Red Flows the Sirannon RPG

[Folwren]

Bror watched the elf he had found walk away in the direction that he had pointed out. He half wondered if he should escort him back, he seemed so weary, but after a moment of thought, decided the elf could make it on his own. Bror turned to continue searching.

A sudden cry to his right from the woods, caused him to turn quickly and hurry towards the trees once again. He ducked branches and dodged the heavy undergrowth and thorns, searching with his eyes to see the person who let out such mournful and heartbreaking sounds. He knew himself to be a poor judge of elf voices, but this one sounded extremely young.

Breaking through a last clump of bushes, Bror came to a stop. There was the child, a young elf girl, and she knelt beside the figure of an elf woman, shaking and calling out some name, and other words. Bror couldn’t understand her, but he did understand the fear and anguish in her face, her voice, and in her very movement. The woman was dead and made no response to the child’s thrusts and shakes, and every second of silence and stillness from her part, caused the little girl to become more frantic, and her voice rose and her cries became more and more desperate.

‘No, no, child! It’s not good!’ Bror said, walking forward. The girl turned, startled at his voice and strange speech. Bror realized with a sick feeling that if he didn’t understand her, she certainly wouldn’t understand him. She sprang up to her feet and started back in fright and Bror stopped. ‘Easy, Bror,’ he said aloud. ‘Don’t scare the girl. You’re going to have to get her back without being able to talk to each other.’ The child didn’t look like she was going to be going anywhere with Bror, by her own free will. The look in her dark eyes and pale face was one of complete and abject terror, but she didn’t turn and run.

‘Come here,’ he said, kneeling down and speaking as softly as he could. ‘Come on. I’m not going to hurt you.’ The girl looked at him, and her lip trembled visibly. Her eyes traced downwards to the ground and then to the figure of the elf woman. Tears burst free and letting out another cry, she darted back to the woman’s side.

‘She won’t answer! She won’t answer!’ she wept, but in the elvish tongue, and Bror could still not understand. ‘They hurt her, but she brought me out here and she talked to me, but she won’t answer now! What’s wrong? What’s wrong with her?’ Her hands moved over the white face and the dark locks of hair as she spoke. Her voice was choked and broken by the sobs that shook her entire body. Bror crawled forward to the other side of the dead elf. He took his gloves off quickly and slipped his hand under the dead figure. Bringing it back out, he found his fingers coated in blood, as he had expected. He wiped it away on the grass and looked at the child.

‘Come on, we’ve got to go back. She’s dead. You can’t wake her up.’ He stood up, taking the girl’s hand in his. She pulled back, but he didn’t let go and pulled her as gently as he could to her feet and began leading her away. Much to his alarm and discomfort, she began to scream and struggle for release. ‘Oh, to be able to speak the elves words!’ he grumbled to himself. ‘What do I do now?’ He looked down at the girl and then up and around the wood. An elf running towards him caught his eye and he lifted his hand, though he figured that the child’s screaming would be enough to guide him. ‘I am glad you’ve come,’ Bror said, releasing the girl as the elf came to a halt by their side.

‘I can understand why,’ he replied, and then looking down at her, he spoke to the sobbing elf child in her own tongue. The conversation was not long, but she was calmed by his gentle and soothing voice and within two minutes he approached her and picked her up gently. Bror stood by and watched, waiting until the end to see whether the elf needed to tell him anything. He did have a message, and now that he held the girl, he turned to Bror and delivered it. ‘Master Dwarf, we’re regrouping to begin the march out. The orcs won’t be long in coming to finish off what is left of us and the refugees if we don’t leave this place. You should return with me.’

‘Aye, very well,’ Bror answered. They turned and started off through the woods. ‘Was that her mother back there?’ Bror asked after a little time of silence.

‘Yes. She doesn’t understand that she died, or why she would have.’ Bror nodded and asked no other questions. It was enough to explain the girl’s behavior, and it caused a cold, ice like feeling to grow inside him. This battle touched and affected more than just the warriors that fought it. The orcs were ravaging people, bent on destruction and death, and the women and children were likely targets to make.

When they reached the elven troops and the groups of refugees that had been found and gathered, Bror parted with the two elves he was with and went in search of Skald and the other dwarves. He hoped that his older brother hadn’t gone off looking for him. Pushing his way through and among the elves, he finally caught sight of a group of dwarves standing some little ways off. Skald was there, speaking with one of them. Bror hurried forward and heard his name just as he came near enough to hear anything.

‘No, haven’t seen him since. . .wait, there he is now,’ the dwarf said in response to Skald’s questioning. He nodded towards Bror and Skald turned around.

