The Saga of the Nârmacil, the Flame-sword: The Game!!

[Tar-Elendil]

is texol suppose to be one of the lost istari..the 2 wizards in blue? or is he a diff maiar?

[Arat-Falathion]

Texol hasn't been in ME yet, so he hasn't been told of yet (he's been in the Blessed Realms since his comming) so he is an Istar, though not one of the 5 I think...

- Falathion

[Tar-Elendil]

For 50 miles Arathorn had crossed the realm of Gondor to the northwest until he felt it time for a rest. He had read from the beasts he saw along his journey that there was great unrest in Edoras and Gondor. It foreboded war. He thought maybe he could be of assistance in Rohan, either secretly or open he didnt care. Being idle while men full of life were being slain was torture for him.He made his camp in an a small dell surrounded by briar with other types of brush inside it. He lit no fire. He soon fell into an evil dream. There was a black sky with thousands of orcs crawling out of holes in the mountains. They were crying in their own tribal tongue full of hate for everything, even themselves. With them marched many Southrons with dark skin and gold on their arms or around their neck. The whole host of the orcs and Southrons began to charge, but at what he did not know. Finally he realized it was him who they were after. He unsheathed his sword Andúril, which was bore by the eldest son of the king and which he had taken into exile with him, and prepared for the onslaught that would inevitably come. And with a great cry of "Death!" he ran with all the speed that he could draw up but just before he reached the first orc there was a blinding red light and he awoke with a sweat. He heard the great pounding of hooves and the thump of sword on shield. Here and there a horn would blow and a loud voice would scream "Gondor! Gondor!". He peered over the lip of the dell and beheld a company of no more than 10 men who had been waylaid by orcs with at least thrice their number. He ran towards the battle and within twenty feet he stopped. Noone noticed him until he brought out Andúril which shown with both the radience of the sun and moon. The men's hearts seemed to be uplifted and with a white flash Andúril came down upon an orc and clove its head in two. Screaming "Death!!" Arathorn swept upon them with such a fury which had not been seen in many years. Soon all the orcs were reduced to nothing more than corpses. After seeing the wrath of Arathorn the men were awed by his lordliness and might. They recognized his sword which was rumoured to have been lost nigh on 60 years ago, but of him they had no clue. All they could manage to say was "Who are you, lord?"

[Tar-Elendil]

where are ya'll at? need someone to add onto this rpg sides me

[Arat-Falathion]

Gandalf and the men had been hiding in the shoreline of the mountains, watching over Isengard and the work that were being made. In all these years Isengard had been like it was after the destruction the ents did, but now it seemed like the orcs had repaired the walls and made them even thicker. Orthank could quite easily be discovered in the middle of the ocean of orcs working everywhere around the fields.

"I doubt we are many enought to engage here" a man said, standing beside Gandalf. "No, you are right." Gandalf glanced over at the man. "Let's hope our precence may go unnoticed..."
The man who had first spoke glanced over the field full of orcs with hate. "Yes, let's hope so..."'
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OOC: ok, since ElfOfMirkwood didn't seem to come back anyway, we should just oversee his post (that he didn't post in this forum anyways...) Gandalf is now on the west side of the mountains around Isengard...
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- Falathion

[Tar-Elendil]

