Red Flows the Sirannon RPG

[Orofaniel]

First Geldion had to laugh at Onormirë’s last comment regarding the so called headache the Captains supposedly were suffering from.

"You're asking me, old friend?" Geldion replied when he had returned to his usual face expression. Ondomirë was curious to know whether Geldion was sharing the same excitement for the upcoming task; Setting out with the troops for the Eastern Region. "I am," Ondomirë confirmed, looking at Geldion, obviously expecting an answer straight away.

Geldion thought for a moment. He was, whether he admitted it or not, a bit anxious to set out for the eastern regions. It wasn’t only the journey that concerned him, but also the horrors that perhaps awaited him there. He felt a certain anxiety lurking inside of him as his thoughts were spinning. After all, this whole experience was quite new to him. It was a new period in his life. He had evolved and he felt himself surrounded by a completely new, and a perhaps more tense, atmosphere. He knew that in these times he could not expect any less, but all the same, things were not the same after Geldion had been appointed to lead the swordsmen as their captain. Of course, he was very grateful, and he had no regrets, but still there was something lingering inside of him.

"I too will be glad when we finally set out for and reach the eastern region," Geldion then said.

"But.." Ondomirë then said questioningly. Geldion should have known; Ondomirë knew him better than most people, and there seemed to be nothing that accidentally could pass the elf unnoticed. Geldion gave a shot laugh and looked at his friend, who understood that he had hit a somewhat soft spot.

"Well, the new times makes me weary. Things are not the same. Changes are not always good," Geldion told him. "Do you wish to withdraw from the Captain position?" Hensirë then asked bluntly. He was a bit bold when asking this, and thus the two elves and Alcarfalon laughed merrily. "No...no..I'm grateful. It's an honour," Geldion then answered. “An honour it is indeed,” Hénsirë said and raised his glass. “Let us cheer for that,” he suggested and drank until there wasn’t a single drop of vine left in his glass.

Hénsirë gestured that it was time for a refill. Geldion now noticed that both of the two elves had been drinking quite a lot of the wonderful vines offered them. He eyed Alcarfalon as he offered Hénsirë another glass of the liquid that the elf Captain loved so dearly.

[Folwren]

Bror paced the end of the large chamber that he was to meet Skald in. His hands thrust in his pocket, and his boots clumping softly as he went from one entrance to another and back again. After several minutes, Skald appeared at the far end and came towards him. Bror looked up expectantly, but Skald showed no signs of having had nearly half a gallon of water dumped on him less than an hour ago. There was not even the shadow of any anger or intended revenge on his face. It did not truly fool Bor, though, and the younger brother just smiled broadly, knowing for a fact that Skald hadn’t forgotten and was just putting up a mask of disguise.

‘I’m going to see the Grimsteel’s first,’ Skald said when he reached him. ‘I’m sure Bildr and Bisi will want to lend their hammers to our company. And I know they’ve just finished the project the King had set for them, so they will be at loose ends and ready for a bit of action.’ He paused to think a moment and Bror waited patiently. ‘Meet you down the way where path dips down toward the King’s bridge. You have some fellows near here you’re going to round up, yes?’ Skald glanced at him and Bror nodded. ‘I won’t call on any others until we reach the eastern chambers . . . the Brassbeards and the Hardhammers have a few strong arms they can send with us, I’m sure.’

‘Sounds like a good plan to me,’ Bror replied. ‘It shouldn’t take longer than today to get down there, so I’ll see you later on.’ They both nodded and turned away from each other to take different roads in their own direction.

Bror set off at a rather swift clip down the passage way. He greeted the dwarves around his age with a merry ‘Good morning!’ and gave a more sober bow of the head as he passed the older, respectable dwarves.

After a time he turned off of the main road he had been following. The sound of several hammers filled the air around him and he went on into a smaller room with high, vaulting roofs. Four dwarves worked at two anvils and one, large furnace. Bror walked towards them and waited silently until he was noticed. One of the dwarves, the oldest one and father of the other three, soon caught sight of him from the corner of his eye as he set the iron that he was working into the coals.

