(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 51 - Dwarves and Men

*Note - Thanks to Ori for this log*

** Real time is: Sun Jan 14 08:13:39 2001, GMT -7 ** Elendor time is: Late Afternoon (1700) on Monday, 22 April 3022. In the clear Spring sky, Tonight the moon will be first quarter.

North Port Here is a small stretch of gravelly shingle-beach at the foot of a great stone crag, one of Thror\'s Twins that guard the gates of the Celduin, which rushes by to join the deeper waters of the lake. A small group of buildings and dockworks are built along the shore, usually quiet. Because the river becomes too shallow to navigate a few miles north, here many goods bound for Dale or Erebor or beyond are offloaded and transfered to caravans--and vice versa, from caravans into sturdy knorrs or rafts going the other way. Although the docks handle trade, they were also built to acommodate the ships of Esgaroth in times of war, when the weakfolk needs be sent to Dale or into the Mountain for safety. Besides the actual wharves and utility outbuildings, there are a few small warehouses, the dockmasters place, and an inn, the Twin\'s Toe, built up against the crag itself. There is also a raft service here that will taxi those who wish to go across the rivers mouth to the road on the east side.

[Indilzar] The verdant rays of the waning Sun strike heavily upon the great mountain. Red rays as if blood trickle down like the froth of doom. So it is that the Black Knight Indilzar Bragollach now sets his eyes upon it. Nigh him is the hunting hound Huan, who has seen this land before. The hound stirs restless but it is Indilzar who speaks, \"Ah Huan. What a heavy doom lieth upon the Hill of the Dwarves. Now indeed do the words of Thorondur debase themselves to but plainer speech to my mind. But the present service at hand is indeed true unto itself.\" He glances over at the wains.

[Jormun] From the camp, comes a dwarf, walking toward the lake. The wind plays with his long black beard that almost look like a shadow flying around him. He carries a small bag at his side, and as he walks he sing one of the old dwarven songs. Reaching the lake Jormun sits down, and starts emptying his bag, revealing a lot of bandages and with a grunt he starts washing them in the lake. As he bend forward his beard touches the water and his figure is reflected in the surface by the last rays of the sun.

The knight Indilzar sees the Dwarf and in doing so becomes resolved to meet him. Therefore, he goes forth with long strides until he stands behind the Dwarf, his reflection overlooking Jormun\'s in the still waters of the lake.

Jormun is very busy with his work, and doesnt seem to notice the knight approaching. However suddently he looks at the reflections in the water and shocked by the armed man behind him he quickly rolls to the left trying to get on his feets. \"GUAAARDS!\", he shouts loudly, and imidiatly 3 other dwarves comes running from the camp, quickly standing up, Jormun backs away from the knight, ready to defend himself with his bare hands if nessesarily...

[Amano] The shout of the Dwarf goes not unheard by other ears. For the shingle on the beach resounds with footfalls, presaging a shadow, lengthening in the dying dusk. A figure of a tall young man comes up the shore, slowly, yet steadily, face and form shadowed so that naught may be distinguished, but for his shock of raven hair, a face pale and quiet, and the cloak mantling him, as night come early to the shores of the Lake. Where the Dwarf might have been wary and tense, his gaze is calm, even as he approaches, turning his head in inquiry to the approaching guards, before his attention rests fully on the Knight and the black-bearded Dwarf that he had addressed, curiosity clear and as yet unvoiced. Amano, or so he might be recognized, even in the enroaching gloom.

Quickly drawing the battle-axe from his back, Jormun steps further back. Now the 3 other dwarves have joined him, and they stand too with drawn axes, suspicious about every move Indilzar may make. Finally Jormun speaks, \"If you got friendly intentions!! ... Why do you have this sword drawn then?\" He asks with a harsh voice. Then as the dwarves spots Amano walking toward them, they look even more suspicious, \"So you Stonelundings greet others with your swords drawn?\", another of the dwarves shouts... \"But back your swords ... we will defend ourselves!\" The camp is now suddently awaken, and more dwarves comes running with weapons drawn.

