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#1 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: On the sand dunes outside of Ilium, watching it burn.
Posts: 1,291
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Maén kicked Hittai and both horse and rider set off at a fast pace galloping across the dry grassland yards ahead of the rest. To the north east just out of view was the hills of Emyn Arnen, by looks the company had by passed it on the other side of the Anduin, for they had gone very far south. On the other side of the Anduin, the company was still north of Pelargir. She was sure that they would make it to their destination by nightfall, which would mean that they would have to camp, for there was no inn until Jacobe’s Run, a place which Maén was sure that there was another more local name for, though she did not know it.
Reaching the end of the plateau she noticed that only Roryn and Idruil had bothered to match the gallop, as she pulled up. Perhaps too quickly as Hittai reared and snorted. Maén patted the side of the mare’s neck and smirked watching the two others pull up beside her. “Gentlemen” she nodded “It’s nice to see you finally arrive.” “Are you prone to bouts of galloping off into the wilderness Lady- I mean, Miss Lahnoro.” Roryn smiled. “Yes.” Maén said simply. “Open grassland, couldn’t resist.” “Miss Maén, Do you know where we are going exactly?” Idruil asked. “Only slightly, im depending upon the rangers for that.” Last edited by Everdawn; 04-26-2004 at 02:10 AM. |
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#2 |
Shade of Carn Dûm
Join Date: Jan 2004
Posts: 282
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Roryn raised an eyebrow and laughed. "I hope Atharen knows then." Maen look exasperatedly at him, but it was hard to remain angry with Roryn for long and she smiled. "Yes...so do I, Roryn." Atharen reached the group, his horse was panting and he himself looked rather disgruntled.
"Good of you to join us." Roryn said with a serious tone, and Atharen's face broke into a frown. "For a retired ranger, Roryn, you certainly are spritely." "Well, you can't live forever." Roryn said with a slight hint of mirth. "Ah Atharen. Don't give me that look." ... |
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#3 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
Join Date: Jan 2004
Location: Rohan
Posts: 568
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Crystal sat upon the horse behind Atharen and waited for him to decided on a name for her stallion. He was a fine stallion and she was rather fond of him by now. She was glad she had lent the horse to Ferethor though. He needed a horse much more then she did.
She watched as Maen darted across the open field. She smiled. She remembered one time when she had done that. She hadn't been punished at all that time because she was with her mother in that open field. Atharen pulled the horse to a run after her and closed the distance rapidly. They rode up besides Maen and stopped. "Why hello once again Lady Maen. Did you enjoy your run in the open field?" Crystal asked her lightly, her laugh audible in her voice. |
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#4 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
Join Date: Jan 2004
Location: Seoul, South Korea
Posts: 602
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Captain Ferethor hand-signaled to Aelimur in the manner used by Gondorian sentinels to communicate silently and confidentially amid each other, to tarry a bit and come into his speaking range without having the others notice if possible. No one here has served as a Gondorian soldier, and therefore even if someone noticed his signal one would not comprehend it.
“Aelimur, remember Lord Elessar’s especial command to us?” Ferethor asked in a low voice as Aeronir noticed his flash of signal and drew his horse closer to the Captain’s own. “He told us that it was vital that Il Galoth be capture alive on all costs, and he seemed very empathic on that point.” “I see from Maen’s very bearings, how her eyes flash when she grounds out that name and her hands inevitably stray to her blade, that she means to slay him and no one who dares to stay her would be cut down without a moment’s delay.” Ferethor continued quietly, logically, with cool reasoning out of incidents. “And we can’t have that unless we are to fail in our trust. It is not our place to inquire for why Lord Elessar commanded thus, only our obligation to fulfill his wishes…” “Therefore we would have no choice but to slay Maen ere the end.” His voice was low, not only because he wanted not to be heard by anyone else but also because he wanted to soften the blow of his words. “If so, Atharen would be a special hindrance to us, the greatest though all the company will be against this deed. We would have to account for this, and as it is evident that he would not agree to our plan… When the time comes, I guess we must dispose of him also, although he is a kinsman of the King and a ranger.” Was it a trick of his eyes, or did Aelimur shudder a bit at his callous attitude towards taking lives? “Which would be close to impossible, by the way, since he happens to be a ranger. It may even cost us our lives, but it would only be an honor if we die in the service of our lord. Hopefully Maen would relent in the end, but if she doesn’t…” Ferethor let his sentence trail off, wondering how many more he would have to slay ere this unpleasant task is over. At least he would have companions if he traveled to the Halls of Mandos! "So, Aelimur, we would have to make priminary plans to kill them both, preferably just before we find Il Garoth." Last edited by Eorl of Rohan; 05-05-2004 at 07:39 AM. |
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#5 |
Ubiquitous Urulóki
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Idruil nodded, almost sleepily in the saddle, even though the animal he rode atop was shooting forward. He passed Aelimur and Ferethor, who were speaking in an oddly conspiratorial manner behind, but he paid them no heed, knowing of Ferethor’s nature. He whipped Ecthelion coolly around the recently dubbed steed, Sacriheart, belonging to Atharen and his horse’s guest, Miss Crystal. He smiled warmly at his established companion and his female friend, who gripped the ranger comfortably as that same horse that bore them both bucked freely and wildly, a tricky maneuver by any equine creature that would’ve dislodged many riders.
