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 Posted: Wed Nov 24, 2010 8:46 am
xxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxOne Ring to rule them a l l
One Ring to f i n d themxxxxxxxx
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ζ σ г δxxof thexxЯ ϊ π g șx:xThexEverlastingxBattle
Long gone is the time of Man. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, has long diminished and his country has been left in ruins. The Ring Bearer, Frodo Baggins, and his fellowship of Gimli; son of Gloin, Legolas of the Wood, Aragorn; son of Arathorn, and the hobbits; Merry Brandybuck, Peregrin "Pippin" Took, Samwise Gamgee, and he himself: Frodo Baggins, have all long passed. Long gone in the history books is the tale of Lord of the Rings, kept only alive by stories and tales. Middle Earth is still intact, and Sauron may be defeated, but never again will a peaceful time stir in Middle Earth. Alas, after the lull of peace and tranquility when all races were bound by the bond of friendship, the bonds were diminished. King Aragorn died peacefully, and left his kingdom to his son. His son was killed in the first battle of this evil time, a time where many new races would find themselves in the places of their ancestors. Six brave descendants find themselves in the positions of heir ancestors- they must destroy this said evil.
An evil wind has swept across Middle Earth, from Minas Tirith to The Shire itself. Mordor has left crushed, but Isengard stirs again. A new wizard has emerged- Mithrandir. An evil man- no. He is no man, but a spirit. No ring was forged, but in the time Mithrandir was indeed a human wizard, he empowered the light of Elendil, the elves' most beloved star. For this wizard was more powerful than Lady Galadriel herself, and he has alas managed to twist the light to evil. Instead of white, the symbol of purity, it runs red, the sign of destruction. These chosen six must come together as their ancestors once had to destory this evil- for it will overpower Middle Earth much faster than Sauron did. This wizard is powerful- so come forth you must!
There is but one way to defeat this wizard and his powerful light. There is the Spring of Seline- a sacred spring only known by the rarest of woodland elves, and those wo know where it resides are terrified to come forth, in fear of Mithrandir. This secret spring contains a very blessed liquid- a liquid so powerful, when shot, it can destroy anything it comes in contact with. For this is the only way to defeat Mithrandir himself, but to rid Middle Earth of this purity of evil it to drain it into the purest of sources- one of the chosen six must drain the evil light of Elendil into the Spring of Seline, purifying the light and restoring Middle Earth to it's peace.
But it is not as simple as it seems. Mithrandir has his minions- Orcs, adopting the name from Sauron, his inspiration- operating everywhere. The Orcs roam freely, killing and eating everything in it's path. There are tribes of Orcs guarding every taken city's gates, every taken caves' mouths, making it seemingly impossible to get through. There are many foes along the way, so take caution!
Make haste! The future of Middle Earth depends on you!
____________________________________________________________________________
xxxxxxxxOne Ring to bring them a l l
xxxxxxxxAnd in the darkness b i n d themxxxxxxxx
In the land of M o r d o r where the shadows lie
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Posted: Wed Nov 24, 2010 8:50 am
xxxxxxxxxx▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁
xxxxxxShe's a wild o n e
xxxxxxxxx☽ ※ ☾ ▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁
With an angel's f a c e
☽ ※ ☾ ▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁xxxxxxxxxxxxx
She's a wild one runnin' f r e exxxxxx
☽ ※ ☾xxxxxxxxxxxx  xxxxxxxxxΛ г i ε ηxxxxxxxxxxxx
W o o d l a n d x E l f
╔═══════════════ ☽ ※ ☾ ═══╗
Zing! A sleek, ivory, pheasant feathered arrow sliced through the air, slicing leaves on a kabob and shooting straight into a tree trunk carved into a target. A slender, blonde haired and emerald eyed elf stood holding a sleek ivory bow, with silver tresses and carvings, and the name 'Legolas' carved formally into the pale wood. The girl listened carefully as the bow sung it's harmonious melody, sending well shot arrows whizzing through the air as if they had minds of their own. The girl didn't seemed satisfied; she kept pulling arrows out of her quiver and sending them slicing through the air, one after another.
The girl finally unfroze from her spot, taking long, soft strides across the forest floor until she came to the tree she had been shooting at. She gathered all the arrows in one hand and pulled back, cleanly yanking all seven arrows from the tree without one tip getting broken. She straightened the feathers and pulled the leaves from the staves of the arrows, quickly re-holstering her ivory weapons in their quiver. Her emerald eyes glittered coldly as she pushed her blonde braid out of her face, her lips pressed in a grim line. She took practicing seriously, more serious than anyone in her family- especially after what she had learned.
Less than twelve sunrises ago, Arien knew she was different. She had better archery skills than many warriors, and she fumbled in household women chores. Her father, keeper of the estate, said she needed to change her ways of find another roof to stay under. That was the last straw for the twenty-yearold, after constantly being reprimanded for not 'bieng in the house' or 'being disrespectful' by hanging out with male warrior elves. But that's where Arien fit in. She was a horrid cook and broke nearly every household item she touched. However, she was very nimble on horseback and could shoot a bow better than any warrior. And she never understood why until then.
She had stormed out of the house after being reprimanded yet again by her father for not staying in the kitchen and in the house, where women belonged. No, but that was not where Arien belonged. She had stormed off and left the house, whistling a low tune so her ebony mare, Sharalyn, would come to her. The mare came galloping over and halted, letting Arien jump nimbly up on her back, with nothing but the elf's legs to guide her. Arien and her mare started into the forest, cantering around trees and leaping bushes, with Arien's hands clasped around her family's bow. The mare skidded to a halt in fright, and Arien had to leap off to calm the mare. Something had spooked her, that was for sure. But all Arien could see was pitch blackness, even with her own keen elven eyesight.
Suddenly, a ball of light exploded, and the lord of the elves, Cereluna, stepped out holding a pitcher of water from the Mirror itself. He nodded to Arien, pouring the water into a puddle. Arien carefully looked in, but jumped back at the sight she saw. She watched as her home was destroyed, and next Minas Tirith, and finally the breaking of the statues of kings on the border of Gondor. Her teal eyes grew wide with horror, and the young elf looked to Cereluna for guidance. "You must save Middle Earth. History is repeating itself. You must take the place that Legolas did in the quest against Sauron," was all the elven lord said. He disappeared before Arien could reply.
