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PostPosted: October 23rd, 2009, 12:31 pm 
Gondorian
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As the man entered and the light of the fire fell on him, Arandur recognized him for a Dunedain. Something else about the man tugged at his memory, but he knew not what.

"We are ever loyal to our leader and kinsman," Arandur said quietly, "you are welcome to our fire." At mention of the stranger's name, he realized suddenly that he knew him.

"You were of the Gray Company of the Dunedain. We fought together on the fields of the Pelonner, and before the Morannon." Arandur for the first time noticed the changes in Hanasian. He was scarred, and a grim cast hovered about his countenance. Whereas Arandur had been through those battles nearly unscathed, Hanasian had suffered grievous injuries that had forever left their mark.

Taking up a small flask, he proffered it to the Ranger.

"Old Winyards, from the Shire. It will ease the chill."

Retaining his seat, Arandur filled a bowl from the stew-pot and gestured that Hanasian should also sit and eat.

He paused to give him time, before asking the questions that were foremost in his mind.


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PostPosted: October 24th, 2009, 1:19 am 
Dunedain Ranger of Arnor
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No hesitation came from Hanasian to the offered flask. As he took a mouthful, he did take a long look at Arandur. Passing the flask back, he said,

"Yes, of course. Arandur. We rode far together in those days. Pardon my memory has not been good since that day on the Pelonner. But I remember now. Halbarad and I bacame separated from you and the rest when the Easterlings pushed forth an attack. Little else I can recall after that without referring to my journals."

Hanasian sat near the fire and watched the flame for a moment. He then got into his satchel on his belt and removed a wooden mug which he filled with the hot stew.

Silence for a time while everyone ate, but now there was much to ask and answer for...

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PostPosted: October 24th, 2009, 9:46 am 
Gondorian
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"That day of victory came at grievous cost. Alas for Halbarad and so many noble folk." Arandur stared pensively into the flames, his face a mask of remembering.

He shook it off however, for now at this reunion was not a time for such reminiscence.

"Tell me," he said, looking up at Hanasian, "what do you in the North once again? Have you news from the Southlands? Good or ill I would hear of it."


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PostPosted: October 24th, 2009, 6:50 pm 
Ringwraith
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Maethoriel sat back down one it was clear the man was of no threat. It was done without any sign that she was a bit disappointed. The woman was feeling restless and needed a bit of a fight to calm her already frayed sanity. The woman was not usually one to stay with a group for long and this trip was dangerously close to being too reaching her limit. She almost sneered, it would be ridiculous to form any bonds with these people - yes, she needed out.

The woman leaned back onto the back wall of the cave, her legs stretched out in front of her with her ankles crossed. She watched the newcomer with wary, dark eyes - other than that she made no move of welcome. Instead, she dug through the pouch at her side and pulled out a pipe and weed for it. The pipe lit with a word muttered under her breath before she placed it into her mouth taking a long drawl off it and letting the smoke spew from her mouth after a moment.

She let her mind wander once again after refusing the stew offered. The woman was not fond of the smell of meat and it was hard to hide the distaste too when it was so close to her.

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PostPosted: October 29th, 2009, 10:04 pm 
Gondorian
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Gralin had no such compunction for the meat stew, and heartily ate his fill. Afterward he brought out his own pipe and set it alight with a twig from the fire. He blew a small smoke ring, then glanced over at the half-elf. He was somewhat puzzled by her odd appearance and strange ways, to say nothing of her reticence for speech.

"Tell me elf, if you do not eat meat, what do you eat? I've seen you eat rarely enough on our journey. Surely not the way-bread of the elves?" He said with some skepticism.


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PostPosted: October 31st, 2009, 9:42 pm 
Dunedain Ranger of Arnor
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Hanasian took a second helping of the stew as it really helped in warming his bones from the inside while the fire struggled to ward off the chill air. The weather wasn't the only thing that chilled the air. The aroma of the pipe-weed was nice, and Hanasian breathed in the smoke that drifted his way off the pipe-bowl. He watched her smoke out of the corner of his eye but didn't say anything. Going by her looks and demeanor, obviously she was one of those unfriendly warrior woman sorts wanting to kick butt. Best not to pay her any mind.

Pausing from eating, he answered Arandur,


"News of the southlands are for the most part, well. The city of Pelargir thrives with trade from the south and east as the quays are being re-built. Harandor is being settled again with men of all races, and the City of Umbar is the capital of New Harad, under a wise tribal king who swore fealty to our King Elessar. Yet there is still war and battles in the far south of Harad, for a renegade captain had fled there and stirs up the hatred of the people. But they are of little threat and armies of New Harad and mercenaries of Gondor fight there, and they are little more than a remnent band hiding deep in thick jungle swamps."

Hanasian paused as he finished the last of the stew in his bowl. He then went on,

"To the east the Easterlings of Rhun rule themselves with fealty sworn to our king. There was trouble in Khand which is where I fought for a couple years with the Free Company of Gondor. With the killing of a chief who refused surrender in the war, things were subdued. But they are a proud people who look upon the west with disdain. But their men-folk are now few, with their decimation in the war and the battles afterward. But enough about war. you ask why I am now here in the north."

