Fall of the North RPG

[Garen LiLorian]

Angóre didn't bother to keep his voice down as the guards approched hesitantly. "This is foolishness." He directed his words to Betheril and Erenor. "To where are we fleeing? Are the holes of the Naugrim more defensible with a hundred men than the Citadel of the north with a legion? What friends are there to aid us in the frigid north, when we are beset again by the pursuing forces of Angmar?" His tone was scathing, his normally impassive face twisted. The braver of the two guards felt that some response was called for.

"You would do well to trust in the decision of our king, Elf. Never before has his wisdom failed." The man was red in the face, but resolute.
"For you and yours, once will be enough," replied the Elf with a twisted smile. "But I do not deny the north-King's wisdom. It is against the mistrustfulness of his ministers that I speak. For I think that many among those who have the king's ear hold no love for the Eldar, and I see their hand behind this ill-fated choice. Alas that it should come to this! Will we now hold petty squabbles of more import than the survival of the heirs of Númenor? Tell me friend, do you see any hope in this choice?" But the man was silent as he and his companion ushered the Elves out of the hall. Angóre took one last look over his shoulder at Arvedui, last king of Arnor, and his countenance softened. The man sat lost in thought, the toil and strain of his decisions clearly visible in his features. It was plain that Angóre's questions had been oft in the mind of the king as well, and similarly plain that, for all his wisdom, he didn't know the answers either.

[Mithalwen]

Erenor had not trusted herself to speak again before the king and his minister but the second the elves were alone in their quarters her anger exploded. "This is madness - he will lead them all to death in his pride, rather than seek sanctuary in another's kingdom. And that MAN!!! How dare he lecture me - I dwellt at Mithlond when Elendil fled Numenor and I have traversed Eriador oft in the long years since. Does he think me some child to be frightened by his tales of phantasms and goblins? I fear the Witch-King himself less than his stupidity. " Erenor paced the small chamber. In her plain, somewhat masculine travelling clothes she ressembled more than ever her warrior father.

"We must try to speak to the king again - I fear the old fool will haunt my steps and I will be hard pressed to get near the king's ear - but perhaps the Lindon emissary may add his voice to our cause - I cannot imagine they wish to roam the mountains any more than us. But if the king refuses - what should our course be? surely our duty is not to follow to certain death - theirs if not ours? My sire was slain fighting on the slopes of Orodruin and the victory won by his death and those of so many others was squandered in pride and folly - must we too pay the price for the arrogance of the line of Isildur?" . Erenor spat the words at noone in particular .........and spun on her heel to face her companions, her hand unconsciously rested on the hilt of the sword at her hip.

Then calmer she said : "Lady Berethil - I will try to seek contact with the minds of our lords at Imladris - I would you would add your essais to mine since your power is the greater and some are closer in kindred. We may get counsel even if we cannot hope for aid." She sat on a bench and rested her head in her hands, fatigued by her own outburst.