The Great Quest

In the mountains nigh unto Fangorn Forest, a grave battle was fought. A foul Balrog, one of the fallen Maia that sought the corruption and conquest of the world, was foiled in his vile plans, and his menace forever ended. But in the process, the heroes that dealt him this grievious blow were to suffer their own calamity - two of their number were siezed and taken by mysterious warriors who called themselves 'The Watchers.' The two lost were Dania and Narsh, noble elves.

Of the adventurers remaining, three took it upon themselves to find and rescue their comrades, and discover what force was behind these Watchers, and what horrendous purpose drove it. Those who set out were Mal, once a powerful Maia, now a fragment of his former self; Faradin, one of the noble remnants of the Dunedain, a Ranger; and Slythre, who is simply a capable figure who gets the job done, now without a leige.

A fourth figure journeys along their path as well, but only one of them knows of his silent presence, and catches sight of the silhouette of a wolf at times, watching them as they make camp for the night.

The adventure begins as they walk down along the bank of a wide river, a river called the Entwash. Faradin takes the lead, bending down every few feet to investigate the ground.

As they walked, Mal glanced back every so often, seeing the trees of Fangorn Forest fading into the distance behind them, as they headed southwest along the Entwash.

Suddenly Faradin stopped, bending over the bank of the river, and running his hands along the crushed grass beside it.

He turned to the others, speaking up softly. "Here is where their path ends. They must have journeyed up the river in a number of boats or rafts, and then split up into a few parties - three, from what I can tell."

Slythre spoke. "We met one in the woods, Mal another in the castle," and here she glanced sidelong at Mal, for the question of how he had slain those was unanswered... as was how he had restored the arm he had apparently lost a while before. Shaking her head, she went on, "And the last was the one that stole off with Dania and Narsh. So they are all accounted for."

Faradin nodded, agreeing. "Aye, and that last party returned here, where they had left the boats. They must have split up, and took all the boats back, and now sail down the Entwash."

"Which means," Mal spoke grimly, "they are gaining even more of a lead, even as we speak."

"Aye."

Silence fell over them, and then they headed out once more, continuing on despite the hopelessness that they began to feel.

Vardor stared down on the city below, from his tower. Dania was on the way, and everything was going according to plan. She had eluded his capture long, but now was almost in his grasp. Already, Vardor's plans had spread out throughout the country, and he had gained his alliances, toying with all of these good and unsuspecting people like puppets to get where he wanted.

As this thought crossed his mind, he looked up longingly at the clouds. He would use whatever torture or coaxing neccessary, but he would have the information from that girl! Then, the pathway would be opened, and the key to the Valley of Ethrilien used.

As he looked down, Vardor's eyes fell upon Grima. The insidious little plant of Saruman's was bullying someone of a lesser status. Not that Grima, or Saruman for that matter had anything to do with Vardor. All they were were distractions to those who might hinder him. And any distraction would be useful.

The sun shown brilliantly down on the great meadow of green grass, covered with violets and small patches of other flowers. Nearby, off to one side was a pool of crystal clear water, reflecting the sun's rays. The valley seemed to the two elves that walked through it to be a paradise of nature's work.

They looked up as they heard the galloping of hooves, and were surprised to see a man gallop over the rise, riding down from the slope. He had a white horse and was clad in silver and green. He had long blond hair, tied back by a leather thong. He was handsome and finely clad, but just as obviously a man who was strong and capable of looking after himself.

"Good day to you," he said as he came to a stop a few feet from them. "Who owns this beautiful place?"

"None own it. Who can tame or control this place without destroying it?" was the first elf's response.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to offend," the man said. He looked out across the meadow. "Where do you come from?"

"We are from the village, over that way," the second elf responded, pointing towards the trees further away. "And you?"

"I come from Rohan on a mission from Lord Thaldsan. I doubt you've ever heard of him."

The first elf shook his head. "But we offer you a rest before you continue your journey."

"Thank-you, I appreciate your hospitality," the man said as he swung off his horse.