And so here she was, practicing as diligently as she could. Sharalyn, her mare, was watching from behind a tree, safely out of the arrows' ways as they whizzed past. Arien let out a whistle and the mare came sauntering out, letting Arien jump lightly onto her back. The elf steered her horse toward the camp, squeezing her into a canter as they headed for camp- the last day she would see her family for a very long time, or even forever if the quest failed.
(( I apologize for the length, I just wanted to get everything into this post. And this roleplay is now open! Please include someone of significane telling your character about this quest. Once everything's going, we'll have the first meeting! 8D ))
╚═══ ☽ ※ ☾ ═══════════════╝
❝ T r e a t m e l i k e n o t h i n g m o r e o r l e s s t h a n I a m. ❞ ▸ ※ ▹ They said 'change your clothes'
xxxxxxxxShe said 'No I won't'
xxxxxxxxThey said 'Comb your hair'
xxxxxxxxShe said 'Some kids don't'
xxxxxxxxHer parents' dreams went up in smoke
xxxxxxxxShe's on a roll and it's all uphill! ◂ ※ ◃ ▸ ※ ▹ She has future plans and dreams in life
They say life is hard
xxxxxxxxShe says that's alright! ◂ ※ ◃ ▸ ※ ▹ She's a wild one, with an angel's facexxxxxxxx
A woman, child, and a state of gracexxxxxxxx
She was three years old on her daddy's kneexxxxxxxx
He said you can be anything you want to bexxxxxxxx
She's a wild one runnin' free! ◂ ※ ◃ Defiant ♦ Independent ♦ Proud
❖ Warrior ❖
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Posted: Thu Nov 25, 2010 10:18 am
████████████████████████████████████████████████████N E I S A__B A G G I N S❝The world needs more friggen' heroes!❞Sunlight beamed down on Neisa's face, warming her porcelain skin and casting a rosy reflection from her hair around the room. The eyelids that hid her golden irises pulled back, creating shadows from her eyelids on her cheeks. Her plump lips parted in a yawn as she pushed herself from her bed and walked towards a small cracked mirror on the wall. Sighing, she examined her reflection. The girl staring back at her looked... unusual, but pretty. Her flaming red hair was tied up in a messy bun, but loose hairs ran a crimson trail down her back. Thick eyelashes rimmed golden eyes that possesed a mishevious glint. True, she was a little taller than the average hobbit and her clothes were slightly scruffy, but she had the posture of a queen. A feminine hand with slim fingers released her scarlett mane from the bun, allowing strands to fall over her left eye in a mysterious way. After a moment, her slim body turned away and her bare feet silently stepped towards her dresser.
Laughter rang from Neisa's lips as she and her best friend, Dridoc, ran towards the centre of town. Several other hobbits stared at them, some frowning in disaproval and some trying unsuccesfully to keep from laughing. But both were beyond caring. They had just stormed Farmer Babo's farm, nicked off with a few carrots and cabbages AND gotten out alive. As soon as Neisa stopped shaking with laughter, she took a bite of a carrot and chewed it for a few moments, before she swallowed it."Neisa, Neisa!" Neisa looked up at the sound of her name being called, meeting her sister's eyes. "Hey, Meragwen! Come join us." She called. When her younger sister shook her head, her face crumpled into a frown. "Mama wants you. She didn't say why." Meragwen said, before skipping away. Neisa scowled, passing Dridoc her carrots and standing. "See ya later, Dri." She said simply, before turning on her heel and making her way towards the Baggins' home.
When she reached it, her slim fingers clasped the handle and pushed the door open, stepping into the hall. "Gwavyan?" She called. Neisa had refused to call her mother anything but her forename, claiming that 'the woman may have birthed me, but she's no mother'. "In here, darling." She noticed how Gwavyan emphasised the word 'darling', so Neisa supposed they had company. Her bare feet silently made their way to the kitchen, where she was surprised to see Friagrin, one of the more 'important' hobbits. He was a good forty years older than her, with wrinkles lining his face and glinting brown eyes. His hair was curly and faded brown, with a few gray hairs that were fairly noticeable. She allowed a fake smile to take over her lips as she looked at him. "Hello. He stood as she entered, bowing slightly (something that annoyed Neisa to no end) and her brow creased into a frown. "Uh..." She started, but was interupted. "Hello, miss. As you probably know, I am Friagrin," at this, Neisa nodded "And I have something I must speak to you about." He inclined his head to Gwavyan. "Please, leave us." After a scowl, Gwavyan left, but would no doubt be straining to listen at the closed door. "Dark forces are rising again, Miss Baggins. We need you to help, as your ancestor once did." Neisa's jaw dropped and after a moment of silence, she spoke. "Wh-Why me?" Her voice had lost all trace of cheek, now completely serious and slightly strained. In answer, Friagrin shook his head and walked past her, leaving the young female hobbit frozen on the spot.
The dagger whistled through the air at high speed, ready to create some harm as it slammed into the centre of an oak tree,creating an echoing thud. It's thrower walked forward confidently, silently, allowing the sun to be cast across her soft features and reflect off of her hair. A smirk played on her lips as she studied the tree the dagger had pounded into, noting its depth and the fact that it was still wobbling. With her left hand, she grabbed the hilt and stilled what little of the dagger she could see, before pulling. Hard. A croak, almost like a whine, filled Neisa's ears as it removed itself from the tree, her lips parted in a laugh as she fell to the ground. It had been like this for many days now; alone in the forest as she practised. And although it had become increasingly easier, she couldn't help but miss the times she had spent with Dridoc and the other hobbits. Although it had only been a few days, it felt like millenia since she had seen a friendly face, heard a kind voice. Sighing, she pulled herself to her feet and walked three metres away, before turning and throwing the dagger again. But her mind wasn't in it. She was distracted, knowing that soon the other Fellowship's descendents would arrive. After a few more minutes, she turned on her heel (after returning the dagger to its sheath) and returned to the elven camp.
