WW XXVII: Wolf of the Rings

[Tanuchan]

Falmar led the way into Fangorn, following the soft tracks left by hobbit feet. At last they came to the rocky wall with its rough steps leading to the high shelf. As they climbed up Linador scanned the steps and the ledges, noticing very peculiar marks.

 

“These are not completely strange... is it possible that another Ent has been here?”

 

“What do you mean by ‘another’?”

 

The rumbling voice startled all, and an old tree came to sight. On its branches, both Irvin and Filk waved.

 

Time was taken to tell all the tales of the hobbits’ escape, and the old Ent rumbled from time to time.

 

“Hasty... you are all too hasty. And Rootmaker was uncharacteristically quick to make decisions, like leaving the Entmoot to look for advice. What news to you bring me from Rivendell, and Elrond?”

 

While Falmar talked quietly to the Ent, the hobbits wandered about the shelf. They hadn’t had the time to do it before, having met the Ent as soon as they had climbed up. Irvin peeks down from the edge of the cliff, curious.

 

“Hey! What was it? Come, quick!”

 

He waved frantically to the group talking to the Ent, without taking his eyes from the forest below. As they came, he pointed down.

 

“There, do you see the shadow? From tree to tree?”

 

Filk and Falmar nodded, both quick to catch the moving glimpse of grey. Baelestimah murmured, “Hawk-Brother sees him moving fast... he’s coming towards this cliff.”

 

Seothen and Garnorn looked at each other, the Ranger picking his bow while the Rohirrim unsheathed his sword, considering if he’d better go down to where he had left Warud. Linador also drew his bow, while Falmar silently followed the shadow.

 

“Let’s go down,” he decided. “I can see it’s an old man, clad in grey rags.”

 

A startled cry made he turn, and he dived towards Irvin – but too late to grab the hand that disappeared down the wall. Cursing loudly, he darted down the steps, followed by the others.

 

At the foot of the cliff, they found the gray-clad old man kneeling and holding the hobbit in his arms, gently stroking his head. He looked up, and greeted Falmar.

 

“I see your numbers have dwindled, and I couldn’t do anything for this little one either. Elrond will be sad to know of his fate.”

 

The voice paralyzed most of them – only those who hadn’t been in Rivendell long enough couldn’t recognize it. Falmar knelt by his side, and hugged him.

 

“Mithrandir!”

 

“Well met, Falmar!” He smiled, and both stood up.

 

After Linador and Baelestimah, it was Garnorn’s turn to hug the old man. “Gandalf! How come we meet you again, so far from our last parting... you said you were going on other errands.”

 

“So I have, and still am. Unfortunate as it was the fall of the hobbit, we cannot tarry in here. Hullo, Filk!”

 

The Wizard smiled and waved Filk close, resting a hand on his shoulder. Seothen greeted him with a smile.

 

“Treebeard, you must return to the Entmoot with the news they have told you,” said Gandalf to the Ent. “We are needed elsewhere, and I trust your wisdom to see the path you have to tread.”

 

A rumble came in answer, and a slow nod. “You were never hasty, Gandalf... I will go, and tell the Entmoot.”

 

“But haste is necessary now, old friend. Things are starting to move too fast, and doom is near to all who live upon Middle Earth. Do not take long to decide. You have days at the most, not months. There is activity in Orthanc.“

 

 

 

”Following him they descended quickly from the high shelf and made their way back through the forest, down the bank of the Entwash. They spoke no more words, until they stood again upon the grass beyond the eaves of Fangorn.

 

‘I shall not walk. Time presses,’ said Gandalf. then lifting up his head he gave a long whistle. So clear and piercing was the note that the others stood amazed to hear such a sound come from those old bearded lips. Three times he whistled; and then faint and far off it seemed to them that they heard the whinny of a horse borne up from the plains upon the eastern wind. They waited wondering. Before long there came the sound of hoofs, at first hardly more than a tremor of the ground (...) then growing steadily louder and clearer to a quick beat.

 

‘There is more than one horse coming.’

 

‘Certainly,’ said Gandalf. ‘We are too great a burden for one.’

 

‘There is [one] that strides ahead: a very great horse. I have not seen his like before.’

 

‘Nor will you again,’ said Gandalf. ‘That is Shadowfax. He is the chief of the Mearas, lords of horses, and not even Théoden, King of Rohan, has ever looked on a better. Does he not shine like silver, and run as smoothly as a swift stream? He has come for me: the horse of the White Rider. We are going to battle together.’ ” J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Two Towers”

 

 

 

They marveled at Shadowfax as the great horse arrived, bringing with him two more horses. Seothen approached in wonder, having seen the Mearas running free in The Mark long ago.

