(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 76 - Osgiliath

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Osgiliath: Western Ruins - Gondorian Garrison

A dozen watch-fires are kindled amidst the ruins of the former glory of Osgiliath, and the same number of black-clad men of Gondor patrol the camp, watchful in the encroaching darkness.

Pennons attached to the tops of the tents snap sharply in the brisk wind. The bright jewel of Earendil\'s star shines far to the west. Eastwards, Varda\'s jewels seem to dim to a grey nothingness hovering above the Ephel Duath, the black wall of rock to the east.

Contents:

Thoróndur

Doran

Doran(#16967)] A faint clopping sound quietly rings through the ruins of the once-proud citadel: the unmistakable noise of hooves striking on the worn, sunken stones of the ancient and crumbling streets. Approaching the stonework near the river\'s bank is a proud, clean-limbed steed of grey. Her burden jostles in the saddle as the horse nears the encampment of cautious men. Slipping down from his mount, cloaked against the chill that the coming night brings, Doran surveys the frontier of Gondor with a cold eye.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

The frontier of Gondor, maybe, in these dark days -- but once its center, of power and royalty, proud Osgiliath now fallen to ruin. Among the watchfires sits a man who has seen enough of the fallen works of Westernesse, these many months: Thorondur Girithlin, who with an oilcloth sees to a slender swordblade.

Lifting his eyes, he nods briefly to the new-come young knight ere returning in silence to his task. The camp around him slumbers on, save the silhouettes standing watch at the perimeters.

One silhouette moves then. Freeing himself from a silent watch, another taking his place, a tall young man approaches the fires. Keen and sharp he gazes round, clad in white and Blue. Respect lies in the two nods, one granted in turn to both Knights. As his raven hair is distinguished from the night by the fiery flames, an eerie light flickering upon the young man\'s complexion, he is recognized as Rowaen.

Speaking naught a word, the Nimothan takes a seat near the fire, letting his gaze linger in the dance of flames.

[Doran(#16967)] \"What news of the East wind, Thorondur?\" the young knight\'s words seem loud amidst the silent, looming stonework of old. Doran crouches as he raises a gloved hand in return at the squire. With a sigh he rests back on his heels, leather creaking as he settles.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

A longsword in his hands, thinner and less weighty maybe than the great sword of his forefathers that rests in its sheath beside him, Thorondur lifts his head to the pair once more. \"We do not ask the East Wind for his tidings,\" he tells Doran briefly, and without other explanation.

So he goes for a moment or more, ere letting the cloth and the blade rest a bit. \"Yet I do not know what will come to us. The end of our road is shrouded in mystery,\" the vaunted Knight of the Stones admits, \"even for me.\"

As words rise from Rowaen\'s lips, his glance lets not loose the flickering flames, as if an answer lay hidden therein. \"The proud men of Gondor grow restless under this mystery, Lord, they speak of fear and darkness...\"

Tilting his head towards the Knight-Herald, Rowaen raises a brow in question, \"Where then has their Hope went?\" A soft sigh, as the Blue Squire throws a log into the fire.

[Doran(#16967)] The young Isilrim\'s lips draw back as he sucks his teeth, soft breath hissing. Doran looks on solemnly at his lordly fellow, and at the other who speaks now. \"We have done well without hope before,\" says he in answer, but without any sort of dark mirth. \"As for me, I chafe to be underway, to cross the River. Let hope catch up with us.\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

The comments of his juniors pass Thorondur\'s ears, and not unheeded. Yet for a long silence he sits without answer.

\"If Hope is so easily chased away by the Darkness,\" he says at last, into the night, \"then we have truly become as lesser men.\" The echo of disappointment in his words is impossible to miss.

\"Mine has not fled me...\"

Insignificant perhaps, though Rowaen falters naught as he words his thoughts. And lo! His eyes seem to flicker, speaking of his Hope.

\"May I comment on the cause, my Lord? For I hold some thoughts towards that matter..\"

[Faengor(#18480)] \"As darkness and fear is the ally of the Nameless one, so is hope and loyalty ours. Yet, as valiance and honour may run trough our veins, we must never forget that we are mortal.\" Dour-faced Faengor aproaches the party from the banks of the Anduin, wrapped in his cloak. Cold-lipped he speaks, \"To keep hope and courage after decades of torment by the nameless\' one marks us all as heroes and such is Gondor, a nation of heroes.\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"True enough, Man of Anor,\" the fair Thorondur replies, laughing once and softly. Yet his focus is upon the man\'s brother, for he soon bids the squire, \"Say on then, Rowaen Nimothan.\" And he looks to Doran as well, curious perhaps for what the younger knight will say.

