Red Flows the Sirannon RPG

[Firefoot]

Grimkul’s wandering attention had been attracted by Ugburz’s mention of food. Already in an irksome mood, he had been greatly irritated by the idea that this Ugburz might have food when he didn’t. And the possible combination of getting food and possibly knocking a head off to get it was greatly enticing. Not that he’d relieve Ugburz’s shoulders of his head if he didn’t have to – those higher up didn’t look kindly upon dispute in the camp.

So instead, he stepped up to Ugburz as he turned to go and laid a hand on the slightly smaller Orc’s arm. Ignoring Ulwakh’s plead to leave Ugburz alone, he growled, “And what food is it that you've got?”

“None right now,” answered Ugburz, curling his lip. His eyes shifted about in a slightly panicked manner, however, betraying the bluff. He tried to step away from Grimkul’s grip, but Grimkul grasped a little tighter.

“You’re lying,” stated Grimkul, glaring Ugburz down.

“I am not,” said Ugburz flatly. “I was going to scrounge up some food just now.” But Grimkul was certain that the other had food now, and he was getting angry now. He moved his face just inches away from the Ugburz’s as his hand strayed to his dagger hilt.

“Well, I think you’ve got food. And I think you’re going to give it to me,” growled Grimkul. At this point, Ulwakh stepped in and tried to ease Grimkul away. Grimkul did not take kindly to the interruption and slapped Ulwakh’s face with the flat of his blade. The latter drew away, cursing.

Ugburz took full advantage of Grimkul’s distraction and deftly twisted away, breaking Grimkul’s grasp on his arm. Before Grimkul could react, Ugburz had taken off sprinting, soon disappearing amongst the horde of Orcs.

With a howl of frustration, Grimkul took his dagger and slammed it into the rock at his feet as hard as he could. About a third of the blade snapped off at its contact with the unforgiving ground. Infuriated now, he picked up the remnant of his dagger and jammed it into its sheath. Then he stormed off towards their patch of ground at a great pace; Ulwakh was practically running to keep up (at a safe distance).

Even though there were numerous Orcs in the camp larger than Grimkul, they all gave him a safe berth as he passed. No one interfered with Grimkul in a temper. Upon arriving back at their camp, Grimkul found that some squeaker had thought to take over their space. In absolutely no mood for an argument, Grimkul hurled his now shortened dagger at the small Orc’s head. His aim was true, and the Orc fell dead on the spot. His mood little improved, Grimkul sat down heavily on top of the Orc he had just killed and tore into a piece of dried meat from his pack. That Ugburz was going to pay for it.

[Folwren]

Skald's suggestion of stopping for the night sounded excellent to Bror. Everyone else agreed and they took the paths that led to the said Uncle of the three Hardhammer brothers. Manni, Vetr, and Tef explained things to their surprised uncle and within a few moments, his astonishment at seeing nearly a score of young, tired, and hungry dwarves standing on his threshold turned into warm hospitality and he welcomed them in.

There was much talking during the supper he provided and afterwards, the old Hardhammer was talked into telling one of the old stories that he knew so well. He was and old, silver bearded dwarf known for the way he told the old tales and he knew the best ones to relate. So, after seeing that the fire in the hearth was huge and all of the dwarves had places to sleep once the tale was done, he launched into the story.

Try as he might, Bror could not keep his eyes open. The warmth of the large, hospitable hall filled with friends and comfort, and the voice of their story teller, pulled him farther and farther into that other world until he fell into a complete and dreamless sleep.

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Tori Ironfoot woke him the following morning, nudging him until he woke with the toe of his boot.
'Come along, sleepy,' he said laughing. 'You fell asleep during the story and you're still abed while the others are at breakfast. Hurry up, or even I shan't wait for you, nor will I save any food. Don't expect the others to.'

Bror got up quickly. 'Why didn't anyone call me?' he grumbled, stuffing his feet into his boots. 'It's not like I've an alarm in my own head.'

Tori only laughed again and went out.

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After breakfast, the company of dwarves took their leave of Master Hardhammer and went away with many thanks.


They walked on swiftly, Skald with Bildr and Bisi in the lead. There was little talking on this last march. Their minds were occupied with what the near future would bring. Most of them had been out of the mines before, but few of them had ever gone out to fight. None of them were frightened, or had the whisper of a thought to go back, but no one, regardless of how stout of heart, will leave their home without some moments of silent thought.

They went down wide, shallow stairs and came to the Second Level. Many dwarves passed in these halls and there was much coming and going. Skald continued to lead them straight on. Bror stared about him in awe. He had seen these halls a few times, though not many, and every time he passed, his wonder increased. The pillars that went up from the smooth, level floor to the rocky ceiling were carved in the most intricate and beautiful fashion, branching out at the top and bearing the resemblance of huge, silver trees.

They passed from the first hall and entered another. High in the walls, shafts of sunlight from outside the mountain streamed down through the wide windows. At the end of the hall they passed through huge, stone doors that stood open. Guards were at either side and they nodded as Skald passed through and the others followed.

Before them was the gate. The bright light from outside poured through, for they were open. Many Dwarven guards sat and stood about it.