The man of Minas Tirith pulled his horse along, swiftly kicking it after Maen. He seemed to be the only one trying to catch and match the rollicking velocity of Lady Il Galoth, but Roryn was closing to. A slight twinge of adrenaline pulsed nimbly in the two arms of Idruil’s that gripped his reins carefully. Sharply but easily, Idruil let his booted heels pounce on Ecthelion’s heels and send him shooting upward and forward soon after. It was an odd enough feeling, one that had not been felt by Idruil in ages. Somehow he knew that the same energetic rush was present in Roryn, and too in Atharen and Crystal nearby. Delicately, he sped up his steed. As if on cue, Roryn did the same. Idruil began to lose track of what he was doing in the first place as the sound of horses’ hooves kicking up grass and dirt and the wind pushing against him welled up and beat like a drum in his ears as he sped along, Roryn smiling back at him from his unwieldy position and pushing his steed along, the two men of often stern nature found themselves veering along through Jacobe’s Field, and were soon joined by the two not far off, Atharen goading Sacriheart into a full, gallivanting gallop as the three horses closed the distance between them and Maen at an overwhelming speed. Only Ferethor and Aelimur, still mumbling inaudibly, and Carathir, who cantered along carelessly behind, where not participating in this makeshift race to the village. His grin widening, Idruil actually laughed as he looked at the other warriors and cohorts losing sight of their mission until the sight of it began to fill up their gaze before them. There were some houses visible, vague silhouettes plastered against the horizon. Thatched roofs, mangled in their rustic nature, began to dot the apparent skyline not far off. It looked peaceful enough. No looming towers and pinnacles erect in shimmering marble, no rigid intricacies of shingled rooftops brightened by hanging lamps that glowed in a phosphorous fashion, no bustling streets and mingled cacophony flooding and overflowing off of the small village, seemingly untouched by the undesirable effects of conflict. The green grass began to give way beneath Idruil’s horse, revealing dirt ground that further stemmed into the rough paths of that village, like a brown river that flowed off around them and past the small houses. It was the first place of its calming caliber that Idruil had seen in years, nay, decades. Idruil began to steady Ecthelion, pushing his heels gently into the horse’s leather-covered side and easing him into a slower pace. Maen, going at a greater speed, had to wheel her mount around chaotically to get it to halt abruptly, while the others began to slow as well, looking forward at the quant little village of Jacobe’s Run just ahead of them. Night was cresting the red distant expanse and weariness had begun to set in after that swashbuckling escapade. |
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#6 |
Shadow of Starlight
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Atharen shifted slightly in the saddle, turning to look at the fine stallion on which Ferethor was riding. It seemed dark when still, yet every time it moved, or even shifted, the deep red undercoat seemed to flash fierily from beneath.
"Naurnurta...hidden flame," he replied at length. "The way his coat flashes, and his eyes. There is something very spirited in that horse..." "And in it's owner," he added mentally, although he dared not say it out loud, although he couldn't think why. Suddenly a snort and a wild stamping of hooves, along with a violent rearing movement in the corner of his vision, made Atharen turn sharply to see Maen careering away at high speed. His hand went immediately to his sword to see what had spooked the horse and set both horse and rider fleeing, but then Maen looked back over her shoulder, a wicked grin on her face. Crystal laughed delightedly behind Atharen and he grinned back at her. Making sure her hands were still tight around his waist, he let the newly named Sacriheart rear up, a wild whinny escaping her, then sped into a gallop after Maen, all thoughts and troubles of the Il Galoth dynasty to the wind...for a while... As they closed the distance, he heard Crystal's wind-whipped call to Maen and smiled with her. He had been smiling alot, especially when with her - strange, her feelings seemed so changeable to him; one minute he seemed to frustrate her, the next she was so close, her arms slipped as they had been around her waist, resting her head against his back so he could feel it's soft weight, feel her breathing against his neck when she straightened up... He mentally gave himself a good shake and turned to Maen, once more all coutesy and politeness. "Lady, I suggest we proceed to Jacobe's Run as quickly as possible: night will be falling within a few hours, and it would be safer to stay somewhere more stable. We have already seen how camping outside could go wrong." He looked away as he said the last part. He blamed himself in part for the unfortunate death of one of those who was meant to be in the group he had joined to protect and guide, even though it had been a life bravely given. "I disagree, Atharen: we can be more easily caught in a village, hemmed in." Ferethor's voice was bold but when Atharen turned to him, the guard pointedly ignored his gaze, deliberately looking away. The ranger noticed this odd