 

“How... Théoden King would never willingly part with this horse...”

 

“I fear your King does not love me more for having Shadowfax with me, Seothen. He has given me permission to take him, but I do not think he knew in fully what it meant. But Shadowfax is my companion. And he has brought companions for you, for we are in haste.”

 

Garnorn and Linador mounted the new horses as Seothen called Warud; Gandalf took Filk with him on Shadowfax. Baelestimah mounted Horse-Brother, and they departed Fangorn, leading south and west.

 

 

 

”Gandalf spoke now to Shadowfax, and the horse set off at a good pace, yet not beyond the measure of the others. After a little while he turned suddenly, and choosing a place where the banks were lower, he wades the river, and then led them away due south into a flat land, treeless and wide. the wind went like grey waves through the endless miles of grass. There was no sign of road or track, but Shadowfax did not stay or falter.

 

‘He is steering a straight course now for the halls of Théoden under the slopes of the White Mountains,’ said Gandalf. ‘It will be quicker so. The ground is firmer in the Eastenmet, where the chief northward track lies, across the river, but Shadowfax knows the way through every fen and hollow.’” [/i] J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Two Towers”

 

~~~~~~

OOC: Irvin/Sinsor fell from Treebeard’s shelf – how could it have happened is still a mystery. It’s Day Phase, and you have roughly 48 hours to place your votes (until around 10pm, EST, on Wednesday). Due to the reduced number of players, if everybody manages to vote or state an abstention, the day phase might be shortened by some hours.

 

The Company is now riding towards Edoras, to meet Théoden King on the Halls of Meduseld.

 

Scorecard and more info at the OOC thread.

Edited May 30, 2006 by Tanuchan

[Mynx]

OOC: Co-written with Phoenix, set back when Megwyn died. Sorry it's a little out of place, but we both got attacked by RL...

 

Jagkatha had watched the fight helplessly from her unseen form. Her heart wrenched when she saw Megwyn impaled on the tree by the arrows and without thinking she'd rushed forward to try and remove the arrows from her beloved's body.

She let out an unheard cry as her hand passed through them and into the tree. Pulling away, she stepped back and looked around to see if she could attract any attention.

When she heard Meg speak to her, she turned and stared at the dying woman in shock, unable to move as she stared into the dying eyes and for a moment felt them connect with her own.

 

Then the light was gone from Megwyn's eyes. The fellowship continued, and Jagkatha remained, kneeling before the ranger's fallen body. The sadness she felt was like all the other emotions she had experienced since death - there, but so deep seated that it was impossible to deal with them as one was able to when alive.

She stayed there for what felt like an age, unmoving, when suddenly she heard a voice behind her.

 

"Jagk..?"

Meg's voice broke. She had hoped that somehow, Jagk was still with her, but had never allowed herself to completely believe it was true.

"Hey pretty..."

 

She couldn't speak more. Mutely, she lifted Jagk away from her lifeless body, and folded her into her arms again. With a sigh, Jagk relaxed into her, winding her arms hard around Meg's back.

 

After what seemed an age, Meg lifted her head. letting go of Jagk with one hand, she reach for her hairpiece, and carefully unwound it. As Jagk realised what she was doing, she helped, and then they both wound it into Jagk's hair. Meg smiled, and stroked Jagk's cheek, then ran her hand into Jagk's hair.

 

"It looks good on you, sweetling... you always were the pretty one..."

Laughing softly, Jagk kissed Megwyn, the simple act of the living an entirely new experience when dead. They stood in the field and held each other, time no longer taking precidence on their lives as they enjoyed the second chance their death had granted them.

[Lord Panther]

Despite being overjoyed to see Gandalf, Garnorn was desturbed by the death of another of his friends. He wondered who would have had anything against the halfling, they kept to themselves, mostly, and were jolly, jovial people. The only thing that he could think of was that maybe Irvin had brought an enemy with him.

 

Garnorn had heard that there were definate feuds between different hobbit families, but didn't think they took things this far...

 

[ooc: vote for Finnius => Filkiormous Magnanimous Berrison]

[Patrick]

Long were the leagues of the Riddermark, yet Warud knew these lands and had navigated them safely in pursuit of the foul orcs and now following in the hoofsteps of Shadowfax, greatest steed of these times. Seothen knew the true value of one of the mearas and knew that if Théoden had parted with the greatest of them it was not fully of his own free will. It only confirmed some of the rumours Seothen had heard before leaving Edoras. Rumours which it seemed that some were willing to kill so as to silence, as it had happened after the suspicious death of his longtime friend Ramling.

 

The numbers of their fellowship had indeed dwindled, Gandalf's eyes did not cheat him. Too few of them remained, too few to be able to take this quest to it end if traitors remained among them. Seothen had been careful to avoid such thoughts, but after Turin's unfortunate death, or possible murder, he couldn't help thinking of the possibility of the traitor, or one of the traitors being a man. Long had he heard rumours that men were the most easily corruptable of the free races, and Seothen was not one to dismiss these rumours as easily as most men did.

 

