Thread: Dagor Dagorath

Thromi Shortbeard The Shire Bridge Inn With a nod of his head in gratitude, Thromi accepted the tankard and took a hefty drink, feeling the taste of ale flush down his throat and refresh him. That felt good. They made small talk at first, about the road and travels. Yes, there was rumour of orc parties and warg packs coming down from the north and east, though he had only met fugitives who brought word of them and had not encountered them himself. But that danger might soon grow nigh even to the borders of the Shire. Was there hope? Moira needed a wiser dwarf, or elf, than Thromi to answer that one. He agreed with her though. Once the current stores expired, which shouldnt be so far off, what could they do? He didnt answer, for any answer he had was hopeless or despairing. Well chin up, someone will set things right. Evil does not last forever, as all the stories say. Therell be a fix to this. Im sure there is. Thromi said and after a few more tankards than he could keep count with, he felt himself growing drowsy. He beckoned goodnight to the fair Halfling hostess and went off to his rented chambers to catch some sleep. There was still a long journey ahead. Suffice to say, for once his dreams were not about darkness but of other more beautiful things. Perhaps there could be hope after all. Elvon Gulf of Lune Elvon did not share in the excitement of the journey ahead. While he once did hope to see the vast and intricate lands of Middle-Earth, the circumstances which brought him to these shores did not allow for such luxuries anymore. He was here on a quest, one of vital importance to the future of the world and all beings within. At least he had some hope, for finding two willing companions who refused to be idle and helpless was a tremendous start. It brought warmth to his heart and he was encouraged for it. Then let us be off. Do not expect feast or grandiose welcome on the road. We eat on our feet and rest only when they can go no further. To the Shire, then. And they made great progress in those first few days, for as an elf Elvon was tireless and they paused only when their human companion needed rest or recovery. They passed through the Blue Mountains and out into the empty lands between their eastern slopes towards the hilly green country to the west. This was the Shire, a small yet cultivated land. Yet despite its richness, or what should have been a richness of soil, they met very few people on the road. The two elves and their hooded human companion caused all sorts of frenzy, usually driving people to fear of what these three interlopers might be up to. There was no point in trying to speak to them for they were met with shut doors, barred windows, and angry remarks. One did not need elven ears to hear those. Their first real obstacle however was when a star sparkling ribbon of a river appeared before them in the distance. The Brandywine. It was wide and swift flowing, with only a single bridge across. It was gated and by the looks of it, guarded. Elvon did not wish to stir trouble against these Little Folk so it seemed apt to attempt a greeting. Even he could recognize the telltale signs of a tavern on the roadside, a low dwelling with two wings that sank into the hills behind in Hobbit fashion as they preferred. The door was low, so each of the trio would have to swoop and duck in Thromi Shortbeard Brandywine Bridge Inn After dusty weeks of travel on the road, it felt good to be washed and clean. Fresh garments, with warm food and ale in his belly, Thromi felt he could travel to the Blue Mountains and then back to Khazad-Dum and through it to the Iron Hills in record time. Especially after the previous night. He felt elated. Now with pipe and quality leaf to relax with, he was loathe to depart again on his journey. He had such fine company here, finding himself at ease in the company of Moira with whom he now sat. Perhaps he could delay. The door to the tavern was swung open and in stepped three large figures, a male and two female. No, what struck Thromi most was that it was two elves and a human. And the lead elf, the tall male, had such bright eyes they were like two stars that had come down to earth. For a moment they shined vigorously before fading, as if whatever fuel ignited those orbs burned themselves out. By his beard, Thromi hated elves He watched them with dark eyes of his own. Good morning. The elf said to no one in particular. How did he know it was morning? I am called Elvon. These are my companions, the Lady Bereniel and the Lady Nair. We seek news and guidance across the bridge into the forest yonder but the gate is closed. He stated. Thromi turned and glanced towards Moira. This was her duty, was it not? The faster they sped on these travelers, the better. But he wondered vaguely what their purpose was. Elves fled westwards to the sea, not eastwards into danger. And not in the company of a female human either, who looked like a ranger. He wondered what their business was but he had no authority to question them on it.