He looked briefly at the woman, looking bored as she fondled her pipe, before answering Arandur...

"I have come on my own, seeing the life return to Tharbad and along the Greenway. Dwarves employed by the King work even now on bridges anew at the Tharbad Crossing, and when they finish, trade and news between the north and south will increase. Yet news of troubles here in the old lands of Arnor is worrisome to the King, and his plans for Annuminas are set, he wishes news and sends messengers. I am not his messenger, but come home again to help clear these lands of lingering evil, so men and halfling may live in peace free from the terrors of the night. Tell me Arandur, where do you intend on going from here?"

Hanasian took out his pipe and tamped a load of his pipe-weed. Old dry stuff, a mixed lot of whatever he could get along the road. He knew he should have gone to Sarn Ford before coming north so that he could get fresh stock of Shire-herb. Pushing a dry branch into the fire, he removed it when it ignited and he drew heavily several times on his pipe. The thick, acrid smoke could not match the fragrant wisps of the woman's pipe, but the sour look on her face kept him from asking her for some. Gralin asked about her eating habits, and Hanasian was curious about her tale as well. He looked her in the eye and said to as he offered up his pouch...

"Would you like to try mine?"

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Last edited by Hanasian on November 1st, 2009, 11:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject:
PostPosted: November 1st, 2009, 9:27 pm 
Gondorian
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(Gralin the Dwarf is the one who asked Maethoriel about her eating)

"We are but a day's journey and a half from the ruins of Fornost. It is in my thoughts that orcs may have made it a haven and a camp from which to launch raids southwards." He sighed heavily,
"I fear I did not seek aid from Gondor in time, for they may already have crossed the Brandywine into the Shire. Elestirn travels there even now with many of our brethren to redouble the defense along it's northern border."

He paused a moment to fill his own pipe, and then continued, "What we find in Fornost will in part decide our next action. If we find many orcs there, it may be necessary to await reinforcements from Gondor before we continue on to the North. Several Dunedain have indeed left for the North to go as far as Angmar, but they have not yet returned."


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PostPosted: November 2nd, 2009, 12:23 am 
Ringwraith
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Maethoriel barely glanced at the man, bypassing a wrinkling of her nose at his offer in lieu of throwing her bag of pipe weed to him. As she spoke, more smoke was issued from her mouth and coupled with her lounging position one was reminded of a dragon laying on its treasure.

"I will let you keep your weed, but do not smoke it about me. It reeks," she said to Hanasian in explanation. "Take some of mine less we all find our health stunted."

Her attention was once again turned towards the dwarf that had taken up the spot near her. She shrugged.

"I have waybread with me, true. But tis not all I eat. There are berries and dried fruits that I carry also as many do not share my love of vegetables and fruits."

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PostPosted: November 4th, 2009, 2:03 am 
Dunedain Ranger of Arnor
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Grabbing the flying bag of smoke, Hanasian had his initial sense of this woman confirmed. He looked at her, took a last long draw on his pipe and slowly exhaled the smoke through his nose. He emptied the ash onto a rock by the fire and smiled. Filling his bowl with a generous helping of her offered smoke, he tossed the bag back to her, saying,

"Thank you kindly m'Lady. I'll smoke it later."

He stowed his pipe in his vest then turned to Arandur and asked,

"Fornost is an ill place. Its ruin was thorough and much evil lingered there since, I'm sure even with the demise of the Witch-king. It would be no surprise that orcs would use the ruins and the North Downs nearby. It has always been a place of danger before the war. And no word from Rangers who ventured well into the north you say? Hopefully all is well with them. When did you expect to have word?"

Hanasian pulled out a pouch of dried berries and poured a few into his hand and offered some to the others.

"Blackberries. Their brambles infest Dunland, but their fruit is good."

Pausing to savour the berries in his mouth, he then said,

"We should likely set out early, though I don't think this weather will break anytime soon."

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PostPosted: November 4th, 2009, 8:52 pm 
Gondorian
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"They left for the North some months ago. I fear some ill have may befallen them." He took some of the offered berries and ate them one by one, savoring the sweetness.
"Yes, that would be wise." he said in agreement, getting to his feet. "I will stand the first watch."

Gralin gave a last lingering pull on his pipe, and then tucked it away. He rolled in his cloak and was soon asleep.


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PostPosted: November 15th, 2009, 8:32 pm 
Gondorian
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Arandur sat in the entrance, the flicking fire low behind him casting long shadows of his sleeping companions onto the walls. Contrary to the prediction of the Hanasian, the winds outside had died, and the last spatters of cold rain had returned to the tattered and fleeting clouds, through which the moon now shone it's way. A calm and a hush fell over the world, though it was not a peaceful feeling calm. It held the feel of evil lurking, and a foreboding of dark things watching in the night.

Arandur eased his sword from it's sheath and laid it across his knees, but naught could be seen, and when he traded watches with the Dwarf he said nothing of his feelings.