There was a long pause after the men asked this question of Arathorn. He seemed to have trouble himself to figure out his own name for it had been many years since he used it. "Arathorn," he finally replied. "Arathorn is my name, or it was. You may call me Berethon." The men seemed shocked at the name of Arathorn. "That can't be! The son and Heir to the King of Gondor fell in battle against the Harad many years ago! How did you come by that sword?"The Men of Gondor stared skepticlly at Andúril. "It was given to me by my former father. The king, or so you call him." All the men began to grow pale. A tall man dressed in a cloak of dark green similar to Arathorn's replied grimly: "The King has fallen childless. Minas Tirith is once again besieged. He fell on the fields of the Pelennor to an enemy we will not speak of." Arathorn was bewildered. How could he have not seen an army large enough to besiege Minas Tirith? "I see there is more to this than can be told at this moment. For me I am on my way to Edoras. I counsel you to come with me." With this the men of Gondor were even more confused. "For what reasons, lord?" Arathorn said:"There is a storm brewing over Isengard. There will soon be battle." "But lord, there already is battle. Mithrandir led a large host of the Rohirrim and Men of Gondor towards Isengard."
"Then we shall join them. To Isengard!" For some reason the men trusted whom they called Berethon. There was an empty horse which had belong to one of the men, but he fell in the skirmish witht he orcs. After they had buried him they went with all their speed northwest to try and find and join the host led by Gandalf.

[Michelle The Fair]

Mer-Aislynn stood talking with Beoren and Drelin, her cousin, about thier upcoming journey. Suddenly ,there was a loud thumping on the gate. Drelin and Boeren were too deep in conversation to notice that Mer-Aislynn had turned away. She whirled around just as the gates opened, upon Texol command, to reveal a most unusual troupe. Three Elves and and three Hobbits. Mer-Aislynn tilted her head to the side in thought. Then her eyes fell upon their leader and froze. Golden hair, grey eyes, tall and slender he moved with the grace of willow branches caught in a gentle breeze. He glanced her way but a moment, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Something lurking in the depths of those gray eyes gave her the sense that this man could read one's very thoughts. A slight pinkness came to her cheeks.

"Welcome" Texol said with a smile. "I believe our party is increasing here. Is it not?"

Suddenly she felt a tap on her left shoulder. "Mer-Aislynn, have you heard nothing we've said?" She turned to look at Drelin. "I am sorry cousin. I was merly wondering who these travelers were." Beoren had noticed Mer-Aislynn's slight blush, but said nothing of it. "I have a feeling we shant have long to wait," Beoren said point towards the gate. "Here they come now." The small group of travelers approached with Texol leading the way. The Hobbits looked around in odvious wonder at their surroundings.

As the group stopped before them Beoren he swept them a graceful bow."Greetings my friends. I am Beoren, welcome to Rivendell! May I introduce, Drelin." Drelin gave a graceful bow. "And his cousin, Mer-Aislynn." The leader of the new Elves took her hand in his and kissed it lightly. As he stood again his gaze meet with hers.....

[Thrain]

Sorry that I haven't posted for so long.


Thrain had been listening from behind a pillar in Rivendell to the entire conversation. After Texol had left he leaped from behind the pillar. Everyone took up their weapons except Elrond. "I will go with you," he said. "I have brought bad news. Lonely mountain has been destroyed, not by a dragon but by something worse. Noone except me survived because I was out hunting with the men of Dale." "Will you take me."

[Michelle The Fair]

Elrond raised his hand,"Away with your weapons my friends. This is a friendly council. Though some of us must bare ill tidings while others listen." To Thrain he said, "Come my friend, I am sure they will accept your aide. For you know what dangers await them on the other side of Chithaeglir."

All weapons put away the council resumed.

[Tar-Elendil]

Arathorn and the other men now made their camp on the fields of Rohan, setting a watch of two. There had been no sign of any patrol by the Rohirrim. As Arathorn lay on the ground wrapped in blankets and hides, a man named Telefam sat beside him and began to speak. "Lord, there is a foul stench in the air. I have been in this land many times before and always it smelt so green, so alive, but now it smells of-" Arathorn finished his sentence for him," Of death. Yes, I not only smell it, but feel it. Alas, something has gone amiss at Edoras. Tomorrow we must go with more speed for I sense some evil lurking in these fields.Rest now, telefam, I will take your turn in the watch." He then sat cross-legged a stones throw from the other men, and lit a pipe.

[Tar-Elendil]

question..did gandalf leading a host of rohhirim and gondorians come from the east to the eastern side of the mountains surrounding isengard or the opposite?