shiftiness, and the look, an almost inperceptible glance, that passed between the two Gondorian guards, but let no suspicion show on his face, his eyes once more blank and unreadable. "But we are less likely to be attacked in a village - it would not be subtle and streets are more easy to escape through from archers than open fields," he reasoned in reply. "And those of us who are trained learnt at least in part inside, hemmed in as you say. It is as easy to fight, but allows us all to get some rest rather than having a guard." Ferethor seemed about to counter this, and Atharen would have recieved his opinion, of course, but Maen got there first. "I agree, Atharen - we shall head for Jacobe's Run, and can gather more information there about Il Galoth." Atharen inclined his head, not heeding the flash of resentment he thought he saw in Ferethor's expression. "Indeed, my lady, that is what I would have suggested." "That's it then - we head for Jacobe's Run. Lets see how fast you so called riders can race!" Maen's fiery challenge was half-called over her shoulder as she once more took off, followed in an instant by Idruil. The other man darted around Atharen and Crystal nimbly before bursting into a full gallop, flashing a grin over his shoulder at them. Atharen put on an expression of mock-surprise, then reared. "Ready, my Lady?" he murmured to Crystal. He felt the movement of her body as she nodded. "Lets see her run!" she replied. He grinned and spurred on Sacriheart. The mare didn't need a second bidding: the Haradrim gave her agility, the Rohirrim speed and Gondor had blessed her with steadiness. Together, in one thing at least, the three nations had combined to create an animal on whose back the ranger felt that he was riding the wind. Crouching lower on her back, he urged her into a gallop, moving into the thrill of the chase as he began to catch up with Idruil. The Gondorian gave a cry as he turned to see them on his tail and urged Ecthelion on to an even greater speed. Eventually the two horses were almost neck and neck, not far between them, almost foaming, as caught up as their riders. Maen suddenly cried a halt, and Atharen slowed, bringing Sacriheart down to a slower pace, a canter, then a trot, and turned to look at the rest of the company, now catching up. Maen's hair was free and fell around her shoulder loosely as she commanded them. "We shall be at the village in half an hour or so. I bid you all remember my 'name', and not let anything of our quest slip. Keep a rein on your tongues." "As we haven't on our horses you mean," Atharen replied quietly, a small smile on his face, breathing a little more heavily. Idruil grinned over at him and he returned it, glad of the companionship of the other man. Rising in his saddle, he looked ahead at the silhouette of Jacobe's Run, then settled back down and continued in a brisk trot, falling in with Idruil. |
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#7 |
Shade of Carn Dûm
Join Date: Jan 2004
Posts: 282
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A fast thumping of hooves was heard from behind, Atharen turned his head, only to see a green blur that looked vaguely like Roryn speed past him. Atharen shouted and spurred his horse into a gallop again, forgetting that Crystal was behind him, Crystal let out a small cry of fear as the horse jolted into movement, but she soon got into position for the gallop as Atharen and Roryn sped towards Jacobe's Run. Atharen was gaining, but the retired ranger was holding them far behind still. Atharen smiled widely as he saw Roryn galloping, all anger he'd felt at him went, as was often the case. Roryn still enjoyed the thrill of the race, and wouldn't let his relatively old age hold him back.
Roryn looked back to see Atharen and Crystal several metres behind him, and Maen and the rest catching up as fast as they could. Ferethor and Aelimur weren't galloping, but cantering slowly, talking. It was the first occasion Roryn had had cause to doubt the integrity of the two guards, but he shrugged and turned around, back to the race. He saw the rabbit hole a second too late. His horse caught a foot in it, stumbling and bucking before continuing at the run, Roryn was thrown by the sudden jolt, but managed to keep hold of the reigns, and had a leg over the horse's haunches. Atharen looked in horror as Roryn fell, his predicament was now very serious, one wrong move would mean he fell right off... Roryn cursed as he hung there, several times he tried to pull himself up onto the saddle again, but failed and fell back. Each time his grip on the reigns loosening. He gave one last tug, and managed to right himself, but he was still out of balance and his horse, aware of its lack of rider, had slowed. Atharen stopped beside him, and they were joined a few seconds later by Maen. "Roryn you fool!" Atharen almost shouted. "I was worried about you!" "So was I, Atharen." Roryn quipped back, as he turned his horse to face back to the others. Looking sideways at Atharen he smiled and laughed. Atharen joined in. "Perhaps we shouldn't have any more silly races?" asked Maen. "Excellent idea." Replied both Atharen and Roryn simultaneously. This time it was Maen that laughed. "We'll wait for the others. And remember, Roryn, I'm not Maen while we're in Jacobe's Run". Roryn nodded as he watched the others pull up... |
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