‘We’ll wait for Riv and Uncle Orin in here,’ Skald said, turning around and facing his company.

The place they were in acted as a courtyard between the Eastern Gate and the door they had just passed through. It was brightly lit, for in the ceiling were cut windows. A blue sky could be seen from where they stood on the ground, and some white clouds floating peacefully across it.

They walked to the right and stopped by the wall to talk and rest until the others should arrive. Bror kept half an eye on the door to the mines as he carried on conversation with the dwarves.

[Encaitare]

A black, ragged tent had been erected in the center of the encampment, and it was here that Glûtkask was sharpening his axe after having had a meager supper of dried meat. The stone against the metal axe head gave off little sparks that quickly faded into ash. Off somewhere he heard an angry howl. He paid it little attention. There would always be skirmishes among his soldiers -- at least, until they were given a common enemy to dispatch first.

In came Lushurd, grumbling loudly. "Pugnacious little slime can't even spend an hour in camp without causing trouble..."

"Eh?"

Lushurd jerked his thumb in the direction he had came. "One of them in my company just stuck a knife in someone's head. That's one less able fighter for us."

Glûtkask shrugged. "What for?"

"Took his camping spot or something. I'd probably have done the same, come to think of it. Actually, I'dve had his head if he wasn't a big one himself," the lieutenant said. "Good in the front lines if he don't kill off half the company first."

"Forget it. It's not important," the captain growled as the other lieutenant, a small and sneaky orc called Kharn, entered.

"Tell you something that is important," he said. "Scout just told me he spied an Elf lurking about. They'll be coming along soon."

"Did the filth see him?" asked Glûtkask.

"He said no."

"Good." The captain hung the now-sharp weapon at his belt and spread out a crudely drawn map. "Now you'll get your tactics, Lushurd. We're behind this circle of low mountains, round the valley." He pointed to the eastern edge of the circle he described. Now, there's a pass one of our scouts that went ahead found. We'll go through there and take shelter behind the outcrops. I want our archers to rain down on them before they even know we're there. Mind you, we're not sending all our forces in case it goes bad, so use what brains you've got to pick out who to send. About a company's worth ought to do it."

Lushurd looked as though he were thinking very hard before replying, "And then?"

"And then if it goes well we go down and finish them off, of course!" Glûtkask said nastily. "Now, attacking a valley's not easy. But it's only a few of the accursed creatures. I reckon everything'll go alright."

At that moment, another shriek sounded; it seemed that there was another quarrel.

"They'll alert every Elf nearby to our presence with all that racket!" Glûtkask shouted. "Go and tell your men that if there's any more noise like that, I'll crush their worthless skulls in."

[piosenniel]

It was a full two days’ marching to reach the great hall which stood before the Eastern Gate. Along the way, other Dwarves’ hands had helped pull and push the handcarts filled with food and whatever supplies Riv and his companions had thought necessary for this venture. It had been a hasty gathering, their minds more on the task which lay ahead than on how their bellies might fare in the doing of it.

Riv paused on the threshold of the brightly lit chamber and scanned the various Dwarves who were going about their business. There, by the far wall - the one nearest the door, stood Bror, his eyes also scanning the small crowds as they came and went. Riv raised his hand, waving it in the air to catch his brother’s attention.

In a few quick steps, Orin and he and their small group had crossed the hall. The wooden wheels of their handcarts clattered on the paving stones, announcing their arrival.

[Arry]

Most of the Dwarves gathered for the escort party knew each other already, and those who didn’t were quickly introduced, their fathers’ fathers’ names trotted out to hook them firmly into their new acquaintances’ memories. Skald poked through two of the carts looking at the provender his brother and uncle had managed to gather. ‘Not bad. Not bad,’ he said looking at the dried meats and the neat packets of cram, the skins of drink.’ Fond of his food, a frown puckered his brow. ‘What! No desserts stuck in!’ he cried in mock anguish. Afi Glitterfist laughed loudly and clapped him on the back. ‘Tis not an outing which calls for dessert, young one! You come to my kitchen when we’re done and my Sinta will make a honeyed cake that will melt in your mouth!’

Skald pursed his lips as if considering the offer. ‘Well I suppose that is a prize to look forward to. The carrot at the end of the stick, eh? I’ve heard quite favorable reports of Sinta’s cooking.’

Glancing once again at the line of carts Skald asked Riv if he intended to take all the supplies with them, or did he think that perhaps some of them should be cached in the small cave at the mountain’s base, the one halfway down the path that ran along the edge of the lake.

As he waited for his brother’s answer, Skald dug out his armour and handed Bror his pile, too, to put on.

[Nurumaiel]

When Araorë saw her husband enter the room, she almost let out a sigh but caught in time, and smiled instead. Her feelings of pleasure at the thought of an evening spent with all in her family was much stronger than her feelings of regret. True, it was rather regretful that when Erinlaer and her father were together they could do nothing but play music. But Araorë had been able to spend some time talking to her daughter and hearing long answers. And that was not an exceedingly common occurrence.