Indilzar slides his sword back into the scabbard and says, \"A mere habit. I believe your folk know of ours. Or at least the names Thorondur and Numandil are not unknown to you.\"

[Arnafel] Even as the echoes of the dwarf\'s challenge die out, dashing themselves against the grim mountains, the drumming of hoofbeats upon the shingle ring clearly. From the West comes a lone rider then, cantering by the lake -- a sheet of gold and crimson, mirroring the dying flame of the day in the skies -- and little can be discerned of him in the midst of that splendour until he draws nigh to the camp. And he is known then for the Lord of the Isilrim.

[Amano] Quietly sheathing the blade at the scabbard that hangs at his side, the youth eyes the Dwarves thoughtfully, gaze as a deep mere mirroring naught in their depths. Cold and pale does he seem in what little light there is, and what words he might have given are cut off as the horse\'s hoofbeats clatter upon the stones of the shore. He turns at the sound, awaiting the arrival of the rider.

[Rowaen] And more Men of Gondor draw near, though tis not clear this one is \'alarmed\' by the noises about, dwarves making a rather hostile stance towards the men. The flap of the pavillion is thrown aside, a figure becoming visible. Tow rather, for behind the first stands another, offering some sort of support to the first man. Tis the Blue Squire Rowaen, rised from his sickbed, first attempts to be made by him in walking. And not easy it goes... for how hollow seems his face, pain so intens expressed upon it with every single step he takes. If t\'was not for another squire lending him support, surely he would fall, never to stand up by means of his own. Yet despite his difficult pace, the lad fails not to notice the apparent tension at bay. Surprised he blinks, for a moment agony forgotten, not bothered by the thickly wrapped left arm, or right leg, clothes covering more of his injuries. There his eyes move from the gathered Knights to the dwarves and back. Somewhat bewildered a soft greeting leaves Rowaen\'s lips. \"Good day to all...\"

[Arnafel] The stout figures of the dwarves, mighty axes in hand, are etched against the darkling gloom which gathers even now, heralding dusk. And at that grim sight, sharply the rider draws rein by the newly-sworn Knight. \"What passes here, Amano?\"

[Jormun] Seeing the Stonelundings put back their weapons the dwarves starts to relax, and put back their axes too. However they are still looking suspicious. Finally the 3 guards from the city backs away, and let Jormun talk to the Men. The dwarves near the camp stands still and look at the scene. Jormun put back his axe too and he and then with a light bow, he says, \"We have met your Numandil and Thorondur, \'Stonelunding\'\". His eyes are suspicious too and the hard face of the dwarf reveals no feelings at all.

\"With assurances then there is no need for quarrel or ill thought,\" says Indilzar Bragollach, his black cape swinging in the breeze. \"Of mission import come we as thou knowest, but also I seek from thee and thy kin a boon as if a gift one could give to friends afar to welcome them to their northern homes though chilled the hour must be.\" \"Namely healing,\" intones the knight Bragollach with the flashing eyes. \"For if thou lookest,\" continues Indilkhor\'s son, \"some of my company have been sorely hurt by the road and the perils thereon.\" He then waves back toward the camp of the Men of Gondor, \"and thither is one now. Sorely put both afflicted with pain and the weariness of the road, but worse. For few have passed through so many dangers escaping with life and limb that I am sure that the Dwarves can attest to in their mighty wisdom founded on ages of studying all the realm of the horn of the world: Arda the mighty to what secrets the Dwarves know that is beyond the reckoning of Men. Thither that boy is: Rowaen is he by right name and worthy of life and help. Therefore I beseech of thee, are there any within yon camp that may succour him in his need, for mighty may be his wounds, but not so perilous as the grief that would be smited upon us all if he was to perish, young and mortal.\"

If softly spoken the words of the younger Amano are clear enough, addressing the Lord Arnafel: \"It seems to be but a misunderstanding, sire. The folk who dwell hither took offense at bared blade, though surely we showed them no malicious intent.\" He turns his regard to the Dwarves as the Lord Bragollach speaks, fallen silent and now his eyes alight on Rowaen, startled that he had the strength to even step forth from the very tent in which he had lain.

[Arnafel] \"They are a hard folk, these dwarves\", the Knight-Admiral replies, his clear gaze upon the bearded figures. And swinging down from the saddle, he gives the reins of his steed to a squire ere glancing to the wounded youth: \"Come, it would seem Rowaen\'s wounds have begun to heal.\" And thither he makes his way.