As Faengor speaks, Rowaen looks up for the briefest of moments, before letting return his glance, stern and grave, directing it fully in the fiery fire. A deep breath is taken, before lips spill the thoughts in mind...

\"The return to both fair Dol Amroth and majestic Minas Tirith, \'twas funest for Moral I think... Would it not have been better not to stop at houses familiar and safe? Instead, as Lord Doran speaks, having travelled onwards, letting not mortal minds accustom to places safe and free of worry. Hope comes not only true, yet also false... \'Tis such a hope, I deem, the proud Men of Gondor have found in our cities..\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"False hope? I fear I do not agree,\" says Thorondur, \"and maybe your brother has the right of it -- but say on,\" he urges Rowaen once more. \"I would hear something further of this.\"

[Faengor(#18480)] Soft-paced, Faengor now steps closer to the party, grimly fixing his eyes on his brother. Listening to him with sealed lips.

[Doran(#16967)] A cool smile now slowly eases itself across Doran\'s lips, as he is roused out of his silence. \"Think you we cannot abide the Dark without hope?\" And here he looks to Rowaen and Faengor also. \"Then let us gird ourselves appropriately. Valour we have. Let hope be our weapon.\"

\'Tis with unease Rowaen shifts on his seat, sparing a glance towards the Knight-Herald, yet the Nimothan tarries not long...

\"Perhaps I need to add to mine earlier phrases indeed... By arriving in both Dol Amroth and Minas Tirith, the men were given rest, minds calmed and momentarily relieved. For they found themselves surrounded with familiar people, friends, places, and homes. Hearts were heavy when arrival was set, quest finding it\'s continuation. I deem perhaps such a short relieve has burdened our spirits, or of some, near home and then so swiftly off again for a journey towards the Dark Tower... Safety is quickly found and not easily layed off...\"

In reply to Doran, Rowaen moves his head, eying the young Knight silently. Tho he gives neither disapproval nor concurrence.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"Doran has the right of it, and Faengor as well -- with valour and hope we will go even into the Shadow, to bring back the light,\" Thorondur states, standing now in the firelight to his full height. A lord of the Dunedain he is, tall and noble, and the effect is not short of dramatic.

\"Yet I see, I think, what you worry at, Rowaen. And I say to you -- home will be there, when you return.\"

\"Not for home I worry, more for the oaths I have sworn... My words were not speaking of myself, Lord. Hope still brightens my spirit, in more ways then one...\"

Soft are Rowaen\'s words, shedding his fair features in the warming light, adding yet another log of wood.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

Perhaps surprised, if mildly, Thorondur looks on the sudden piety of Faengor with a raised eyebrow -- but only briefly, ere he nods his agreement. \"We must have faith in the righteousness of our cause,\" he says, \"for ever we have fought that Shadow. Yet still you puzzle me--\"

Now he looks to the other Nimothan, \"--Rowaen. Speak plainly, lad. What is it you are hinting at?\"

Doran stands also, beside the Girithlin. His gloved hand falls down to strike upon the pommel of the sword that hangs at his side, ever ready and able to the service of their noble cause. He says naught for now, but turns to look out into the darkness beyond the watch-fires of the sentinels. The River lies immediately before the company, the bulwark of Gondor in these times of dire contest.

Cool as his wont, Rowaen shifts his glance to meet that of the White Knight. \"Men need to be reminded of their beliefs and ideals, for there is many that can burry the virtues known as Hope and Valour... I speak only thoughts, my Lord, based upon converse with some of the Men of our fellowship. Worry naught for my part, if needed I shall venture into the darkness alone, to seek that what is light...\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"Then let them be reminded!\"

Thorondur\'s words come sharp and clear and sudden, bright like the crack of dawn as he whirls to face the river. \"Your swords, Men.\" And with the order, he bends briefly to slip his own mighty blade from its sheath. What has he in mind?

[Combat(#13388)] Thorondur wields Elemmacil.

