"Yes, m'lady." she said softly, as she stood up, and helped the other girl.

_________________

Leofwyn followed Deawen, moving as if she had leaden weights on each of her limbs.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

Deawen glided down the corridors to her rooms with the girls trudging behind her. when they reached the last hallway the smell of something smoldering filled the corridor. Deawen sat in her favorite chair two other slaves were removing a charred chair from the room. "lost my temper..." Deawen laughed (she really likes fire Piro!) at her act "hmm well lets see you two will need better clothes and tasks!" Deawen sighed she looked at the girls "sit!" Deawen ordered politely " i don't know if that old bat told you about my power... well it's true I get bored then gets destuctive..." she said the last word with pleasure

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Intrigued slightly, Morwen shed the dull look from her eyes. Perhaps there would be more to this strange woman than just a spoiled crone of Sauron's.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

((Heh... you called and I answer...))

Name: Melachor

Race: Unknown, but assumed as human, but is immortal like the elves (little mystery on this char)

Age: ???

Height: 5`6 feet

Weight: 100 lbs

Hair: Long brown tied on a ponytail that hangs on his shoulder
Eyes: grey, green, cold and very noticing eyes..
Appreance: has the appreance of a 40 or 50 years old human man, but in reality is far more younger and powerful for his psychical strength, has a skinny looking body and long handy fingers for spell casting and reading...

Clothes: Brown and black robes that has an armour on top of them covering his chest and shoulders, otherwise has normal black clothing underneath that robe and armour...

Gear: A wooden long battle staff with iron to strengthen it to take hits and give them, many bags on his belt and a medallion around his necklace with a serpent on it...

Personality: A very silent person, who talks always when necessarry, but usually just opens his mouth to sy something ironic or annoying. Mocks all stupider than him and that is almost everyone, but is not arrogant at all, but very perspective...

Skills: Some spell casting abilities...

History: Appeared out of nowhere to serve the dark lord of mordor who promissed him all the knowledge he seeked and more power that he could imagine to come with this knowledge....

---------------------------

Suddenly a cold voice spoke behind Deawen.

"Would that old bat you prefered be me? but please.... your petty tricks make me laugh along with the dark lord..."

Melachor leaned on his staff with a smile on his face as he brough the hood down with his other hand.

"I thought you had better thing sto do than...to... well.. look after slaves, but oh well... now that I am here I do have some interest in these one`s.."

What a lousy excuse...

Melachor sat on a small chair few feet away from where he had stood and took out a pipe, which he set on and began to blow small clouds into the air from time to time, he nodded to Deawen to go on.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

(on behalf of the Dragon tears I bid you welcome )

"no... the old bat is the old nit twit slave! you are the...the..." Deawen did n't have a nick name for Melachor. Melachor stared at her Deawen lost her words. Deawen shifted her weight then regained her thoughts " what brings you here lord?" Deawen asked softly she glanced at the two girls "you two may go Lord Melachor i guess wishes to speak to me... Have that old bat show you around.. also have her show you your rooms in the back there!" Deawen ordered pointing to the small door at the back of the chamber. Deawen sighed then she waited for the girls to go she cupped her right hand suddenly a flame sprang from the palm of her hand she twirled it and made it change shape.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Leofwyn was very freaked out by the "man" in the shadows, but she had learned not to take people only at face value. She looked at him, and into his eyes. She saw great intelligence, and something else. Not malice... Seeing that she was falling behind, she hurried to catch up with her new master.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

(ah Morwen1 Deawen did not get up! the old Bat is showing you around!)

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

As the old bat ( ) hurried them off to the rooms, though by definition, they were more like closets. Very dirty closets. Leofwyn looked at the elf to see her reaction.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

(the ice man? Btw thanks for letting me join, Deawen!)

Name: Lomeril Silmawen

Race: Elf

Age: Born within the last Age (i.e. one of the younger Elves )

Description: Her eyes hold night's shadows but are overlaid with the sheen of starlight. A slender silver band holds her long, unruly black hair in place. Her raiment is white edged with silver. Her native tongue is Noldorin, but since few speak that she prefers in daily life to speak Quenya, though she can speak Sindarin when it is needful. She can't speak the Common Tongue very well at all, so she simply chooses not to do so in front of those to whom she prefers not to appear ignorant. She is usually quiet and dignified, but can laugh with joy at times, and she loves the Sea and the West.

Talents: She can sing and play the flute and lyre or harp, and has become skilled at retelling the ancient Elvish songs and tales. She is somewhat of a minstrel for her people.

History: Her parents came from Gondolin with Earendil, and when Beleriand fell they eventually became part of Cirdan's folk at the Grey Havens. Lomeril was captured on a journey eastward, by the way.

(I don't have time to do any rp-ing right now, but i will when i post next. )

_________________

Avi and banner by ForeverFrodo. Words on banner by me.
Proud Frolass
Resident Elvengoth

(Nice to have you!)

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

(my pleasure)( he he he closet i like closets and pointy things!)

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

(OOC- Name- Adastrea
Appearance- see avatar
Family- Parents are Varda and Manwe, she also has a family that took her in as an adopted daughter and sister. Those parents were tortured and killed before her when she was taken.
Past- Fell for melkor's lies and came to Middle Earth with him only to have to spend her life running or hiding from something.
Personality- She is overly trusting which gets her into trouble very often. She is quiet and soft spoken, not very good with a sword. Mordor made her tough, she had been tortured in numerous ways and pain no longer seems to phase her. She has spend two years in the dungeons, the last 3 months she was just left to die, though it turned out that she healed up and began regaining her strength.)



A knock came on the door of the room Deawen and Melachor were in. A servant came in when called. "My lord...my lady...I was told to tell you of one of the prisoners who was being tortured. She has survived in the dungeons for the past 2 years, none have lasted that long. He is letting you two decide who wants her and what to do with her. She is a strong one that elf girl, not many of those pretty elves are very strong when it comes to being burned, beaten, tortured and left to die. She healed up with only a few scars." The servant waited for an answer, she was nervous and wanted to get out.

Melachor smiled slightly.

"She.. is one reason why I came and the other reason is to check on the situation because, if I wish to know something I`ll see it and read it myself...but that girl has proven her worth and... I believe every enemy can be persuaded to a friend...don`t you agree?"

Melachor sat in the chair and looked at Deawen with a slight smile.

"And... I have heard you have some books I might be interested...strange that I haven`t thought to search this place for more knowledge..."

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

The servant kept silent for a moment, "She is in the last cell in the third dungeon if you want to look at her." With that the servant ran out, not liking to be in the room with either one of them.

After Deawen answered Melachor got up leaning on his staff without caring, if she denian or accepted it and placed his pipe in his pocket, he walked out of the room and to the door of the cell that the servant had pointed to. He slightly sighed and pushed the door open.

Quite interesting...

He saw an elf woman who seemed dirty and was in pain probably still after those two years, he walked a small stairway down and stood in the centre of the room. He took a friendly look on his face.

"Tell me child... what is your name?"

The thing calling her child was because he certainly felt to be more older, but if he had mistaken then it didn`t really bother him.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!