████████████████████████████████████████████████████  {{OOC: Hoping this is okay...?}}
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Posted: Tue Nov 30, 2010 3:11 am
xxxxxxHe's a stranger to some and a vision to none, For a fortune he'd quite, but it's hard to admit On his face is a map of the world.xxxxxx  xxxxxxxxxGwiryn Elestirnëxxxxxxxxxxxx
Manxxx Thdupp… thdupp... thdupp... The forest around him seemed to be frozen in time, the heavy fog hanging somberly against the ferns. His horse, Wingfoot, moved effortlessly, following a trail he had traveled many times before this. Gwiryn was still confused as to why he'd been asked to go back, but he wasn't going to question the Rangers. With a heavy sigh he shifted down in his saddle, being careful not to jostle the dark birch-leather reins. Wingfoot tossed his great black head, eying Gwiryn ever so slightly as he continued to push against the wet, mossy forest floor. The large stallion could sense the lack in concentration in him and half felt the urge to throw him for a bit of fun, but the Ranger snorted, nudging the coal-black horse in the ribs, “Don't you even think about it, you great brute.” Gwiryn smirked and sat up, nudging against to push Wingfoot into a faster canter, pushing on a slow gallop, “I am distracted is all, a bit confused. Hopefully we'll figure that out soon enough.” The forest began to dissipate, thinning slowly into plains and rolling hills. Wingfoot whinnied as he reached the flat, solid ground, pushing harder and pulling their speed up to a full out run. Gwiryn whooped, pulling his knees in tighter as the rounded the top of a hill. Rohan, a kingdom of men and of horses loomed before them, growing larger and closer with each heavy hoof flattening the earth. Gwiryn reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small silver whistle. He placed it to his lips and blew, listening to the trilling, musical sound as he called for his friend. He smiled when his note was greeted with a shriek. Thorongil dropped down beside him, soaring effortlessly at the speed Wingfoot set. - - - - - - - Dismounting within the gates, a steward of Rohan came to greet him, calling forth a groom and a fellow falconer to take care of his animal counterparts. Wingfoot was led away, but Thorongil refused the falconers arm, instead choosing to perch on Gwiryn's shoulder. The steward showed him inside and sat him down, sitting in front of him and crossing his fingers, “Your Majesty--” Gwiryn raised a hand, cutting him off, “Gwiryn.” “Gwiryn.... The day has come for us to call upon you.” The steward paused, watching the confusion pass on the young man's face, “The kingdoms are in danger You-- Gwiryn. I'm sure you have heard stories of the Fellowship?” Gwiryn nodded as the Steward continued, “The time has come again... for the Fellowship to reunite...”- - - - - - - Four days later and Gwiryn still had a look of disbelief on his face. Aragorn.... his ancestor...taking his place...? It was all too much to learn too quickly. He had been told the location of a camp that had been assembled by the elves to welcome these new... 'heroes'. He'd been traveling for three and a half days and finally, he saw the clearing in the light woods where large tents had been erected. Wingfoot shook his head as he slowed, prancing with huge steps. Thorongil trilled to alert anyone in the camp of their presence as Gwiryn looked about, searching for anyone else. He racked his brain for the other heroes of the Fellowship tales; Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Sam, Frodo, Gandalf... What would their descendants look like...would he recognize them? Clearing his throat, he moved Thorongil to a perch at the back of his saddle, “Hello....?” Wingfoot, who stood at nearly eighteen hands, grunted and hoofed the soil, impatient as a stallion could be as he awaited an answer. xxxxxxOn a Mountain he sits, not of gold, but of sin, From the council of one he'll decide what he's done, From yesterday, the fear, From yesterday, it calls to him.xxxxxx
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 8:21 pm
Nossa of BelegostDescendant of Gimli. Nossa studied the callouses on her hand, rubbing her thumb across the rough skin. Her mind was elsewhere in heavy contemplation. She slowly drew herself from her reverie and returned to reality. Her lips pressed into a taut line. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, feeling stiff and awkward.
The fire crackling in the hearth scattered shadows across the earthen room. A mug of tea sat steaming on the table untouched, Nossa eyed it. The cloaked messenger cleared their throat. Nossa lifted her eyes from the mug of tea, focusing on the messenger with a sharp gaze.
They began, "Do you accept or deny this request?"
Nossa laughed halfheartedly, "I don't have much of a choice, do I? Despite my opinion, it will not effect the fact I must journey forth to meet a prophesied destiny."
"A formal acceptance may seem trivial, but it makes your decision final," they replied.
"I accept this request. I will not shirk from my duty," Nossa said proudly, lifting her chin.
The messenger nodded, "We hoped you would. Our fate is in your hands, Nossa. Please do not let us down."
Nossa smiled reassuringly, "But of course! I am not one to disappoint. Especially after being sought out by you, Elder."
The time-worn dwarf put a finger to his lips, "Hush, Nossa! No one is to know I have been here." He said it seriously, but jest glinted in his eyes.
"I shall accompany you to the Fellowship's congregation. Once we arrive, I shall return to the Shire and you will be on your own. We will leave at dawn, Nossa.I expect you to make any preparations tonight."
Nossa nodded her head, "As you say."
"Good," he closed his eyes for a moment. "I will retire for the night. I'll come for you at dawn, don't forget. Until then, Nossa."
"Goodbye," she waved as she watched his silhouette retreat into the darkness outside. She shut the door behind her and returned to her chair. She cupped her mug of tea and took tentative sips.
Still holding the mug, she rose from her chair and strode to her wardrobe. She opened the doors. There was only one thing there: her armor. She grazed her fingertips across its plated surface and looked at it with admiration. Next to the wardrobe, mounted on the wall, was her magnificent axe. It glimmered in the firelight. She sipped her tea once more before placing back on the table. Nossa rolled up her sleeves and let out a sigh. She took up her axe and held it in hands firmly.
"There's work to be done," she said. It was going to be a sleepless night.
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 10:50 pm
Peregrin Fairbairn
Descendant of Samwise Peregrin Fairbairn, descendant of the great and famous Samwise Gamgee, was sleeping soundly. In a large field of flowers, to be exact; fields were his favorite napping place, as he was shaded by the waving plants and soothed by the gentle color. Not that he needed soothing; his life was pretty much stress-free. That would be, of course, not counting the extremely stressful threat of impeding doom and the fact that the fate of the world as he knew it happened to be resting (partially) on his shoulders.
A number of days ago, a messenger carrying rather depressing news had approached Peregrin's house. Peregrin -- who had been locked indoors by his mother and forced to utilize his profound yet neglected skill in cooking -- had answered the door with a charming smile, eager to escape his punishment for being -- as often called by his mother -- a lazy-bum-to-be. The man, however, was not one of his many friends nor an angry neighbor. It was a messenger.
Since he looked important and acted important, Peregrin invited him inside. The man took one look at him in his flowered apron and brushed by, walking straight to his mother and asking for, quote, "The young man by the name of Peregrin Fairbairn."
"Oh," his mother had replied. "He's busy cooking dinner. Didn't he just let you in?"
