================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Mid Morning < About 9:47 AM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 42 Rhiw <Winter>
Moon phase: Waning Crescent <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 16 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3040>
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RL time: Tue May 15 12:15:45 2007
=====================================================================
Foothills of the Misties - Near Caradhras

Caradhras sparkles high in the Misty Mountains to your west, the rest of the mountains continuing endlessly from the south
to the north, their rugged peaks gleaming. To the east the valley levels out slowly, while directly around you the
undulating landscape is mottled by the frost and the ice. There is a path which runs to the north and south, while the
ground underneath you is snow-covered and icy

Participants:
Galharth
Maglind
Rhibi
Rasheesh (Temp by Nergrashk)
=====================================================================

A cloud filled sky hangs low over the mountains, blocking a full view of the snow covered peaks that lay to the west.
Midmorning light struggles to break through the storm as snow falls at a steady pace, adding to the thick blanket of snow
and ice already spread out over the land. A breeze blows, and with it a cold, unforgiving chill, that whistles a warning to
those venturing forth.

With his hood pulled down over his brow, a heavily cloaked figure pauses and scans the scenery. "It's to the east." Galharth
calls out softly as he turns eastward to begin his trek to the sight of his horrible first experience with evil. "We're
almost there."

Three identical figures cloaked in grim grey -- no, four -- appear from the snowy distance, following. One of them drops
gently to his knees, searching the ground intently with his fingers. "One moment."

Satisfied, Maglind straightens and dusts his hands free of snow. "No one. Continue?"

Rhibi is near to Galharth - for one who has only seen him at play in the City, he wears an unexpectedly serious expression.
A bow is held in one slender hand, and his green eyes are watchful - and protective. Despite his extreme youth, he hovers
near Galharth as if he is the guard and not the guarded. Maglind checks the ground and Rhibi crouches to look as well,
nodding in agreement. All is clear.

Galharth's jaw twitches slightly as he looks to the east and he pauses his step. "Do you mind if we take a moment Maglind?
Perhaps one of those fellows," he says, pausing to glance back towards the trailing guard, "can go ahead to see if it's
safe?"

Drawing back his hood slightly, he peers intently at the Warden. "I know it's been some weeks, but I'd like to be sure that
the Troll has in fact gone." The clothier says.

Maglind turns, exchanging quiet, hurried words with the others. He purses his lips and spins back around. "Perhaps I will
go," he says, "for I remember where exactly the frame is."

Rhibi shakes his head absently, sending snow sluffing to the ground. The hood of his cloak is down, and his red hair is dark
with water. "Look," he says to Galharth, beckoning the weaver over and pointing to the ground while Maglind consults. "Do
you see?"

Near a stone marking a great victory for the evil yrch. What would be more sensible than to have uruks scurrying around the
foothills of their mountains? Rasheesh is such an orc. He has come to a pause among the rocky outcroppings of the mountains,
his wolf licking at the snow near him. As of yet neither rider nor mount have detected the firstborn so near to them. Hidden
by the rocks and smells muffled by the snow they stand just to the east of the elves, totallyu unawares.

Under his cloak, the Clothier shivers slightly, not from the cold, but perhaps something else. "I should not worry Maglind,
but I'm sure you can understand my hesitation." Galharth says as he clears his throat. "That was a rather large beast, and
it certainly wasn't the most pleasant of experiences."

Leaving all further thoughts unspoken, the Crafter turns and makes his way to Rhibi. Peering down at the ground, he squats
slightly to gain a better view. "What am I looking at?" he asks, revealing his inexperience.

Without a further word, Maglind heads east, the barest complaint of crunching snow heralding his presence.

A slender finger touches the snowy tracks. "Here," Rhibi says. He traces around the edge of something vaguely footshaped.
"See? Someone has stepped here. But look, there is fresh snow in the bottom, so it is not very new." A glance at the leaden
sky. Neither is he aware of the orc and wolf so close, yet hidden. "Perhaps before day came." The child darts a swift look
at the nearest of the guards.

Furrowing his brow, the clothier nods. "I suppose, but let us not worry overly much. If Maglind sees nothing to worry about
than we should follow his example." Galharth says as he rises up and turns towards the east. Pulling his hood back over his
brow, he takes note of both Maglind's movement east and the mirroring movement of the Guards that trail behind. "Come Rhibi,
we should keep with our escorts," he says as he moves east.

The wolf sniffs at the snow and gets a nostril full. Lifting his head he snorts and inhales sharply several times until he
is clear of the powdery white substance. This also forces the wolf to breathe in some of the cold air around him. Perhaps it
is a scent, maybe a sound, but suddenly the hair of his back is standing up. A low growl emanates from the wolf, now facing
west.

Rasheesh takes note of his mount's behavior and quickly moves to his side. Crouching low behind some boulders he attempts to
follow the wolf's gaze. Unfortunately for him in the blinding reflection of the fresh fallen snow he can see little, but
shadows. Could those shadows be moving? A hand slips silently to the hilt of a scimitar.