The aging rider was one of the few in Rohan who had read the legends about the nine, preserved in Minas Tirith. He had read that they had been kings of old, but Sauron had managed to corrupt them and the power of the ring had made them become what they were now. The ring had also clearly been exerting its evil influence on the members of this fellowship. Could Garnorn have been corrupted?

 

OOC: Vote for Lord Panther - Garnorn

[Ayshela]

Linador sighed in pleasure at being mounted once again. While the shared care of Warud and Horse-Brother had been sufficient to keep at bay the pangs of being so far away from his stables and horses, not knowing how long they would be gone made the drifting whispers of longing that much deeper a pull at heartstrings. It had taken mere moments for horse and rider to begin to adjust, each in comfort and trust in the other. That left Linador time to think. Time was precious, that grew increasingly clear, but careful thought was equally clearly necessary.

 

What of Gandalf's errands, and disturbing news? His appearance just now was fortuitous, bringing news which would influence their path and hopefully aid their quest. The grasslands flowed by beneath them, seeming a river of rippling silk beneath pounding hooves. Linador paid little attention to the path Gandalf chose, trusting his horse to follow Shadowfax and Gandalf to lead them truly. His thoughts flowed less smoothly than their surroundings, darting about from point to point of their journey thus far, where they rode to now and the likely reception there (which might not be all he would hope for from those who loved horses as much as he), where they had yet to travel, and how they might accomplish their goal as their numbers dwindled steadily.

 

Irvin - Linador's thoughts clanged to a stop and he stiffened so quickly his mount swerved in response. Irvin had always been quiet, among their party. He had spoken little, and only at need. Now he lay dead, where no risk should have stood, assailed by a stealthy hand - or foot? Who could have pushed him over, unseen, with everyone nearby? They'd all been watching the shadow in the forest, but an obvious push would certainly have been noticed. Yet how much would it take to disturb his balance, standing at the edge as he had been? Perhaps a subtle kick to put one foot over? Possible, and who better to know a hobbit's balance and how to disturb it than another hobbit? But why? And yet, hadn't he already considered whether one of them had led the orcs to lay the trap which took Turin? Irvin spoke only at need, that much was known to be true. Would that need have extended to telling the rest of the party of what the orcs learned, and from whom?

 

Linador forced his roiling thoughts and churning emotions to subside, his mount calming and settling back into a smooth gallop as he did so. There would be time enough for questions later. Now, all they could do was travel, and in a manner he usually enjoyed. Enjoyment would be little enough on this journey, best to accept what was offered and leave until later what could not be resolved now.

 

He spoke softly to his mount, stroking the beautiful animal's graceful neck, then settled in to wondering thoughts of Shadowfax - how marvelously different he was, where he had come from and how he came to be as he was, how he'd bonded to Gandalf, and how came the other horses with him. These were far more pleasant considerations, if one must have questions with no answers. And they rode on, Shadowfax unerringly leading them through fen and hollow, the silken grasslands stretching out behind.

 

 

 

OOC: a hesitant vote for Finnius/Filk, to keep Tanny from killing us herself.

[Finnius]

Filk hung tightly to Gandalf's cloak, forgetting for the moment how far away he was from the ground in the pure joyous speed of Shadowfax. Unfortunately, while Shadowfax may have been joyous, Filk most definitely was not.

 

He was pondering, as the ground sped by in a green blur, just how this had gone so horribly wrong. Stoomp had died, and Jin, and then Yeager had gone missing in Lothlorien... and now Irvin was dead too, beyond even Gandalf's help.

 

And Filk was the last of the small folk, and he felt very small indeed, and afraid.

 

It crossed his mind that, despite their capture by the Uruk-hai, neither himself nor Irvin had been too badly injured until after they rejoined the Company. The big folks.

 

The hobbit stole a glance back, looking at what remained of the Company. The elves had been a bit distant, yes, but aside from the one who'd been mean to poor Stoomp, they didn't seem very aggressive. Sure, they'd fought when the wargs and the orcs had been upon the party, but neither seemed to be bloodthirsty.

 

Both were good with animals, at that, and in Filk's book, anyone who liked animals couldn't be all bad. And, Filk thought, that counted the Rohirrim as well. Which left only Garnorn...

 

~PETA Votes for Panther/Garnorn ( )~

[Tanuchan]

”They rode on through sunset, and slow dusk, and gathering night. When an last they halted and dismounted (...) Gandalf only allowed them a few hours’ rest. All was silent, and there was no sign or sound of living thing. The night was barred with long clouds, fleeting on a chill wind, when they arose again. Under the cold moon they went on once more, as swift as by the light of day.

 

Hours passed and they still rode on. The miles went by. The waxing moon sank into the cloudy West.

 

A bitter chill came into the air. Slowly in the east the dark faded to a cold grey. Red shafts of light leapt above the back walls of the Emyn Muil far away upon their left. Dawn came clear and bright; a wind swept across their path, rushing through the bent grasses. Suddenly Shadowfax stood still and neighed. Gandalf pointed ahead.

 