Ayna wore a light brown cloak, and was wearing loose fitting pants and shirt. She had a bow and quiver of arrows hanging from the horse's saddle, as her weapons. A jewel hung from a leather necklace around her throat. She was slim and strikingly beautiful, with light brown hair and blue eyes.

She rode swiftly through the muddy ground. Moss grew on it, and there were trees here and there, although all of them were gnarled and old. Her horse came to a stop as she reached the riverbank, and she looked out in surprise at the three travelers who moved swiftly forward on their small craft, using the tide to pull them along.

She set her horse to match their pace, and rode quickly alongside. "Who are you and where are you bound?" she called to them. "Travelers in these parts are rare, and you are heading in a direction few go."

*Later on, you'll find out just how amazing the coincidence of this meeting is.*

Ulrog cowered under the shade of the rockey overhang that protected him from the sun's harsh light. He pulled his ragged blanket tight around himself in a further effort to escape the sunlight, but it was no good. The sun still cursed Ulrog, just as it did the rest of his race. He was a small black orc, of a tracker breed. If it weren't for his skill at tracking Ulrog would have been killed a long time ago, but as long as he was useful to his master....
Sudenly, through the brightness of the sun, Ulrog caught sight of a raft travelling down the river. He threw down the bone he had been chewing on and leaned forward slightly, sniffing the air with his flared nostrils. It was definetly them. Ulrog had guessed right that they would come this way. But he had hoped they would be on foot. A raft wouldn't leave a trail that he could follow come nightfall. Up to now, overtaking them at night and then sighting them during the day had worked, but there was no way Ulrog could ovetake a raft. It looked as though Ulrog had failed. His master would not be pleased. As he started to imagine the cruel punishments that failure meant to his kind Ulrog smelt something different. Just as the raft passed by his hiding spot a woman on a horse pulled along side it and spoke to the people aboard. As she passed him, the woman on the horse seemed to look straight at Ulrog. Wrapping the blanket tighter around himself Ulrog slunk into the shadows and tried to make his body as small as possible. He didn't move from there until nightfall.

*How'd we end up in the river, I wanted to introdue a dwarven character of mine. At least I edited my post before anyone caught it*

*Sorry, didn't realize the three travelers were us... no clue where the boat came from, but not gonna question the aid of fortune! Anyway...*

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"Hail and well met!" Mal calls out, gesturing for the others to help guide the craft to shore. As they approach the lady, she remains wary, but Mal explains their quest.

"It is true travel in this parts is rare - but we but follow the tracks of others. Some friends of ours, two noble elves named Dania and Narsh, were captured by mysterious foes, and escaped before we could rescue our friends. The villains, as far as we can tell, went farther down this river, and so we seek after them. And as for who we are, my name is Mal, and my companions are Slythre and Faradin."

Meanwhile, aways down the river....

The three black crafts came to a harsh stop as the approach of riders was noted. Weapons were raised by those within the craft, dark figures in obsidian armor and with cloaked faces.

Soon the riders thundered up to them, coming to a harsh stop. A dozen of the Riders of Rohan stood, staring upon the craft in silence. One of them, their captain, approaches.

"Were you successful?" His voice echoes out, sibilantly, over the water.

The figures in the craft split up, leaving two boats entirely, and only two remaining to man the last one. They carry two comatose forms with them. The captain's eyes seem to narrow slightly. "I only ssee elves."

The voice that came back at him was hesitent, but when it spoke, it was even more snakelike than the captain's. "Aye. We were unable to get the oness the masster wanted."

"And you dared return!?" the captain cried out, anger echoing in his voice.

"Of thosse we ssought, one iss gone entirely, and we ssussspect as long as sshe remainsss off thiss land, the masster'sss goalss will remain the ssame. Asss for the other - he hass regained too much for uss to deal with him."

The captain scowled, but nodded at his words, for it made sense. "Then the master must be informed... he will want to send something... sstronger... to deal with the one he wishes."

A shudder echoed in the other's voice. "A b'rak?"

"Perhapss. Bring the elves here."