[Arat-Falathion]

OOC: he came from the Grey Havens which is from the west...

Sorry for my inactivity, I'll post on this forum as soon as I find time, this week I have a very straight scedual.. sorry about this..

- Falathion

[Michelle The Fair]

OOC:We are calmly waiting my Lord Arat-Falathion.

Michelle the Fair

[Laurelyn]

Rivers running on and over timelines
Old destinies are washed away
New winds bringing changes after
Raging wills like fiery stones
Resisting evil, not taking the shortcut and path of least resistance

The clouds of darkness slowly lifted away from Oleander’s mind and she groggily sat up, her head pounding and her vision spinning dangerously. She reached up and lightly touched her head, but was forced to bite back a cry of pain as her hand brushed over the bruise the Orc had given her. She didn’t want her captors to know she was awake. She wondered why they had not killed her yet, why they hadn’t hurt her worse than just a bruise.
If I’m going to get in the way of their plans, why don’t they simply get rid of me? she wondered, and then shivered. Whatever their reason she was somewhat grateful for it, for as long as she was still alive she had a chance to escape. She had every intention of fleeing to Rivendell, to seek others who knew more of this than she did. If she could get away, that was . . . when she could get away.
Oleander looked around carefully, trying to see where she was now. To her right, across the Anduin, the dark cloud of heavy smoke seemed blacker and thicker than ever, and she could smell it whenever the wind blew from that direction. They had come closer to the river and the Hithaeglir were further off to her left at an angle. Oleander couldn’t help but wonder once more where they were taking her.
The wind picked up again, and swirled about, making leaves dance and drawing patterns in the fields as the grasses blew where the wind did. Just as it was fading, Oleander thought she heard a voice, light on the wind, whispers. She hadn’t caught any of the words. Suddenly alert, Oleander looked off to where she’d heard them from, and she scanned the area. She saw nothing, but her vision was blurred enough by the earlier blow to her head that she wasn’t sure of it.
Oleander looked about one last time and decided she must have been hearing things. She had no sooner come to that conclusion, however, when she heard a distinct rustling sound from the same direction. Oleander stiffened; what if it was a new enemy? Or a friend . . . .? Worried but still curious, Oleander watched the place. The Orcs seemed to notice nothing whatsoever.
Then, seemingly out of the blue, a speeding arrow flew from the direction of the sounds to the front of the cart. It hit the lead Orc square in the forehead and he dropped like a sack of rocks in the river. The three others, alarmed, quickly armed themselves with their own bows and knives. Oleander hid low behind a plank of wood to avoid being shot; she wished she had a bow, something, but of course if she had had a weapon she would have used it on the Orcs before now.
Another arrow zipped out and struck the third Orc, a short snarly one, in the chest, and he doubled over, out of the picture for the time being. Oleander was suddenly afraid for whoever was shooting at her captors; they had proved themselves a friend, they were shooting the Orcs, but now the two Orcs left had a clear idea of where the arrows were coming from, and began shooting. Of course a well-placed arrow could take down an Orc, Oleander thought, but an Orc-arrow is just as efficient in the matter of killing Elves, Men, or Dwarves.
Oleander could do nothing but watch, though, as the Orcs and the hidden friend traded arrows. Another one of the Orcs was hit, leaving just one more standing. He was clearly mad, and Oleander could barely keep track of where his arrows were going they were flying so fast. Oleander heard a sickening thud and a cry, and then another arrow came at the Orc. The creature saw it too late, and fell with a last, outraged yell, and then everything went silent.
Oleander dared to move from where she was slightly, and she saw a tall shape move from behind a rock. An Elf. A lone Orc arrow was embedded in his leg, and he walked with a painful limp. Feeling safer, Oleander stood up, very slowly, her legs shaking.
In an instant, the Elf’s bow was raised once more and an arrow was strung, ready to fire. Surprised, Oleander tried to hide once more, but could only move fast enough to avoid the arrow that sped towards her. “No!� She cried out, alarmed. “I’m not an Orc, just their captive! Please, don’t hurt me!� She waited for an answer.And slowly, as he evidently realized there were no more foes, the Elf lowered his bow.

