12/2/2007
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Midnight < About 1:46 AM >
IC day is: Orgaladhad <Trees-day>
IC date is: 19 Iavas <Autumn>
Moon phase: New <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 18 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3042>
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RL time: Sun Dec 02 10:35:25 2007
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At the old fort in Beorning


Mirodhel holds in his hand a torch of flickering reds and golds as the flames dance and sway. He moves towards a table that has been fashioned out of the sawhorses used for construction that have been used to support a rough tabletop of planks. The Elf looks at the maps present that have been spread out and studies them with interest.

"What would'ya have me do?" comes a soft voice, though it is riddled with annoyance. "Three days, that's all we've got. You've got that long too."

A rather disgruntled looking fletcher mutters, and walks off-- leaving the voice behind. The red-headed woman stands, arms folded tightly over her chest as she almost glowers in the direction of the departing man.

It doesn't take her long to let it go, whatever that discussion was, obviously did not go well. The Captain glances toward the Elves and their camp, moving in that direction next.

Silently, a group appears from the south. Clad in shimmering grey cloaks, this new arrival is halted on the outskirts of the camp. Challenges are given, and soft, almost musical whispers come in reply. The moment of tension passes quickly as it seems the responses from the newly arrived group are found acceptable.

Near one of the elven tents a form stands, he seems to be readying himself. Gildor slips the last thing a belt with an jewled halted sword around his waist, he ties it tight, and than looks up towards where the meeting is to be. The sea-elf makes his way towards this tent. "Well met." he says to the other scanning over the maps currently.

Approaching the tent silently is a form cloaked in grey. He moves lithely, and when he reaches the tent he removes his hood and reveals himself as Thorhur. In his hand is his longbow. This ellon is already prepared for battle still three days away. "Good evening everyone," he says softly, his eyes travelling over the map himself.

The group appearing from the south gives Laisren pause, a frown bending upon her freckled brow. "Let them by, idiots," she shouts, breaking the quiet-- "We could use all the help we can get!"

Sighing heavily, Laisren moves to meet this group. "Which Elves are you then? We've got three types... are you the fourth or you belong to one of these lot?" The High Pass Captain nods her red head over at the various assortment of Elves. "Ones from over the mountains, from the Gold Woods, and that one," she says, pointing to Gildor, "is from the sea. So... which are you then?"

Even for her blunt-as-a-brick approach, the woman's tone bespeaks friendliness.

Mirodhel looks up at the new arrivals and studies them intently for a moment before looking back down at the maps before him. They are good makes, made by the Seekers of Imladris and brought along for his mission. They have many new marks on them as information has been added and updated. The Noldo hears talk of Elves from all over and he smirks to himself.

Smiling at the words spoken upon their arrival, the Warden Tolur steps from the group. "We belong with the edhel Maglind and Thorhur," he says in an almost musical voice. Turning slightly, the Guard's gaze falls upon Thorhur, and he nods his head to the Sentinel before turning to look upon the others. "Well met all. We've come to offer what we can to aid your cause as was reported to us by Gildor days past." Pausing, his eyes flicker to the maps and then to the edhel reviewing them. "I am Tolur, and our small group is under the command of Legarwin and the Counsel Earsul. We're ready to be deployed when and where we might be of use."

"Maglind and Thorhur... so the Gold Wood Elves then?"

Too many Elves from too many places to keep track of! Laisren rubs her poor head, glancing at the maps that Mirodhel works on. "Don't spose you'd like to let the Captain in on your strategy?" she asks, perhaps a tad bemused.

"I might be a Human, and I might be a woman, but I've got some ideas too..."

Turning back to face Tolur and the group of newly come Galadhrim, the Sentinel offers a brief wave, then turns and studies the map, trying to figure it out. After a moment he turns to Mirodhel and asks, "Indeed, what is the plan? I am anxious in hearing of our strategy against the yrch."

