Hunt for the Palantíri RPG

[Imladris]

Jynne cast a smirking glance towards the hidden Corsair where Jarlyn languished. He was sick, oh so sick...it was good.

He smiled thinly to himself as he watched the elves rope themselves together. They had roped themselves together, the cunning scum, but that would not effect them crashing into the icy water. Cold tended to numb the muscles, make them slow and lazy. The Corsairs could still spring upon them and slash their moorings. They would sink like an anchor.

With a soft hiss, Jynne slipped his dagger from his sheath.

[Arry]

Annû

Annû shrugged his shoulders, moving his neck from side to side, in an effort to shake off his uneasy feeling. Elwë and Andtuariel led the way out onto the ice once the Captain and his team had gone forth. Someone was watching them. He could feel the attention directed their way, a vague but persistent interest. He shook the feeling off as best he could, focusing his attention on the task before them.

Aside from his weapons, which his brother had insisted he take today, Annû was armed with a stout pole sharpened to a point on the end, a present from his brother who had spent a fair part of the night crafting it for his use. He poked it soundly into the snowy ice before taking a step. A ways ahead he could just make out Luindal and Galhardir, their rope lifeline taut as they strove to cover as much area as possible. Annû’s gaze fell on his own little group. Elwë was moving carefully forward, as was Andtuariel, but Annû could see she still favored her injured ankle.

What a sight we all must make! he thought to himself. Like some great spiders, their webs spun between them, looking for prey.

Taking a deep breath, he refocused on the area in front of him, trying to imagine, as he poked his staff into the snow filled fissure that ran to the side of the clear ice, just how he would know if he’d found one of the palantiri. He tapped his staff on the ice, listening as he walked along to the different sounds it made. At one point, it sounded particularly dull and he called a halt to his group’s movement. With a stout blade he had brought for the purpose, Annû knelt down and chipped through the ice. But it was not a palantir, only a large stray rock caught in the glacial grip.

----------

Carandû

‘They look like big bugs out there on the ice,’ said Carandû softly to himself. He watched his brother make his way slowly along the icy floe, and it grated on him that he could not be at his side. Ignoring the Captain’s orders to ‘look to the reindeer’, Carandû had left the care of the beasts to one of the Lossoth more familiar with their habits than the Elf cared to be, and had followed along at a discrete distance behind the search teams. On a little rise along one of the snowy glacial walls, he’d found a small indent where he could remain hidden and have the ice field below in view. From his vantage point he could see the two teams, their lifeline ropes extending back onto the shore, each anchored to sturdy boulders. Rôg was there by them, as were three of the Lossoth.

Carandû narrowed his eyes against the ice glare and watched his brother’s team carefully. He knelt in the snow, his thick fur over-breeches cushioning his lower legs against the cold. His bow, strung, was in his gloved hand, an arrow knocked lightly should there be need of it.

‘Take care, little brother,’ he whispered, his frosty plea spiraling up in the cold air.

[piosenniel]

Rôg walked between the two boulders that served to anchor the rope life lines. He pulled off his gloves, suffering his hands to become quite chilled as he ran his fingers over the knots. He was no expert on them, but the knots seemed solid and well tied. And there was no slippage of them as he gave a firm tug on the rope stretched out from them.

One hand on the line, he followed it out to where the search parties had gone out onto the bay’s ice, being careful not to step any further himself. To be quite honest, the ice scared the wits from him. It was as treacherous, he thought, as the shifting sands from his own home land, but more so, really, since he was totally unfamiliar with its ways. He looked out to where Luindal was inching along, afraid for his friend who probably knew the ice hardly better than he.

Rôg pulled his gloves back on and retreated to the safety of the boulders. He stood stamping about on the snowy ground, sure he could feel the numbing cold catching hold of his toes despite the thickness of his boots and the several pairs of socks he wore. He peeked around the face of the boulder to where the three Lossoth stood. Alaahseey, Hilde, and Freyn seemed to have a handle on watching the ropes and the searchers. Perhaps he could just dart back to where he’d lain his little supply pack. Those knee high foot warmers Bear had given him, made from the supple, cured skin of a white bay bear, were stuffed in one of the side pockets. He’d just fetch them quickly and be back in a trice, he reasoned, before anything happened. Not that it will! he said hastily, his fingers crossing as best they could in the thick gloves to avert any bad luck . . .