[Erchirion(#29344)] From the tent he comes, tall and grim, the son of Imrahil with gaze to those about him, \"What is this?\" he calls, \"Why to arms?\"

Lays there surprise in the glance of the youngest Nimothan? If so then he shows naught, only a single blink, before his hand reaches for his sword. And with a gracefull swing, Rowaen unsheathes his blade, turning it round in the light of stars and Isil.

COMBAT - Wielded: Maegalfuur

[Faengor(#18480)] Raising, Faengor throws off his cloak which quickly floats to his feet. Standing tall and strong with his mail glimmering in the dark of the night, the Son of Gelevorn clasps his hand around the hilt of his sword and with a quick flourish he draws it forth, illumnating the darkness with it\'s bright shimmering.

[Combat(#13388)] Faengor Draws Bliskner, it\'s metal clinging against his scabbard as it is drawn.

[Doran(#16967)] Reflex wisks the blade out from its fine scabbard at Doran\'s side, held steady before the young man\'s face: stern and grim. His eyes, though, are shining grey like sunlight dancing on the white crests of the Bay of Belfalas, as he looks upon Thorondur in this fiery mood that has come suddenly upon him. As swords are drawn a few faint cries come from the watchmen near the River\'s edge, ever alert.

[Combat(#13388)] Doran draws a longsword.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

Then as swords come forth to glitter in the firelight like spring in the wake of a long, hard winter, Thorondur Edrahil lowers that blade which he bears with both hands. Looking grimly upon the faces assembled above those swords, he merely glances at Erchirion to answer the young prince.

\"Now tell me...\" the Knight of the Stones asks these Men.

\"Do you defy the Shadow, Men of Gondor?\"

Silent Rowaen turns Maegalfuur in hand, the fiery blade reflecting the silver light, glimmering in the darkness of night. With a fleeting smile, the young man turns to the White Knight, nodding firm, at once turning grave.

\"The sword speaks mine answer already, for it reflects that what is light, forcing back that what is dark!\"

Strong are those words...

[Erchirion(#29344)] No more words are needed to light the fires of defiance within the Prince of Dol Amroth, for at these words even before the answer of his comrades, does the man known as Erchirion lay hand upon the hilt of his sword, clasping it with and iron grip and making the metal sing as it is drawn forth from the scabbard at his hilt.

A smirk forms upon his lips, even as he steps away from the candle light within the pavillion, his cloak sweeping majestically behind him with the wind of his movement, \"A day of defiance against the dark tyranny offered by he who rules the shadows?\" and as he speaks the man draws to a halt near the Lord Girithlin, \"Quickly now, let us go forth and teach the creatures of foulness and lesson of the fury of Dol Amroth and her Knights.\"

[Faengor(#18480)] Plunging his sword in the dirt before his feet, Faengor lowers his gaze. \"Come then!\" he speaks with strength. \"Let us go into the darkness, defy the shadows and the creatures of the night it harbours! Victorious we will return with the shard!\" Grinning, he clasps the hilt of his sword with both hands.

[Arnafel(#29017)]

\"Softly now, Men of Gondor. Have patience.\"

And at the entrance to the pavilion stands another -- a tall silhouette against the light which streams around him from within. Yet, he draws no blade, but stands with arms crossed upon breast, a glint of silver at his throat.

[Doran(#16967)] \"For Ost-in-Ernil!\" comes Doran\'s answer and war-cry. Loud the young man\'s words ring amongst the crumbling stones of decaying Osgiliath, heedless of what evil might lurk in the shadows of the far bank. He raises his slender blade, gripped in one hand, high above his head.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"This is no call to arms, Son of Imrahil,\" Thorondur tells Erchirion, \"but a test of Men\'s wills. Let the glamhoth quail on the opposite bank,\" he says to them all, \"where once the Sons of Elendil built their towers. We will come there soon enough.\"

Yet now looks to Arnafel, and shakes his head. \"I do not counsel patience or its mirrored twin and foe, this night, Lord Isilrim. I counsel Hope. Look to your swords, Men of Gondor! For therein are your hearts reflected.\"

[Erchirion(#29344)] \"Hope it is you have kindled within,\" Erchirion replies, \"And the fire that burns bright with it, for now I am restless.\" And into the ruins of the fallen City of Stars he looks, quiet, yet brimming with engery.

