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[bilbo_baggins]

As Aras stoked the now-low fire, he wondered what exactly had brought him here, to the junction of the Celduin and Carnen rivers. He did not have any pressing errands, and the orcs were all but exterminated these days. Nothing was urgent, but this sense would not leave him that he was needed here for some reason. He thought of all he had done to get here, namely disturbing a few orcs in the progress of licking their wounds after the Great war, and slaying a lone cave troll in hiding deep in Mirkwood - but that wasn't what they called it anymore was it, - and risking his life in various and sundry ways so far; and he wished to know why... someone better have some answers.

But he was enjoying himself so far, with the river flowing by and the breeze feeding the fire and refreshing him; it was enjoyable. Almost too much; such pleasure almost affidavited the sinking specter of death on the horizon, which nothing could stop. He had never felt so helpless, and so alone.

As the fire started to build itself up on the wood he fed it, he prepared a haunch of meat for the flame; a large enough piece to last him for several days... he knew he should be expecting some people.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

An odd silence fell into the Great Hall as Dwalin resumed his seat and glanced, it almost seemed a bit worriedly, at his brother. Haenir glanced around him at those gathered and did as he had done for forty years – kept his peace. There was much he could have said, had it occurred to him. Forests and marsh? That’s not the place for Dwarves, he thought. Earth and stone, rock and bone: that’s what we should bother ourselves with Still, where the hand of Aule pointed him, he would follow.

The silence stretched taut like a wire being hammered into airy thinness by the smiths, and still no one spoke. Dwalin and Bali looked at one another nervously and somebody in the crowd cleared his throat but the stillness remained like the Arkenstone itself, inviolate and impenetrable. Haenir shifted his muscles beneath his armour. It was a habit he had picked up from the older Dwarves among the King’s Men, to keep the body supple and loose beneath its second skin of plate and chain-mail. He looked about him at the other people there and wondered at such an odd assortment. Most were armoured but there was a variety of skill and wealth on display in that area: all were armed with axes. He knew most of the Dwarves there by name and face, but had never really spoken with any of them, unless it had been to relay a message from his lord, or to usher them into the Royal Presence.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable even for Haenir, who had spent long hours of his life standing silently before doors or off to the side of chambers, ever ready to answer the call of his King. Finally, driven mad by the indecision of those about him, Haenir spoke. “It would seem,” he began slowly, choosing his words – as he always did – with great care, “that there’s none here as wish to discuss the matter any more than we already have. You have a map; it shows the way. Where there’s a clear road, let’s follow.”

“Aye,” another Dwarf replied, “but a road to what? Danger and death, or riches and reward?”

It was Dwalin who replied first. “Maybe all those things. Maybe none, we will only see by going.”

“Aye,” Haenir muttered, almost under his breath, “and that we won’t do standing about here in idle talk.”

[Will Witfoot]

A lonely figure, broad and short in stature, capered along the banks of the River Celduin, or Running as it was called in the common tongue. Although the loud, inane singing and at times reeling gait would have caused many to judge him to be a harmless lunatic, the more careful observer would have noticed a certain wariness about him, and known that he would be ready to answer any given threat in a heartbeat.
Suddenly the inane rhymes the creature had been chanting took on the distinct quality of a song.

'I travel forth from Erebor,
Pause at the hall's of folk of Dale,
After that, in my stupor,
I pause to look for proper Ale,'

The deep, guttural voice bellowed out the words of the popular bawdy ballad with a heart-felt enthusiasm, though the voice of the singer left room for hope.

Gortek Mad-Eye bellowed the final words of the song and gave a high-pitched, maniacal cackle. He was in a great mood today. His journey to Umbar and back, a long trudge across the Brown Lands, had proven to be quite a success. His ventures with some of the corsair-folk had yielded a hefty prize, which he had mostly lost carousing and gambling in the Corsair City. But he was always ready for another adventure, and as an explorer he had rarely the need to suffer tedium for long.
While these happy thoughts raced through his head, he arrived at the junction of the two rivers, Celduin and Carnen.

Just as he was begining to look for a place to rest,he noticed a line of smoke drifting skywards from the close by copse of trees. Deciding that it would be nice to have some company, he made towards the small wood.

As he approached the strangers campsite, his movements became stealthier and his earlier air of jolliness was replaced by one of immaculate watchfulness. He hadn't heard of orcs making their way this far upriver for years, but you could never be too carful.
He strained his senses to the utmost, sniffing the air in an attempt to identify the creature who had made its resting-place here. His keen nose was disturbed by the delicious scent of cooked meat, but he did catch a faint scent that was not orc by any standards. Rather, it had the smell of a human, albeit quite different from most.