[Rinfanawen]

The cold seemed to seep through Diera’s clothes as she sat watching the Elves. They had come not but hours earlier, and the Corsairs were ready. The Corsairs were crouched, weapons in hand, behind small snow banks off to the side of the ice. Diera smiled at the foolish Elves upon the cold, glass-like floor. They were walking carefully, but they did not know what lie ahead. Soon they would fall. The ice was fragile, more in some places than in others, and would break easily when stepped upon. This is what the Corsairs had in mind.

Her hat was firmly placed over her head. It covered her ears completely, for she much hoped to escape the cold. Diera knew the kind of affects it had on her, and she did not want any of them arousing at this moment. This time on the icy ground was quite irksome. She was very much impatient. She knew where the holes had been made, and yet the Elves seemed to be walking so slow towards them! Hurry up! her mind constantly spoke. Why must they be so sluggish now? She watched one Elf grow close to a hole they had made in the ice. He stepped, for what she could see, directly upon it, but it only began to crack. The Elf quickly picked up his foot and continued in a different direction. Diera moaned greatly.

The Elves stopped for a moment...a moment that seemed to be a lifetime of shorter, irritating moments. The Elves unwound long ropes from their packs. Diera laughed to herself as she watched the Elves tie ropes around themselves, thinking that it would keep them above the icy water below. I don’t know what they are thinking, she smirked in thought. This is better. They are only making us more successful! If one falls in, soon they will drag the next one in, and the next one, until all of them are beneath the water. What bliss!

She looked at the long sword in her hand. Its golden hilt glittered like diamonds in the sun overhead. “I might not get to use you after all,” she sighed, but still she kept it close in deep anticipation of when the first Elf would fall.

[Lalwendë]

Hiding behind a bank of snow while waiting for the elves, Tarn hunkered down and pulled the white fur he wore tighter about his head to keep out the bitter wind. It howled wearily and insistently, and he well knew the power of its cold bite, but it was also music to his ears. It spoke of the endless empty expanse of space and time that surrounded the bay, his home. It was a comforting sound to him; when he heard it he knew he was in a place he could understand, and unlike some of the Corsairs, who were uneasy, he was still and quiet. Thynne crouched beside him, as still as his master; he too felt the music of the wailing wind and knew the comfort the sound could bring to a lonely hunter. Both of them held weapons ready; Tarn had his harpoon and a knife to hand, and one of the Corsairs had given Thynne a staff.

Earlier, Thynne had sat with Tarn while they ate breakfast and listened to the plans of the Captain. He had felt a little scared when the Captain warned them to be on their guard and prepared to fight. Scuffling with other boys was one thing, but he had never dared to fight with a full grown man or elf. Daring to whisper a question, he had asked "Tarn, have you ever killed a man?" Tarn had been surprised at the question, but he had not wanted to answer it. "What do you think?" he said enigmatically, without any further explanation. He had never killed another man in a fight; he had hurt a few, enough so that they would defer to him, but he had never knowingly killed a man, it had never been necessary. This was a fact he chose to keep to himself; that other people’s gossip and guessing about him helped his reputation, was something he was very aware of.

Tarn was feeling a tingle of excitement at seeing the elves again. They had not been so easy to observe during the expedition to the caves. He wanted to see just what these creatures that his grandfather had so distrusted were really like. More than that, he was curious just what it was about them that was driving the deep hatred of the Corsairs. He suspected it was something to do with pride and status; it was akin to his dislike of the superior attitude of the Lossoth elders. From what he knew, these elves were high and mighty, and he thought they must have held great store in the fact that while they did not age and wither, the men around them were not so lucky. He could appreciate how it would hurt the pride of the Corsairs if these disdainful creatures got to the treasure first, and he clutched his harpoon tighter.

***

The elves approached the ice with extreme caution. Tarn noted that they had roped themselves together for safety and were anchored on the shoreline. He saw the Lossoth helping them and wondered whether the manoeuvre had been an idea of the elves or of his kin. It was something which hunting parties would do often, usually when up on the glaciers which were particularly treacherous. He was so cautious of ice himself that he would never have attempted to venture onto any ice sheet without first testing it for safety; he thought that roping gave false confidence and was sure that a mishap would soon occur. He had seen the water which surged underneath that ice and he felt sure that even the strongest of men could not fight the current. If they were hoping to haul anyone out of there then the hope might be misplaced.