Mirodhel looks to the woman and nods in her direction as if she is speaking to him. He points at the markings on the map denoting the pass and the fort which spans it. "Direct assault from this side is pointless. Our success will depend either on an attack from both sides or else cunning on our side, either by scaling the mountains or else burning the fort with arrows of fire."

Gildor is quiet a moment simply looking to the maps as best he can, the stiring in the camp gets his attention for a moment. He glances back around, but the voices reaching his ears aren't of any worry to him. He turns back and when he speaks he does so in the elven tongue "I must know friend, will you and your scouts as you say fight?" he turns back to he captain of the pass and switches back to his accented westron. "Good eve Laisren." he says this with a bow of his head "Of course you will be included in the planning I do not believe anything is set in stone." he is quiet a moment and goes back to looking at the maps perhaps coming up with one strategy himself.

A brow lifts slightly at the words spoken by the human female. Curiosity sweeps over his expression, but quickly vanishes as the ellon who now speaks about the map. stepping closer, the Warden peers intently at the map as if imagining the details described. "We have a group now moving towards Imladhrim over the Redhorn pass. They carry wit them news brought by Gildor about this fortress." Looking up, he glances at the faces present before adding, "They've been instructed to attempt to contact the eagles in case they've not been informed." Glancing a moment at Gildor, he furrows his brow in wonder.

A brow lifts slightly at the words spoken by the human female. Curiosity sweeps over his expression, but quickly vanishes as the ellon who now speaks about the map. stepping closer, the Warden peers intently at the map as if imagining the details described. "We have a group now moving towards Imladhrim over the Redhorn pass. They carry wit them news brought by Gildor about this fortress." Looking up, he glances at the faces present before adding, "They've been instructed to attempt to contact the eagles in case they've not been informed." Glancing a moment at Gildor, he furrows his brow in wonder.

"The yrch are not always as stupid as they seem," Thorhur says, almost to himself. "However, attacking from both sides, we may be able to fence them in..." Thorhur now falls silent, brow furrowed in thought. His eyes turn towards those gathered. Then, saying a bit sheepishly, "Perhaps it would be better to merely surround them. We'd need all our available strength, and should scaling the face of the mountain prove dangerous..." his voice trails off and he falls silent.

"The Eagles have been informed, by me," Laisren begins, seemingly shut out of the circle of Elves-- trying to keep her temper under control. "The great avian, Laegtiri, carries our message to Rivendell-- perhaps those that are going over the Redhorn Pass should turn back. There's no need."

Laisren's brow raises-- and just stays there-- silly Elves. Maybe when they get around to asking the opinion of the woman who knows the High Pass like it is the back of her hand, she'll speak up.

For now, a bright red flush rises on Laisren's cheeks.

Mirodhel shakes his head at the notion of containment. "It is a chokepoint that is spanned by a well-built wall with towers. It is not a fortress to be contained. We either take it or else the pass is blocked to us." He glances over at the mortal woman and asks her, "You know that area well?"

Turning away from the maps a moment, he looks to the newly arrived. The sea-elf only than speaks "Aye there numbers would have been to better use here." though this thought is passes quickly as the other of the goldenwood speaks. "Nay, we have not the numbers for that if one of the lines should break, it would be ruinous to us all." Gildor turns his attention to the captain another moment he can sense her mounting frustration and knows the hope of the beornings rests with her. "What plans do you have Laisren the beorning people follow you foremost?"

Thorhur nods. For a few moments longer he gazes at the map, then silently slips into the shadows outside the tent. For now, his part in this debate is over.

Tolur nods his head as he looks to the woman. "They will learn that the news preceeded their arrival." A simple shrug of his shoulders is added to his words. Turning back to listen to the plans being made, he quietly studies the map laid out.

"I know it well," Laisren says, nodding.

"I lead a scouting party, Gildor in that number too. It is built well now, and is patrolled at all hours. They have the Pass completely sealed off as of now." Glancing to Gildor, she ventures a step forward to the maps-- eyes wandering over the drawings, a finger placing itself on the Eastern Descent.