Culhir greeted Heledharm, but briefly, for he was compelled to turn right away to catch Erinlaer, who flung herself into his arms as if she were a little child. "Why, daughter," he said, smiling fondly into her face, "you look fairer than ever."

She silently stepped back, took his hand, and brought him over to sit down. She took up her harp and they smiled at one another. He brought his up, and they began to play. Araorë heard and appreciated the sweet harmonies that they produced, but she knew that they would play on until it was time to bid farewell. She moved over to stand beside Heledharm, and glanced up at his face. His face showed not the slightest sign of regret, but on the contrary was quite radiant as he watched Culhir and his daughter play together. Araorë dropped her eyes again, and gazed thoughtfully at the ground. Then, hesitantly, she spoke, very lowly, so the harpists would not hear her.

"Heledharm," she murmured, "have you found my daughter Erinlaer a good wife to you?"

The happiness in Heledharm's face vanished and was replaced by an expression of deep amazement. "Why, of course!" he stammered, searching Araorë's face in a bewildered fashion. "Why do you think that perhaps I do not? Has anything I have said or done make you think this?"

"Oh, no, not at all," said Araorë. His great puzzlement did not bother her. She did not speak hastily, or apologetically, as if trying to clarify what she had said. Her tone remained very slow and very thoughtful. "But she is not, you know, the most reliable of wives."

He was silent for some time, and then, "You speak of her music."

Araorë nodded. "I do not doubt that you love to hear her play," she said. "When she was still living in our home I found her music a joy and delight. When she was very small she would dance about and sing in such a sweet, childish voice. And as she grew older and her voice grew clearer and her steps more graceful, the beauty of her song thrilled me. And when her father taught her to play the harp, and they would play together... well, you know what wonderful music they make! But sometimes I found she paid too much attention to her music. She neglected her other duties. Do you not find that because of her music other things are left undone? Even when she is not playing she is listening to songs in her head and forgets everything else about her. Does that cause her to be an annoyance to you?"

"Not at all," said Heledharm firmly. "She is my pride and joy... and more because of her music than anything else. I have found, if I am to be entirely honest, that she does neglect other things on account of her singing, dancing, and harp-playing. But..." He turned his eyes to his wife, who was playing rapturously, her eyes lifted bright and earnestly to her father's face. "But when I see her playing her music and singing, there is such happiness and peace in her face, and it's impossible for me to care whether she attends her other duties or not."

Araorë sighed. It was relief to know that Heledharm did not find Erinlaer a trial. But, all the same, her lack of responsibility was worrying.

[Esgallhugwen]

Fëaglin Lómë felt as if his head were being bombarded by rocks. Knock knock knock. And more rocks fell upon his already bruising head.

In fact so insistant was the knocking that the Elf rolled clear off his bed to try and get away from it, landing on his face. "Gruomph!", he sat up and rubbed his aching head.

Had someone been at the door? he thought dazily, after all the sound of the rocks hitting his head sounded more like wood than bone. What time was it anyway?

Fëaglin opened the curtains and his jaw dropped, he had slept in! Oh, for Ilûvatar's sake, he slept in! He lept over his bed as he pulled on a pair of breeches and a tunic and rushed into the forge firing up the furnace.

What if that had been a customer? Fëaglin shook his head and tsked himself for being so mindless.

Once the furnace was roaring away he set to work on another commision, a fair number of ceremonial daggers. To be given no doubt as badges of honour, the Elven militaries seemed to prize their assortment of nick-nacks, but they were well deserved.

And thus he continued with his day.

[Kath]

Having just managed to escape from one skirmish Ugburz was in no mood to start another back in his own camp. He ignored Gradakh, walking straight past him in search of a hidden corner to sit and eat his stolen dinner. The other orc would not be so easily disregarded however, and followed him into the darkened recess of a small cave.

"Where are you skulking off to?" Gradakh asked, standing in the entrance so Ugburz could not get out.

"Away from you for some peace and quiet!" Ugburz snarled back, desperately wishing the other orc would just leave so he could eat. Unfortunately Gradakh seemed in a mood to talk.

"So what did you see? News is there was an Elf sighting." He spat on the ground as if disgusted by the mere name.

"There was, it was by me. There was just the one of them, a scout I'd guess come to check out the paths. Happy now?"

Giving up on the idea of waiting Gradakh out he got up and pushed past him. He quickly disappeared into a group of larger orcs and crawled through some undergrowth near the edge of the camp. He could see Gradakh in the distance, scowling but obviously with no idea where he had gone. Sighing with relief he settled back into the grass and finally wolfed down his food.

Exhausted from marching all day and then having to scout most of the evening, he fell almost immediately into a deep sleep even despite the noise of the camp all around him and the fighting of the orcs between themselves.

He did not wake again until the next morning when someone fell over him on their way out of the camp.

"Curse you! What are you doing lying where you can't be seen?" asked the orc suspiciously.

"Keeping out the way, now get off me!" he replied, shoving the other orc of him and scrambling to his feet. He looked up and saw the sun beginning to rise over the horizon. Hurriedly he shuffled into a nearby tent, trying to avoid the light and in search of anyone who might know what the plans for the day were.