[Arnafel(#29017)]

\"Hope is a great virtue indeed\", the Isilrim replies drily, inclining his brow to Thorondur. \"But there are a few here at the least who seem to be mistaking it for battle-fever.\"

Yet, he says no more, but resumes his silent watch -- a brooding sentinel, grey eyes glinting in the shadows, marking all that passes before them but reserving judgment.

\"Yet does not a set mind, one wise and righteous, enhance the virtues reflected within steel? Patience leading to wisdom, wisdom to the better use of Hope in hearts?\"

Faint is the grin, the young Nimothan nodding firm and with respect towards the Lord Isilrim. A last glance he casts upon the blade in his hand, own eyes reflected, causing a frowning of brow. Then steel rings as the blade is returned to the sheath, Rowaen assuming his former seat.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

Now Thorondur strides boldly before the line of Men, their swords unsheathed and flickered scarlet in fireglow. With his own great blade he gestures suddenly to the East it extends from his arm like an arrow aimed at the ancient heart of Darkness.

\"We are the Men of Gondor,\" he tells them quietly, and though his words may be whispered they kindle like quick-burning flames in the heart. \"The heirs of Westernesse. The last, best hope against the Shadow,\" he continues, ignoring his comrade\'s sarcasm. \"Who among us would do less? Who would quail before Mordor? I do not.\"

[Doran(#16967)] A frown passes across the face of the younger man of House Isilrim, and the silver fire of Doran\'s eyes begins to fade. His sword remains unsheathed, however, and his keen glance turns East also at the words of the Knight-Herald.

[Faengor(#18480)] Dignified, Faengor raises his gaze to meet Thorondur\'s, ere returning his sword to his sheet. \"I shall follow where my loyalty and strength takes me. I shall die to protect Westernesse from the untold horrors of the nameless one.\" Smirking, Faengor turns away, his gaze on the east.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

Only now does Thorondur Edrahil lower his sword. \"Excellent,\" he tells them all, returning the brand of the Girithlins to his side. \"We are Men here after all, and the West still echoes in your blood, at least. I deem us ready. We will strike the camp at dawn.\"

[Erchirion(#29344)] Looking the the horizon, and the looming shadow of the Mountains that mark the entrance of His lands, the Prince nods only in reply, his sword once more replaced within the sheath at his hip. \"No rest will I find this night,\" he says to the man, his friend the Girithlin.

He turns to look upon those gathered, his eyes bright, his face grim, the last gaze given to the silent, watchful Isilrim. And in doing so he turns, once more looking into the fallen city, the capital lost. And then he steps forth, his path leading forth into that very city, where shadows and light struggle ever against the other, each seeking dominace over the other.

Yes, further into the ruins of Osgiliath does the Son-Prince of Dol Amroth walk.

[Doran(#16967)]

\"That is well,\" Doran answers brightly. And looking after Erchirion as he departs, the young knight adds, \"I look forward to carrying the standard of Dol Amroth across the River, if I might be allowed the honour?\" His grey glance strays from the Knight-Herald to Arnafel, as his blade is returned to its sheath.

[Arnafel(#29017)]

\"Seek rather to live for Westernesse, Faengor\" -- on the heels of the Knight-Herald\'s declaration comes the Isilrim\'s voice. \"For Westernesse, and for Amrothos the Swift. And\", he adds, \"I doubt greatly we will cross the river with banners flying.\"

Yet, it is not to the gathered questers he looks, but the departing figure of Erchirion, fading swiftly into the gloom of darkling night.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"You may,\" the Herald tells Doran, gazing himself about the ancient ruin of Gondor\'s might. \"It is the duty for which you were knighted. How could any man deny it to you?\"

[Faengor(#18480)] \"Live for Gondor, or die?\" Faengor replies, almost questioning, yet he quickly provides the answer. \"They are both an honour and I shall be the last to enter combat foolishly, yet if the need arise, I shall be there.\" Serenely, Faengor turns his back to the party, softly moving towards the bank of the Anduin.

Contradiction in words... With a glance tensioning Rowaen lets his gaze shift from the White Knight to the Silver one, and back... Though the young man speaks only after his brother...

