn't until late in the conversation, Dwalin remembered Bali saying, the previous day, that money was short. He thought about asking, but wasn't sure if it would be wise to do so. After all, Eruantalon sat here as well. Dwalin had never thought about this before, but could he really trust everyone and anyone? The company was going to Rhûn, to find treasure. Maybe some would be taken by greed? Would it then be wise to burst out about the company’s status, and whether they were short on money or not? The dwarf thought for a while, eyes narrowing.

"Dwalin?!"

It was the third time Eruantalon had tried getting his attention, and first now Dwalin seemed to catch his eye.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

Eruantalon looked questioningly at him, as if worried. Bali didn't make a grimace, he just sat still. "Are you ready to go?" Eruantalon asked, looking at Bali. Dwalin nodded eagerly, trying to avoid Bali's eyes. The two of them exchanged looks, as Dwalin raised to pack his last belongings, which were still at his room.

"I'll be back soon," he said and was off.

***

The dwarf turned around. He had heard noises just outside his door. The little man narrowed his eyes, wondering who it was. He decided not to let his curiosity take over, and ignored it. The Dwarf packed in a hurry, running desperately around in his dormitory seeking his belongings. His clothing was spread around; on the bed, in the chairs, in the bathroom and in the closet. The strange thing was, that he hadn’t brought that much with him, but still it was scattered all over the place. He sighed, hearing new noises in the hallway. He had had enough.

With firm steps he walked to the door, roughly opening it and halfway yelling: ”Will you stop that noise!" To his surprise he noticed that it was only his dwarven companions. Eruantalon walked merrily in the front. "I just woke them up," Eruantalon explained, giggling. Dwalin grew red. "Riiiight," he muttered a bit ashamed about his outburst. "I'll just finish here," Dwalin said quickly and went inside again, hearing the rest of his companions making their way trough the hallway and down the stairs.

***

As soon as he was done, he ran down stairs and announced their departure. It was a merry and rested (or so Dwalin thought) company, which left the Inn, heading Southwards.

[Himaran]

Bali did not look back as the dwarves left Laketown; heading south down the river. He knew that for the remainder of the day he must endure the complaints of the younger dwarves, who felt cheated out of a day's rest. But Bali also knew that his decision was a wise one; the dwarves could not afford to stay for two entire days in a town which considered their mission a doomed one. And the hardened traveller did not enjoy listening to the hushed chatter either. It had a demoralizing effect, which he would just as soon leave behind the company.

The sun was slowly rising to the east, and luckily their vision remained accurate (as the bright light was to their left, not before them.) They walked mostly in silence, except for the odd yawn. Dwarves are never very talkative in the morning, especially with a days march ahead of them.

__________________________________________________ ____


The following week of marching continued in such a patern. Early marches amd stops under tents at noon were standard procedure. No events of any significance occured, until the dwarves had left the edge of Greenwood and turned east; towards Rhûn. There, along the banks of River Running, they made a comfortable camp and decided to rest for two days; stocking up on supplies like fish, fruit and firewood. There was a small forest nearby, and Bali sent Dwalin and Durin to collect dead wood for the fire.

An hour past, and the pair did not return. Bali was anxious. What could have happened two them? The forest did not appear to be all that large; and they could have yelled if something had happened. He decided to investigate.

"Kain, stay and watch the camp. Erulon, and the rest of you, come with me!"

The party hurried into the forest, but slowed as Bali and Erulon searched for a trail. They soon found one.

The group followed the trail into the forest. At first, everything seemed normal. But then, they found a small pile of firewood. It was in an oddly arranged pile, as if thrown down in a hurry. The ominous signs continued. Durin's small hatchet, stuck in a tree. A patch of broken reeds. And a long, thin spear, snapped in half; lying off to the side of the overgrown path. But what had happened?

[Himaran]

Carlas's Post


The sun was high in the sky as the two dwarves walked through the small forest. The day was cool and clear and a soft breeze glided gently through the air, brushing at the dwarves beards. The forest was calm and quiet, but perhaps a little too quiet…

“It is good that we finally get a bit of a rest.” Durin said as he bent over to pick up some wood. “After being in Erebor for the last couple of years, I seem to have forgotten how much work it is being on a journey like this.” Dwalin laughed. “You are younger than me, yet you talk as if you were twice my age!” Durin laughed loudly at this. “I don’t hear that too often, normally it is quite the opposite! Though I have been quieter these last few days…”

“Why would that be?” Asked Dwalin curiously. “Oh, it is silly really” Durin replied, dropping a stick on the ground. “This is the first time I have travelled anywhere without my father. It is not as if I need him, but it feels different not having him here with me.” Dwalin nodded sympathetically and the two went quiet.