‘Look!’ he cried, and they lifted their tired eyes. Before them stood the mountains of the South: white-tipped and streaked with black. The grasslands rolled against the hills that clustered at their feet, and flowed up into many valleys still dim and dark, untouched by the light of dawn, winding their way into the heart of the great mountains. Immediately before the travellers the widest of these glens opened like a long gulf among the hills. Far inward they glimpsed a tumbled mountain-mass with one tall peak: at the mouth of the vale there stood like a sentinel a lonely height. Upon its brow they caught, still far away, a glint in the rising sun, a glimmer of gold. ” J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Two Towers”

 

 

 

Following Gandalf’s counsel, the Company rode now warily, without drawing weapons or speaking until they came to the gates of Edoras, where many men in bright mail sprang to bar their way with their spears. There Gandalf learned that Théoden King had issued orders to not allow any stranger to pass the gates and at last the Company was introduced into the Hall, where Théoden sit, an aged king but with a bright light in his eyes still. He nodded at Gandalf.

 

Words were exchanged concerning the Riddermark, and their leaders. They talked of Saruman, and of Gondor, and of the death of Théodred Théoden’s son but five days earlier.

 

“Follow Éomer’s counsel,” said Gandalf. “Every man that can ride should be sent west at once: we must first destroy the threat of Saruman, while we have time. If we fail, we fall. If we succeed – then we will face the next task. Meanwhile your people that are left, the women and the children and the old, should fly to the refuges that you have in the mountains. Were they not prepared against just such an evil day as this? Let them take provision, but delay not, nor burden themselves with treasure, great or small. It is their lives that are at stake.”

 

“That shall be done, Gandalf. But you, my guests, should be weary. You have ridden through the night, and the morning wears away. You shall sleep, when you have eaten.”

 

“Nay, lord,’ said Falmar. “There is not rest yet for the weary. The men of Rohan must ride forth today, and we will ride with them. Isengard is strong, and other perils draw even nearer. Do not delay, Théoden, when we are gone. Lead your people swiftly to the Hold of Dunharrow in the hills!”

 

“Nay, Falmar!’ Théoden rose, and stood tall in spite of age. “I myself will go to war, to fall in the front of the battle, if it must be.”

 

They retired then into the great house, for such refreshment as time allowed. They heard below them the heralds crying in the town and the war-horns blowing – the king was to ride forth as soon as the men of the town and those dwelling near could be armed and assembled.

 

At the king’s board sat Éomer, and four of the guests. Gandalf looked around, and suddenly all were aware of the absence of one.

 

“Where is Filk?”

 

Falmar shook his head, quickly scanning the room. “He was with us when we left the Throne Room.”

 

Gandalf and Falmar lead the way back to the throne room, and they also examined the branching corridors. The Elf was the one who saw the small hand sticking out around a corner, down some stairs.

 

They found Filk unconscious, with a bloodied head. Éomer shouted for the healers, while Gandalf examined the hobbit gently.

 

“Not too bad... he must have slipped and fallen from the stairs. Drat the curiosity of these small folk! But at least they are made of harder stuff than it appears to the eye.”

 

 

The Company ate, and rested, and visited Filk who was left in the care of the healers. Filk pleaded and begged, but Gandalf was adamant: he was wounded, and he would go to Dunharrow where he would be kept safe.

 

So it was that, when they joined the King’s Company a few hours later, between Gandalf and Falmar stood Linador and Balestimah, and between Théoden and Éomer were Séothen and Garnorn.

 

 

”[Théoden] lifted his sword and swung it shimmering and whistling in the air. Then he gave a great cry. His voice rang clear as he chanted in the tongue of Rohan a call to arms.

 

Arise now, arise, Riders of Théoden!

Dire deeds awake, dark is it eastward.

Let horse be bridled, horn be sounded!

Forth Eorlingas!

 

The sun was already westering as they rode from Edoras, and the light of it was in their eyes, turning all the rolling fields of Rohan to a golden haze. There was a beaten way, north-westwards along the foot-hills of the White Mountains, and this they followed, up and down in a green country, crossing small swift streams by many fords.

 

As the second day of their riding drew on, the heaviness in the air increased. In the afternoon the dark clouds began to overtake them: a sombre canopy with great billowing edges flecked with dazzling light. The sun wend down, blood-red in a smoking haze. In the last red glow men in the vanguard saw a black speck, a horseman riding back towards them. They halted awaiting him.

 

‘You come at last, but too late, and with too little strength. Things have gone evilly since Théodred fell. We were driven back yesterday over the Isen with great loss; many perished in the crossing. Erkenbrand of Westfold has drawn off those men he could gather towards his fastness in Helm’s Deep. The rest are scattered.’

 

 

While Théoden was speaking [to the messenger], Gandalf rode a short way ahead, and he sat there alone, gazing north to Isengard and west to the setting sun. Now he came back.

 

‘Ride Théoden!’ he said. ‘Ride to Helm’s Deep! Go not to the Fords of Isen, and do not tarry in the plain! I must leave you for a while. Shadowfax must bear me now on a swift errand. Await me at Helm’s Gate!’

 

He spoke a word to Shadowfax, and like an arrow from the bow the great horse sprang away.” J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Two Towers”

 

 

