Hunt for the Palantíri RPG

[Imladris]

Jynne dived into a clump of evening shadows and watched the Corsairs clash blades with the Snowmen, all the while wondering if Marreth would ever learn that one could not underestimate elves. They were not defeated easily, and had the nasty ability to wriggle free from tight places.

Of course, fighting was never the best way to get things done, he observed thinly. Naturally, you kill the enemy, but then you yourself die along with them. Of course, there were the few that survived, but fighting was not a winner's game. Both sides ultimately lost. Why play a game one couldn't win?

Then he saw her. The female elf. An evil grin cracked his face. Why were the elves so foolish? Sliding from the shadows, he slipped towards her. His dagger whispered from its sheath.

She was hanging around the edges of the fighting. Her fingers fidgeted, her feet tapped as if she wanted to go and help but then thought better of it.

Foolish girl.

Silently as the shadows fell, he wrapped his arm around her neck, and deftly caught her small wrists in his iron fist. She gasped, but swallowed her scream, which was something. Most women shrieked and fainted at the first sign of danger. "Do you feel that?" he whispered, pricking her neck with his dagger. "Fear that, and things may go well for you. I owe you my thanks, though" he added, nodding his head in a mock bow. "The elves were foolish to bring you along. They will do anything to save a woman." Licking his lips, he shouted, "Oy! Snowman leader!"

Some of the Snowmen and the elves had already noticed the elven lady's predicament and had stopped fighting, suddenly wondering what they were to do. Jynne laughed silently to himself. They were men of small stature to be so easily blown apart by a gusty gale.

"Now that we have finished this foolishness," Jynne said silkily, "I would like to make you an offer. Give us Hilde --" he cast a distasteful glance at her (if she had been more careful they wouldn't be here) -- "or your elf will never see the light of the Valar on a westward ship."

[Niluial]

Andtuariel gasped as the cold blade of the dagger was held against her skin and hard, rough hands grabbed her small and fragile wrists. She breathed deeply trying to quell the fear that bubbled somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Andtuariel felt a slight trickle of blood creeping down her neck as the corsair held the dagger too closely. The one thought that echoed through her mind was, "What is happening...why was the Corsair doing this?” Then she realized that she was a bargaining chip. They would kill her...

"Do you feel that?" he said, his voice cold, sly and creepy. "Fear that, and things may go well for you. I owe you my thanks, though" the corsair added. “The elves were foolish to bring you along. They will do anything to save a woman." He hissed softly, and tightened his grip. She cringed, hating the filthy feel of his hands. "Oy! Snowman leader!" he shouted loudly.

Everyone stopped as they noticed her. No… ignore him, keep on fighting.

"Now that we have finished this foolishness, I would like to make you an offer. Give us Hilde or your elf will never see the light of the Valar on a westward ship."

She felt a cold, numb feeling swell inside of her. She could die. She could never go west. She must not think about that...

Andtuariel heard a few people gasping and others whispering. She watched the crowds slowly step back when a sudden shout came from the crowds, “Let her go!” Andtuariel saw a tall handsome figure, it was Elwë. He was about to run right up to her when Annû grabbed Elwë and pulled him back, whispering something in Elwë’s ear.

Andtuariel watched the elves discuss the situation, while the corsair stood silently behind her though the grip on his knife never faltered. Andtuariel was scared, wishing that she could live, yet hoping they wouldn't turn Hilde over to the Corsairs. Finally the elves finished and Elwë walked up and said while trying to keep calm, “we will give you Hilde if you give us Andtuariel.”

Andtuariel didn’t believe the Corsairs would stick to their side of the deal, why would they? She was hoping they would, but doubted it.

[Arry]

Carandû watched as his brother pulled Elwë aside. And then heard Elwë speaking to the Southrons who held Andtuariel - ‘We will give you Hilde if you will give us Andtuariel.’ It was obvious that Elwë had never treated with the men from the shadowed south. Why should they give the Elf back? It would be far more strategic to keep her – to force the others of Luindal’s band out of the bay and out of the picture as far as finding the palantíri. As far as he could see, Andtuariel was an unfortunate player in this. She would be dead or worse no matter if Hilde were given back or kept prisoner.