"If we can't assult it from both sides like I'd reckoned to do," she begins, flame-brick brows furrowing with concerntration, "then we need to set it alight. Not to burn it down, but to create a panic. To empty it-- they can't all spill out one way so some will come toward us, and others will go out the back. They're stupid, but not as stupid as we might hope-- but if we can create enough confusion and meet them with a wall on this side-- they'll have nowhere to go."

Her finger moves then, just below the Eastern Descent. "Archers, or those with some skill with arrows should scale the craggly outcrop here," she motions, pointing then to the pathway that leads up East. "The rest of us, or those who're better at melee should wait to pick off those not taken by the arrows. We need to get a great deal of fire into that outpost-- the air is cool enough for a merry fire.."

Laisren smirks, grimly.

Mirodhel nods and remarks, "That is much as I was thinking. Our success in the previous attack would be duplicated and enlarged with constant and sustained fire to light up the fort and set it ablaze at more than one point."

Gildor looks to each as they speak of the strategy. "This can work if we can get enough of a blaze going, the ones who rushed out torwards us would break upon a solid wall." the sea-elf is quiet a moment "I belive with the time we have, this is the best, any additional forces will come unlooked for."

Nodding once in silence, offering agreement with the plan spoken, the Warden Tolur glances once more at the map as if to memorize the details. After a moment, he steps back away from the tent, turning as he slips into the shadows as he makes to rejoin his group.

Nodding once in silence, offering agreement with the plan spoken, the Warden Tolur glances once more at the map as if to memorize the details. After a moment, he steps back away from the tent, turning as he slips into the shadows as he makes to rejoin his group.

"Three days," Laisren says, leaning away from the map then and folding her arms across her chest once more.

"We'll be leaving in a little less than three days. I've already had everyone made awares-- and this outpost is as rebuilt as it's going to get. If it goes bad... this should give the folk of Beorn some protection."

Mirodhel looks to the woman and asks her, "You speak then for your people? I still have my mission before me and would like to discuss it with you if that is your place."

"I speak for the ones who're gonna go into the mountains, yes," Laisren affirms, heads of Beorning men lifting then at the words lost by the Captain.

"Right now, that's everyone who's able. So, you could say so. The Laird is our leader, but he's unseen to us." The last of her words are a great deal quieter, toned for Mirodhel only.

"I'm all we have right now, in this place-- if you can discuss your mission with me knowing that, then I'll hear it."

Mirodhel nods and speaks to the woman in her own tongue fluently and with ease, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Laisren is grim; the usually fair looking child-minder turned Captain, finds a wash of emotion pass over her face that even as much as she might try, remains seen. It is a bitter-sweet thing, and she nods. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" she entones, softly, managing a weak smile. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Drawing in a breath, she glances over her shoulder-- emerald gaze rested and darting between faces and forms, the enveloping darkness making it difficult-- but she knows her people, these ones who would follow her. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Mirodhel nods firmly and asks then with just a slight smile despite the tension, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" He nods, appreciating that and goes on, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Laisren replies, frowning. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

The copper-haired woman listens, thinking a moment. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Mirodhel nods and comments, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Laisren asks, clarification obviously required. Another moment of eyesight is lost on the various Guides and peoples here, before her attention turns back to the Elf.

"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

The woman pauses, a look of concerntration on her face as she thinks. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Mirodhel does indeed clarify, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" He nods at the mention of guards and says, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Gildor is silent simply watching the conversation that goes on between the two, the looks upon there faces lets him know at least of the emotions held within the conversation if not the words exactly.

The plot thickens.

Laisren's expression is one of bemusement laced with suprise, or perhaps visa-versa. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" she whispers, careful not to let the others hear. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

The Captain broods, slightly, not trying to dispell the idea entirely-- but thinking of another way. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" she says, rubbing at her temple. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Mirodhel considers the words of the woman briefly, his face clear and without any rumor of his interior thoughts. The Holdo is a Deep-elf and thus is quite deep and wise in the ways of such things. After a moment, he nods, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" He pauses, allowing a brief smile as he adds, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"