Mithrilstone

Curubethion · 03-28-2006, 11:44 PM

Dusk faded over the landscape. Makoin and Gimli walked along the road north, under the foothills of the Misty Mountains. The air was cold, and they were nearly shivering. A bird called somewhere, as their feet crushed the dirt underneath them. Dusk still faded.

"We should get a fire going," Gimli told his companion. "We'll stop here for the night."

"All right, then. How long until we're back at the Iron Hills?" asked Makoin.

"Oh, a week's journey, maybe two. Something smells of adventure, though. Nah...I've had enough adventure for now."

"Look! What's-that?"

It was a lump next to the road, nestled in by a rocky outcrop. The dwarves ran closer. As they approached, they saw it was a body. A dwarf body. They both stopped, and crept closer, taking their axes out. When they got within ten feet, the body rolled over. Makoin gasped.

"Nakoin!" he shouted.

Nakoin opened his mouth, but fell back. A trickle of blood flowed out of it. Makoin fell to his knees as Gimli ran up. He carefully closed the dead dwarf's mouth and eyes, whispering the words of the ancient Dwarven burial rituals.

"Nakoin!" cried Makoin.

Gimli watched and waited. They would stay the night...stay and watch the body. In the morning, they could bury the dwarf. Gimli took another look at him, and saw something clutched in his battered hand. It shone with a pale silver light. Gimli opened his eyes wide, and took it carefully away.

He knew what it was.

The Mithrilstone.

Lady Willow Rose · 03-29-2006, 12:46 AM

Elrohir Nénharma diligently cleaned the blood from his sword. Goblin blood was by far the worst when it came to stains. He glanced over at the woman lying beside his campfire, bound painfully tight.

Not a woman, he reminded himself. It was an Elf. Elrohir hadn't killed her quite yet. No, she was supposed to be rather important around these parts. He'd toy with her and her loved ones a bit before finally slitting her throat.

He cast a bored eye over the surrounding area. The lake which was rumored to hold some sort of fierce beast was disappointingly still. Clouds covered the moon and thus he was stuck sitting in front of the door into Moria until they cleared.

Elrohir carefully chose a rock and then launched it at the Elf scum's head. It cried out. He sneered. "Queens do not handle pain very well," he noted rudely.

"Please," it whimpered. "My husband is King Elessar. He could pay you whatever you wish." Elrohir rolled his eyes.

"I don't do this for pay, soft head. I do it for amusement."

rohirrim TR · 03-29-2006, 11:28 AM

As Alatar set out for Rivendell he procured a horse from the "Pony", and made it to Amon-Sul that night. As he slept his dreams made him toss and turn until suddenly Narya flamed, flashing like a mirror caught in the sunlight, as hot as a glede. The wizard awoke with a start. saddled his horse and rode north towards the Misty Mountains. All thoughts of a peacful stay in rivendell and a ship to the west forgotten.

Curubethion · 03-29-2006, 10:40 PM

Lady Willow tossed and turned on her bed in Rivendell. It should have been peaceful, yet was far from it. Darkness...darkness and terror had been haunting her.

A dark pit, filled with evil. Seeping out towards her...seeping...and she tried to move-stuck! IT came. Reaching...grabbing for her...Dark Terror of...consuming...need..."I want..."..."You cannot have it"..."Want..."..."NO!"..."Want!!" Reaching for her...reaching...reaching-she shuddered...it touched her-

With a shriek, she woke, sitting upright in her bed, shouting, "You cannot take it!"

Slowly breathing, she sat back against the headboard. And did not dare go back to sleep. She needed to get moving. Soon. Danger was coming.

Lady Willow Rose · 03-29-2006, 10:55 PM

Lady Willow swung up on her white mare. She only spared Rivendell a quick glance before cantering off into the wilderness. It was no longer the Elven haven it had once been. The place was trapped in winter, as it probably always would be.

Her mind, as usual, was partly on Aragorn. She had neither seen nor spoken to him since the end of her quest. But she had thought of him constantly.

The woods seemed to move past her in a blur. The sun had been young at the beginning of her journey. Now, as mountains rose up above her, it faded into the west.

"Where are you, my love?" she asked the air. "And how do you fair?"

rohirrim TR · 03-30-2006, 12:23 PM

"your brother will ever be held in much honor Makoin, he has brought the answer to our most painful dilemma" said Gimli after they had finished entombing Nakoin's body.

"the stone of that blasted war, how does it help us? it looks as though it was the death of him" his friend replied bitterly.

"perhaps...perhaps" Gimli stroked his beard and looked towards the mountains with a glint in his eye.