As Elwë waited for the Corsair answer, Carandû made his way up to where Hilde was ringed by the other Elves, a smug look on her face. ‘You are nothing but fodder for carrion eaters, old woman,’ he growled at her snatching her up easily in his grip. Dragging her across the ice toward where the Corsair held the Elf captive, he cried out in a great voice. ‘Is this the offal that you seek, southern dung beetles?’ ‘Take her, then,’ he bellowed heaving her small form at the one who held Andtuariel.

Carandû nocked an arrow and let it fly after the Lossoth spy, intending to kill her at the feet of the curs who’d bought her. One of the Corsairs loosed an arrow of his own, bringing the Elf down. He could hear the enraged cries of his brother as he fell, and the zip . . . zip of arrows as they cut through the air from Annû’s bow . . .

[piosenniel]

Rôg’s first impulse was simply to flee. He did not care for combat, save by ink, quill, and paper or by words spoken within the agreed boundaries of debate. No hint of warrior blood informed his actions when faced with clashes of the physical sort. Weaponless, he backed behind Bear who seemed about to run himself. ‘What’s happening?’ he whispered.

‘That Carandû fellow . . . the one what went down,’ he heard Bear say, who now seemed rooted to the ice as he watched the events unfold ahead. ‘He’s bleedin’ awful bad. You can see the red spreading out on the ice. ‘His brother’s shootin’ at the Corsairs and now it looks like the other Elves and my people have joined in.’

‘What about that Elf that was leading us?’ he said, peering around the Lossoth’s shoulder.

‘Can’t say. Can’t see her in all the hubbub.’ Bear shifted his spear to his right hand in preparation for joining the fight. ‘Come on. We can’t leave them to fight by themselves.’ He pulled Rôg forward, shaking his head at the man’s empty hands. ‘Do something, or your friends will be slaughtered!’ Bear took off running to join the fray.

And probably so will I!’ squeaked the skinchanger to himself. He shrugged his shoulders, thinking wildly. The image came to him of the goshawk he’d seen earlier in the year, a snow-hare plucked easily from the ground as it ran for cover; long, strong, sharp talons of the raptor sunk readily into the flesh . . .

Flap . . . flap . . . glide . . .

The wings of the blue-grey bird pushed him over the heads of the combatants. From his vantage point he could see the Corsair still had Andtuariel in some sort of a grip. As the bird drew near, he dropped lower, his long legs extending toward the man’s head. Talons finding purchase, he dipped his sharp hooked beak and sank it deeply round the man’s nose . . . giving it a strong, hard nip.

There! That should give the Elf a fighting chance!

With a rapid flutter of wings, he flew off seeking other suitable “prey” . . .

[Imladris]

The bird came from nowhere, descending upon him like a hawk upon a mouse. Jynne roared with pain as the bird bit him on the nose, but had the sense not to let go of the elven wench. He tightened his grip upon her wrists, and shifted the knife so that it could more easily slit her throat in a moment's time.

The arrows reigned around them, and he backed against a tree, clutching the wench as a shield against him. He could feel the blood run down his nose, bathing his lips crimson.

Raising his voice, he shouted, "ENOUGH OF THIS OR THE ELF WILL MEET A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH!"

The silver blade flashed across her cheeks...a river of blood appeared. "This can do much worse," he said in a soft silky voice that penetrated the air. "This blade is bathed in poison, it burns you skin, does it not?" he asked almost politely. He smiled thinly as she nodded her head, a soft whimper on her lips. "And not even your bird fiend will save her," he added. "If I so much as see a shadow a birdish shadow, or hear a flutter of wings, I will not hesitate to strike. Maybe, I'll strike in such a way that she dies a slow, painful death that not even the elves can stay," he whispered silkily. "If the foolish Hilde dies, this elf dies -- very painfully."

[Arry]

His brother was dead. No flicker of familiar thoughts eased Annû’s mind as he laid his hand on the unmoving chest. He wondered for one brief moment if the old tales were indeed true. Would he meet his brother once again in the West; see him walking with that impish look in his grey eyes as he left Namo’s halls, lips curved in a smile?

