Friday, October 25, 2019

Ashes for Wine; and Lost Letters



"I found the way into the dark," Hobbitish hands once wrote. "I've gotten in! And I shant be turning back. I've come too far, too long, too soon! I've broken through and I'll be going all the way in, mark my words."

"I've looked and looked for what's I've found, and I shant be turning back - not now, not ever. The Missus will never know what became of me, and the hobbit lads and lasses - well, they'll think of me kindly. I'm sure they'll have a burial for me and say many of the best words about my outstanding character and influence in the community. "
 "Dear Maeflower, well... she'll wonder the most, but they as soon shall make a fine hobbit lass of her and then she'll know what a puffed-up codger her old pop really was. It's for the best. I've filled her head up with enough stories and adventures of faraway places ... Before I left, I told her that I was going off to find the place the elves all sail to, and that when I got there I'll just not have the heart to leave - that I'll lay down bare naked in the white grass and stay there til one of them elves pours white wine from them heavenly fields on my face! Well, everyone will say I got drunk and drowned down by the Brandywine instead, and someday Little Mae will believe it too. I don't have to worry."

    "The truth is better unknown. No one should think the wiser, and no one shall come looking for me. To think, a hobbit in the Iron Hills? Why, no seree! They shant be thinking it for a minute. But that's where I get in, and now I shant be going back. Bless them all, they haven't a thought for what I've really found. I've said my goodbyes, more or less. I left gifts for the old ones I couldn't think to tell, and the little ones have the Missus for their mum to turn my stories out their ear. My belongings, when they're searched, are all evenly distributed. My final will and testament is all in order. All the old chaps at the Green Dragon who made a mock of me - well, I've left them something clever too. I'm off to my greatest adventure and there's no turning back!"
~ Totterbold (Tater) Tooke
[Someone said this letter came out of Dale. It was found stored among the family's old belongings, but no one seemed to know what kind of a name "Totterbold" was. The previous owner believed it to be a made-up name for a children's game of treasure-seeking.]
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The next is a page from a ledger, citing such currency as gold ducats, silver pennies, and fine gem stones among detailed accounts of handcrafted treasures. The page appears to be complete in its calculations of the total sum value of each item described, and includes a comprehensive list of family heirlooms. Judging by the items listed on this latter portion, it appears the owner must have been of Dwarven descent. A historian might also note the influence of the Blue Mountain dwarves in the descriptions of item details. No name is cited on the ledger, however, and the page itself is stained brown in several places by old dark blood.

[This ledger page was said to be found by one of the hobbitish folk helping Dorus the Book Keeper clean out the Grand Hole attic. No one seems to know who it belongs to, as none of the items on it correlate with the kinship treasury. It has yet to be thrown out.]

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"The Clerk of Kinships at Michael Delving feels it appropriate to document a census of all organized parties in the Shire. As such they obligate all listed parties to keep an annual report - something I have neglected in past years, if you'll understand.
There is always a conference accompanying the return of a report to inform us of, eh, new regulations and such - all the general affairs of town meetings 'concern every resident of the West Farthing' and so forth... And of course they insist only 'authorized' persons attend.
As there are far too many things to be done here, I have asked Lilliway if she would assist in alleviating the matter from my mind."

[This letter was found in the Grand Hole library during a dusting. It appears to be in Skalithor's handwriting and is dated December 11th. On the back is an impressive, albeit secretive, recommendation presenting Lilliway Tooke as "Kinship Leader" of the "Mallorn Children". ]
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[The following is a few pages from a written record of kinship proceedings in Evendim during the dark days of the Rune Hunter and the Siege of Annuminas. The handwriting is unknown.]

The companies had poured into Annuminas by various byways, some entering by the main gate, while others slipped in by unguarded cracks in the walls and crept up to the besieged camp of Echad Garthadir. It was the strict direction of Little Bear, or General Mountainzephyr, or whatever other name each person had come to know Skalithor by, that when the companies had entered the camp that they were then wait there and help the King's men defend it until Skalithor himself should join them.

It was not surprising that the children of Beorn should be the first to have arrived, for they had very little to conclude at the Kinship homes and had been waiting solely for the time to act.  Bodvir and Ragnbourg, a company of two, entered through the water gate of Annuminas and swam about the fallen and flooded old city walls. They leveled the sharp-eyed scouts posted there, and continued their journey inward until they found Echad Garthadir.