________OOC______
Well, that took me long enough to get done! I hope everything's okay . . . any glaring mistakes, please tell me and I'll change it. And yes, of course I will write more, hopefully sooner this time. ~Laurelyn
P.S. I came back to the Entmoot to post this . . . go me!I'm still here for the RPG but not really much else.

[Arat-Falathion]

"Everyone be seated now", Texol said. "Let us finish this counsil and get on with the journey that awaites us." The newcomers found their seats and turned their head towards Texol. "As you all know so well, a dreadfull evil has accured in the land of Middle Earth again. Though this time we do not know the evil we are fighting..." Turin, the dwarf, stood up once again. "We have heard this already, let us go now! I want to behead orcs! YEH!" He laughed a little by his words, and Thrain, that sat beside him, seemed to agree. Texol smiled at the dwarves. "Not so hasty, your time will come soon enough." Turin sat down again.

Texol turned his focus to Arat-Cúrion, who was sitting between Falathion and Undulë. "Please show us your sword Cúrion." Cúrion loosened his belt and brought the sword in its sleeve to the stone in the middle of the counsil, the very stone where the one ring had once rested as Frodo showed it for the first time to the fellowship of the ring. A dim, red glow were shining out of the sleeve and everyone present looked at it in amazement.

After a short silence Turin once more rised. "Well? Are we going to look at the sleeve or the sword?" Texol stood up and walked over to Cúrion in the center of the counsil. "This sword holds unknown powers foolish dwarf. And unknown powers one does not play with, especially not during times like these." Texol took the sword in his hands and examined it. "It glows red now, though in Valinor it did not. Is it the presence of Middle Earth or the presece of evil that gives it such a fierce glow?" He looked poeticaly at all the people looking at him. "There are many questions to be answered, and that is why this journey to the ruins of Angband is nessesary. We shall travel light, and I belive Elrond can dish up with some exelent elven food for the journey?"
Lord Elrond smiled. "Indeed so, my friend." Texol nodded. "Verywell then, I believe this counsil is finished. We will start our journey early tomorrow morning. Be sure to get enough rest and eat well tonight, as it may be long till you'll see the chance again." With these words Texol gave the sword back to Cúrion and then left the room...
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OOC: sorry this took so long... you already know my reasons and finaly the long awaited Laurelyn post came great, and we all hope to get news on what happenes to Oleander as soon as possible!

Falathion

[Arat-Falathion]

As quiet as possible Gandalf and the men walk between slippery rocks and rolling stones. It was a difficult landscape to walk in with silence, though it gave a lot of cover. They knew though, that this was for the orcs as well. By no way they could possibly notice any scouting orcs hiding between rocks in this landscape before it was too late.

"We will have to travel slowly in this landscape," Gandalf said. "We will rest here when the sun comes up. The times was so much easier before, when the orcs couldn't stand the light of day."

They found a nice shelter in and under some large rocks that made a beautiful little cave with just enough room for everyone. "Sleep now," Gandalf said. "I will take todays watch".
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-Falathion

[Laurelyn]

Does a cloud mean a storm is present, always?
There are ever new exceptions, that the most sturdy rules might be broken or bent.
Has it not failed, that the silver of the leaves wasn't followed by rain?
The unpredictable is always, however, the hardest to judge.