A silent reaction comes from the young Nimothan, Rowaen hearing the valiant words the lord Indilzar speaks of him. And so a moment he is distracted, perhaps pondering on words mentioned. A fall forward is started, only prevented by a swift reaction of the squire supporting Rowaen. With strength he pulls back the Squire, holding him to his staggering feet. Blue eyes glimmer with disgust, perhaps seeing his almost-fall as an act of weakness, a growl leaving the Blue Squire\'s lips, one displeased... Yet the nod he gives to the squire next to him, is one of respect and holds sincere gratitude. Once more common coldness returns to those eyes, depths sealed with an icy look, now roaming about the camp, all figures taken into vision. Only then the lad makes the necessary respect to those who stand above him, curtious nods given, Rowaen not able to bow. And at the dwarves aswell he bows... now gesturing towards the other squire to bring him near the fire... And so the young lad continues his pace, to the fire, apparently ignorant on the words the Knight-Admiral speaks...

Now smiling Jormun, looks at Rowaen standing by the Pavillion, then turning back to Indilzar, \"Ye have been lucky this young lad is still alive, Stonelunding!\", Then he bows lightly again, and scratches his beard, \"I am Jormun, chirurgeon of clan Bundazanul, Baruk Zirak Warder of \'Shields of Durin\' - I heal wounds as well as I cause them!\" Then he scratches his beard again, as the wind plays with hit, and the last rays of the sun sends cascades of silver over his face. \"Look at him I will do!\" Jormun smiles, but a dwarf would see that the suspicios look in his eyes have not gone completely.

Indilzar nods and bows, \"We the Men of Gondor are at your service.\" Yet when he rises he says, \"But I have not heard that term before: Stonelunding? Lest you have been among the Men of Rohan who sometimes calls us Stonelendings. But come!\" With a quick spin of the heals the Lord Bragollach heads back to the camp.

Closely does Amano follow the Silver Knight, sparing the dwarves but another glance and courteous tilt of his head as they approach and his first words to other than his kinsman are to the wounded Nimothan, glad though slightly wry, as he calls out in greeting. \"Rowaen, if all patients were as hasty as you in leaving their sickbeds, those of the healing profession would have upon their hands such troubles as not seen ever before. Are you feeling well?\" Light as those words might be, his eyes are grave as he regards his friend searchingly.

Jormun follows Indilzar toward the camp, opening the bag he has in his belt, he reveals lots of small instruments, bottles and bandages. The other warders nearby keep standing where they are, it seems they have fallen into quiet conversation, but once in awhile they look at Jormun, just to be sure that nothing happens with their chirurgeon.

Indilzar comes up to the others and says, \"This is Jormun the Dwarf. I have brought him to see Rowaen.\"

[Arnafel] \"Greetings, Master Jormun\" -- with grave courtesy, the Lord Isilrim inclines his brow -- \"It is well indeed that you have agreed to tend to Rowaen. We have travelled many leagues with our wounded, and I fear the journey has done little to heal their injuries.\" And only when he has spoken to the dwarf does Arnafel turn to the Nimothan -- over the blood-flecked bandages his gaze sweeps ere rising to the youth\'s wan visage, \"You should be abed yet, Squire.\"

[Rowaen] Words spoken, perhaps meanted well, yet still to the disliking of the Nimothan. How he blinks in wonder, blue turning grave and somewhat dark. Almost nervous he glances at the approaching dwarf, eyes falling silent upon the gathered Knights, men. And the glance is questioning, Rowaen not at all at ease at the coming events. Hesitant come his words, being helped in seating by his fellow squire... \"Milords? Already my wounds have been treated... am I not up and about, perhaps I am ignorant in the ways of healing, yet I do not see the need for more healing...? Perhaps t\'sounds ungratefull, though I do wish naught to cause unneeded bother... The wounds are many, and will heal in time, time I have, so let them be healed...\" Twice he blinks, moving his injured leg carefully, fair complexion clouded by agony. As he relaxes, the Blue Squire eyes his friend, Amano. Words softly spoken in reply, though an attempting smile does not stay behind. \"Not well, Amano, though better enough... As for your inquiry, why lay silent and get bored if tis new lands you can see, people to meet, converses to be held. I am reluctant to miss all that, perhaps stubborn, yet injuries will not keep me from them..\" A wry grin he gives, all merriment dissolving in thin air the moment the Silver Knight adresses him. So Rowaen turns, more words spoken, this time in reply to the Knight Admiral... \"Milord...perhaps I should, yet I felt strength within, strength to start a more hasty recovery... my apologies milord, perhaps I did wrong in rising from my bed... t\'was curiousity that drove me out, to see where we have stranded...\"