And the messenger, with a rather depressed look on his face, brought Peregrin to the table for a little 'chat'. While his mother took over the cooking, Peregrin sat at the table with the important hobbit and listened halfheartedly as he talked on and on and on about impeding doom, and a new prophecy, and how he was the descendant of the great Samwise and therefore chosen to carry his role and, as far as Peregrin was concerned, a whole lot of other crap that wasn't worth listening to.
"So? Do you accept?"
Peregrin, who had been staring dazedly at a wart on the messenger's nose for the past fifteen minutes, had started violently. Regaining his composure with an uncommon speed, Peregrin coughed once and, with an aura that suggested he had actually understood something, said, "Sir, I do accept. I feel that this shall be an enlightening experience; I must thank you for expressing so eloquently the importance of my role and the part I must play." You know, whatever that was. "But, due to the utmost importance of the subject, I'm afraid I must trouble you again and ask for a brief summary; I do not want to find later that I had somehow missed a vital piece of information." The messenger had, unsurprisingly, complied.
"In short," (thank god, thought Peregrin) "You must rescue Middle Earth from the dark forces that are, once again, rising. Peregrin, you -- the direct descendant of the hero known as Samwise Gamgee -- must aid in the battle against the dark forces as did your ancestor." He then handed Peregrin a map and a slip of paper. "This," He said, gesturing at the paper, "Describes the Elven camp to which you must travel in order to learn the details of your assignment. Use this map," He pointed to the map, as if he thought that Peregrin didn't know what a map was, "to find it. I assume you can read?"
Peregrin had to wonder why the man asked him this now, but answered, "Yes, sir, I am capable of reading." He spoke with just a touch of sarcasm -- most hobbits now could read -- but the messenger didn't seem to notice.
"Good. Now, I must be off. Have a lovely afternoon."
A small leaf fluttered gently by Peregrin's nose, causing him sneeze violently. Blinking his eyes against the bright sunlight, Peregrin sat up amongst the bright flowers and grass and peered at the sun, measuring the time. Oh, darn. I only meant to rest for a few minutes. Now look, he chided himself, I have to walk faster for the remainder of the day in order to make it there in time.
He had held off starting the journey to camp for long enough in the first place; he knew that once he started moving he would -- gasp! -- have to fend for himself. He had, naturally, stayed home for as long as realistically possible. And once he started moving, the going had been torturously slow; he was never good at walking, had no horse, and had to carry supplies.
Thankfully, he had noted his poor physical condition and prepared accordingly; he gave himself plenty of time to make it there. Nearly double the time it would take a normal person, sure, but it worked for him; he would likely be there in a few hours, and right on time as well. He supposed it might make a better impression to get there early, but he was far too lazy to do such a pointless and unproductive thing.
Finally arriving, Peregrin glanced around at the clearing. Tents had been raised as he had dreaded, and people were milling about. No, not tents! No comfortable bed, no mother to cook my meals and cater to my needs, no books, no screaming siblings... But on second thought, he supposed, he wouldn't miss that last part too much.
Peregrin didn't know what he expected as he looked around for one of the other descendants; would they have some sort of red ink tattooed onto their forehead, reading 'I am a descendant of Frodo/Aragorn/Legolas/Gimli/Gandalf'? Unconsciously he touched his forehead, hoping fervently that that wasn't the case. Out of the corner of his eye, a large black mare and a bird caught his eye. Then he saw the man standing uncertainly by it. Maybe, thought Peregrin, he's one. It was unlikely, sure; but why else would his horse be saddled, and why else would he look so uncomfortable and awkward? Plus, the horse had a light sheen of sweat; he had just finished a ride.
Walking confidently over to the man, Peregrin smiled easily and said, extending a hand upward at a forty-five degree angle (since, being a hobbit, he's short), "Hello, my name is Peregrin. Are you here to rescue Middle Earth as well?"
((that was... way longer than I thought it'd be. I apologize O.O))
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 3:27 pm
xxxxxxxxxx▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁
xxxxxxShe's a wild o n e
xxxxxxxxx☽ ※ ☾ ▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁
With an angel's f a c e
☽ ※ ☾ ▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁xxxxxxxxxxxxx
She's a wild one runnin' f r e exxxxxx
☽ ※ ☾xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxΛ г i ε ηxxxxxxxxxxxx
W o o d l a n d x E l f
╔═══════════════ ☽ ※ ☾ ═══╗
The tall, lean blonde elf slowly rose from the bush she was concealed behind. She checked behind her to make sure her horse hadn't wandered. Luckily, the ebony mare hadn't. Arien jogged lightly over the forest floor, her footsteps falling as softly and as lightly as a cat's. She stopped at the white birch she'd been shooting at and pulled all her arrows out, perfectly intact. Elven arrows were made sturdy and near unbreakable. On the contrary, they were light and flew fast. They were also very deadly in battle, if loosed by the right bow. And Arien had her arrows fit to her bow. So she was near unstoppable with her bow and arrows. Arien whistled and Sharalyn came sauntering out. Arien smile at patted her black mare, whispering soothing words in Elvish. Arien leapt atop her mare and nudged her over, squeezing her gently into a gallop. Arien expertly navigated her around trees and over bushes, in excellent form considering she rode bareback and the mare had no bridle or any tack on whatsoever.
Arien and Sharalyn emerged from the forest into a bustling camp. Many elves knew Arien and Lord Rondal would be leaving camp for a conference in the Elven sanctuary of the River Tahoi, a private camp. Arien was greeted by large eyes, some approving, some admiring, some clearly disapproving. Arien met each stare with even defiance. It was considered un-ladylike to meet a man's eye. But Arien was no lady, if they hadn't noticed! She was a warrior! Arien stopped at her family's tree-palace, sliding silently and solemnly off Sharalyn. "Stay here, dear and loyal Shara. I must say my farewells, and then we may be on our way with Lord Roldan." Arien patted her loyal mare and disappeared into the leaves. Arien swept her mother into a great hug, and kissed her father on the cheek. She gave encouraging words to them both. "Do not fear for me, mother and father. I am a warrior. I will be fine," Arien assured them, her Elven tongue as precise as a noble's. Arien turned to her younger siblings and tousled their hair. She gave them the same loving ebrace, and the same words- only simpler. Once her farewells were done, she slipped through the leaf covered door- for what could be the last time.
