The Summons RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Himaran · 07-20-2003, 06:44 PM

"Elleraden."

The man painfully opened one eyelid, half recognizing the voice. The image before him was blurry, but the face of Islist Scorn contained a permanant place in his memory. He smiled weakly, glad to see a friend. He coughed, and tried to speak; but his voice was raspy and sounded strange to his own ears. "I am glad you came, Islist. I was unsure if you survived the fight."

He rested a moment before continuing. "Did we win, Islist?"

The man leaned on the bed post, toying with a knife in nervous idleness. "Aye, we won alright. The armies of Mordor fled before us, what is left of them. But we suffered casulties as well, and will suffer more in the coming battle. Not everyone from our party survived."

Elleraden nodded. "Tis' to be expected. But don't say who, I wish to die without knowing who it was that suffered."

Islist looked hard at him for the first time. "Elleraden, don't be foolish. The doctors have said that you have a decent chance of survival. Keep up hope, the houses of healing are among the best wards of middle-earth."

The injured man chuckled, his lips once again forming a smile. "No, Islist, I am done for. Whatever they may say, it is only a matter of time. Today will be my last. But do not dwell on that, friend. Go, win your battle. I will not be there to see the world be freed of such a menace, but that is my fate, my destiny. Be victorious! Rid the world of Sauron's great army! And do so without thinking of me. You must move on, and I have no doubt that you will become one of the greatest men in Gondor. With that said, Islist, let me go to my rest in peace, without feeling the sorrow that shows in your face. I am but one of many, one of many."

Islist stayed by his friend's side throught the day, and that night, before the sun went down over the mountains of the west, the brave ranger died.

07-20-2003, 06:44 PM	#36
Himaran Ash of Orodruin Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: Thangorodrim Posts: 777	"Elleraden." The man painfully opened one eyelid, half recognizing the voice. The image before him was blurry, but the face of Islist Scorn contained a permanant place in his memory. He smiled weakly, glad to see a friend. He coughed, and tried to speak; but his voice was raspy and sounded strange to his own ears. "I am glad you came, Islist. I was unsure if you survived the fight." He rested a moment before continuing. "Did we win, Islist?" The man leaned on the bed post, toying with a knife in nervous idleness. "Aye, we won alright. The armies of Mordor fled before us, what is left of them. But we suffered casulties as well, and will suffer more in the coming battle. Not everyone from our party survived." Elleraden nodded. "Tis' to be expected. But don't say who, I wish to die without knowing who it was that suffered." Islist looked hard at him for the first time. "Elleraden, don't be foolish. The doctors have said that you have a decent chance of survival. Keep up hope, the houses of healing are among the best wards of middle-earth." The injured man chuckled, his lips once again forming a smile. "No, Islist, I am done for. Whatever they may say, it is only a matter of time. Today will be my last. But do not dwell on that, friend. Go, win your battle. I will not be there to see the world be freed of such a menace, but that is my fate, my destiny. Be victorious! Rid the world of Sauron's great army! And do so without thinking of me. You must move on, and I have no doubt that you will become one of the greatest men in Gondor. With that said, Islist, let me go to my rest in peace, without feeling the sorrow that shows in your face. I am but one of many, one of many." Islist stayed by his friend's side throught the day, and that night, before the sun went down over the mountains of the west, the brave ranger died.