‘Why it’s Bror Stonecut!’ he bellowed. ‘What are you doing here, sir?’ he asked, burrowing the thick metal into the red, glowing coals with his tongs.

‘I’m here to gather recruits, Master Ironfoot,’ Bror replied, ‘and if you can spare Fundin, Fori, and Tori for a few days, we’d certainly appreciate them.’

Master Ironfoot walked away from the fire and stroked his beard thoughtfully. He looked down at Bror in consideration for a moment. The other hammers fell still and the three sons listened expectantly. ‘What are you going off to do?’

‘There are elves coming through the mines and my brothers and I have been given the job of escorting them through. We’re meeting them out beyond the East Gate. But Riv figures we may have trouble with orcs on the way and so we need more dwarves.’

Ironfoot grunted and turned back to the fire. He removed the iron with his tongs and studied the heated metal and returned it back again.

‘I can spare them. Things are not too busy here at the forge.’

‘Thank you, sir!” Bror said, a grin breaking out immediately on his face. “All you fellows need is your armor and weapons and enough stuff to munch on until we reach the East Gate. Riv’ll have provisions after that.’

The four of them were off and on their way in another ten minutes. They made a jolly group and talked much. Bror was the youngest of them, but no one seemed to mind at all. They were all less than a hundred, though Fundin was almost there, and were all still quite merry.

Along their road they gathered two others. By the time the dwarven smiths were leaving their work and heading for home, Bror and his five companions reached the King’s bridge. Skald was already there waiting for him with the dwarves he had recruited.

‘Hollo!’ cried Bror from the top of the dip. Skald looked up and merely waved. In another moment, the two groups were together and greeting each other. Bror clapped Skald on the shoulder.

‘Well, here we are, big brother, right on time and ready to go. They’ve got their axes and hammers and we’re all in high spirits. May as well walk more tonight. You lead.’

[Boromir88]

Orin nodded at Riv's hint of getting some sleep. Everyone was going to need it and Orin was pretty sure he wasn't going to get much tonight. "Good night Riv, and watch over your brothers. I'll see you after I've gotten everyone and everything ready."

As Orin was leaving he noticed Fawrin was still there with another dwarf; he recognized him as Gram. "Greetings Orin, I'm surprised you're still up." said Fawrin.

"What is that supposed to mean?" joked Orin. "Are you trying to say I'm old?"

"Oh..not at all. Of course not."

"Well, boys I'm still here because I need to ask a favor of you." He now had the full attention of both dwarves. "You may have heard that orcs have been multiplying and the elves are getting restless. Their afraid of something, or someone, and are now trying to gather their full strength, preparing for whatever it is to come. We have been asked to escort the Lorien elves through the Mines and now I ask you to join us as we are going to need as many strong lads as we can spare."

Fawrin and Gram looked hard at Orin, and after a long pause Fawrin spoke up. "You have not told us everything you know or everything you deem to know, but I have no doubt the Elves are scared over something. It's not usual for Elves to get frantic, but it has to be something big if the Lorien Elves need a passage through the mines."

"I assure you I've told you everything I am certain to be true. I'm sure you are the one that knows more than me, Fawrin. All I know is the Lorien Elves need a passage through Moria and we are called to help them. So, now I call you to lend us your axes, and come to aid us."

Fawrin made a gesture to Gram, Orin was sure they agreed to join. "We will help in whatever ways we can." Gram said. "What are the plans?"

"Well I am to meet up with my oldest nephew, Riv, and from there we head off to the East-Gate. Pack lightly as my other nephews are going to gather more lads and plenty of food. I would also suggest to bring whatever armor for battle. You never know what problems or run-ins might occur. Please try to gather any other strong dwarves you know and come to my room when you are ready, and we'll meet you there."

"Aye," said Fawrin, lowly. "You better get some sleep you look awful."

Orin chuckled and with that he said goodbye to his newly acquire companions. He was glad they agreed to help, especially Fawrin. Orin always appears in a much more cheerful mood when Fawrin is around.