Tarn was struck by how calm the elves appeared, and how easily they moved. Compared to the Lossoth they all looked very young, and their faces were fair, and he began to wonder how much experience they would have of fighting, but then he remembered that his grandfather had told him that all elves looked young, even the old ones. Tarn's long-sighted eyes picked out the weapons they were carrying, which looked well crafted, and he almost blanched, but then noting how slightly built these elves were, he sneered a little, pulled his leather gloves tighter and cracked his knuckles. As long as he kept away from the Lossoth, he thought, he would walk through any fighting completely unscathed. The Lossoth who went across the ice with them were not as well equipped, and they were all shorter than Tarn, but he knew well how tenacious any of the Lossoth could be in a fight.

Tarn was full of disdain for the Lossoth who followed the elves, thinking they had been coerced into this. He felt superior thinking he had made a conscious choice to be here, that it was his choice to offer help to the Corsairs, as he had no Lossoth elders to answer to. He knew he could just get up and leave now, but something held him all the same. Whether it was the thrill of the chase, the intrigue or the sense of satisfaction he gained from being with these strange southerners, he could not say, but for the first time in many long years he was working as part of a group again.

All eyes were keenly trained on the activity out on the ice. Some of the Corsairs were even smirking, but all felt impatient to see what would be the results of their work. Tarn saw that Marreth was following everything with the eyes of an eagle. He seemed to be suffering from the cold less than the other Corsairs, and as Tarn watched, he realised that it was grim determination which held him there, and it would be this determination which would see the treasure in Corsair hands whatever it took.

[Kitanna]

Nilak had had trouble sleeping the last few nights. And he didn't like the idea of spending a day of drilling holes in the ice, but he didn't have much of a choice. He wanted treasure and it seemed the only way to ensure it was to take out these Elves.

He tried to get away with drilling as little as possible, but that had failed. Sernir had pushed an ax in his hand and watched him like a hawk as Nilak pounded away at the ice. Nilak grumbled and growled because it didn't appear that Sernir was doing much of anything. Nilak wanted nothing more than to take a knife to the Corsair's throat while he slept, but the Lossoth thought better.

Now Marreth's company hid from sight. They all watched as the Elves drew closer. They were weary and seemed to sense the traps laid out. Nilak watched as they tied themselves to together with rope. They were smarted then he thought. Nilak crouched down and watched intently as the Elves began to come across the ice.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Those behind on shore watched and waited as Luindal gingerly led the searchers onto the ice. Alahseey had coiled the end of the rope firmly around her arm and shoulder and was staring at the distant spot where Luindal and the others were searching. Hilde had done the same for Galhardir. Both ropes lay slack on top of the ice, snaking in and out of snow banks and continuing down to the frozen Bay; there was still a considerable length of line that could be unfurled if the companions wanted to continue their search further out on the Bay.

Each of the Elves and Lossoth with Luindal bore a long, pointed prod to steady their balance and help search for evidence of the missing Stones. Every few paces, someone halted and poked a prod into a hidden crevice or fissure to look for any sign of the Palantiri. One time, Galhardir yelled a warning to the others to avoid a particularly dangerous stretch of new ice that still looked to be unsteady.

Another contingent of Elves and Lossoth paraded along the outer perimeter of the beach with their weapons drawn and eyes alert: Luindal had alerted them to stand guard against a possible Corsair attack. Suddenly, out of the stillness, an urgent cry was heard from one of the search parties. The youngest pair of Elves, who had lagged too far behind, now found themselves stranded on a chunk of ice that had broken off and was drifting out towards the entrance to the Bay.

"Grab the lines! Hold tight!" Alahseey urged, her weapon slipping from her grasp as she ran forward and approached the ice floe as close as she could get.

Several Lossoth among the guards immediately surged forward to steady the ropes of the marooned Elves. Adroitly, the two leapt to safety, and the moment of danger passed.

Alahseey trudged back, bending down to retrieve her axe from the spot where she thought she'd left it. But the axe was nowhere to be seen; Hiilde also was gone. She had apparently joined the other Lossoth who'd run off to help the stranded searchers: two other Elves had taken her place at the end of Galhardir's rope. Alahseey quickly surveyed the adjoining shore and was surprised to notice her fallen axe lying some ways off towards the side, perched atop a knoll closer to the Bay. She ran over, picked it up, and slowly stood up....