Jormun\'s face seems to turn into stone, as Indilzar mentions his name as \'Jormun the Dwarf\', actually the hot temper boils in him, but again only a dwarf would reconise this. Walking up next to Rowaen, he looks in his bag, taking out a few bottles and a pair of bandages, then looking at Arnafel, he replies. \"That Lad need a little work on his wound, to avoid sickness to eat it up, Stonelunding!\" Jormun replies, and noticing Rowaens long speech, he ask Arnafel, \"Does this Lad always talk that much?\" Finally he turns to Rowaen, \"Now relax Lad! and let me look at these holes in ya!\" Jormun mutters as he opens one of his bottles.

No less then suspicious is the glance Rowaen offers the dwarf, already speaking in his own defence. \"Master Jormun, if you would not mind, I would like to await what Lord Arnafel thinks of this? For tis as I said, the wounds are recovering... no need to reopen that what is healing, I assure you, the pain lessens with the day! Did I not walk almost by myself, those paces, with one leg mostly limp?...\" And again his glance shifts between those gathered, Rowaen almost seeking help, others to acknowledge his words. Quite reluctant is the young Nimothan to more healing, for did he not spent weeks already in their care? Only now to be again looked after by a dwarf?

\"And are you a healer, to know this?\", Jormun answer Rowaen without looking at his face, instead he starts taking off one of Rowaens bandages, \"Now let me work, Lad... or it might hurt!\" The dwarf\'s voice is calm, while he investigates the wound.

[Thorondur] And now from beneath the shadow of Thror\'s Twins comes a ghost in the moonlight, or so he seems at first clad all in white and silver, arrayed in the accoutrements of a Grey-Elven lord, the White Knight of Dol Amroth joins those gathering by the fire. Where he might have stood before, out of sight, is left to question. Yet now Thorondur Edrahil comes smiling into the midst of camp his keen eyes discern the intent of all who rest here. \"Come come, Squire Rowaen,\" the knight chides, lightly. \"Is not discretion the wiser part of valour? Perhaps the dwarf can aid you.\"

\"Perhaps, Sir...\" Tis a soft answer Rowaen gives to the White Knight, eyes not leaving the dwarf unwatched, still not to fond of being \'healed\'. How a grimace of pain toubles his fair complexion as bandages are removed, wounds and cuts revealed, tis his left arm the dwarf looks at first, thick cloth removed, a huge scar revealed alongside the squire\'s arm. Lips are bitten as the limp arm is touched, bones still not healed properly to grant any movement at all.

\"His hands may not be so gentle as your Dania\'s,\" counsels Thorondur, more gently now and with the soft touch of long wisdom smoothing his words, \"but we need you whole. It is your duty to be at your best, lad -- and if this dwarf can help you become so, then I beseech you -- let him.\"

\"Interesting!\" Jormun mutters, as he takes one of his liquids and starts puring it over the wound, then with gentle, but rough fingers he starts to massage it into the skin next to the wound, then he looks up with a smile, \"This may hurt a little!\", he warns. Then he puts another liquid directly on the wound, and very quickly he takes a bandage and starts putting it around the arm, very tight, \"This will make your scar more difficult to see Lad\" he says, still putting on the bandage very tight.

[Lodin] From the darkness and the shadows from the pale moonlight, a distinct noise comes from the direction from the Wains. Small dark shadows start making their way to new fire that has been built. The insects, singing into the darkness, hush their melodies as the group makes its way towards the encampment. Distinct grumbling are heard as the group arrives into the light of the new campfire. Several Khazad, some armored and with weapons hanging at the side, approach the camp and surround the dwarves already stationed there. One dwarf glances at the humans present and gives a scowls, but says no words as he approaches the one being guarded. The guards salute and stand at attention as the dwarf walks over to Jormun and barks out \"Warder Jormun, stand at attention and explain yourself\" The dwarf\'s scowl bears down upon the lowly warders as he pays little attention to the human company and the human lying next to Jormun.