He got to his small room and looked around. "I'm going to miss this place," he sighed. "Oh well, I'm sure to see it again some day. Atleast I hope to." He looked around and wondered if he should start packing or if he should just lie down and drift to sleep. He knew if he was to go to sleep he would wake up much later then he would like and thought it would be best to get ready while he was still up. However, the thought of rest was too strong and he laid down to sleep. Despite what he had thought earlier in the day, he went fast to sleep, and had a peaceful, dreamless slumber until morning.

~*~*~

When Orin awoke he knew he had overslept. He guessed it to be a little before noon, but atleast he was fully refreshed. But, now he needed to hurry as he didn't wish to keep Riv waiting long. Quickly he gathered his own armor and whatever food he could find. Some dried fruit, lots of cram, and the rest of the salted pork (his favorite).

As he was scrambling around his chamber there was a knocking on his door. He figured it was Fawrin and Gram and wondered if they found anyone else. He thought he got everything he could carry and thought he needed. He went rushing to the door and sure enough it was Fawrin and Gram with two other dwarves. Orin had seen them before and Fawrin introduced them as Regil and Mar.

"We better set for Riv's chambers immediately as I fear I've kept him waiting too long." Orin said. The others agreed. They got to Riv's hall, by this time it was well past noon, and Orin was hoping Riv was still the patient dwarf he had known him to be.

When Orin and his companions had walked in Riv and five other dwarves were still busily getting things together. "Wow and I thought I was going to be late" Orin said loud enough for Riv to stop.

"Uncle!" Riv exclaimed. "Just walk right in, as you can see I'm still not ready. I think we should be leaving soon, Skald and Bror have already set off. Perhaps we could have something to fill our stomachs before we go?"

Orin liked that suggestion as he totally slept past breakfast. "Pardon my rudeness lads, but this is my nephew Riv. And Riv, this is Fawrin, Gram, Regil, and Mar. They're coming with us."

"Good, glad to have you lads." said Riv. "This is Afi, Brand, and Dari. Plus their apprentices Egil and Odi."

"Ahh, Afi, Brand, and Dari, huh? I know your father well. Glad to have you."

After they had a hearty meal and were completely filled it was nearing 3 o'clock. They were all ready to go and soon set off on the long journey. Although none of them knew what they were in for and how long their journey was going to be.

[Alcarillo]

Cainenyo walked through Ost-in-Edhil until he arrived at his destination: the cobblestone street of Celebdur's shop. Cainenyo walked towards Celebdur's, an old crumbly building, but another shop directly across the street caught his eye. A wooden sign proclaimed that it was owned by Fëaglin Lómë. He walked towards this shop instead and was impressed by the quality of the jewelry in the window. A myriad of sparkling silver stood before him, shining like the moon. Tiny jewels shed colorful light on the silver, and the effect was mesmerizing. Cainenyo knocked on the old door, deciding to try this smith instead.

There was no answer, so Cainenyo knocked again. Still no answer. "Master Lómë, sir," Cainenyo said with a somewhat raised voice. He banged on the door a little harder. "Sir, are you home?" There was no noise of a forge, and his question wasn't answered, so Cainenyo assumed that Fëaglin Lómë indeed wasn't home at the time, and so turned his back on Fëaglin's shop and went to Celebdur's across the street.

Cainenyo knocked on Celebdur's red-painted door. At least I can count on one celebdan being home today he sighed. The sounds of work inside halted for a moment, but was then resumed (by Cainenyo's son, no doubt), and the door opened to reveal Celebdur, who was rather short for an Elf, and with a rather stubby nose. Cainenyo always assumed that this was due to being struck by a hammer in the face one day, but he did not voice this thought to anyone save Alassante. "Cainenyo, it is good to see you again! I have not seen you in this part of town for an age! What can I do for you? Are you here for Arenwino? He's very good with silver, like a fish to water, I'd say."

Cainenyo raised his hand a bit to show that he wanted to speak. "No, no, I am not here to speak with Arenwino. I came to commission a piece for you." Celebdur folded his arms and now focused his full attention on Cainenyo's hands as they reached into one of his deep apron pockets and removed a knife, long and like a blade of grass. "I would like some silver-work done about the top of the hilt, about here," he indicated with a finger, "I'd like some vines to twist around it, with some flowers, if possible."