Still, he usually got on famously with humans, and so he dropped his stealthy approach and strode into the small clearing. A man sat there, tall, dark and gaunt, preparing a delicious looking joint of meat over a fire. Gortek saw the stranger look at him, measuring him from head to toe's. Gortek greeted him.

"Greetings, human. Would it be too much asked to share yer fire?".

[Elentarimir]

The river Celduin was one of Raendin's favorite places to come during this time of the year. The sounds it made as it continued its long journey toward the sea of Rhun comforted him; they reminded him of home in the Great Greenwood. Raendin sang a song in Sindarin quietly, his voice flowing with the sounds of the water.

As he sang, Raendin thought about the various things he had been doing lately. His most recent trip had been a visit to the forests of Ithilien, which had been quiet beautiful in his eyes. Raendin loved to be in forests, with the trees and the soft calls of animals in and around them. He was happy that the War was over, and that the forests would not be disturbed again for quite some time.

Raendin finished his song. He raised his head and looked about him, searching for any sign of life. Scanning the horizon line, he noticed a thin trail of smoke rising above what appeared as a copse of trees. He stood slowly, and picked his bow up off the ground. With practiced grace, Raendin picked his way toward the smoke.

Upon reaching the copse, Raendin ducked behind a tree and watched. A tall man -- a ranger by the looks -- was sitting near the fire. Raendin observed him curiously, wondering what was going on here. As he watched, a dwarf stepped out of the trees. Raendin sighed. He slung his bow across his back and slid out into the clearing.

"I don't want to disturb you, but I'd like a little company," he said, smiling.

[bilbo_baggins]

Almost no time passed between when he was accosted by this noble khazad, than when he hapened to be joined also by this fair Eldar. Surely the Vala were taking a hand in arranging this, he thought to himself before answering.

"Certainly, Khazad, you may share this fire with me, and you may also have your portion of meat when it is done, though I have no seasoning or spice for it. It will have to be only slightly scorched, I'm afraid. And to you, person of the Eldar, company is appreciated, although this khazad will almost certainly have something to say to that. Please sit both of you, and talk with me; but if either of you try any arguing, I shall not open my camp to nor share of my hunt, nor shall I stay with you in this journey we obviously were all called to partake in. Is that clear?"

It seemed reasonbly clear to the both of them, so Aras gave in and let them join him in his repast.

"Now that we have eaten, I propose we tell each other why we came here; as it is obvious we did not do so by chance..."

[Will Witfoot]

Gortek studied his new-found company with his one good eye. The man had the look of one of the ancient people of Númenor, and the other one was a tall, blonde elf. Gortek was'nt bothered with the ancient and inbred hatred for the Firstborns which nearly every dwarf shared. His early separation from society had left him without proper foundations for such national animosities, and during his travels he had had both good and bad experiences so he knew not to judge rashly.

He gave them both a small, polite bow, and smilled showing yellowed teeth.
"Nah, I've no qualms if the elf joins us. Allways a pleasure meeting new people, as I allways says. Me I'm called Gortek the 'Mad-Eye'." He gave a maniacal cackle at this, perhaps causing some disscomfort in his companions.
Gratefully he dug in to the meat which the man offered him and the elf. Deciding that it would be impolite to not to return the favour, he produced some black bread and ,more importantly, a small flask of ale from his bag. He took a hefty pull from the bottle of beverage, and offered it to the man.

After the meal, Gortek tamped some 'Green Hill' into his pipe and lit it with a kinder taken from the fire. He had just got it burning properly when the man suggested they tell eachother of their exploits.

"I had a small venture in Umbar, in the City of Corsairs. Got a few friend's there who says they needed some help, so I went. After that I crossed the Brown Lands and followed this 'ere river" he indicated Celduin with a wave of his hand "to the junction. I thought I'd spend a couple o' days 'ere, fishing, hunting, taking it easy."

[Elentarimir]

Raendin smiled. "I have no problems sharing a campsite with a dwarf. Company is company." Raendin sat down on the grass, and listened politely as the ranger told him not to argue. Nodding his agreement, Raendin studied the dwarf. He was unlike any he'd ever seen before. After hearing Gortek's tale, Raendin spoke up:

"I was in Ithilien not long ago, but this is my favorite time to be here." He indicated the rivers flowing around them. "I journeyed long to come here. After that, I simply saw the smoke from this campfire rising above the line of trees." He shrugged. "Like I said before, I wanted company. My name's Raendin."

Raendin turned his eyes to the ranger that was slowly cooking a slab of meat on the fire. "What of you? Why are you here?" he asked.