Morning came, and pale sunlight shone in through the door and onto the back wall of the chamber. Hanasían, who's last turn it was on watch woke them, and they ate a hasty breakfast before setting out.

They continued Westward, and before the sun had risen to midday the lands changed before them. They came to a steep slop, almost a cliff, that fell away down from the higher and rougher country across which they had come.
At the bottom of the sloop lay a fringe of tangled and gnarled old trees and brush, which also partially crept up the slop. Out beyond this stretched a plain, with autumn-brown grass tall and flowing. To the west could be dimly seen a line, as of an indent in the earth, running from south to north. This was the Greenway, and it ran to the very gates of Fornost. In days gone by it was the North South Road, and connected to the East West Road in Bree-land. Ancient mounds and hills dotted the land on either side of this road, and indeed were scattered over the plain, on which towers and castles of the old Kingdom once stood. Now they were ruins in the age long grass, and wind wore the stones; a shadow of a memory.

To the west and north hills could be made out on the horizon.
"The North Downs," Arandur murmured, seemingly to himself, "and moldering at their feet the ruins of Fornost. A battle was fought on this plain, grim and terrible, and our people were scattered far after it, never to recover."

It was onto this plain that Arandur now led them, for in truth he had guided them through the roughest paths he knew on the journey westward from Weather Watch, in hopes to avoid detection by orcs and their spies. Now they would have to chance the open, and rely on haste. They had come upon the Greenway farther to the south than he had intended, and it would be two days at least to reach Fornost.

They scrambled down the slope and began to search out a way through the dense growth, which was thicker than it had appeared from above. At length Arandur found a path that wound through it several hundred yards from where they had descended, and they followed it. The ranger guessed by the sign that it was a dear track, and regretted that they could not pause to hunt, but he noted it's location.
At last they came through the brush, and out onto the plain beyond. It was not as flat as it had at first appeared, for it rolled in gentle hills and dales, often broken by ancient stones poking forth like teeth.

The weather held fair but chill and they had swift going, and before the westering sun sunk to the horizon they had covered many miles. They made camp at the base of a small hillock, gathering a supply of dead firewood from a stand of stunted trees ringing the hill, and started a small fire. Shadows lengthened and night deepened around them, but so also did Arandur's unease. He could not put his finger on it, but he felt that their progress had been to easy, to swift and unhindered. And also the memory of the night before was still with him. The feeling of being watched slowly began to grow on him again, and he got up to prowl restlessly about the fire.

He at last stopped to eat from their slim rations, but always his gaze was turned outward into the surrounding darkness. All at once, as if fires were being lit in the night, he saw eyes! Three pairs at first, but then more.

"Wolves!" he cried, drawing his sword, "the hilltop, quickly! We can hold them there. Bring fire!" So saying he scooped up a great armload of wood and a burning brand from the fire, and retreated up the slop. The hilltop was rimmed with stones, and short trees had once grown there, but now stood starkly, white limbs like bones against the night. Arandur cast his load of wood onto the ground in the center of the hilltop, and thrust the torch into it. Gralin followed his lead and also brought wood which he heaped atop the pile, until a great flame went up from it. The others were there also, and soon the eyes were on all sides of them, yet for a while they did not come closer than the stones. At last one came, with a leap and a snarl, and in the same moment the bow of the Dwarf twanged, and the wolf fell at their feet with an arrow buried deep in it's chest. They came in a rush then, and weapons flashed in the firelight as the companions fought them. Arandur held a brand in one hand and his sword in the other, and with the brand he swung at them, lighting the coats of two aflame. They fled with howls of pain, burning like falling stars.


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PostPosted: December 14th, 2009, 11:16 pm 
Dunedain Ranger of Arnor
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Hanasían took off down the slope after the flaming wolves, yelling as he brandished his sword in one hand and a brand in the other. They fled ever faster, and their track flittered with embers of burning leaf and twig whose dampness from the rains before quickly extinguished. On Hanasían ran after them, long after they had extinguished themselves. Pausing, he looked back, hoping the others fared as on the hill while he made this diversion. But the wood fell silent, and Hanasían, considering those he met and camped with the night before. An old comrade in arms during the war, a rather silent dwarf, and woman who packs good smoke but has an obvious chip on her shoulder. He said a prayer to Varda wishing them well before seeding his trail and sliding silently away to the north and west. Maybe the remaining wolves would try and follow him. This is what he hoped with his seeding. He was already way too late.

(Sorry to bow out. The writing chemistry isn't there and I just ain't feeling the story.)

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 Post subject: Re: Lost Realms of Arnor (Continuing, Open)
PostPosted: June 3rd, 2014, 11:08 am 
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(Can I join this?)


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 Post subject: Re: Lost Realms of Arnor (Continuing, Open)
PostPosted: February 27th, 2024, 12:42 am 
Dunedain Ranger of Arnor
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If anyone sees this, know that there is a Middle Earth Roleplaying group here:

RP Repository

The site is safe, secure, and actively moderated. Look forward to seeing anyone into Middle Earth roleplaying there!


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