Hunt for the Palantíri RPG

[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....

[Regin Hardhammer]

Mareth had managed to inch further up the beach. Now safely crouched behind a rocky outcrop near the edge of shore, he was only thirty paces distant from the armed patrol and could see and hear everything going on. He grinned at the sight of the two idiotic Elves who didn't have enough sense to get themselves off a moving ice floe. As far as he was concerned, they could all float out to sea and sink to the bottom when the ice melted.

Sitting and watching the parade of events, he was more convinced than ever that the Stones must lie somewhere in the Bay. Why else would the Elves come all this way to stop him unless that was true? He had spent the greater part of the last two months searching on shore and had come up with exactly nothing. It was obvious the Stones weren't on land and that it was useless to hunt for them there. Marreth vowed that, once he got rid of these pesky Elves, he would concentrate his search in the Bay itself: somewhere on the bottom lay the treasure he sought. And he already had the resources he needed: trained seals to find the Stones, winches and ropes to pull them up.

As Marreth stared out at the searchers, he could see that Luindal and the others had just reached the point on the ice where the holes were drilled. Galhardir had forged ahead and was now in the lead. Too bad it wasn't an Elf in front who would take the first tumble! Still, he was going to enjoy this. Even if the ropes kept most of the Elves from being swept away, blades and arrows would do the rest of the job.

Marreth put both hands above his head, waved them in the air, and hooted like a snow owl, the signal they'd agreed to use. All he had to do was lower his arms, and the assault on the beach would begin....

Then he saw her. His informant had crept out from the others to do her mischief. Marreth almost roared with laughter. This innocent, middle-aged Lossoth who looked like nothing special was really a lion in disguise. A woman after his own heart! At least one of the Elves or Lossoth would soon be taking a swim, to be forever swept away by the currents. He resisted the urge to lower his arms at this point. Just one more minute and they would have the diversion they needed.

[Child of the 7th Age]

By now, the sun had risen high enough to be visible from across the Bay. The wind had picked up and remnents of old twigs and leaves skittered across the top of the ice. Thick clouds scudded into place and the soft pink promise of morning gave way to a sullen gray. The weather was turning against them. Luindal could make out Galhardir plodding about fifteen paces in front of him. But then, without warning, heavy sleet began to fall, stinging Luindal's face and hands and making it extremely difficult to see.

Within a matter of minutes, the freezing rain quickened: it was difficult to make out anything more than a few feet in front of his nose. And for those who lacked the Elven gift of far-seeing, the visibility would be even less. Luindal sighed and shook his head. The winds of chance did not seem to favor them. Even he could not hold the Corsairs responsible for a simple change in the weather. The Elf was about to signal his companions to halt their search and retreat to shore when something calamitous caught his eye, causing his stomach to plummet downward.

There was absolutely no sign of Galhardir anywhere. Sprinting forward as swiftly as he could, Luindal approached the spot where he had last seen his Lossoth companion. Galhardir was gone; neither was there any evidence of his rope. The only thing left was his sharp, pointed prod, carelessly hurled off to the side. Beside the prod was a huge round hole through which the waters of the Bay seethed angrily upward. Galhardir's fate was all too obvious. Luindal glanced behind him, straining to see through the thick curtain of sleet; he heard excited cries coming from other searchers who had apparently fallen into the Bay.

He bellowed out a warning to those in his party who had managed to stay upright on the ice, "Turn back. The ice is broken. Help any who have fallen through."

He retreated again to the gaping hole and was about to dive in, heedless of the danger and thinking only of his companion, when he felt a gentle restraining pressure on his shoulder. Off in the distance, he could hear other frantic voices sounding from the beach, "The rope's been cut. Galhardir's rope has been sliced cleanly in two..."

[Child of the 7th Age]

Orofaniel's post for Galhardir

All of a sudden it seemed so foggy. He couldn't see much, except for his feet and the small area of ice around it. There seemed to be no front and no back. What direction should he go? Where was Luindal? His heart beat faster as he panicked. He was lost, wasn't he? He struggled to find the rope around has waist. Luckily it was still there. A sigh of relief crossed his lips as he pulled the rope wit his hands with great effort. Then he noticed it; it had been cut. The split ends were now just in front of him and not in Hilde’s hands as it should have been. How could this be? A sudden panic hit him once again. He tried walking forwards, but he stopped as he wondered if it really was forwards at all. He could be going the opposite direction of the shore, he didn't know. He couldn't do anything but stand there, feeling his heart beat faster and faster for every minute that passed by. His limbs felt cold and uneasy, as he looked into the fog, looking for Luindal. However, it was all in vain.