He pauses, listening, but all is lost before the mumbling of the wind. Maglind steps east, and disappears.

Galharth travels east, heading for the softer ground and the plains that run before the Great River.

=====================================================================
Anduin Vale, North of Lorien

The ground slowly and graciously levels out before you, as the foothills to your west give way to the long, straight plains
before the Anduin River. The river glistens brightly to the east, a snakey, hazy line of trees marking its path. All around
you, the ground is becoming less rocky and less rolling. Trees dot the landscape, each one reaching high up to the sky. The
ground is icy, yet retains a splendor all its own, the condensed water on each blade of grass, of each tree, crackling and
whitened almost like snow.
=====================================================================

Maglind has arrived.
Rhibi has arrived.
Rasheesh has arrived.

"I know," Rhibi says patiently. "I was showing you. No one has been here since before daylight came." He straightens up and
moves after Maglind - but he is not content to trust the others that no one is there. Neither does he seem to trust even the
evidence of his own eyes, for still he scans the land around, and his hand holds his small bow.

The elves are much closer and Rasheesh is certain he can make out something. He crouches a bit lower and continues to watch
the procession that draws ever nearer to the rocks that sit right along the path. His wolf whines low and paws at the
ground. The orc sets a hand on his neck, gripping the fur. A rough sound comes from his throat and the animal gives him a
glare.

"In this weather, I'm sure whoever, or whatever passed through here is long gone," the clothier mutters in reply to Rhibi's
words. With the Warden several paces ahead, watching for signs of trouble, Galharth sweeps the landscape as if searching for
something. Catching sight of a strange rise and fall of the snow, he lifts a hand and points. "There!" he calls out as he
picks up his pace in his effort to reach the mound of snow.

The Crafter's inexperience shines as brightly as the sun as he sets aside caution and moves directly towards the mound. Once
reaching his objective, the ellon begins to clear the snow away, quickly revealing the catapult. "Rhibi, give me a hand.
With your help, we'll be done and returning home in short order."

The boy's face shows a finely lined impatience. "Galharth!" he calls softly, sharply. "Wait..." But it is too late, and
Rhibi glances towards Maglind, then moves cautiously around to look at the other side. Nothing is there but still... he
freezes. What was that? He listens, green eyes searching, then one hand comes up slowly - be still. Do you hear anything?

He too freezes. Maglind gives a single nod, one hand coming to his longbow's grip. He waits. The cloak covering him swirls
impatiently. And then he takes another step forward, this time silent.

All this excitement is too much for the hungry wolf. He breaks free of Rasheesh's grip, dragging the orc a couple feet out
from behind the rocks as he does. Now he's exposed and with the elf busy digging mere yards away. The scimitar is pulled
forth with a light scraping sound. The sunlight reflects off the blood stained weapon as the orc slowly takes a step
backwards towards his mountain home. The wolf is not so docile.

With a loud growl the foul animal leaps in the direction of Galharth. Fangs showing with a nasty snarl, he closes the gap
with just a couple short leaps on his well balanced paws. Those teeth are sharp! The jaw opens, attempting to bite at the
elf's face.

Rhibi whirls at the blur of motion. An arrow is fitted to his small bow and aimed at the wolf; it flies through the snow,
and the elf child snatches another. But are there more? He pauses before shooting again, long enough to throw a swift
searching glance around - nothing near that he can see. Nothing else moves, save the snow and the wind.

Glancing up to offer the youth a cross look, the action results in a shriek that sounds out over the snow covered land.
Reaching the foothills, the sound vibrates into an echo. With the sound, Galharth ducks down as he pushes himself into a
roll away from his now uncovered catapult. "Maglind!!!!!" he calls our in a panic as he digs through the folds of his cloak
in an attempt to reach his sword.

Fabric hinders his action, but the ellon does not pause as he rises to his feet while still working to wield his sword. "We
have a problem!!!" he cries out as he finally makes contact with the hilt of his blade.

Blanketed by snow, Maglind hears only a shriek. And that is enough.

"Away with you!" roared into the white. He whirls back, churning up a shower in his wake. An arrow rests eager on the
bowstring, yet he does not release it.

The wolf howls in agony as the arrow dives into his flesh, tearing a hole in his hind flank and forcing blood to steam from
the wound. He does not stop his attack though. Clawing at Galharth with sharp nails and biting at him, seeking his throat.
Rasheesh is taking the distraction as his cue to keep on moving back. Keeping his eyes on the situation he backsteps quickly
up the hill. A manuever that drops him to the ground with a grunt as he catches heel on a rock.

The movement of the orc goes unseen - by Rhibi at least. And so he lets his second arrow fly, with a bright piercing call. I
am here, he tells the others wordlessly. Don't shoot me. And: Be afraid, oh my enemies.

One of the other guards sprints towards the foothills, lost in the brightness.