‘Hullo, Skald,’ Bror said coming to him. ‘I’m back, and not late, I hope.’

[Arry]

‘Ah! You’re a welcome sight, little brother!’ Skald clapped Bror on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow. ‘We’re setting up camp over here . . . we Dwarves. Rori’s volunteered us to help with the first watch – it being, he said to the Elven captain that we need a little more sleep than they do.’ Skald laughed at the picture of the tall Elf, his brows raised at the abrupt announcement by the Dwarf captain. ‘Then, of course, we Dwarves gathered around began to laugh and even Rori cracked a smile. The Elf, of course, soon realized we were having a bit of fun with him and laughed himself.’ He paused, his brow wrinkling. ‘Now that’s the second thing I’ve found out about Elves today! They have a sense of humor under all that piercing-eye-serious-stuff. Second . . . and I can’t wait to shove this in Riv’s face for misinforming me . . . they have actual babies! They don’t just appear out of thin air. Hmmmph! Amazing, isn’t it!’

He looked back over his shoulder to catch Bror’s expression at this revelation and noted his brother was not following along behind. ‘Well! What are you just standing there for?’ he asked.

It was soon sorted out that one of the Elves from Elrond’s forces had found Bror and told him to hurry back . . . The Lindon Elves and the survivors would soon be moving out he had told Bror. ‘Well that might well have been the plan,’ Skald said. ‘So he told you what he knew, the Elf did. But it was just very recently that word came down to us here that we’d be spending the night.’ He looked to the center of the camp being established, where the supply wagons and the survivors were gathered. ‘I’m supposing, and I don’t know this for a fact – can’t read minds like the Elves do . . .’ He shuddered at the thought, thinking what Elrond or Celeborn would do if he had the skill to do it and tried it on them. ‘Anyways, a lot of the Elves, survivors and warriors, need fixing up a bit I’m thinking before we move on. Rori’s even sent some of us to get bandaged up by the healers.’ He looked to where Lord Elrond was standing talking to a couple of the bowmen. ‘ ‘Course that’s just my opinion . . . could be we’re spending the night so as the Elves can figure out some plan for our next move. Guess we’ll learn about it when they tell us.’

The two brothers had reached the area where the other Dwarves had gathered. Rori Ironfist was in the midst of them, letting them know how their injured fellows were doing. He advised that they all roll out their bedrolls and rest a while, then eat. There were still some Elves out scouting for survivors, but he wanted his company to stay in camp for now. ‘Joke aside . . . we will take the first watch for the evening, alongside some of Lord Elrond’s troops. We’ll need to keep a sharp eye and ear out for any Orc that might come sniffing round.’

[Mithalwen]

Losrian had stood quietly by Ondomirë 's side as he spoke to Elrond. Losrian had seen him from time to time as a child in Lindon but never so closely. She observed him as discreetly as she could, this scion of so many noble lines, whose history and fate was twined with that of Middle Earth.

Musing on this she was slightly flustered when Ondomirë spoke her name. She made herself stop wondering at his confidence in calling her a fine archer when the only time he had seen her bend a bow, the arrow had been pointing at his neck. What a mercy she had let the arrow fall - how dreadful if she had shot him in her panic... Her attempt at concentration failed ot stop her bow being rather more wobbly than the one to her captain and as she met Elrond's gaze she thought she saw a faint hint of amusement in the deep grey eye.

She had heard that the elf-lord was blest with foresight and could read the hearts of minds of others more clearly than usual even among the Eldar. Losrian had neither the guile nor the will to resist his searching regard and her mind was open to him. She sensed he sought to understand not to pry. In return she received compassion and consolation from one whose loss had exceeded her own. She was overwhelmed that one should take such interest in her. He smiled gently "Losrian can you help us?" speaking aloud at last.

"I think we must continue North, my Lord - at least for now - The enemy goes west to Lindon, to the East are only the mountains and there are no passes throught them that we know of north or Caradhras, only I have heard perchance in the far North. To return South, at least immediately might be perilous - the enemy might expect us seek refuge in Lorien or Moria - the enemy might leave a fraction of his army in wait prove overwheming to us without significantly reducing his attack on Lindon" Losrian's face filled with grief at hte thought of her kin at Mithlond facing and attack such as the one on Ost in Edhil.

"If we go north and a little west, we will skirt the end of Hollin Ridge about ten leagues from where the Hoarwell meets the Loudwater which flows from the mountains. We might find some more of our kindred in that region since not all the herdsmen whose stock graze the foothills took refuge in the city. The angle between the rivers might be defended perhaps - but the country is densely wooded further north I am told - I have not been so far myself. " Her voice tailed off and she glanced at Ondomirë for some clue that she had not at least let him down.