As they did so, he nodded, saying, "At least you accomplished this much. You shall not be allowed to fail again."

"Aye, broodlord."

The captain spun about, staring at the speaker. "Do NOT make a sslip such as that when cloaked!"

The offender took a sharp step back, and then bowed low in submission. The captain turned about, gesturing for the elves to be placed on some additional horses they had with them. He then spoke with those remaining on the last boat, and they soon pushed off from the bank and were speeding down the river once more.

He called for more extra horses to be brought over for the eight joining their company, and then tossed a number of uniforms at their feet. Saying nothing, they began to place the clothing over their obsidian armor, removing and casting their hooded cloaks back into the boats remaining. As their cloaks came off, the faces underneath were revealed - harsh, foul, and deformed visages that seemed in constant agony. While they put on the uniforms, the captain brought the rest of his men over to the boats, and set them aflame, watching them until only ash remained.

Turning back to the others, now garbed in the raiment of the Riders of Rohan, he raised an eyebrow. Bowing to him, they stood still for a moment, concentrating, and then began to shudder and twitch, though no moans came from them. Their faces seemed to ... melt ... and then their features were that of normal men, in the coloration and similar to the other riders with the captain. He nodded, pleased. "Well done. But speak little while under my command - you still need to adjust to thiss tongue."

They nodded, and then mounted their steeds, falling in line behind their captain. With a silent motion, he prodded his horse into action, and the squad, with the captive elves bound upon two horses, headed away from the river.

*Sorry about the addition of the boat. I was reading through your first post a little bit quickly, and I accidentally assumed that with all the talk about boats and transfers and such, I thought that they had one. My mistake. Although it probably doesn't matter much anyway.*

"My name is Ayna. Did you say one of the ones you seek was named Dania?"

"Yes," Mal called back.

She rode in silence for a moment.

"Why?" Slythre asked. "Do you know something about this?"

"I know there's an orc spy on the other side of the river," Ayna said with a slight smile.

"And there's a wolf on yours," Faradin answered.

She looked around and yelped as the sleek form of a wolf moved swiftly out from the trees.

"Ah," Mal said dryly, "Allow me to introduce another friend of mine - a simple companion of nature who has deigned to join us."

Slythre, near Mal, looked inquisitively, for he was obviously remaining silent about Harnauro's true nature, but gave an inward shrug, and said nothing.

Anya looked warily at the wolf, but it simply approached, peering once at the figures on the boat, and then sat down, looking at Anya, its eyes peering intently at her. She looked back at it for a moment, and then glanced back towards Mal. "Well, it seems to mean no harm - you have him well trained. And it certainly looks nothing like the vile wolves that ally with the goblins and orcs, so maybe it is to be trusted."

Mal smiled. "I assure you, it only harms those who wish it ill. Now then, were you saying you knew Dania?"

Faradin dug his oar into the sandy river bottom, stopping their small craft. Then, he also looked over at Ayna.

"No," she answered Mal. "I don't know her. Not exactly. I heard her name spoken by some men back there," she pointed back in the direction she'd come. "They had captured two people, and I think they may be the ones you are looking for."

"Were they cloaked and wearing dark armor plating?" Slythre asked.

"Hardly," Ayna said. "Obviously, they were different from the ones your looking for."

"Appearances mean nothing," Faradin said. "Especially if they started heading in that direction. We already saw that they have unusual powers, and there could have been a prisoner transfer, as well."

Ayna shrugged. "Well, it's your decision. None of my business. Now, if you'll call off your wolf, I'll be on my way."

"What is your business here?" Slythre asked, leaning forward.

She instantly regretted having done so, as the boat tipped. Quickly, she shifted her weight and the small craft evened out again.

Ayna hesitated, looking as though she were searching for an answer. "I was . . . cutting cross country to a different city."

"There aren't any cities out here," Slythre said coldly. "Don't lie to us. You were sent to spy on us, weren't you?"

The wolf stood up.

"No, I swear I wasn't," she said vehemently. "But I can't tell you what I'm doing out here."