Arien remounted Shara as she came out. She rode her through the camp, saying good bye to her friends- mostly young men. Some young women had stayed faithful to her, but not many.When she reached the edge of camp, Lord Rondal was waiting for her. With a silen nod of acknowledgement, both horses and cloaked riders set off at a gallop through the trees and across the Elvish realms.
* * * * ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ * * * *
Arien and Lord Rondal stopped at a sentry stationed outside of camp. Both still wore cloaks; they dare not lift them until they entered camp. The sentry let them through, where Arien dared to look up. Shara's nostrils flared at all the new sights and smells, her ears swiveled to catch every fleeting sound. Arien lowered her hood, as her Lord had done. He sent her away with instructions on where she was to meet in Council, and then rode off to speak with the other lords. Arien, looking somewhat confused and lost, regained her dignity and made herself look like she wasn't lost at all. Arien was a very prideful elf, yet always honest. She hated losing, and hated weakness- even looking weak. Arien spotted a cluster of odd looking beings- a man and two hobbits. She steered Shara toward her, the mare eyeing the very lareg stallion. Impressive, but Shara is more nimble by the looks of it, Arien calculated. Size would mean clumsiness. But perhaps this horse would surprise her. Her scrutinizing teal gaze traveled to the falcon. An impressive animal, indeed. Her gaze then shifted to the man, and then the hobbits. She could see that it was already going to get interesting, with this party. Arien heeled Shara forward, the mare clad in nothing at all. Arien was told all the armor she'd need would be awaiting her at the camp. So, while Shara wore nothing, Arien was dressed like a young man in tan breeches and tall beige boots, her cream colored shirt tucked underneath a pale green tunic. Her bow was secured in one hand, her quiver of arrows on her back. Her blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders was now pulled back in a tight ponytail-bun. Arien looked at her fellow comrades, eyeing them each. "I am Arien of the Woodland Elves. I have heard we are here on some sort of quest. May I ask who my comrades are?" Arien asked in a frequently stern voice as she slid fluidly off of her black mare. The mare stood with her nose near Arien's hand, and in return the hardy elf stroked her nose. Arien wasn't mean, her voice just sounded like that. She half hoped her comrades think she wasn't mean, but she also wanted them to respect her, as she never was at home.
╚═══ ☽ ※ ☾ ═══════════════╝
❝ T r e a t m e l i k e n o t h i n g m o r e o r l e s s t h a n I a m. ❞ ▸ ※ ▹ They said 'change your clothes'
xxxxxxxxShe said 'No I won't'
xxxxxxxxThey said 'Comb your hair'
xxxxxxxxShe said 'Some kids don't'
xxxxxxxxHer parents' dreams went up in smoke
xxxxxxxxShe's on a roll and it's all uphill! ◂ ※ ◃ ▸ ※ ▹ She has future plans and dreams in life
They say life is hard
xxxxxxxxShe says that's alright! ◂ ※ ◃ ▸ ※ ▹ She's a wild one, with an angel's facexxxxxxxx
A woman, child, and a state of gracexxxxxxxx
She was three years old on her daddy's kneexxxxxxxx
He said you can be anything you want to bexxxxxxxx
She's a wild one runnin' free! ◂ ※ ◃ Defiant ♦ Independent ♦ Proud
❖ Warrior ❖
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 7:36 pm
xxxxxxHe's a stranger to some and a vision to none, For a fortune he'd quite, but it's hard to admit On his face is a map of the world.xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxGwiryn Elestirnëxxxxxxxxxxxx
Manxxx For what seemed like hours, but was surely only minutes, Gwiryn watched the white-tan tents for any sign of movement but there was none to greet him. It was odd; the steward made it seem as though he would be welcomed by a group of others, descendants in a similar situation to himself. He was told that this would be their first meeting place where they could learn each others names and try to decipher what exactly was expected in their 'quest'. With a deep sigh, he patted Wingfoot's great neck, trying to shush Thorongil, who was chatting at him questioningly. Gwiryn's evergreen eyes sent a look his way that told him to quiet down. He didn't want to come across as someone not to respect because his animals did as they pleased. A rustle in the underbrush made him reflexively grab for his sword, his leather gloved hand slipping around the hilt as though it were a good lover. The love of a good battle was the only real love he'd had, besides the love of his mother, so it wasn't exactly something he could compare it to. A very small man, more like a boy, came stumbling out of the woods, picking his way through the thick underbrush. Gwiryn had never seen a man so small and backed up slightly in surprise as he approached, offering his hand and a name. Wingfoot snorted, eying the small being and moved to snuffle his hair, trying to sense out what he was for he hadn't witnessed one like this either. “It's..ehm... nice to meet you. I'm Gwiryn Elestirnë... A Ranger for Rohan,” He dropped his hand to shake the tiny one that was placed before him, “I am indeed. The descendant of Aragorn,” He paused ever so slightly as a black mare and an elf rode in, “Or so I'm told”. A second small person arrived into the camp and his mind clicked in; Hobbits. He gave a half smile at his stupidity. Descendants of the great Frodo and Sam. He released the small hand and looked to the female elf as she introduced herself, as well as studying her impressive mount. She was very lithe, but her lack of bulk could compromise her ability to attack, but he'd been proved wrong in the past. Having been from Rohan, he had a soft spot for mares and he smiled at the graceful black mare before him, with a bow of his head. “I'm Gwiryn and this is Peregrin, three guesses as to who our ancestors are,” He gave the blonde a smile and moved to nudge Wingfoot, who had suddenly become hot beneath the saddle, “I found out about our quest only a few days back.. so if someone else is better informed than I, please, fill us all in.” Thorongil cheeped in agreement and stepped down off the saddle to perch on Gwiryn's shoulder, viewing the hobbits almost as a prey item. He was large enough to pick one up. His tallons dug lihtly into the tight leather falconing vest that Gwiryn wore along with his gloves. He wor dark, comfortable riding pants and silver furnished riding boots. His dark, mahogany-colored hair fell too his shoulder and tendril of it were braided and pinned back to his head to keep them out of his face. Wingfoot gruffed, moved his body to stand at his master's shoulder, nudging the bird with his large nose as they all became acquainted. xxxxxxOn a Mountain he sits, not of gold, but of sin, From the council of one he'll decide what he's done, From yesterday, the fear, From yesterday, it calls to him.xxxxxx
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 3:01 pm
xxxxxxxxxx▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁
xxxxxxShe's a wild o n e
xxxxxxxxx☽ ※ ☾ ▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁
With an angel's f a c e
☽ ※ ☾ ▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁xxxxxxxxxxxxx
She's a wild one runnin' f r e exxxxxx
☽ ※ ☾xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxΛ г i ε ηxxxxxxxxxxxx
W o o d l a n d x E l f
╔═══════════════ ☽ ※ ☾ ═══╗
The blonde elf smiled slightly at the two hobbits. She bowed shortly, thought Elven ladies were taught to curtsy. But Arien never curtsied, as she was NOT a lady! Arien absently stroked Shara as she attempted to explain what little she knew. "Three guesses? I'll get it in one. Aragorn-" Arien said calmy as she gestured to Gwiryn, and then gestured to Peregrin, the one covered in brush. "Samwise-" And finally, she pointed to the nimble looking female hobbit. "And Frodo. All my Lord Rondal told me was that I would be meeting a group of beings that would accompany me on our quest, as was told to us all. The hobbits will be getting ponies, and we'll all be getting weapons and tack as needed. There's to be a council as soon as the others get here," Arien explained, giving all she knew. Well, not all. Arien wasn't one to reveal secrets. She only gave out the information needed. Shara eyed he falcon warily, then the stallon. The mare shifted her back hooves, her nose resting on Arien's open palm. Shara looked completely calm for being in a place for such a short time. The lithe elf still held her ivory bow, plucking at it's string absently. She was still a bit awkward around these new people, but she didn't let it show. Her head was held high, her chin thrust out stubbornly. Her gently curved nose and set jaw showed her stubborn and proud nature. Her fiery teal eyes also revealed she was not one to be messed with. The elf may be very attractive, but vicious in battle.