  While Bodvir went immediately to the aid of the wounded and fallen upon entering the encampment, Ragnbourg went to the aid of the battle in other parts of the city and tore down the barricades of the enemy. Thus engaged, the Beorning were found absent when the Gondorian Champion, Tyrral Jones, arrived in Echad Garthadir some days later with those who were chosen to accompany him.

 Immediately the Champion sought out news of the General from his countrymen within the camp, but he heard very little more than that the dwarf was indeed somewhere within the city and doing some work which must for the moment be left unknown to all, yet likely done in preparation for the companies. So after a long battle into the city, Tyrral instructed his company to rest in the camp before taking up the fight against the nearly constant assaults of the Angmarim loyalists.
The last of the parties to join the siege in Annuminas was Thannor's company, which on account of some dispute had been prematurely relieved of two of its most valuable members, Hawkinz and Tarvhos.

Thannor arrived by the main gate, his company tore the greatest path directly through the most besieged parts of the city and entered Echad Garthadir at dusk. A storm having risen off the lake of Evendim began its tear-shed in earnest shortly thereafter, and lightening made sleeping that night difficult for all under its sound and torrent.

When the Second and Third companies made their way back to Echad Garthadir that night, the Kinship members gathered in a brief and solemn reunion. Among Thannor's company was a woman from the far south country of Haradwaith, by the name of Mosaine, who Thannor had appointed place among the Kindred for her valiant fight against the Angmarim and Nilithion's Champion: Deathscar the Blood-eyed, who had served with Draklevin Black in the days of Sauron and the Ring.

The joining of Mosaine to the cause of the Mallorn Children on account of her great skill in battle, and the absence of the two best archers from the First company, should have rightfully made it a reason to rejoice, but her presence was regarded with coldness by the Gondorian men in the companies, more especially Tyrral Jones and Captain Evonfall, who discussed the matter between themselves, (albeit the latter's prejudice appeared very mild, if not pretended, and he seemed to entertain it only account of his countryman.)

When all that could be thought of to say had been said, the Kindred slept on their swords - for every moment a cry sounded somewhere within the city as the battle raged on. A gloomy cloud seemed to rest on all, both in mind and body, for the storm had not passed. Though there were some that seemed to be determined to be helpful and cheerful, such as Bodvir, whose optimism had never failed, many in the camp were silent and grave whenever there was a moment to rest.

Five days in the city had seen a great many victories and some defeats waiting for Skalithor. It was hard to measure the overall success of the companies and the King's men fighting within the city, but it had been seen that Opalescence and her pirate crew cut off the enemy's supplies and reinforcements from the lake, while further up in the city the battle of Skalithor and his company went unknown to those at Echad Garthradir. Armor and supplies had begun to grow scarce, and plans were made to barter with the pirates for a portion of their plundered loot. The Angmarim began to take to their strongholds for support and battles in the night were less often, nonetheless the Angmarim fought fiercely to retain those strongholds and little success was had in penetrating them. [….]

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"An old pesky crow has been hanging around here lately. Like a daft wretch he is - always crooing at me and looking at me with them red eyes. I get an awfully unnatural feel from 'im, like a rat waitin' til you fall asleep so he can chew the soles off your feet he is!"
 "I've written yeh a few times to have that miserable bird shot, but he keeps eating me letters. Thrice I've caught im! Beak stuffed full of papers, shipping to and fro like some carrier pigeon. I thought at first there was some sense to it, that he was building a nest for a lady-bird, but I tell you he hasn't the brain any lady would want! He'll steal and dash off and I won't see him again for many days, then he'll be back scaring me cows. Yes, that's right, the cows all turn mad when he flies over. It takes me hours to get them back, and he'll just sit on the branches laughing at me the devil. Well. This is the final note I'm writing, and it best find it's way to you at Trestlebridge. I don't pay a bale of barley to you for protection just to have my cows scattered. Get rid of im!"

[This letter was written by an unknown hand and was found on the road between Trestlebridge and the Northdown farmlands. No carrier was nearby … perhaps the letter simply fell out of his bag by mistake.]

Saturday, August 24, 2019

Hostage of Angmar

Though the air smelled like smoke, Hawkinz breathed it deeply. It was a relief compared to the stench of the dungeons where he'd been confined only a few hours ago. Those cells might have been larger than his current containment, but they were dark and reeked of things he wouldn't even try to guess. Inside the merciless little cage they had moved him to, there was hardly enough room to sit, nevertheless it was a welcome change. From here Hawkinz could at least see the sky, blood red though it was.