"Ah, I'll see what I and your son can do," Celebdur responded. He took the knife into his arms, holding it almost like a precious child of his own, and ascended the doorstep. "Come back about this time tomorrow. It should be done by then." He opened the door and reentered his shop, leaving Cainenyo standing in the street.

Cainenyo walked home as the morning turned into noon, where Alassante informed him that a man had arrived looking for him. "Really? Was he here to commission a piece?" Cainenyo asked her. She answered yes, and that the man, named Eregedhel, had asked for a candelabrum, just like one that stood in Cainenyo's forge, only taller. She disappeared into the house and he started work on his new commission.

He heated iron in crucibles, and poured them into molds, and hammered away on his work, only stopping for the lunch his wife served and to finish the wine he left on the table that morning. He was joyful to make one of his favorite pieces, a welcome break from knives and armor and swords. The shadows lengthened as the sun drifted across the sky, and the distinct beginnings of a candelabrum were beginning to take shape in Cainenyo's forge.

It was growing later, and his work was almost finished when Alassante stepped into the forge from the courtyard. "Dear," she said, laying a hand on her husband's shoulder, "It is growing late, and Arenwino usually comes at this time. Will you go find him? I am worried."

Cainenyo was more worried by his wife's concern than his son's tardiness, but he complied and set down his hammer and, kissing his wife good-bye, retraced his steps back towards Celebdur's shop. There were noticeably less people on the streets than there were earlier. Most people had already arrived at their homes after a solid day of work. The sun drifted towards the Undying Lands, and it was soon, not far from the silversmiths, that Cainenyo spotted his son walking down the almost empty street. Arenwino wore an apron and gloves, and looked remarkably like his father as he made his way through the city. "Where have you been?" Cainenyo asked when they met.

"Did mother send you out to find me?" He asked, knowing the answer. "I'm sorry that I'm late. Celebdur and I worked all afternoon on one little knife, and he wanted me to finish it before I left." Cainenyo grinned. So I'm the cause of my son's lateness, he thought. "At least somebody will be very pleased by his new knife," Cainenyo added. They walked home in the light of the dwindling sun, where they knew Alassante would greet them with an opportunity to rest after a long day of work.

[Firefoot]

After Lushurd passed on, neither Grimkul nor Ulwakh made any attempt to “get the camp in order.” Grimkul had returned to his task of spearing rodents (without any luck), while Ulwakh was paying more attention to what was going on in the camp – in particular, to the returning scouts. Grimkul may not care, but Ulwakh had found it to his benefit to know everything that was going on. It was the best way to avoid attention from those higher up, an essential for a smaller, less strong Orc.

Ulwakh soon spotted one that he knew: a burly creature by the name of Ugburz. “Hey, Grimkul,” said Ulwakh, not taking his eyes off Ugburz. Grimkul didn’t look up, though still listened. “Let’s go find out what’s going on from Ugburz; he was one of the scouts tonight.” Now Grimkul did look up, and his features were twisted in irritation. He was hungry and concentrated on his task, and Ulwakh wanted news?

“Can it wait?” The mouse’s whiskers appeared at the bottom of the hole again. “Why don’t you just go by yourself for once?”

“Um…” Ulwakh debated. Ugburz seemed to be going someplace, and Ulwakh was not so bold as to interrupt such a large Orc once he was busy, and going alone was out of the question. The whole army was liable to be irritable after such a long cold march, and he was a mighty easy target without Grimkul’s protection. “It won’t take long, then you can come back and eat,” Ulwakh evaded.

Grimkul’s mouse seemed to become suddenly wary of danger and once more ducked out of sight. “Pushdug rodent!” Grimkul snarled. “Fine, where’s Ugburz at?”

“That way,” Ulwakh pointed, picking up his pack. He didn’t dare leave anything unguarded in this camp. Grimkul followed suit and the pair threaded their way through the rather haphazard camp.

“Ugburz!” called Ulwakh as they caught up. Grimkul stood behind, still thinking about his dinner (or lack thereof). When Ugburz turned around, Ulwakh continued, “You were a scout tonight, weren’t you? What’s happening with those filthy Elves?”