╚═══ ☽ ※ ☾ ═══════════════╝
❝ T r e a t m e l i k e n o t h i n g m o r e o r l e s s t h a n I a m. ❞ ▸ ※ ▹ They said 'change your clothes'
xxxxxxxxShe said 'No I won't'
xxxxxxxxThey said 'Comb your hair'
xxxxxxxxShe said 'Some kids don't'
xxxxxxxxHer parents' dreams went up in smoke
xxxxxxxxShe's on a roll and it's all uphill! ◂ ※ ◃ ▸ ※ ▹ She has future plans and dreams in life
They say life is hard
xxxxxxxxShe says that's alright! ◂ ※ ◃ ▸ ※ ▹ She's a wild one, with an angel's facexxxxxxxx
A woman, child, and a state of gracexxxxxxxx
She was three years old on her daddy's kneexxxxxxxx
He said you can be anything you want to bexxxxxxxx
She's a wild one runnin' free! ◂ ※ ◃ Defiant ♦ Independent ♦ Proud
❖ Warrior ❖
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 9:34 pm
Peregrin Fairbairn
Descendant of Samwise Resignedly following the tall elf, Peregrin soon found himself in a gabezo bright with lanterns and torches. Three of the more prominent figures in the world, whose names he always failed to remember, were seated up front all high and mighty. Peregrin watched Arien carefully, bowing in a similar manner before taking a seat.
When Lord Rondal opened his mouth, Peregrin immediately tuned out and all he heard from his entire speech was a whole lot of, "... Wood...Realm... Dwarves... Educate..." Peregrin didn't like speeches such as these, and wished that these important fellows could simply paraphrase what they wanted to say. Just then, the White Wizard did something Peregrin found vaguely interesting. He awakened from his daze in order to watch an image of a creepy looking guy and some pretty red light hover above the stone pedestal. He had a feeling that they were important, but couldn't quite recall why. Well, he never did pay any attention in history classes. He then lost focus again, listening only vaguely to the rest of his talk. Basically, what he heard equated to about this: some guy stole the light of goodness and corrupted it, so now we need to dump it in the hidden spring of salvation. Well, he thought mildly, I sure hope my co-workers are listening.
Peregrin followed the others without quite knowing where he was being taken. When they arrived at a tent chock-full of armor and weapons, Peregrin blanched and quickly said, "None for me, thanks." Armor was most definitely not useful in running and hiding, and any weapons would likely be more of a danger to himself in his own hands than it would be to any opponent. "But I'm going to need a pony and a saddle." Anything to make riding it more comfortable.
Patiently, albeit unhappily, he waited for the others to state what they needed so that they could move on to the ponies and saddles.
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Posted: Thu Dec 09, 2010 2:24 pm
████████████████████████████████████████████████████N E I S A__B A G G I N S❝The world needs more friggen' heroes!❞A smile played on Neisa's lips as she studied the female elf. It faded slightly as she spoke of ponies. It wasn't that she didn't like them exactly, more that she preferred traveling by foot. It was easier for her, but she understood if they had to ride. She took a moment to study her companions, the male hobbit who seemed to have an uncomfortable smile on his face, the large man (or at least, to her) who looked like he liked animals, and the female sat atop a horse.