It was surprising actually how much the change of scenery had lifted his spirits. Not even the sound of Gaian chewing a bone behind him, or the popping of the acid lake far below could darken the captive elf's mood. Though his cage swung from the side of Angmar's tallest tower, and the warden had threatened to throw him into that seething lake if he caused any trouble, Hawkinz didn't mind. He just kept staring steadfastly upward at the churning clouds overhead. He couldn't help but think that there was sunlight somewhere behind those clouds, or perhaps moonlight and stars. Either way, it wasn't anything solid that separated him from them now, just clouds.

Hawkinz adjusted his position, trying to get more comfortable despite the fact his cage had intentionally been built against it. His body protested the movement. Though he hadn't been tortured at all, his captors were not kind in moving him. He'd been thoroughly bruised. Still Hawkinz was grateful for that too. He preferred bruises over being cut or slashed. At least there were no open wounds where infection could set in. Given a little time up here by himself, he would heal.. Then he could make his escape.

His situation had changed after all. He didn't have to break away from a dungeon wall, fend off Gaian with whatever he could find on the dungeon floor, and navigate a labyrinthine of hallways in order to escape anymore-- All he had to do now was get out of this cage. The rest would be easy for an elf! Merely a test of acrobatic ability getting from the tower down to the Angmarium village by the lake. But, as previously stated, Hawkinz wasn't going to try that right now... It would undoubtedly involve some sort of climbing and his arm would not be able to hold his weight at this time. It would fail him, then he would fall into the acid lake even without the warden's help.
Just letting his right arm lie motionless in his lap, it still hurt very badly. The Captain Of The Dead had ripped it from the dungeon wall, chains, bricks and all whilst lecturing the warden about feeble security measures; and in so doing, he had cruelly dislocated Hawkinz' shoulder...
Thankfully, the elf had managed to relocate it shortly afterward, once his captors had left him alone.

Hawkinz had noticed the corroded state of those chains when he was first clamped in them. Over the course of his captivity, he subtly pulled against them to weaken their hold. They gave a little more each time, and if The Captain hadn't arrived today, they would have eventually failed completely. That might be considered an inconvenience by anyone else, but Hawkinz thought it better this way, since it led to there being less for him to do when it came to escaping later.
Actually, to be perfectly honest, Hawkinz thought his entire capture was for the best: Without him, Taivian could not be found-- Not by the kinship, but especially not by The Captain. And Hawkinz had always intended to come to Angmar anyway. He had a promise to keep here. The thought caused Hawkins to looking down toward the village. He could see the people. They were the real prisoners here; prisoners in their own home, and only half of them knew it. Once he escaped, he could occupy his time making good on that promise to free them.

For now however, he needed to take advantage of the rest his captors afforded him through their fear of him-- Oh yes! The warden had heard tell of this elf hunter, clad in blue, and the thought of guarding him against escape caused the poor man to tremble and sneer. Hawkinz breathed a chuckle at the thought; the first chuckle he had breathed since his capture in fact.

Once again, the elf rested his head back and gazed upward. How could he be prisoner in such a dark place and yet feel no worse than if he were on a rooftop in Bree? There was a comfort, one he couldn't see but could definitely feel, and it made him smile. Slowly, his eyelids closed over his brilliant blue eyes and his lips parted in a quiet song:

"From the west she appeared
Sunlight and stars in her hair
In her eyes an undying memory of home
A land that is magical and fair

When her feet came to rest
Deep in a canopied glade
She lifted her face and there she danced
The realm of Lothlórien she made

Gaze on me, lady of gold
Reawaken my slumbering soul
Beacon of courage, summon me home
To your haven of wonders untold

Lórien laurë
A laiqa alcar
O Ehtele lisse
Nimrodel a
Nyére auta

A Lórien laurë
A Lórien laurë

Lórien laurë
A laiqa alcar
Orë áro
Lothlórien"

Hawkinz' voice was weak from having not been used since he was first captured, yet it remained fair as the voices of elves always are, especially when carried in song. Gaian did not like the sound and permitted his captive to go no further in the utterance of the lyrics. Forcefully, he grabbed the chains that bore the elf's cage aloft and shook them violently. Hawkinz immediately went silent, wincing as the motion caused pain to spike once again. He kept his eyes shut until the swaying stopped and Gaian returned to his bone. Then with one last glance at the sky, he lowered his head and allowed himself to drift to sleep where he saw not dreams, but memories of The Golden Wood... 

Hawkinz was unaware that his song had been carried to the ears of the village below where many heard it...

...Including one quite familiar to him...

