Fall of the North RPG

[CaptainofDespair]

The pale light of the new morning had risen, and issued forth its rays upon the land. However, all was still cold and bleak, at least to the counselor. He had awoken with a yawn, but still retaining some exhaustion, he fell back onto his cot with a resounding thud. He could hear soldiers running about the camp. “Just morning combat exercises,” he thought. But then, an emissary, one different in appearance than the normal ones, probably one of Hírvegil’s, tore open the flap to his rather weakly built tent, and spurted out a few words. “Milord Mitharan, your presence is requested by the Captain. It is of utmost urgency.” The counselor groaned, attempting to refuse the summons by all means. But, at long last, he wearily rose, and put on a few articles of clothing. Wrapping himself in a fur robe as he exited, he muttered, “The Captain better have good reason for dragging me away from a near-slumber...”

The camp was aroused, full of excitement. But over what, the counselor knew not, and probably cared not for. It took him a few moments to find his way through the crowds of soldiers who were pacing about, but he eventually made it to the Captain’s tent. He could hear Belegorn’s voice, but he could not decipher the words, save for “The elves are secretive, who is to say they have told us the whole truth or in this case the very truth of the matter itself?” The grogginess would soon pass, he hoped, or not. He would rather be sleeping. Lazily, he folded back the corner of the tent’s flap, and stuck his head, and a bit of his upper torso, into the Captain’s chambers. Hírvegil looked up from his hands, but did not respond. So Mitharan did, in his most tired and irritated speech, as he pushed his way past the leather hide flap. “Why have I been roused from slumber? The reasoning for such intrusion of my rest had better be good, Captain.” At this, the world-weary captain did respond. “We have a situation, counselor. Orcs have come in the night, and captured the Elven emissaries of Lindon and Rivendell.”
“Captured?” That was the only response to the event the young counselor could muster. He looked at the captain in dismay, pondering the next course his mind would take. After a moment he added, “What is the course of action you are to take, or have you summoned me here for counsel, as is my purpose?” The captain could only nod, and Mitharan took this to be a ‘yes’ at the latter portion of his query. “Then my only counsel is on the Elves to determine why they were taken. As for the initial purpose of this train, continue with its course.” The counselor sighed, adding, “I would recommend allowing all to rest, as may have been intended, while allowing scouts, and military detachments to go forth in search of these lost Elves.” He paused, allowing himself to take a breath, and wake up a bit more. He continued from there, attaching, “I believe this path would allow us to continue to Ered Luin, and search for the Elves without much pause. The King would not be pleased to lose a nation-saving alliance because we allowed the Elves to not only be captured, but be kept as hostages.” He bowed low, and exited, finishing with “I will be in my quarters if needed for further counsel,” as he pushed past the flap in the tent, and out into the morning air.

As he left the presence of the captain and his lieutenant, he could not help but marvel at the stealth of the orcs. But, those thoughts would have to wait, he needed to return to his tent for another stint of sleep. He meandered his way through the droves of militia and guardsmen, slowly at first, but then at a speedier pace, as his desire to sleep just a mere moment more forced him on. He cared not for who he bumped into, and nor did he notice much. But, once in awhile he would attract a scowl and “Hey! Watch where you’re going!.” Finally, he had arrived in his home away from home, his own personal lodgings. As he plopped down onto the rickety cot, he heaved a sigh of relief, and tried to slip into his world of dreams. But alas, he could not, for his mind was not at ease. “How could Orcs slip into the camp without anyone knowing? They would need an especially crafty and strong-willed leader to keep them from marauding and plundering the camp. Yet, this cannot be the work of the Witch-King, or his chief minions.” He closed his eyes again, and rubbed the side of his head, trying to weave his way through the maze of thoughts that was his mind. “Whatever the case, they had a purpose. Perhaps the Elves themselves could be the answer...”