"Well, perhaps we should join company for a while, until we have proof of this," Slythre said.

"If she is a spy, then taking her with us won't earn us anything more than a knife in the back," Faradin whispered to her.

"But leaving her will let her go back to the one who sent her, giving information both as to our whereabouts, and purpose. We would be killed a lot faster that way. And if we take her weapons, she won't be any harm." She looked at the other two. "What do you think?"

Mal took a long look at Anya, and rubbed his chin, considering. Slowly, a smile arose on his face.

"Perhaps I could suggest another idea. We shall let her go her own way but with some... company. Harnauro, if you please?"

The wolf grinned, and then took a step towards Anya, staring at her wickedly.

Her eyes widened, and she spun about, staring at Mal. "You can't mean you will make that, that THING, travel with me!"

Mal turned to Faradin and Slythre, lowering his voice so Anya couldn't here. "Surely, if her intent is innocent, Harnauro can accompany her without harm - but if she seeks to go to our foes, he will be able to either prevent her or learn of our enemy's whereabouts! It is either this, or to keep her with us - letting her go free, alone, is not a good option."

*Actually, that is a much better idea. I like it.*

Ayna stared at the wolf for a long moment, her face slightly pale. "Can it . . ." she hesitated. "Would it fight, if I came under attack?"

Mal looked surprised. This was not a question he'd expected. "Perhaps. That depends."

She looked at the wolf again, and took a deep breath. "Very well, I'll just have to trust it. And you."

Tapping her horse's sides with the heels of her boots, she moved off into the trees, the wolf moving along at an equal pace, alongside her.

"Well that takes care of that problem," Slythre said with a smile. "And a good idea that was too. Now, are we going to follow the lead she gave us, and pursue those men she said she saw that way, or continue following the river?"

Mal stared down the direction of the river, tapping his fingers on his leg, concentration on his face.

Finally, he spoke. "Down that way lies... a foe I doubt we could face. Also, I doubt those we chased serve him, for they seemed quite different from his typical servants. If our foe lay farther down the river, it must be much farther, for once the river turns to the north, it continues through many lands uninhabited. We would not know if we were on the wrong paths for weeks, even months. I say we follow up what the girl mentioned, for if our path would lead elsewhere, it could be hopeless in anycase."

He gave a chuckle, shaking his head. "What morbid reasoning I have! Let us follow the lead, and trust in our luck. That has always worked for me." As he finished this statement, he flashed a grin at the others, then leaned back, awaiting their opinions.

"Sure, you've got the magic, Mal. We'll follow you."

Slythre hopped over the side of the boat, landing on the squooshy mud of the riverbank. Mal and the others followed, leaving the boat behind. The sharp cold nipped at them through the graying sky, and the mud spattered up onto their legs during the journey. Soon, Slythre was wishing hard for some horses, but she didn't say anything. Eventually, the trees grew more sparse, and the ground hardened. Dead grass littered it, giving a faint crunching under their feet.

After fifteen miles of such travel, the sky had darkened to night, and they decided to stop until dawn.

Ayna finally stopped her horse to wait out the night, and the wolf disappeared in the trees. She still felt its eyes on her, though, so she knew it hadn't truly gone.

She unbuckled her weapons and lay them to the side. Then, she curled up underneath her cloak and soon found sleep.

When she awoke in the morning, she started at the sight of two dead orcs lying on the ground a few feet away from her, weapons still clutched in their hands.

The wolf was sitting on its haunches, looking at her intently. It was as if it was studying or judging her, and she felt uneasy at the feeling.

"What was he doing here?" Elrov asked himself, aloud.

"Just what he said," the second elf responded. "Going on a mission to his Lord Thaldsan."

"But why is he going back the way he came?" Elrov asked with a shake of his head. "He came here on purpose. This valley was his destination."

"But . . . why?" his face paled. "You don't think that word has leaked out about the . . ."

"Yes, I'm afraid it has," Elrov said grimly. "But I must be certain. As one of the watchers of this village, it is my duty to ensure the safety of its inhabitants. I will go to the keeper of the key myself, and inform them of the danger they face. What everyone in all Middle Earth face if what we suspect is true."