\"I shall not return before Amrothos has been saved, so were my words and so shall it be...\"

[Doran(#16967)] \"What then?\" Doran speaks up, his grey eyes resting on his lord and kinsman. \"Do we issue forth as thieves under the dull gleam of dawn? Stealth has oft been our instrument upon this errand, and has rightly served. But shall we skulk across Anduin\'s breadth, where once the lords of old walked so proudly?\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

A look, first, to these younger Men who look to him for leadership -- and Thorondur sees the questions in their eyes. Then does he turn his gaze toward Arnafel and say -- though in answer to Doran -- three simple words.

\"I will not.\" And so the die is cast.

[Arnafel(#29017)]

\"Yes\", Arnafel replies bluntly to his kinsman -- yet, it is upon the Knight-Herald that his gaze rests, clear and considering, \"If need be. For you speak of an age long past, and these are darker days. I would go rather in stealth and bring back that which we seek, then sally forth bravely and thus warn our foes.\"

And there is a pause, ere he speaks again -- softer now, \"But it would seem the Lord Girithlin thinks otherwise.\"

It is Rowaen who speaks aswell, yet more a remark of his own, perhaps his mind on the matter. \"Have we not sworn to the Prince of Dol Amroth for one and the same goal? Was that goal to go proudly forth on the shores lost in times past, or was it to seek to free young Amrothos, in the bestest ways we can?\"

No more, no less, eyes lingering into the dying flames, which are revived as another log is placed within the burning ashes.

[Arnafel(#29017)]

In silent acknowledgement, the Isilrim inclines his brow to Rowaen -- yet, he says naught, standing there at his ease.

[Doran(#16967)]

\"This Fellowship has passed through dark days, and mayhap the darkest are yet to come,\" Doran now says. The young knight\'s hand is firmly gripped upon the hilts of his blade as he stands before Arnafel. \"Nevertheless we have passed to this point unscathed. It is our right, our destiny, I deem, to pierce the eastern fences and recover what we must.\"

His grey eyes turn again now to the dark void that is the course of the Great River, slow running this night. \"We will not be hindered by any paltry band of orcs that might scrounge on the far bank. And surely, the enemy will have word of us before long, despite any tactics we might put forth. The miles to Morgul vale are long and dark. I simply do not wish to begin that journey sneaking through what was once the capital of Gondor. What then of the Herald\'s words this eve? Are we not the last vestiges of the West? Are we not proud? We shall show it to be true.\"

\"Proud, valiance, rashness, foolishness...\" Four verbs, they pierce the nightly sky, leaving the lips of Rowaen. Grave he pokes in the ashes of the fire.

\"If \'twould only save but a few minutes of time, a second less or more can be the difference between life and death, and is it not life we seek? Why do more then sworn, endangering that what was sworn first. Save your valiance for another quest, one that leads to clench the old capital of the foul beings that dwell here... What wrong lies there in patience and stealth?\"

[Arnafel(#29017)]

\"Bravely spoken, Doran. Thus you show that you possess valour in full measure. And now...\"

Cool and measured, untouched by the impassioned speech of the younger Knight, the Silver Knight\'s reply is yet not unkind in its own way, \"...give a thought to wisdom. Think you that it is craven to use subtlety? Or do you place pride above Amrothos\' life?\"

And his voice remains unchanged -- yet, it is as if there is a sudden sharpness in it, akin to the glint of steel, \"Have a care, Squire. Uncivil speech is not called for here.\"

Slowly Rowaen rises to his feet, offering a bow to both Doran and Arnafel, \"My apologies Lords for \'uncivil\' words spoken...\"

Silent he returns to his seat at the fire.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"Yet I will not go forth as a thief in the night,\" Thorondur declares, in agreement with the younger man of Isilrim, Doran. \"Not here, amid the wrack of what our past and ancient glory, to reclaim a very piece of that past.\"

Now he steeples his fingers and says more strongly, \"We may purpose indeed to save the Prince\'s son. Yet I will do it as a Man of Gondor, uncowed by the Shadow that looms eastward.\"

[Doran(#16967)]

The young knight turns to look coolly upon Rowaen, as he answers his elder. \"Of course not, Arnafel. But to cross into the East as a creeping, skulking company grieves my heart. It will matter little, I deem, if a few scavenging orcs are alerted to our coming. They will be swept aside like bits of sand before the tide.\"

\"As I said, the miles are long ere we shall reach our destination. Surely you cannot purpose to hide behind shadows the entire way. Are we to leave the horses behind, then? Our hearts have been uplifted this night. Let us not deny that, as we raised our swords together, moments ago. Hope was kindled. Let us keep it, and go with due speed.\"

Then Rowaen shifts his glance, resting now on the complexion of the Knight-Admiral. And it is with a solemn, tho meaningfull stare, he holds that gaze.