"ENOUGH OF THIS OR THE ELF WILL MEET A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH!"

The Corsair’s voice cut through Annû’s thoughts. He blinked back his tears, anger replacing sorrow. Annû stood, looking toward where the southron held Andtuariel. A quick glance about and he saw Elwë standing still as death, eyes fixed on her; barely breathing as the Corsair’s knife held steady against Andtuariel’s neck. Tucking his anger away with his sorrow, Annû called out to the Corsair.

‘Stay your hand! You have Hilde, still alive it seems, as I can see her huddling low like some dog at her master’s feet. We will retreat back to our boats – leaving one on the shore for Andtuariel. Two of us will wait for her.’

The remaining Elves and Lossoth retreated as quickly as they could, leaving their dead behind. Reaching the shore where the boats were tied, they made for the ship, oars dipping silently into the cold waters of the bay.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Regin Hardhammer's post

Marreth did not like surprises from his own men. And he was angry that Jynne had pulled this off on his own without even bothering to inform him beforehand. His men were a band of pirates whom he expected to obey his orders, to act together as a group, and not go off on some hairbrained scheme of their own making. If Jynne did this once, he was apt to do it another time and the results could be less than gratifying.

In the full hearing of all the company, he turned and snarled, "Jynne, lay down your blade. We can surely handle a dainty morsel such as this with a good sturdy dagger and no poison on the tip. And the next time you decide to bring along a poisoned dagger, or perform a stunt like this, I want to hear about it first. I am the one in charge here, and I give the orders!. "

"Now, maties," he turned back with a broad grin to his other men. "As long as we have this little princess in our control, we might as well make use of her. She will be our special guest." He turned and flashed her a welcoming grin and then continued, "You've no need to fear. As soon as your friend Luindal brings me the Stones, you'll return safely to your friends, but not till I have the palantiri in my hands."

"What about them?" Jynne sulkily prodded, pointing towards the two from the Elven party who had remained behind. The look on Jynne's face left little doubt that he preferred to see their bodies lying on the ground.

"Come now, Jynne," Marreth replied in a silky voice. "We mustn't be greedy. I've no use for more than one captive, and this one looks prettier than those two." Marreth saw Jynne's fingers tighten on his dagger as he turned and scowled. The Captain replied so all could hear. "If anyone lays a hand on either of those men, they will answer personally to me!"

Marreth then turn and spoke to the two, "Return to your ship. The Elf stays with me. She is war plunder fairly won. But I am a generous man. Have Luindal bring me the Stones, and she will go home. But try any tricks....try to escape with the magic Stones....and this little lady will walk the plank."

He turned and shook his head: "Not a pleasant way to die, I'm afraid. Once you get beyond the waters of the Bay, the sharks are very hungry. Always looking for a morsel to eat, and the waves very high. A frail thing like this wouldn't have a chance."

For one moment, it looked as if one member of the waiting party would charge forward with sword outstretched in a foolish gesture that could only end in death. But his comrade took charge and forcibly held him back, shouting to Marreth that this thing was not ended and that there would be a price to pay. The Corsair only turned and laughed, saying he didn't make it a practice to pay for anything. He simply took what he wanted, and this little Elf maiden was not different at all.....

Seeing that any attempt to rescue Andtuariel would only be a foolish gesture with nothing positive gained, Luindal's men turned and walked back to their boat.

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Niluial's post:

Andtuariel pulled and struggled but her hands had been tied together firmly -- but Marreth had seen to it that Jynne hadn't tied the thongs cruelly tight. She knew that there was no way out of this. She sat in the row boat, glaring at the filthy pirates around her. One Corsair licked his lips with a smug, sickening look upon his face. She looked back on the shore, panic stricken. She didn’t want to die yet she didn’t want to be around these awful Corsairs anymore. Andtuariel had always wanted to die a hero -- yet this wasn't exactly a heroic way to die.

Her thoughts left the rowing boat, left all her troubles… she thought of Elwë. She knew he was probably crying or angry or filled with mixed emotions. Andtuariel was worried about him and what he may do to himself, to the others just to save her life. She was also worried about the stones, she wanted to live but would rather be dead than to see those precious stones in the Corsairs filthy hands!