The merest of smiles passes fleetingly over Amano\'s countenance at the oddity of the situation, before passing once more into the unusual calm that so far lies upon him as a frost on once fiery embers grown cold, his grey eyes ever sharp and watchful as they remain on the dwarf. Tilting his brow to the Knight-Herald in agreement, he however remains intent upon what is at hand, arms folded. Yet wordless he is not for quietly does a query slip from him, offhand-seeming, addressed to the dwarf busily attending to Rowaen\'s wounds. \"Is it that he heals well, chirurgeon?\" Yet perhaps, unanswered, that question would be, as others approach. Raising his head to regard them in silence, Amano stirs not, his gaze unfaltering, yet devoid of other than curiosity.

The sudden appearance of armed and armoured dwarves causes Thorondur\'s eyes to narrow, and a brow to arch in silent inquiry -- but the Dunadan champion says nothing. For the nonce, at least.

Mirthfull words, though not equally reflected with Rowaen, an almost dark glance he gives the White Knight, as if to show his displeasement with the words the Lord Girithlin speaks. \"For my brethren I will then...\" Alas no more time is him given to speak more, already being \'treated\' a hissing grunt coming from his lips as the dwarf attends his broken and battered arm. As the pain apparently subsides, fierce the blue flickers, Rowaen almost growling at the dwarf. \"Tis not the scar I am worried about! More the bone...\" muttering some more words he slowly falls silent again, stirred in his thoughts by the words coming from the dwarven camp.

[Faengor] Dedicated steps, the grinding of dirt beneath military boots and the clicking of heels -- Seemingly sharing a similar fate as Thorondur, Faengor apears from the shadows of the darkness. Stroking his pommelgem with gentle fingers, the Errand Rider moves to the campfire where many seem to be gathered. With inquisitive eyes, Faengor gazes at those present and slowly his gaze falls on the healer.

Quickly standing up, Jormun turns to the dwarf that spoke to him, \"Yes, Lord I am at your service!\", he says, saluting Lodin

As the group of armed dwarves appear, Tamran slowly steps out of the nearby tent, his gaze surveying his suroundings. Hanging by the belt of the tall soldier is a longsword, something that has not been seen upon him for a long time but as natural as ever does the blade seem, as if a part of him. Slow yet sure steps does he take, quietly moving towards the rest of the company. Arriving near the Herald, he gives him a nod, yet says nothing returning his gaze upon the Khazad.

Giving this curious show of dwarven custom a last, cursory look, Thorondur turns again to Rowaen and laughs, a merry sound. \"Well then, squire, put down your sleeve -- it seems you will not be subjected to friend Jormun\'s feathery touch after all!\" Grinning, he looks to Tamran and asks then, \"How goes the watch, Sergeant? Are we safe here, do you think?\"

Tamran\'s gaze sifts between the Dwarves and Thorondur, not answering the question right away. At lenght, his voice raises, soft yet clear as always, \"Safer then places we have camped before...yet can we ever be truelly safe?\" His eyes are now resting upon the Knight.

As the situation tensions, Rowaen looks questiongly from the human encampment to the dwarven one so near, back and forth shift his eyes, every figure taken into notion. And so the icy blue halts at the last familiar figure, that of his friend Amano. The Blue Squire raises a brow to his friend, as if to exspect an answer from him.

\"We live in dark times, and well you know it,\" Thorondur says to Tamran, more bluntly than is his wont -- yet the mirthsome grin never leaves his face, or his eyes. \"Yet we must take such joy from life as it gives us, and forget for a time the shadow -- though it lurks just beyond the door. What say to this--\"And now his attention swings to the other Man of the Tower, \"--Faengor Nimothan?\"

[Tamran] \"I take the joys of life with open arms as they come, yet I can not forget the darkness that stalks us, not even for a moment...For too long have we kept the watch against it to forget...\" Tamran says lost in his thought, yet as his eyes readjust back at the Knight, a grin appears upon the soldiers face. Then Tamran turns his gaze towards Faengor, who\'s name was just called by the Herald.