"Luindal?" he whispered longing to hear Luindal’s voice again. It was nothing more than a whisper He was petrified and scared as he heard no reply from the Captain or any one else. Galhardir then decided to try on direction as he figured just standing there wouldn't get him out of this unpleasant and horrifying situation. Suddenly, he could feel the ice beneath him being torn apart. He didn't know what was happening, except for that he found himself balancing on one of the huge ice cubes. The sound of the cruel water as it hit the ice was drowning all his other thoughts. Never had Galhardir felt so utterly alone and helpless in his entire life. Thoughts weren't welcome in these situations, just actions. He had to gain his balance if he was to keep himself above the water. That was all that mattered; keeping himself above water, because if he fell in, his chances were low. He made a jump and it led him to safety, or so he thought. He then started to run, away form the area with the torn ice, and he didn't notice the big hole right in front of him. His speed was too great, and he didn’t noticed it before he had leapt right in it.

He clenched to the ice, not wanting to let go as half of his body was already in the cold water. The icy water had already gone through his clothes and his could feel it in his limps and bones. His voice tried yet again to call for help, but it was to no use. No one could help him now. He fingers still held tight to the ice, but he knew that he wouldn't manage to do it much longer as his body went cold and his mind flew far away. He couldn't help thinking about Gunnhild, his brothers' wife and his nephew, Rodhal.

Minutes passed, and still Gahardir held tight. He fought against the frost, but he knew he could not win this battle- the water was unbeatable. His hands and fingers were frozen and as a cold wind passed, he let go - Unwillingly of course. He just couldn't hold it any longer. He would fall into the cold water underneath it. He sank slowly, and as he felt his head hit the back the hard surface he knew he was trapped. Even if he had the energy to try saving his life, it wouldn't be impossible because he was now under the thick ruthless ice. With one last try to reach the surface that was still not covered with ice, he was out of breath.

[piosenniel]

‘I don’t think I’m well healed enough to drag two of you out of the water!’ Rôg winced as he pulled Luindal back from the ragged edge of the ice, his left arm twinging at the effort. The waters of the bay lapped up through it, spilling out onto the already slippery ice and making any footing all the more precarious. ‘You need to get back there and organize the effort to haul Galhardir out with the rope.’ He looked down to where the rope seemed to be inching in slowly beneath the ice. ‘I don’t know much about the tides and even less about the currents in the bay. But I can see that the poor fellow is being dragged in even further. And hurry, there’s little time.’

Rôg pushed the Elf back toward where the line of pullers had formed. Even now they could both see how the rescuers slipped forward on the ice, unable to make any headway against the current’s pull on the man at the other end of the line. Luindal took off at a run pausing once to look back, but all he could see was the tip of a dark brown flipper as it slipped into the hole, then disappeared from view.

~*~

He’d watched the seals come up through their airholes on his trip in the earlier part of the year with his Lossoth guide Bear. Awkward seeming out of the water, their large bodies drug about with their flippers and the undulating flapping across the ice that served as their fastest means of moving, he now marveled at the economy of motion with which they could propel and maneuver themselves in the water. He’d taken a deep breath before he’d dived beneath the ice. He’d seen them do that, and now he knew why.

The air streamed out in a slow procession of tiny bubbles from his nostrils as he swam quickly down the rope, his back touching the line as he went along to keep him on track. Only a few short seconds and he had come to where Galhardir was floating, his body bobbing up and down against the roof of ice. The Lossoth’s eyes were closed and he did not respond to the Rôg as he poked his nose hard against him.

Rôg sunk his sharp seal’s teeth into the man’s sodden leather parka and began swimming back along the rope. The current was strong and the heavy clothes the Lossoth wore made it hard to move him against it. Luckily, those on the other end of the rope, now that the resistance against them had gone were able to keep the rope taut. Their efforts combined with those of the little seal brought the unfortunate Lossoth up out of the water and onto the ice. Rôg followed soon after, a decidedly bedraggled appearing and gasping seal.

A number of the Elves and Lossoth had picked up Galhardir and were transporting him back to firmer land. They’d managed, it appeared to get him breathing once more, and he could hear him asking about his nephew. Rôg scrambled back into man form and trudged back toward where the lines had been tied to the trees. Something niggled at the back of his mind. Something not quite right about something he’d seen earlier, but the image of it wasn’t clear and had become more muddled as he’d heard the shouts that someone had gone under.

He had little time to recall it into sharper focus before the confusing cries of the attack came to him . . .