As Durin bent over to pick up the stick he had dropped, he heard Dwalin throw all of the wood he had been carrying on the floor, and before he could figure out what had happened he felt a large weight push him forward into a small clump of reeds. He turned onto his back quickly to see Dwalin on the ground beside him and a large spear sticking up out of the ground right where he had been standing only seconds ago. He pulled himself up onto his feet and looked around the area, but found no footprints. Where had the spear come from?

“In the tree!” Dwalin said as he stood up beside Durin. Durin looked back over to where he had been standing and saw an arm reaching down out of the tree just above the spear. Thinking quickly, Durin pulled out his hatchet and threw it as hard and fast as he could, but the arm was too fast. It shot back up into the tree and once the hatchet hit the trunk it grabbed onto the spear quick as lightening, and pulled it up into the tree. The two dwarves cursed sharply and took out their axes, holding them high above their heads. “A tree orc…” Durin mumbled to himself.

The two stood silently, watching the leaves above them for some kind of movement. Just as Durin was starting to think that they might be safe the spear shot down, just narrowly missing Dwalin’s arm. Dwalin grabbed the spear and snapped it across his knees before throwing it down onto the path while Durin swung his axe high above his head into the branches above, hitting the orc hard in the arm. It squealed and they heard it move through the branches away from them.

“Are you alright?” Asked Dwalin as he walked over to Durin.

“I’m fine, you?” He asked back. Dwalin nodded and looked over to where they had left the wood.

“We better be heading back to…” The two stopped quickly and looked over their shoulders. There was a noise coming from down the path, it sounded like it was coming from the trees…! “More of them, a lot more of them!” Durin whispered in surprise. “But they’re coming from the direction where camp is!” Dwalin looked over at him quickly. “We didn’t camp too close to the trees, so the others should be fine, but us…”

The two did not need to say anything else, they knew they couldn’t fight all of those orcs by themselves. They turned and ran.

[Novnarwen]

There was no time to think, no time at all. "ORCS!" Dwalin yelled desperately. "ORCS!" he continued, helplessly. "I noticed they were Orcs," Durin said alarmingly through gritted teeth. "Now run!"

The two dwarves found themselves running like crazy. Both were stricken by panic, and none dared to look back. They heard the foul Orcs behind, shrieking and laughing evilly. As he heard them snigger and call for them, Dwalin could think of nothing other than running back to the camp and to the others. However, he realised that if the Orcs kept this speed (and they kept their speed), they would probably be dead and buried before they ever saw another dwarf again. Dwalin shuddered, but ran on as he saw he was falling behind. He fluttered his arms, hoping he would catch a good wind which would make him fly away from this horrid place. There was no wind.

For a second, they both stopped behind a huge tree trunk, catching their breath.

"We are so . . dead?" Dwalin said miserably.

"No, we are not. Come on, be positive!"

"Positive!? We have a dozen with Orcs behind us and you tell me to be positive! I'll remind you of that statement when we're dead!" Dwalin said aggressively, suggesting that they should make a run for it, before the Orcs actually grabbed them and killed them.

"What we need is a hiding spot," Durin explained calmly.

"Like ... where? A Tree?"

Durin wasn't able to reject to this suggestion, before Dwalin was pushing him up the tree and afterwards hearing Durin make his way up to the top. Dwalin, unfortunately, smashed his head into one of the branches and fell down onto the ground. He let out a little shriek, but helped himself up again as he saw the Orcs coming closer. Had they spotted him? Of course. He fought desperately to get hold of a new branch, hearing Durin, from above, calling to him about several good branches ahead. "I don't care about those ahead! I care about getting up!" Dwalin called back, shaking. He tried to calm himself down, but he realised that the branch was too high and he was too short. He would never manage to get up there.

Time started to run. Paces away, the Orcs were gathering to get them, but Dwalin saw no other choice than to try. Moving swiftly on to another tree, he grabbed the lowest branch he could get hold of, and pulled himself onto it. The rest was easy. Soon he sat in the top, satisfied by his accomplishment. In the neighbour tree, Durin sat nervously and just below the Orcs grinned evilly.

"Durin?" Dwalin suddenly burst out. What a stupid idea, he thought shuddering. "Who said Orcs can't climb?!" Dwalin asked, not daring to look down anymore, frightened that the Orcs would come up and seize him by the wrist and force him down, or worse; just fell the tree.

"You pushed me into this!" Durin exclaimed.

It was true. Dwalin had in fact pushed him up in the tree, and now they were done. There was no way out. The two of them were separately stuck, as in: very stuck, at the top of two high trees.