Shaken out of his silent reverie, Faengor turns to Thorondur and his comrade-in-arms, taking them both up with a focused gaze. Finally he speaks rigidly: \"Your wisdom is equalled by few Lord Girithlin, though if you wish to tell me that you take joy from this quest then I fear that I have to disagree. From the start, the fellowship has been hindered. Allies were hard to find and often relunctant in their aid.\" Faengor smiles faintly, \"Nay, I bear little joy for life now and can only draw strength from my loyalty to Gondor.\"

Lodin quickly gets almost nose to nose with Jormun as the cool night air combines their breath into a cloud. With back turned towards the humans as the dwarves nervously survey the scene, Lodin whispers \"Well Warder Jormun, an explanation if you will..\" With the scowl still upon his face, Lodin turns to see the human lying on the ground. \"And what happened here Warder Jormun\" the dwarf cries out. Shaking his head, Lodin turns towards the humans and give a intent look at the party that has come to his lands. The flickering of the fire casts many shadows upon the much taller company. The bouncing of light and dark makes it hard to recognize the number of humans present. Suddenly, through the flickering of light and loud pop from the fire Lodin sees the glint of steel upon two of the humans and focuses his attention upon them as he awaits the response from one of his warders. Lodin breaks the uneasy silence as he notices two of the humans carrying weapons. Lodin turns his head back to the group of dwarves that accompanied him and calls out \"Master Kor, approach.\" An armored dwarf walks forward and stands at attention and says clearly \"Sir\" Lodin turns and barks his orders \"Go back and wake the 3rd Cadre, tell them to be ready in 10 minutes and be ready when I sound for them..understand?\" The dwarf nods as he says, \"Yes sir\" as he quickly dashes off to the Wains. Still looking at the humans, Lodin paces back and forth with his scowl ever present upon his face. Not even looking at Jormun, he calls out \"Anytime Warder Jormun!!\"

[Thorondur] Now the White Knight studies Faengor for a long moment, considering the Nimothan -- and his words, surely. His smile turns sad, yet remains a smile, and he speaks -- quiet and slowly \"If I am called wise, Man of Minas Tirith, I am not the one who says the word. But your hardened heart saddens me, after our sojourns in the Elf-realms. I hope that one day, you will again learn what it is to know joy. But now--\" And he turns to the dwarves, looking down grimly upon Lodin, \"What is this, Master Dwarf? We have been welcomed by an old dwarf of great respect. Why are you now calling for soldiers?\"

Standing proud Jormun answers Lodin, \"Yes, Sir, I was down by the lake, washing some bandages of mine. These Stonelundings came with their weapons drawn... We moved back ready to defend, Sir.\" Breathing for a moment Jormun continues, \"I found out Sir, that the Stonelundings were making a mistake and they put back their swords. Then when things were cooled down, they asked for my help to look at this Lads wounds..\" Jormun points at Rowaen, \"And since Father Ori suggested the same to me the other day, So I desided to help the Lad.\" Then, as Lodin looks around, Jormun discovers Tamran and Faengor with their swords drawn, and a suspisious look is seen in his eyes. Pausing for a moment, he finally add, \"That is all I have to report, Sir!\" It is clear that respect is seen in Jormuns eyes as he look back at Lodin.

\"A request I was against from the start...\" mutters Rowaen as the dwarf holds his \'report\' to his apparent superior, before falling silent again. Almost with regret the young Nimothan eyes his arm, moving his right unharmed to test the bandages, or to see if there is strength left within... Only slight Rowaen succeeds in moving his right arm, before having to shut his eyes tight and hiss a soft grunt as pain surges through his body, sending a shiver down his spine. With haste he lets go of the arm, not seeking to push his luck. Cold as ice Rowaen contents himself by looking at the the dwarves gathered, perhaps wondering what could occur... So in thoughts he seems that the young lad does not even stirr as his brother, the very same he is not too \'fond\' off, speaks.

[Thorondur] The Herald\'s eyes narrow dangerously as he turns his head to find Rowaen, and the new-made knight Amano. \"You advanced on a dwarf, blades drawn?\" The question is asked mildly, and his expression remains impassive -- yet there is a touch of iron in Thorondur\'s voice clearly he awaits some justification.