The wolf's howl is joined with that of an elf as Galharth raises his arm to wield his sword and to block the claws of the
beast. Protecting his throat, the clothier gains a mild triple slash of upon his forearm. "Rhibi! Run! Go West and I shall
follow. Let the Guards handle this.

Withdrawing his arm into the folds of his cloak he takes off running, weapon in hand, away from the conflict. "Go Rhibi! I
shall follow!" With that the Clothier sets off towards the west and the safety he hopes to find in the foothills.

Maglind nears the wolf and crunches to a stop. "Why have you come?" he asks pointlessly, quietly, a second shaft hovering on
his longbow.

The arrow flies. "Leave."

Two more arrows pierce the wolf. He howls out his dying breath. Most noticable is the dart that forces it's way through his
eye socket. Protruding from that hole is a small arrow, fired from a small bow. A most cunning shot. The wolf drops dead,
practically on top of the elf whose flesh he sought to devour. A few twitches are all that is left in his body.

To this the orc curses. His voice rises high in the air as he rises to his feet, "Blasted Albai buubs! Now I have to walk
home! And all the Thrakburzum will pour out to devour you all! Heed my words, fools! Leave this place!" Without a second
glance or another word, Rasheesh turns tail and flees into the mountains as fast as he can go. He darts behind rocks,
weaving in his path. Surely he could be easily tracked, but is it really worth it?

Rhibi ignores Galharth's orders. Maglind has not repeated them, and besides, he is not a foolish unskilled weaver of cloth.
He sees that the wolf is dying and turns in a circle to scan the hills around; his eyes going at once towards the orc who
rises from the snow and then flees. A brief lift of his bow, and then the orc is gone.

Maglind is silent for a long while, staring up at the buried catapult with an unreadable expression. He turns, and calls
softly. "Galharth? Rhibi?"

"I am here," Rhibi says, stepping to one side so that the catapult's bulk doesn't hide him. "Is it dead?" He pads towards
the wolf, looking for his arrows.

Pausing his retreat, Galharth turns in time to see the wolf go down. All else is a blurr to the Clothier. Safety gained
brings the clothier to his knees. "Here!" he calls out in reply to Maglind's call.

Taking a moment he gazes at his arm and rises to his feet. "Let us return to the wood, and regroup." he mutters unhappily.
"The catapult can wait another day.

"And be wounded in vain?" asks Maglind, the tone of his voice sharp like melting snow. "Come, at least let us remove some of
it. The rest we may hide and return for later."

He looks at the wolf, "Dead. We'll have to bury it."

Rhibi butts in, his head lifting from the search for arrows. "Not get it?" he asks incredulously. "But ... we must!" He
looks at Maglind beseechingly; the guard seems to be on his side. "We are here - to simply leave again..." The boy flounders
to a halt. The orc has run away, what is Galharth worrying about now??

Galharth's cheeks flush in embarrassment, and he draws his arm closely to his chest. "Nothing!" Galharth snaps, harshly as
he steps forward, along the path he had retreated. A trail of red marks his trail, but his eyes are focused upon the wolf.
Silently he drops to his knees beside the cataput and reaches forth with a sound and a bloodied arm to dismantle the
catapult. He pauses a moment to glare, but returns to his task. "At least let us hurry." he mutters with a tight jaw.

A guard steps forward, holding forth a strip of bandage. Another goes to the far end of the structure, reaching for the
joints of the frame.

Maglind sighs deeply, and quietly sets to burying the dead beast with his bare hands.

Rhibi darts over, crouching down and pulling his two arrows out of the wolf's flank. He checks them over then slides them
back into his small quiver and starts quietly to help Galharth.

Taking the offered bandage from the Warden, Galharth wraps his arm in silence. Stalling the blood flow upon his arm, the
clothier sets about working with Rhibi to dismantle the device. Dislodging the delivery arm, he rises and makes his way to
Maglind's side. "I'm not sure how much help this will be on a frozen ground, but it has to be better than using your hands."

Pausing to look upon the wolf, he frowns. "Why bury it? Certainly we won't disguise this area enough to keep the beasts at
bay."

Taking the arm with one hand, Maglind does not look up. "It will help with the reek. And it will not serve as a bloody
marker for all within sight's reach. We don't want to attract others before our job is done."

"I suppose not," Galharth replies softly as he returns to dismantling the device that lay nestled within the snow. "Almost
done," he mutters as he draws the pieces together. "We'll be ready to go when you give the word Maglind."

"Let us leave, then," replies Maglind, stepping back from the snow that covers the still-warm body. "The snow will cover the
rest."

He gazes darkly at the traces of blood on the ground. "We'll have to be better prepared next time. I am sorry."

Nodding softly, Galharth binds a few pieces into a lighter pack to be carried on his back. "It's probably for the best to
bring this home in two trips." he mutters softly as he stretches his shoulder and checks the bandage on his arm. Rising to
his feet, he swings the pack over his shoulder to rest upon his back. "Lead the way," he says, offering a strange look
towards the younger ellon.