The Captain Of The Dead





Saturday, August 3, 2019

Thoughts of The Lost One

It started in Moria, in the darkest depth of Khazaduum-- Looking back, I supposed a lot of things started there for the kinship.

Malgamorie had been found. The dark force behind nature's upheaval, the disappearance and madness of the Rune Keepers, the force who had commanded the spider, Nilithion, who our kinship had slain in the peaks of the Misty Mountains-- He was the source of so much corruption and evil, and yet he was not what we had expected. Through the mouths of his slaves he had painted himself up to be a Balrog, but now we stood before him, and he was nothing of the sort:

We could not see his face. He was huddled in the shadow of a rock and did not so much as look up to greet us, but we knew he was a man.. Or rather, the shriveled remains of one. Indeed, what we beheld before us was little more than a corpse, a skeleton wrapped in a thin layer of papery flesh. He was long decayed, more so than many wights I have ever seen. The spongy growth of the lake and dust of the earth had long since settled on his remain. If he was even breathing it was imperceptible!
Yes, to our horror, we discovered Malgamorie was dead in all but his mind, which he had used to enslave and torment. Some in the company were disappointed that the body of our foe was so pitiful, and recognizing it, Malgamorie tried to play on their sympathy.. But he could not fool us. He was a wretched victim of his own maliciousness: The dark magic with which he had surrounded himself had consumed him completely, yet devoid of mercy would not grant him death. His soul was still tied to the corpse whilst his mind had plagued the land above Moria and far beyond...

How often, I thought, we had come to these depths during our time in Moria. How often we had passed this lake, seen this stone on the distant shore, and walked right by our enemy time and time again-- All because we sought something of towering height and incredible strength. We thought our foe's physical form would be as mighty as he claimed. We had believed him, fallen prey to his lies.
He had eluded our detection, sickened the land, maddened the animals, stolen our friends, he had caused misery and fear... But he was nothing. He had no physical strength at all. It was deceit that gave him power. It wasn't that he had been undefeatable, we just believed him so, and thus he was able to work his dark magic to our manipulation and suffering. We believed he was powerful and therefore overlooked the weakness we sought desperately for.

...As the corpse was vanquished by phoenix fire, Malgamorie fell forever into the darkness he had sold himself to. He would never torment the world again, and his absence was immediately apparent: The captive minds were freed, speaking to us in their own words for the very first time. Tension, it seemed, was released from the walls of Moria; as if a festering thorn had at last been removed, and real healing could begin. ...Moria will be reclaimed. I have no doubt of that. The mountain itself knows and awaits it. Thus our kinship returned to the surface, soaking in the sunlight they had so longed for during the bitter months of our hunt. The fresh air was welcomed into their lungs. They and the world around them were ready for much needed healing. They departed...

...But I stayed.
I stayed under the pretense of aiding the dwarves in reclaiming their great kingdom, but the truth was my eyes had been opened: Malgamorie was just one. One who stewed long, but one nonetheless. One one of the darkness' many pawns. The darkness had other followers yet hidden from us-- I say this not in despair, but in realization. For in Malgamorie it was made clear to me, Malgamorie embodied what the darkness really was: A lie.
It built itself up to be something amazing and powerful, something that promised it could never be defeated, but was really only an opportunistic leech. Something weak that relied on neglectful glances in misdirected directions in order to carry on it's sneakery unhindered. ...And I knew it would be back. It lusted after many in our kinship. I had seen it pulling at the mind and heart of my mentors, Apostos and Drakelvin. It pulled at my brother Tarvhos, at Dekota, at Ardonali, at Lartenell, and at others I have yet to meet. It is not because they are bad people, it is because the darkness wants them and their power. It tells them they can never be good enough, it says they were born in the dark and in the dark they must remain.. I have heard them when they voice their doubts. I know what it tells them. And I know even if they individually can not contribute anything of significance to the darkness' strength, as long as they are bound in it's web, neither can they contribute to the light in which their potential would be unhindered. It is a struggle. They need to shut their ears to it's whispers.

...As do I.
I am constantly reminded that I am a descendant of a dark wizard, the son of a man who heeded darkness' lies, apprentice to those who once succumbed to darkness for themselves. My history is spotted with unseemly black marks... I will not let this define me as other have.. I left Moria shortly after my kinship did, but secretly and in the opposite direction. I am a lore master, but there is no one here who can teach me how to use my magic. I have to teach myself.

~Taivian

Friday, May 24, 2019

Of Ebbs and Flows

"Thar i' urra anfauglir,
imya tum ar' lad
lye auta a' i' ndor en' gondor,
yassen varna vesta ta ona..."