The Elf walked, as best he could with his injured leg, to where Oleander was standing by the remains of the Orcs and the cart she had been pulled in. It seemed to Oleander that each step caused more pain than his face revealed, for his gait was halting and broken into an ungainly mismatched cadence of footfalls. No sign of typical Elven grace was present; he stumbled many times, too many times.
Oleander’s eyes rose to meet his clouded gaze; silver-grey orbs met sea-blue and black and held. He stammered out a greeting to Oleander softly, and shivered as if cold. His eyes held fear, dull and terrible, but Oleander could not tell of what.
“Thank you,� she told him quietly. “I believe I may owe you my life. I have the name Oleander, of Lorien. And you?�
He seemed to think for a moment, and then slowly said, “ I am Hérendé. Or, that is what they call me . . . . My name.� His eyes seemed to be seeing something very far away, and Oleander wondered what he meant.
Oleander spoke in a soft tone to match Hérendé’s. “You’ve been injured,� she said. He nodded, and winced. “I could help you with that, at least, for saving me,� Oleander offered. Hérendé gave her no reply. “I could help you,� she repeated, and this time a hint of a smile danced lightly across his mouth. “Please,� he said, and nodded again. “I could, after all, do with some help now.�

OOC_____________
Well, lookee at what happens when you give me lots of free time! Wahoo! Suggestions and annoyances, as always, are needed to correct any possible mistakes.

[Earniel]

OOC: Arat-Falathion has graciously let me take over Rosalina until Thrain of the Shire returns. I have no clue just what Thrain of the Shire wanted the hobbits to tell the elves or what makes the green gem he wears so special. So I’ll just leave those matters out until I figure a way to integrate them. Suggestions are more than welcome. As this is my first post I hope any of you will point out any mistakes or other faults to me. I hope you enjoy my little scribbling.


The hobbits were led into quiet room where they could rest a while after the counsel. None of them had spoken much since they had come to Rivendell, slightly numbed by the events that had followed in short succession and weary from their journey despite the fact that they had been carried the better part of the trip. An elf maiden had brought them something to drink but had left them then after assuring them that she would come back to fetch them at dinnertime.

Rosalina tasted the drink the elf had given her. Something herbal she noted, she recognized at least one or two of the herbs used. It was a stimulating drink she mused. She signalled the other two to drink it. We sure could use it, she thought. Numenor drank his silently, he hardly noticed the taste. Funny, he thought, the celebration had been disturbed, Hobbiton was torched, and the elves had returned after,…. well a very long time. Magic seems to be returning to Middle-earth in large quantities and my life –our lives- have been turned up side down and here we are in Rivendell, technically a place of a lost era. So how come none of us is breaking down and crying? Maybe the big folk were right about hobbits being more resilient after all.

Magnanamous was the first to speak. ‘Well, so what happens now?’ ‘I honestly have no idea. Things seem to be a lot bigger than I thought. There is little we can do in Hobbiton now, there are still elves there to help survivors. They’ll be of better use over there than us.’ replied Numenor. ‘You think there is much for us to do here?’ Numenor frowned slightly ‘I’m unsure.’ he said. ‘You know, said Rosalina, we could go with them tomorrow.’ ‘I am not sure they will let us.’ ‘But why did they take us to Rivendell then, Maggie?’ The hobbits thought for a while in silence. ‘We could ask them…. ‘ventured Numenor, ‘After all it’s better than being left alone here like some forgotten luggage.’ Rosalina’s face lit up. ‘Why Numie, that’s something old Peregrine Took could have said!’ Numenor found himself grinning ‘Well I guess it is.’ Magnanamous looked at his companions, a grin spread on his face. ‘ Look at the three of us. If I was old Meriadoc Brandybuck, I could say I just had a déjÃ* vu!’ The hobbits started laughing and felt at once a lot better.

[Arat-Falathion]

OOC: Welcome to you Eärniel. You didn't mess anything up there with your first post I think The hard part continuing Thrain of the Shire's posts is the "characteristics" he gave each one of the hobbits. I think you followed them nicely

Laurelyn: Speed record! 2 days, 2 posts! how does it feel?

- Falathion

[Laurelyn]

Originally posted by Arat-Falathion
Laurelyn: Speed record! 2 days, 2 posts! how does it feel?
- Falathion

Very cool - and it's one day, two posts, for that matter. I hope to make it one week, three posts, soon.
Welcome Earniel!