03-28-2006, 11:44 PM	#1
Curubethion Fenway Ranger, Lord of Red Sox Nation Join Date: Aug 2005 Location: College! Posts: 1,976	Mithrilstone Dusk faded over the landscape. Makoin and Gimli walked along the road north, under the foothills of the Misty Mountains. The air was cold, and they were nearly shivering. A bird called somewhere, as their feet crushed the dirt underneath them. Dusk still faded. "We should get a fire going," Gimli told his companion. "We'll stop here for the night." "All right, then. How long until we're back at the Iron Hills?" asked Makoin. "Oh, a week's journey, maybe two. Something smells of adventure, though. Nah...I've had enough adventure for now." "Look! What's-that?" It was a lump next to the road, nestled in by a rocky outcrop. The dwarves ran closer. As they approached, they saw it was a body. A dwarf body. They both stopped, and crept closer, taking their axes out. When they got within ten feet, the body rolled over. Makoin gasped. "Nakoin!" he shouted. Nakoin opened his mouth, but fell back. A trickle of blood flowed out of it. Makoin fell to his knees as Gimli ran up. He carefully closed the dead dwarf's mouth and eyes, whispering the words of the ancient Dwarven burial rituals. "Nakoin!" cried Makoin. Gimli watched and waited. They would stay the night...stay and watch the body. In the morning, they could bury the dwarf. Gimli took another look at him, and saw something clutched in his battered hand. It shone with a pale silver light. Gimli opened his eyes wide, and took it carefully away. He knew what it was. The Mithrilstone. __________________ Adventure...betrayal...heroism... Atharon: where heroes are born. My wife once said to me—when I'd been writing for ten or fifteen years—that I could always go back to being a nuclear engineer. And I said to her, 'Harriet, would you let someone who quit his job to go write fantasy anywhere near your nuclear reactor? I wouldn't!' (Robert Jordan)

03-29-2006, 12:46 AM	#2
Lady Willow Rose Elf Lord Join Date: Dec 2005 Location: In a field of paper flowers Posts: 733	Elrohir Nénharma diligently cleaned the blood from his sword. Goblin blood was by far the worst when it came to stains. He glanced over at the woman lying beside his campfire, bound painfully tight. Not a woman, he reminded himself. It was an Elf. Elrohir hadn't killed her quite yet. No, she was supposed to be rather important around these parts. He'd toy with her and her loved ones a bit before finally slitting her throat. He cast a bored eye over the surrounding area. The lake which was rumored to hold some sort of fierce beast was disappointingly still. Clouds covered the moon and thus he was stuck sitting in front of the door into Moria until they cleared. Elrohir carefully chose a rock and then launched it at the Elf scum's head. It cried out. He sneered. "Queens do not handle pain very well," he noted rudely. "Please," it whimpered. "My husband is King Elessar. He could pay you whatever you wish." Elrohir rolled his eyes. "I don't do this for pay, soft head. I do it for amusement." __________________ Real love is a mixture of pleasure, pain and a soul-deep happiness that blasts any complaints out of the water. When you're in love, his voice makes you smile and his laughter warms your heart. And when he weeps, you feel yourself dying in each fallen tear. Love is madness of the very best sort.

03-29-2006, 10:40 PM	#4
Curubethion Fenway Ranger, Lord of Red Sox Nation Join Date: Aug 2005 Location: College! Posts: 1,976	Lady Willow tossed and turned on her bed in Rivendell. It should have been peaceful, yet was far from it. Darkness...darkness and terror had been haunting her. A dark pit, filled with evil. Seeping out towards her...seeping...and she tried to move-stuck! IT came. Reaching...grabbing for her...Dark Terror of...consuming...need..."I want..."..."You cannot have it"..."Want..."..."NO!"..."Want!!" Reaching for her...reaching...reaching-she shuddered...it touched her- With a shriek, she woke, sitting upright in her bed, shouting, "You cannot take it!" Slowly breathing, she sat back against the headboard. And did not dare go back to sleep. She needed to get moving. Soon. Danger was coming. __________________ Adventure...betrayal...heroism... Atharon: where heroes are born. My wife once said to me—when I'd been writing for ten or fifteen years—that I could always go back to being a nuclear engineer. And I said to her, 'Harriet, would you let someone who quit his job to go write fantasy anywhere near your nuclear reactor? I wouldn't!' (Robert Jordan)

03-29-2006, 10:55 PM	#5
Lady Willow Rose Elf Lord Join Date: Dec 2005 Location: In a field of paper flowers Posts: 733	Lady Willow swung up on her white mare. She only spared Rivendell a quick glance before cantering off into the wilderness. It was no longer the Elven haven it had once been. The place was trapped in winter, as it probably always would be. Her mind, as usual, was partly on Aragorn. She had neither seen nor spoken to him since the end of her quest. But she had thought of him constantly. The woods seemed to move past her in a blur. The sun had been young at the beginning of her journey. Now, as mountains rose up above her, it faded into the west. "Where are you, my love?" she asked the air. "And how do you fair?" __________________ Real love is a mixture of pleasure, pain and a soul-deep happiness that blasts any complaints out of the water. When you're in love, his voice makes you smile and his laughter warms your heart. And when he weeps, you feel yourself dying in each fallen tear. Love is madness of the very best sort.

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