Faradin heard a noise in the night and snapped awake instantly. His hand went to his sword hilt and he shifted in such a way that it looked only like he was rolling over in his sleep. Keeping his breathing deep and even he watched the in the direction of the sound. He saw a cloaked figure about 4 feet high enter the campsite and look around. Leaping to his feet he drew his sword and demanded, "Reveal yourself!"

His companions awakened upon his cry and tumbled from there sleeping places, Slythre somewhat sleepily and Mal as gracefully as the Ranger. The figure stopped and drew back it's hood and cloaked revealing a bushy black beard under bright eyes. He wore a shirt of mail and an axe hung at his belt. "I am Gungar, of the folk of Dain, King under the Mountain. I saw your fire and decided to investigate. There are orcs prowling this region and I thought that the fire may have been made by them."

Faradin relaxed slightly at the sight of a dwarf and then asked, "What are you doing here? This is far from the normal paths travelers would take."

"I travel to Gondor, my people have been asked to see what they can do for the defense of Minas Tirith in the days to come, for war is brewing. I saw the signs of orcs and decided to stray from the regular paths to see what I could of their business and to hinder them as I could."

"Your country might well be in need of looking to its own defense, if things keep up as they have," Slythre said as she sheathed the dagger that had been held poised for throwing. "But we will not hinder you on your quest. We ourselves are in pursuit of a group of men who took two of our friends captive." She glanced around quickly, and a thought struck her. "We're heading in the general direction of Gondor as well. Would you like to join us for a time?"

Another day passed as Anya journeyed towards whatever goal she had. Her progress was slow, for she constantly checked her surroundings for signs of orcs and other villains, and moved cautiously and always through the cover of the trees. As well, in the woods, her horse was unable to move as fast as on the plains.

Most of all, though, she was still nervous about the wolf accompanying her. Constantly she looked about, for it often vanished while she traveled, though she always felt its eyes upon her.

Night fell, and once more she prepared for rest. She saw no sign of the wolf, and soon fell asleep.

Harnauro gazed at the girl from the darkness of the wood, wondering what to make of her. He knew why Mal had asked him to stay with her, but he did not like serving as no more than a watchdog!

With a growl, he found a comfortable spot, and settled into the ground, watching the surroundings nearby for signs of any foes. Though he could go for days without rest, the exhaustion of leaving the woods many days before, and staying on alert for so long was beginning to weary him. Slowly, he sunk into a fitful sleep.

Harnauro rarely dreamed in this age, but this night was one of the few he did. The exhuastion and changes in his life mixed within him, and nightmares plagued him. Scenes of fire, and deep burning pits within immense mountains and caves. he saw himself looking out over armies of thousands of orcs, marching to war, while great beasts flittered through the air overhead, even balrogs and dragons above the mighty host.

He saw that image fade away in smoke and fire, and saw another warhost, a mighty battle taking place within those caves, orcs fleeing from forces beyong their comprehension, and even balrogs hurtling to their deaths to great chasms within the stony caverns deep within the mountain.

His nightmare flickered once more, and he saw himself floating in the air, flames flickering about his struggling form. A figure, a hated figure stood staring at him. A handsome face laughed at his struggles, and then cried out harsh, arcane words that tore at him, burnt into his soul. He saw his body fall to the ground, and the figure turn away and leave him upon the blackened earth he lay upon. He saw his form shudder, and twist, and shake, and begin to change...

With a silent cry of rage, he bolted awake, and turned, quickly, gazing all about. His location and situation instantly returned to him, and a snarl emerged, unbidden, from deep within him. Quelling his emotions, he stalked back into the clearing, and was relieved to see all was as it had been before he had sunk asleep. Anya lay sleeping on the ground, cloak draped over her, and only a few strands of brown hair lay out from under it.

Harnauro sniffed the air, and smelling no orcs or any others nearby, returned to his spot of watching, to sit and wait for dawn.