~~~~~~

OOC: Filk/Finnius has a nasty bump on his head, the result of a fall from stairs in Meduseld, and it’s being kept by the healers. It’s Night Phase – you know what to do.

 

The Company is now riding towards Helm’s Deep. More info at the OOC thread.

Edited June 1, 2006 by Tanuchan

[Tanuchan]

Théoden’s host marched on, gathering news of the great hosts issuing from Isengard as they went on. Deep into the Deeping Comb they got news of battles behind them, and hordes of Orcs and wolf-riders coming upon them.

 

“Let’s make a stand at Helm’s Dike,” suggested Seothen.

 

“No,” and Éomer shook his head. “The breach is too wide, and we do not have numbers enough to man it. But our rearguard will stay there, and hold it as long as it is possible. Come, let’s go.”

 

As they galloped and finally reached and passed the Dike, they turned. They could see the torches coming all around them, down the hills and covering the valley. A darkness was around them, and silence fell among the defenders of Helm’s Deep for long seconds before Théoden’s war cry rallied them once more.

 

They marched towards Helm’s Gate, already being greeted by the men Erkenbrand had left to defend the Burg. There they learned that three parts of the folk of Westfold, old and young, children and women, were in the caves of the Deep – Aglarond, the Glittering Caves. And that there were maybe a thousand men to fight on foot, although most of them either too old or too young.

 

 

 

”The king and his Riders passed on. Before the causeway that crossed the stream they dismounted. In a long file they led their horses up the ramp and passed within the gates of the Hornburg. There they were welcomed again with joy and renewed hope; for now there were men enough to man both the burg and the barrier wall.

 

Quickly Éomer set his men in readiness. The king and the men of his household were in the Hornburg, and there also were many of the Westfold-men. But on the Deeping Wall and its tower, and behind it, Éomer arrayed most of the strength that he had, for here the defense seemed more doubtful, if the assault were determined and in great force. The horses were let far up the Deep under such guard as could be spared.

 

The Deeping Wall was twenty feet high, and so thick that four men could walk abreast along the top, sheltered by a parapet over which only a tall man could look. Here and there were clefts in the stone through which men could shoot. This battlement could be reached by a stair running down from a door in the outer court of the Hornburg; three flights of steps led also up on to the wall from the Deep behind; but in front if was smooth, and the great stones of it were set with such skill that no foothold could be found at their joints, and at the top hey hung over like a sea-delved cliff.” J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Two Towers”

 

 

 

The sky was dark and the air heavy with the promise of a storm. Suddenly, yells and screams came from the Dike, and fierce battle-cries from men. Flaming brands appeared over the edge and gathered quickly at the breach, then scattered and vanished. Men came galloping back over the field and up the ramp to the Gate. The rearguard had been driven in, and lighting revealed briefly the orcs filling all the space between the walls and the Dike. Hundreds and hundreds more were pouring over the Dike and through the breach. the dark tide flowed up to the walls from cliff to cliff. Thunder rolled in the valley, and rain came lashing down.