████████████████████████████████████████████████████
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Posted: Thu Dec 09, 2010 7:31 pm
xxxxxx The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back All turns to silver glass Then you see it xxxxxx  xxxxxxxxx Eönwë the Fledgling xxxxxxxxxxxx
Wizardxxx The gardens of Irmo were quite and warm on a normal summer night in Valinor. If you listened close enough, as all who lived in this heaven-like realm, you could hear the flowers opening themselves up to greet the stars. The only noise that broke this calm was the sound of tiny taps. They got louder and louder as a figure appeared, small and seemingly in distress. It was a young girl, whose lips were pressed together tightly as she made her way around the garden. She payed no mind to what was around her as she was too lost in her mind. Her eyes stayed glued to her feet as she tried to make sense of the visions that had been appearing in her dreams; Dreams that had plagued her for weeks. Every dream was different and more lengthy, but the story remained the same. The Fellowship... Frodo Baggins... Legolas, Samwise, Gimli, Aragorn, and Gandalf. Always Gandalf, trying to speak directly to Eönwë. Warning her... Of what, she wasn't sure of, at first. The images meant everything, yet nothing to her. They were shadows of things that happened; Legends that long past. The journey was successful... Or, so she thought. The dreams didn't end in the past. Before she knew it, the faces began to change. The figures of the old Fellowshop members began to distort, and then become new... A girl began to stand in the place where Frodo once was... The features were identical, but the person was different. The same went for the others... Different men filling the place of Samwise and Aragorn, and women for Lagolas and Gimli... And, this 'New Fellowship', as she began to call it, were all seeking her guidance... And, perhaps the most frightening image of all, was that of a man consumed by power... One who had Saruman's twisted laughter which made her quiver with fear... A voice broke her thoughts instantly, and she stood frozen at the sound of it. Eönwë, I request your presence immediately... Her master spoke directly through her mind, his last word forcing her to transport to a place deviod of color and in front of Alistarr the White, the current White Wizard and her master. She stood speechless, afraid of what he would say to her, as she predicted this meeting would happen rather sooner than later. He eyed her for a moment, as if thinking over what to say. What seemed like forever to Eön, words finally escaped his lips. "Young Fledgling, the Valar has spoken to me many times in my dreams... They are telling me that Gandalf has visited your visions of the night... Warning you of a new Saruman that threatens the existance of Middle-Earth... Is this true?" The young wizard nodded, without skipping a beat. Her master only smiled. "Then, you know what you must do." Although she wanted desperately to tell him no... To tell him of her confusion... She only nodded again, keeping her words locked tight in her clenched jaw. The master gave a light laugh as he layed his aged hand on her head. "Then, go forth, my dear. Go and be apart of a tale that was not yet done told..."Shutting her eyes tight, she felt her body shifting through time again, finding herself lying on a soft blanket inside a make-shift tent... She lifted a hand to her temple and voices were coming from outside. She held a breath before exiting, spotting familiar faces with her bright amber eyes. Interrupting their meeting, she blurted out the only thing that came to mind. "I can't believe you're all here... I've seen you all before, yet I realize now I know none of your names..." She almost smack her palm to her face, as she knew she must have sounded absurd to them. She waved her hands out in front of her. "I apologize! That was rude of me. My name is Eönwë... I'm a wizard..."xxxxxxLost in the dark For hope I'd give my everything, This is me forever.xxxxxx [[ Thanks again to The-Revenge-Of-Rouge for helping make the layout for me!! ]]
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Posted: Sat Dec 11, 2010 12:50 am
Nossa of Belegost
Descendant of Gimli. The cart rattled as it trundled over sticks and stones on the path. Only a few more minutes. Nossa let out a sigh. Once she arrived, she would be o her own. Don't get her wrong, she was used to being independent and self-reliant. She just stressed over the fact this was the beginning of journey to save Middle-Earth. She prayed she could fulfill her duties and live up to her responsibilities as nobly as Gimli had. The cart was for the most part empty, her being the only thing occupying space. She had laid out and rested some hours ago, but that time seemed so far away to her now. She felt like she was in a different realm altogether and her memories were just a dream.
Nossa adjusted her armor absentmindedly as she awaited her fate. She shifted her lamellar armor, trying to get comfortable underneath the plates. Beneath the lamellar was her jack of plate, which she was certain of being coated with sweat.
She twisted her gauntlets, a commando battle knife hidden within each. She had also slipped on a pair of brass knuckles, a last resort. Her legs felt stiff, unaccustomed to the copper leggings she was wearing. Nossa would have to cope with it, nonetheless. The boots felt quite comfortable, though. The leather was worn out a bit, but they had served her well. She couldn't remember if she put the dagger into the heel or not, but it wasn't very important anyway. On her back she mounted her axe, a cloth over the blade serving as its sheath. On her belt was a pouch filled with dried herbs and a vial of potions: remedies for inflictions. She rounded her scarf round her neck again.
"Nossa," the Elder said over his shoulder. She turned around to face him, despite the fact he was facing the road. "I just want you to remember that no matter what happens, you will still be Nossa of Belegost. Make us proud, you know best. I look forward to the stories you'll bring back to us."
"Of course, I'll avoid leaving out a single detail," Nossa laughed and smiled. "I promise to use my best judgement."
"Good," the Elder nodded. "Ah, here we are." He stopped before the sentry. He turned to face her."I've no reason to go inside. I'll be leaving you here, Nossa."
Nossa hopped off the back of the cart. She came back around to the front. The Elder had gotten off his horse. Nossa embraced him warmly.
"Goodbye, Elder." Nossa waved as he turned around and continued down the path in which they had just came. She watched him, perhaps for the last time. She turned back around and strode into the camp, the sentry waving her in.
She scanned the camp, noting the deadpan mood. She would have expected to see more energy, but all seemed still. Nossa took a deep breath. She began walking among the tents, looking for any sign of the other descendants, not wishing to disturb any of the tents. Her footsteps sounded like hollow echoes on the ground. Where was she supposed to go? She perked her ears, wanting to catch any sound.
It sounded like voices, but Nossa couldn't be for certain. She decided to pursue the only noise she was aware of in the camp. It led her away from the tents. She slowly peeked around the corner of a tent. She saw a motley crew consisting of almost each race. They all had young faces and had very unique gaits.It was easy to distinguish how each was feeling. They were very interesting to look at and she wanted to observe them from afar for longer, but it would only be seconds before one of them would call her out. From the looks of it, they were very wary, able-bodied warriors with varying motivations. She walked towards them the way someone would approach an information desk: a bit nervous and apprehensive. It wasn't an overwhelming emotion. In fact, Nossa was eager to make acquaintance with others, it had been a long while since she last had to formally introduce herself.
Nossa approached them with a small smile, a greeting ready at the tip of her tongue. ((I should hope that is good enough ^-^ Sorry if my conventions are lacking, but as long as you get the jest of it.))
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Posted: Sat Dec 11, 2010 8:59 am
xxxxxxxxxx▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁
xxxxxxShe's a wild o n e
xxxxxxxxx☽ ※ ☾ ▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁
With an angel's f a c e
☽ ※ ☾ ▸ ▹ ▇ ▇ ▇ ◀ ◁xxxxxxxxxxxxx
She's a wild one runnin' f r e exxxxxx
☽ ※ ☾xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxΛ г i ε ηxxxxxxxxxxxx
W o o d l a n d x E l f
╔═══════════════ ☽ ※ ☾ ═══╗
Arien's ebony mare stamped her hoof in impatience. Shara didn't like standing in one place for long. Arien's ears twitched; she picked up someone arriving at the sentries. She listened to the fall of the footsteps, trying to determine who it was. A dwarf, she finally concluded. Before the dwarf rounded the corner, Arien turned to meet her. The tall blonde elf could pick up the furthest sound and could see the farthest of the whole party; sharpened senses came from being an elf. Arien let a small smile play on her lips, but was called away as a booming voice called out, "My dear comrades. Come, we must meet." Arien whistled, and Shara came up. Arien leapt atop her mare, turning to the others. "And that is my lord Rondal. We mustn't keep them waiting," Arien added, turned away from them. She still held her bow, her arrows on her back. Arien followed Lord Rondal, weaving between tents until they came to a well lit gazebo; their meeting place. Already seated in it was the king of Gondor, the White Wizard, and Lord Cerebula of the elves. Arien dismounted and bowed deeply to all of them. The blonde elf hopped up the stairs and took a seat across from Lord Cerebula, waiting for the meeting to being as Shara stood patiently behind her master. Lord Rondal waited until everyone was seated until he began.