[Kath]

Hearing his name being called from behind Ugburz hurriedly stuffed his ill-gotten gains into a hidden pocket inside his armour and turned round to see a pair of orcs. He knew they were members of Lushurd's company and that the bigger one, Grimkul was supposed to have a reputation for being a bit unstable. Ulwakh the little one just looked like he was begging for a beating, cocky little thing, but Ugburz wasn't stupid enough to pick a fight with that hulking protector around, so he left it be for now.

“You were a scout tonight, weren’t you? What’s happening with those filthy Elves?” asked Ulwakh.

"Not sure. There's some of them around thats for definite, I saw one skulking along on the lookout so they must be getting close. Told the boss but he just disappeared off afterwards so I don't know what the plan is yet. I guess we'll be getting ready to fight, or we would if they had any sense. Right now though I don't really care, I just want some food. Those blasted leaders sent us off the second we stopped to camp, and I've had nothing to eat all day!"

He turned away again and began to walk off when a large hand clamped down on his shoulder and twisted him back around. He found himself looking into the gleaming eyes of the larger orc.

"And what food is it that you've got?" growled Grimkul.

[Durelin]

It was already well into the afternoon when Maegisil reached Celebrimbor’s house, and the sun was beginning to set by the time the elf-lord was finished idly speaking of the day’s events, of the comings and goings of members of his court, of the arrival of refugees from outlying towns, and of preparations for the war. The last subject was one that Celebrimbor did his best to talk about lightly, avoiding any details concerning the war, and remaining outwardly indifferent, as if he were only engaging in casual chitchat. Maegisil knew this outward appearance was nothing more than a mask. He was not about to interrupt his lord, though, and he chatted with Celebrimbor for at least two hours, perhaps more, until he found an opening to bring something to the elf-lord’s attention.

“I spoke with someone of interest today as well, my lord,” he said lightly, as if the person he was talking about was only an old friend; and that it was, though not to Maegisil.

“Oh?” Celebrimbor questioned, staring out a broad window overlooking the eastern part of the city, his back to where his counselor sat. Maegisil knew the elf-lord could not look to the east and not think of the threat that lay far beyond the Misty Mountains: far, and yet not so. “Who was that?”

“Narisiel Mirdain.”

The lord immediately turned around to face his friend. “What did you say?”

“I spoke to Narisiel Mirdain today. I was looking to request something of a mirdan, and I remembered she was your friend, long ago.”

Celebrimbor sighed, looking to the floor as he sat back down on a low gilded couch. “Not so long ago, Maegisil.”

“No, I suppose not… She asked of you.”

“Did she?” the elf-lord asked, looking up at his companion with sudden interest, “What did she wish to know?”

“She only questioned me concerning your health. She seemed quite concerned, my lord.”

Celebrimbor did not respond, but only let his eyes travel around the room to rest on a tapestry that he must have stared at a thousand times before, deep in thought as he was now, sprawled comfortably on a couch but not looking at all at ease. He had always been a thinker, and a bit of a dreamer, able to spend hours just sitting and staring at the same spot on the walls of his chambers, contemplating far too many possibilities, probabilities, and worries. Perhaps this was why he had befriended Maegisil, who felt as if he understood how his lord’s mind worked. He empathized with and felt akin to Celebrimbor more than the elf knew, and more than he would ever dare to tell him.

Reading his friend’s face, Maegisil guessed that Celebrimbor’s thoughts were on Narisiel and the past. Feeling it time to break the silence and bring his lord out of his thoughts, he said, “Narisiel spoke of wishing to speak to you. She will be visiting the palace within the next few days…I hope you will be able to take the time to see her.”

The elf-lord looked up at his advisor once again, looking into his eyes and searching them. Maegisil was reminded of how Sairien has searched his eyes that morning and found what she had looked for, whatever it had been.

“Thank you, dear Maegisil. I am glad to hear from Narisiel… I promise you that I will have time to speak to her,” he paused, and a smile appeared to lighten his features, “or make time if I do not.”

Maegisil returned his lord's smile, and his spirits were lightened, even as the world around him darkened.