 

The assault on Helm’s Deep thus began, with Orcs and Dunland men screaming and waving spears and swords. No answer came from the walls, and the invading hosts rolled towards the Deeping Wall and the causeway, and the ramp that led up to the Hornburg-gates.

 

Arrows came finally, raining over the enemy. But at each time an orc fell, another two came to its place, and the momentary retreat became another surge ahead. Falmar noticed then the large group of men who suddenly leaped forth, holding their shields above their heads as a roof while in their middle they carried two great trunks. Orc archers protected them from the bowmen above, and thus they reached the gates. The trees, swung by strong arms, hit with a great boom.

 

‘Come!’ called Falmar, and those near him followed – Séothen, Garnorn, Linador, Baelestimah.

 

 

 

”Running like fire, they sped along the wall, and up the steps, and passed into the outer court upon the Rock. As they ran they gathered a handful of stout swordsmen. There was a small postern-door that opened in an angle of the burg-wall on the west, where the cliff stretched out to meet it. On that side a narrow path ran round towards the great gate, between the wall and the sheer brink of the Rock. Together [they] sprang through the door, their men close behind. The swords flashed from the sheath as one.” J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Two Towers”

 

 

 

Charging from the side, the defenders fell upon the men. Taken by surprise, they let fall the trees and turned to fight. Falmar’s and Garnorn’s swords took a great many of them, backed by Linador’s knife and Baelestimah’s axes. Séothen launched himself against the leader of the group, skillfully relieving him of an arm and, next, of life. The men ran away, and the orc archers shot wildly before also fleeing.

 

They halted for some moments, wary of any movement, and then surveyed the damage to the gates.

 

“We did not come too soon,” pointed Falmar. “The hinges and bars are wrenched and bent, and there are many cracks.”

 

“Yet we cannot stay here to hold them. Look!”

 

At the causeway, there was another great gathering of Orcs and Men; arrows whistled past the group at the postern path, and they turned and ran.

 

At that moment, a group of Orcs that had lain motionless among the slain leaped to their feet, and came silently and swiftly behind. Two flung themselves at Falmar’s heels, tripped him, and in a moment were on top of him. Seothen whirled, his sword hitting mail as Garnorn and Linador turned to fight, too. A sure flying axe from Baelestimah clove the helm and skull of one of the orcs pinning Falmar down, while the other found Seothen’s sword buried into his chest. Falmar struggled to his feet, trying to find space to swing his sword without hitting his friends. Garnorn pulled him up with a strong hand while Linador protected his back, and cries came from up the walls: the defenders were ready to throw great stones down the path.

 

“Back! Clear the path!”

 

Gasping, the small group fought their way back. Seothen shouted, his great sword gleaming red in the lightning, blood and rain mixing in the stones around him. Garnorn and Baelestimah hit the last of orcs on their way, and turned to follow Falmar and Linador. The postern door was being defended by another group of Rohirrim, and they ran to it.

 

A big orc leaped from the shadows in front of them. As Seothen impaled him, the orc’s spear found its home on Seothen’s chest. With a shout, Falmar and Baelestimah also buried their weapons on the orc, while both Garnorn and Linador grabbed Seothen and dragged him back to the door.

 

Éomer arrived with a group as the stones from above hit the path and rolled down, crushing the orcs who were gathering in another wave. Kneeling by Séothen, he received his last words, whispered in the tongue of Rohan.

 