"I am sure you have all introduced yourself. Arien, of the woodland realm, Gwiryn, of Rohan, Peregrin and Neisa, of the hobbits, Eönwë the Fledgling, and Nossa of the dwarves. You six will be undertaking the most dangerous task to save Middle Earth. I am sure you know some of the danger, but it is our duty to educate you further." Nodding to the White Wizard, Lord Rondal continued. The White Wizard pulled up an image from the pedestal in the center of the gazebo, a floating image of Mithrandir and the blood red Light of Elendil. Arien muffled a gasp; she had no idea that Mithrandir had turned the precious Light to evil purposes! Her face still as stone calm, she awaited for Lord Rondal to continue. "This is Mithrandir. Do not underestimate him. He is more powerful that both Saruman and Sauron combined. His soul is tied to the Light of Elendil, which he has corrupted to be a tool in his conquest to destory Middle Earth. He is using Isengard as Saruman did, but he has taken much precautions. Isengard is a fortress now; it is impenetrable. The only way to defeat Mithrandir is to find the Light of Elendil and rid it of the evil by emptying it into the purest source in Middle Earth: the Spring of Seline." Lord Rondal nodded to Alistarr the White once again, and the image shifted. A glowing white spring was shown in the glimmering surface, the purest of all Middle Earth. "You must find this spring and rid Middle Earth of the evil behind Mithrandir. Only the rarest of woodland elves know where it is. But beware; Mithrandir has allies everywhere. The elves will not reveal anything; we have already tried contacting them. This is what you must do, and now you know the musts of this quest. Come, I will take you to the armory to have you all fitted for armor and saddles, if need be," Lord Rondal finished.
Arien stood, bowing once again to Lord Cerebula, Alistarr the White, and the king of Gondor. She rose she followed Lord Rondal, Shara following behind. The lord pulled open a large tent, many different shapes and sized of armor and saddles laying abreast. Arien stepped to the side, shaking her head. "I beg your pardon, Lord Rondal, but I do not need armor or saddles. I have never ridden with a saddle, and I do not expect to start now. Armor slows me down. Let the others choose as they want as well," Arien requested, and the lord smiled in understanding. As someone who had helped raised Arien, he knew how stubborn she could be and he didn't want an argument. Turning to the others with a charming smile, he asked the same question. "Armor and saddles are available if you wish. Horses and ponies are also. This is your quest, but you must choose wisely. If you would like weapons or armor, please come inside. If not, please wait outside until I finish with those who do and then we shall move onto the stable to get those who need horses or ponies. It os all up to you," Lord Rondal said in a kind voice. Arien stepped back so the others can get inside, and fingered her bow. She had plenty of arrows, and she could always make more. Arien stood by with one hand on Shara's shoulder, her teal eyes shifting between her comrades. It was so much! It would be dangerous! Yet it would be thrilling! Arien loved the aspect of danger and the thrill it gave her. It was what a warrior lived for! Arien's lips played in a small smile. She still hadn't warmed up to her comrades yet, but the possibly would in time.
(( Oh goodness! I'm so sorry about the length! I didn't mean for it to be that long. Curse you, Lord Rondal. . . xD Anyway, sorry again! ))
╚═══ ☽ ※ ☾ ═══════════════╝
❝ T r e a t m e l i k e n o t h i n g m o r e o r l e s s t h a n I a m. ❞ ▸ ※ ▹ They said 'change your clothes'
xxxxxxxxShe said 'No I won't'
xxxxxxxxThey said 'Comb your hair'
xxxxxxxxShe said 'Some kids don't'
xxxxxxxxHer parents' dreams went up in smoke
xxxxxxxxShe's on a roll and it's all uphill! ◂ ※ ◃ ▸ ※ ▹ She has future plans and dreams in life
They say life is hard
xxxxxxxxShe says that's alright! ◂ ※ ◃ ▸ ※ ▹ She's a wild one, with an angel's facexxxxxxxx
A woman, child, and a state of gracexxxxxxxx
She was three years old on her daddy's kneexxxxxxxx
He said you can be anything you want to bexxxxxxxx
She's a wild one runnin' free! ◂ ※ ◃ Defiant ♦ Independent ♦ Proud
❖ Warrior ❖
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Posted: Thu Dec 16, 2010 8:20 pm
Peregrin Fairbairn
Descendant of Samwise Resignedly following the tall elf, Peregrin soon found himself in a gabezo bright with lanterns and torches. Three of the more prominent figures in the world, whose names he always failed to remember, were seated up front all high and mighty. Peregrin watched Arien carefully, bowing in a similar manner before taking a seat.
When Lord Rondal opened his mouth, Peregrin immediately tuned out and all he heard from his entire speech was a whole lot of, "... Wood...Realm... Dwarves... Educate..." Peregrin didn't like speeches such as these, and wished that these important fellows could simply paraphrase what they wanted to say. Just then, the White Wizard did something Peregrin found vaguely interesting. He awakened from his daze in order to watch an image of a creepy looking guy and some pretty red light hover above the stone pedestal. He had a feeling that they were important, but couldn't quite recall why. Well, he never did pay any attention in history classes. He then lost focus again, listening only vaguely to the rest of his talk. Basically, what he heard equated to about this: some guy stole the light of goodness and corrupted it, so now we need to dump it in the hidden spring of salvation. Well, he thought mildly, I sure hope my co-workers are listening.
Peregrin followed the others without quite knowing where he was being taken. When they arrived at a tent chock-full of armor and weapons, Peregrin blanched and quickly said, "None for me, thanks." Armor was most definitely not useful in running and hiding, and any weapons would likely be more of a danger to himself in his own hands than it would be to any opponent. "But I'm going to need a pony and a saddle." Anything to make riding it more comfortable.
Patiently, albeit unhappily, he waited for the others to state what they needed so that they could move on to the ponies and saddles.
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