[Arnafel(#29017)]

Thus, once again the wills of the Girithlin and the Isilrim clash -- and Arnafel regards his friend in searching silence for a moment ere speaking again, the faintest note of weariness seeping into his answer, \"Then the Captains must needs speak of this.\"

And saying naught to Doran or Rowaen, he turns and is gone into the pavilion, azure cloak billowing around him, limned with the light of Tilion.

Doran sighs as his kinsman turns away, retiring to the tents. \"What could he fear? Did he not hold even the fell shadow at bay in the north?\" the young knight asks, speaking barely above a whisper, mostly to himself.

His right hand clenches hard and his lips are drawn back into a thin, firm line in the midst of his fair face. \"With the coming of the morn may we cross the Anduin with banners unfurled and be not ashamed of our errand,\" he says softly, wistfully, looking out across the dark River.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

Of Arnafel\'s assertion Thorondur says nothing -- but perhaps the words he speaks to Doran convey more than their first, and simplest, meaning. \"With the coming of the morn,\" the Herald asserts, \"we shall do just that.\"

And he has faced more evils, and worse, than any of them.

The meaningfull glance losing it\'s target, Rowaen turns his head now to the Knight-Herald. \'Tis at the face of the White Knight the Nimothan\'s blue eyes stare now, tho he speaks naught.

\"Why not do both ideas uttered...?\"

Sudden the query seems, coming from Rowaen.

[Doran(#16967)]

\"Speed, strength of arm and heart had ever been our closest allies, or so I thought. I will stand by the River, I think, to embrace the coming dawn. Though fair Anor must rise first over the deathly murk of the Shadow..\" Doran looks now, turning quickly upon the heel of his boot, to the squire. \"What do you mean, Rowaen? You drew sword with us.. how can a mounted company hope to pierce the eastern fences with stealth?\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"We are not Faramir\'s men, dispossessed of our homes, to go stealing back into our ancient gardens by moonlight and stealth,\" Thorondur assures young Doran and the squire. \"You have the right of it, Isilrim. We are Knights of Dol Amroth. Silence is not our way. But how now, Rowaen Nimothan, do you suggest others might go even as we do not?\"

\"We can, if there are others who go forth not in stealth...\" muses Rowaen, as he eyes Doran now, \"Why could we not seek to deceive the Shadow himself? Go in both stealth and in valiance, two groups. The one that goes proud will bear the banner of fair Dol Amroth, surely the enemy will focus it\'s attention on them, leaving free a way for others. Or at least buy precious time...\"

And then he is silent.

\"I am willing... if \'tis the bestest way to aid in the rescue of young Amrothos... my words bind me to the task, should doom await us hither, let us all then go forth as our minds beseech us...\" replies Rowaen, furrowing a brow, giving his own idea more thought.

\"Then those who spoke of valiance,\" and here a brief glance is directed at Doran, \"can go forth as such. For \'twill be them to encounter the enemy largest in force... The other will have their wisdom in a hidden way. Both ideas combined, solving disagreement amongst our numbers..\"

[Doran(#16967)]

\"As for me, I have already made my mind known to all. But I will labour as will best aid our company and errand. A spear-wedge to ride open-eyed into the arms of the Shadow, to lure our enemy\'s strength astray..\" Doran\'s eyes narrow as if considering this as well.

\"I would take it upon myself, and a few others, if this is the will of the Fellowship that will come to pass. Mayhap our true strength, the great lords that rightly lead us, could then be cloaked to pass safely through the wake of the leading riders. Thereby the quest\'s likelihood of success might be increased. But I am no counsellor..\" the young knight digresses.

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"No,\" says Thorondur aloud, staring into the east and upon the bridge as well. \"You will not ride without one lord of the Dunedain, at least.\" And by his speech and the set of his jaw, it is clear which lord he means to accompany Doran.