 

~~~~~~

OOC: Séothen/Patrick was slain by Orcs. It’s Day Phase, and the last day of the game. Choose wisely! You have 48 hours...

 

The Battle of Helm’s Deep roars around you. And while you fight, there is the question in Falmar’s eyes – where is the One Ring? Is the Ringbearer still among them, or have they lost both to the Shadows?

 

Scorecard and additional info at the OOC thread.

Edited June 2, 2006 by Tanuchan

[Ayshela]

Linador grabbed Seothen and, with Garnorn's help, dragged him back within the door. His words were barely recognizable, though few could be picked out from traffic through Elrond's house over the many years Linador had been there. As Seothen died, Eomer bowed his head and, with a deep sigh, closed Seothen's eyes. Linador looked up, seeing only Baelestimah and Garnorn left with him, of their entire company. With a small nod of reassurance to Baelestimah, he said only, "At last, I know."

 

Orc cries broke upon their ears again as once more waves of attackers charged. Linador spun and ran for the stairs, cursing the lack of his kindred bowmen to hold the orcs at bay. Finding a gap in the defense at the top of the wall he took his place and bow in one motion, determined to make every arrow count.

 

 

 

OOC: Vote for Panther/Garnorn. Will try to get back on to post again, but it's kinda nuts here ATM.

[Lord Panther]

After dragging Seothen into relative safety with Linador's help, Garnorn himself, took advantage of the slower pace, to lean against a cool stone wall and catch his breath for a few seconds.

 

As Seothen passed from the world, Garnorn lowered his head in respect to the horseman, knowing that he had fought the good fight against the evil that was bashing against the very doors of this keep. He was saddened that they quest had lost such a committed soul.

 

He also knew that Seothen had suspected him for being an agent of either Sauron or Sauruman the White, and had not kept his suspicions to himself. This was a natural thing in a journey as perilous as they have taken, and everyone had their own suspicions, everyone wanted to know who would keep them safe and who wanted the ring of power for themselves. Garnorn himself had suspected others, it was the natural way of things. He just hoped that the others would see him for what he is. A defender of the fellowship, a friend to them all, and hopefully one of the saviors of Middle Earth...

Edited June 2, 2006 by Lord Panther

[GLJordan]

Horse Brother waited with the horses. Hawk Brother did his best to give an ariel view. Ferret Brother did his best to guard Baelestimah's back. Wolf Brother fought at his side. as Seothen passed form this world, Wolf Brother detected the whiff of corruption form one of the surviors. was it for the one ring or was it just because He was cover in orc blood?

 

 

hopefully I am right but now the call rises for Panther/Garnorn, male human Ranger's blood

[Tanuchan]

*Big* thanks to Ayshela, who wrote about 99.9% of the post - she volunteered to help me with the battle scene for the end, but it was so good that I ended up adding just a few lines at the end.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

The night was clearing, letting stone walls dry and feet find purchase once again. The sinking moon shone brightly now, allowing clear sight of the battlefield for all within the walls. The bright moonlight brought no hope with it, though, for by its light the defenders saw the numbers of their enemies growing as still more came up from the valley to join those already assaulting the gates. With renewed fervor, the waves of orcs swept toward the gate and wall again and again. Ropes with grappling hooks were hurled over the parapet. Hundreds of ladders were lifted to the walls. Grappling hooks were thrown back or the ropes cut, ladders were thrown down, but they came faster than they could be removed and soon orcs sprang over the top to battle the defenders directly. Linador and Baelestimah fairly flew up and down their sections of the parapet, rallying their companions as blades flew, slicing ropes and spilling orc blood with every motion. Again and again they pushed or threw the orcs from the wall. Again and again another orc came up to meet their blades in the place of the one just fallen. The bodies of the dead lay at the foot of the wall in ever-growing mounds, yet on and on they came in waves as seemingly endless as an inrushing tide.

 

At the height of battle, when nearly all the defenders had rushed to the top of the wall to beat back the invading orcs, a cry arose behind them. Orcs had made their stealthy way through the culvert through which the stream flowed out and down the valley. Garnorn swung around and rushed to help the Guard defending the horses, harried as they were with orcs who had crept into the jaws of the Deep. Men sprang from the Rock and rushed to their aid, driving the orcs into a narrow channel so that those who fled the rising defense met with the guards of the caves and were slain there. In a final flurry of activity, Linador and Baelestimah rallied the defenders once more and the orcs were driven back.

 

Leaning against the wall to brace themselves as they caught their breath, Linador and Baelestimah watched as Garnorn brought the men from the Rock down to the gates. Some came to support the defense on the wall, but most went to gather broken stones and small boulders to close the culvert down to a narrow channel which barely allowed the stream to trickle out. Baelestimah seemed distracted as he took the momentary peace to check on his animal companions. Linador watched the activity, then said wearily, "We should go down and help them."

 

Baelestimah shook his head. "No, there are men enough down there to close the culvert, and Garnorn, however I may distrust him, is directing them well. We're needed here, where one man missing may be enough to cause the wall to fall."

 