A chorus of melodious voices.... a sea of ornate garbs brushing against the golden sand and stirring it at their hems.

I know this-this is not a dream, it is a memory.

I am young-my feet don't touch the ground, I ride in the back-saddle of another wanderer. There are horses, carrying supplies... all of the women carry packs, or baskets in their arms, bundles at their sides.

The women on the outside carry something else-bright, glistening weapons and shields.  They move with a steady pace.

I can see nothing beyond a sea of white sand-the sun reflects harshly on it and makes my eyes want to shut tight to block it out.

"Lye auta utu- lye coia,
n'ala wanwa a' i' ohta
sii' lye maa ten' seere,
lye eska, y' winya beginnien"

They continue, but I do not yet know all of the words. I only know the strange feelings it invokes in my young soul; hope, peace... it begins to lull me to sleep as I fixate on the garbs of the women in front of me, swaying to and fro with their rythmetic steps......

---

"Cuiva, amin hin...."

I wake up. No longer on the back of a woman.. below me is a horse I had fallen asleep on. Behind me, a figure stirs my shoulder. I open my eyes, and another woman carries a bundle towards me, looking down on it with a beautiful smile. She holds it up somewhat as she nears me, still keeping her arms around it so it does not drop... it is a small, white creature with horns on it's head.

"Ta naa lle nosta re, Mosaine. Mani will lle yela ho?"

I looked on his dark eyes and small stature, reaching out, nearly leaning off of the horse. I felt a hand catch me at the waist, and they offered the goat up to me to hold in my lap. We were not much different in size, then.

"Astal."

---

"Lle caela istim- quen- i' sanya lambe en' edain." Farmona spoke firmly,

"Amin uma il- merna a'... Mankoi uma lye anta a'?" I respond. I don't meet her eyes yet, but I am taller now.

"Ten', i' ohta naa wanwa.  sal', i' edain en' i' ohta naa il- ie' seere.  Ta naa ante ie' sina coiasira.."

I wanted to continue to learn of the flowers, of the land I would be entering into, the creatures of it... how to hear to the wind and listen to the trees, to play the instruments of my people, as we had been. Still, I would not argue.

"Eller naa somethien eile..." Farmona said, producing a beautiful weapon. I looked in awe at it's detail-the jewels upon it's hilt, the gold and stunning blue imbued into it's design. I didn't recognize the words upon it's blade, written on both sides elegantly.

"Mani uma sina parma?" I asked. When Farmona spoke again, it was in a tongue I didn't not understand.

"To battle without prayer, is injustice. We raise our swords solemnly, and invoke Thy name, that this sword may rest one day in peace."

"Lle istima dagor-, tul're."

---

Images of sewing and basket weaving, of nights of dance and song around a fire, of following the wind to find water and food, of my beautiful family on our journey... we began the trek admist the war, our fathers and brothers having been lain out upon the land, their blood staining it's earth. We traveled for days and nights. Learning, growing. Some, growing into youth. Some, growing into oldness, and some, passing on into the stars, their journey never destined to make it to the safehold called Gondor. We learned of joy and pain, of loss and of gain....

Most importantly, I learned of my desire to protect. First of all my people... and then this place I would call home when we reached it. I would not lose it as I had lost my first home. I would protect it, even unto death.

---

I blinked again, the next image was of fields and houses, of townspeople staring on at the strange villagers arriving. The next time I blink, there is a massive white wall before me.... but it does not bring the same joy it does then. Something is different when I look upon it now, in this vision. There is pain, and fear accompanying it. There is a deep ache within my heart, and a feeling of loss.

The other villagers are gone-they have blended into the peple of Gondor, selling their crafts and wares, marrying the men who are stricken by the beauty of the swarthy skinned women, who speak the common tongue in an intoxicating voice, and can lull them to sleep from a long day with their enchanting songs. I never learned-why did I not learn then? I am still seen as an outsider.

Farmona is not around. I do not know where she has gone. I have taken up the sword to fight for peace, but no Captain of these men will take a woman of the South. So I must go alone, to fight for peace, the peace written on my sword.

Amin uma il- merna aut- ereb.

Monday, January 28, 2019

The scrolls of Dafin the swift Handed -2

Lallinvorn-- It has taken a lot of digging but Drake and I have found one of the scrolls... I fear that most of the rest of the scrolls are lost to time or fire, Drake is Working as hard as he can to bring as much as he can back from the scrolls.. But I it will take some time..