[Erchirion(#29344)] From the shadow filled city of the Osgiliath he comes, the figure of a man clad in the soft light of the moon, and in mail that girds him as if for battle. He comes now, returning to the camp, and into the harsh light of the fire Erchirion stops, gazing around at the serious faces, \"Your words can be heard for quite a distance on a night such as this,\" he states simply, \"And if you would have either plan remain a secret I would advise the use of softer tones or a language that the enemy does not speak.\"

\"But your plan holds merit,\" he says to Rowaen, \"And would serve us well, though I do agree with the Knight-Herald, no one will leave this place without one of our Lords.\"

[Doran(#16967)]

\"That is well, lord,\" Doran answers, and the light of the fires, though they burn lower as the night wears on, is mirrored in his shining eyes. He stands there, form rigid and proud, looking on at Thorondur. \"I can speak only for myself, of course. All know now that the strength of this Fellowship lies in our captains: my kinsman, Arnafel, the Lord Bragollach, and yourself. And our champion, also,\" the young knight adds with a cool smile as the prince strays back amongst the company. \"But I pray that our plans be laid quickly.\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"Then with the sun I will ride forth,\" Thorondur says plainly, addressing them all, \"and Doran of the Isilrim, and any other who will ride beneath our banner.\" Now he nods in acknowledgement of Erchirion and adds, \"But you who would follow will come behind us, at your own pace.\"

A firm concurring nod, as Rowaen rises, eyeing each Knight in turn. \"And more hope can be gained with such a plan, no oath forsaken. For we all promised to strive for young Amrothos\' rescue, in the best way we could. And what better way lies there in following your own mind and ideals?\"

For moments the Blue Squire holds silent, as if considering other words spoken. \"I shall ask the other squires then...?\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"If you will,\" Thorondur tells Rowaen, more lost in distant thought now than caught in the moment.

[Erchirion(#29344)] \"A plan is formed then,\" Erchirion replies softly, \"I fear I cannot ride with thee Lord Thorondur, nor will I take many men with us on the group that will pass in secrecy, for you shall be our flare and fire, the might that strikes the Shadow for all that is good and right. Take with thee those that will go, ride forth, and make yourself known unto them, and strike down all in thy path, and lead them from us that come behind.\"

He stops for a moment, \"Perhaps we shall meet again before the shard is recovered, but if not, then we shall meet again in the city of Minas Tirith before we ride forth to cast down this fell shade and rescue my brother.\"

[Doran(#16967)]

\"Let our number be not great, though,\" counsels Doran. \"It needs be only enough to draw the attention of our enemy. They shall quail at the banner of the Swan that has not been seen abroad in this land for many years. The main company that shall seek the shard in earnest should have the greater number, or so I deem.\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

Now Thorondur looks on Erchirion in mild surprise, if pleasant, and a brave smile turns up his lips. \"Wise words and good ones,\" he agrees. \"So be it!\"

Then taking the other\'s hand, the Herald shakes it firmly and swiftly, ere looking to Doran. \"We will ride into the sun, and the Orcs will quail at our coming! We will cry \'Aure enteluva,\' as our ancestors did in the depths of time when the world was young.\"

\"And the might of the Shadow will fall back before us, for day -will- come again.\"

\"Let there be no disagreement then... Ironical yet it is, where the Shadow would seek to divide those against him, here dividement will be used to achieve the goal of this quest...\" A moment the Nimothan seems to tarry, tho then he blinks, freeing himself from the depths of his mind, \"I shall ask the squires then, Lord...\"

Three last nods, each holding respect, one\'s granted at the Knights before him. Then Rowaen makes his way towards the tents, seeking to disturb his kinsmen in their slumber. And a soft chuckle rises from his lips, soft musings spoken aloud...

\"So there is Truth in deceivement, Light in Darkness... Hope in disagreement...\"

[Doran(#16967)]

Throwing back his head then with a clear laugh, Doran says gladly, \"Your words lighten my heart and tense the sinews in my arm. No orc nor creeping foul thing shall stand against us. Our coming shall be swift and terrible, and any who might hinder it shall be swept aside as by the ragins sea. We shall teach the skulking orcs to cringe at the sound of pounding hooves like never they did before.\"

[Thoróndur(#23126)]

\"Very well then,\" laughs Thorondur, and fell rings the sound of his bright and unshadowed laughter upon the stones. \"Saddle the horses! For soon we ride!\"

And with that, men weary and waking are sprung into motion. Slowly, the men of the garrison and those knights who will take to the bridge set at last to their preparations.