Linador scanned the nearly exhausted men atop the wall and agreed. "I worry about Garnorn, sometimes. Our numbers have fallen steadily since we left Rivendell, and I've long since become convinced one of us wanted to interfere with our progress. I can't believe any who left with us would have allied with Mordor, nor even with Isengard. It must have been from wanting the power to try to change the course of events."

 

Baelestimah agreed. "Wanting the power without understanding how that power would change him or her. A risk you must have known, as I've never known you to seek for power, not even over the many animals you've brought to Rivendell to work with or the horses in your stables."

 

"True," Linador said. "And there have been many, yet each has proven as well as the next that once befriended, they will do what you ask because they want to please you. That's always better than because they're afraid of you, as you well know from long years in Elrond's house. And because you're of Elrond's house, I have confidence in your motives. Elrond would not send any of his people did he not completely trust in them to support the Ringbearer." Linador's eyes fell on Garnorn once more. "As much as I don't want to think it of him, it must be. I wonder what he would do with it?"

 

Before Baelestimah could answer, there came a flash of light and an ear-tearing crash. Smoke billowed out from a gaping hole in the wall as orcs swarmed through to attack once more. "Down!" Linador shouted. "Down from the wall, they've blasted through it!" Yet even as he called, hundreds of ladders rose against the wall again and the final wave of orcs swept over and under the wall, pushing the defense back before them. Some of the defenders were swept up the Deep, giving ground only slowly as they fell back, step by step, toward the caves. Others grimly made their way toward the citadel, leaving those orcs who tried to turn them aside to the caves to ponder their failure as they died.

 

Baelestimah had moved toward Horse Brother and his other companions, but all sight of him had been lost as Garnorn and Linador made the foot of the stairs to the Rock and the rear gate of the citadel. Shoulder to shoulder they stood, blades flashing as each defended their approach so that any who could gain the stairs could make their way to safety. As the last two who could reach the stairs began to climb, a hoarse shout of rage came from the orcs still pressing in to stop them. Garnorn took the head from one and impaled another in one swift, sweeping motion. He nearly caught a blade in his throat, but Linador swung the orc he faced, over-large and pierced through the chest, in front of Garnorn as a shield. With foot upon the dead orc's chest, Linador freed his blade and shoved the corpse back onto the front rank of attackers.

 

"Up now, hurry!" he shouted to Garnorn as they slowly fell back, one step at a time, until the last defender had safely passed within. As Garnorn turned and raced up the stairs, Linador slit the throat of the orc which sprang after him. Once more throwing the corpse to his fellows, Linador turned and followed Garnorn. With only three steps left, Linador gasped and fell as a well aimed rock larger than his fist hit the back of his knee. Garnorn whirled around to pull Linador back to his feet. They sped up the last few steps and as they passed within, the gate clanged shut and Garnorn fell against Linador.

 

Linador turned to catch Garnorn before he hit the ground, cursing the orcs furiously as he saw three arrows in his back, the orcs' last desperate attempt to keep them from the gate. "Be still," he told Garnorn. "Let me see..."

 

"No," Garnorn stopped him. "Just..." Garnorn coughed a little, and blood trickled out his mouth as he tried to speak. His hand took something hidden in his belt, and he pressed it against Linador’s hand. "Tell Falmar I'm sorry." Garnorn's eyes widened as he arched in a spasm of pain. "I just wanted..." He slowly relaxed back to the ground, his voice trailing off as if speaking were becoming too difficult. "To help..."

 

Garnorn stared unseeing at the men whose escape he'd defended. Linador looked down at him with a sad smile. As he reached to close Garnorn's eyes, he said, "I know. Whatever else I may have questioned, I never doubted that."

 

Falmar knelt besides them, and sighed. "One more gone. Perhaps two? Is Baelestimah here?"

 

Linador shook his head. "I last saw him near Horse Brother. He probably got swept back toward the caves with the others we were separated from."

 

Falmar nodded. "May he be well. He'll find it more to his liking there with his companions by his side. I must report to the King." Falmar turned to make his way to Theoden while a few of the Riders moved Garnorn. Linador called the Elf Lord softly, and pulled him aside for a moment.

 

“Garnorn gave me this.”

 

Falmar looked at the ring that Linador had put in his hand, and frowned. “So, was he the Ringbearer we were to protect and help?”

 

Linador hesitated a moment, then whispered, “I don’t know who Elrond appointed as the Ringbearer, but Garnorn was the last to have It. He asked me to tell you... that he was sorry. I know he did what was in his judgment the best way to help us against the Enemy.”

 

Falmar nodded, no more words necessary, and gave the One Ring back to Linador before turning to look for Theoden.

 

 

 

“Down through the breach of the dike charged the king’s company. Down from the hills leaped Erkenbrand, lord of Westfold. down leaped Shadowfax, like a deer that runs surefooted in the mountains. The White Rider was upon them, and the terror of his coming filled the enemy with madness. The wild men fell on their faces before him. The Orcs reeled and screamed and cast aside both sword and spear. Like a black smoke driven by a mounting wind they fled. Wailing they passed under the waiting shadow of the trees; and from that shadow none ever came again.” J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Two Towers”

 

 

 

~~~~~~

OOC: Garnorn/Lord Panther was killed defending Helm’s Gate and his companions. The One Ring is with one of Elrond’s household, and the Enemy has been defeated at Helm’s Deep.

 

Congratulation to the villagers! Last info and comments at the OOC thread.

Edited June 4, 2006 by Tanuchan