[Amano] Naught, however, can the tall, sable-cloaked Isilrim give to his wounded comrade, but a raised eyebrow, a slow shake of his head, and a voiced remark: \"It does seem that little can travellers do to ease the suspicion of folk in these dark days, and distrust lies heavy even where the shadow does not.\" His glance returns to the dwarves, clouded with thought but keenly observant of the goings-on. His profile tightens to a quiet mask, for even as the dwarf who seems to lead them rakes the Company with his gaze, Amano notes it without a word. But for the slight glimmer in his grey eyes, he might be calmly watching with detachment, even if it is not so. But upon the query of the Lord Girithlin, his countenance seems to come to life once more and shaking his head, he replies: \"Nay, tis not so. I knew not that this chirurgeon..was at the shore when I chanced upon him and the Lord Indilzar as I was returning to camp. It was taken by him that we wert advancing on him with weapons drawn, and as I see it a misunderstanding, sire, for we did indeed carry our swords, and he might have seen it as such.\"

\"Trust Indilzar Bragollach to traipse about with naked steel in a place where it is not needed,\" Thorondur says to Amano, releasing a martyred sigh. Shaking his head, he says no more on the matter to his fellow Men -- but only looks to the dwarves. \"You must forgive my brother-in-arms, this Indilzar who lead the lads,\" he says in apology. \"The man is wise, after the fashion of his fiery kin, but often rash. I had hoped his flame had been tempered among the Eldar, and yet I fear it was not so.\"

Lodin grumbles as he hears the Warder\'s explanation. As he walks over to the armed dwarf and motions them to sheath their weapons, Lodin grumbles some more as he looks at the humans and then sighs. Lodin walks over to Jormun and places a hand on his shoulder. Lodin whispers \"Thank you Warder Jormun, continue to look after your wounded. Lodin shakes his head as he bows to the humans \"My apologies, I was told that you were on the verge of attacking my men. I was apparently misinformed. I am Lodin, son of Svidur, Lord High Warder of the Baruk Zirak. Lord Ori has informed me of your coming. I apologize for my actions.\" Turning towards another one of the dwarves that accompanied him, Lodin says, \"Go back and tell the cadre to rest up for tomorrow\'s patrol.\" The dwarf quickly rushes off as Lodin gives a nervous smile.

\"Well then,\" Thorondur tells Lodin with a broad, handsome smile, \"It seems we have all suffered from a misunderstanding, and nothing more. I am glad it is done with, and I accept your apology. Now perhaps we must consider how long a road it must be, from here to your Mountain?\"

Without a word, just a smile to Lodin, Jormun bend down to work on the next bandage on Rowaen. \"Let me look a little on this wound too, Lad, I would like to be sure everything is as it should\", he says with a smile to his patient, \"Just relax, it might hurt a little\". Jormun\'s eyes look over the wound like he sees through it, then he takes another bottle from his bag.

With somewhat fearfull eyes, Rowaen glances at the dwarf named \'Jormun\' as the small figure turns to resume his work. The lad\'s eyes largen somewhat, as it is apparent, next to be treated is his limp right leg, one of his greatest worries. So quite hesitant is Rowaen in his ways to assist the Healer, though after casting a swift glance round he refinds enough strength to set aside all concern, holding his leg steady with his right hand. As the bandage comes of, dry blood becomes visible, a huge wound being revealed above his knee. For tis there the battle-axe of an orc found it\'s way through the flesh, hitting bone aswell. Terrible is the sighting of blood and gaps, an ugly wound, not at all ready to heal... \"I lived when being subjected to the healing ways of the acursed... so I doubt yours will be more painfull..\" Grave Rowaen speaks his word, not fully clear either to assure himself or the dwarven healer. Though tis apaprent he holds not too pleasant memories on that what he speaks, for his brows frown, gazing turning absent...

\"Far too grim, all of us are becoming,\" Thorondur says, watching the healing of the wounded squire with a detached, distant gaze his thoughts seem far away. \"And it worsens, the longer we are away -- worsens, as a young prince languishes in the clutches of evil. We must make haste!\"

Jormun quickly pour the contents of his bottle on the wound, then he starts putting some strange kind of powder on top of the wound, while he moves his other hand up the leg, to search for injuries below the skin. The powder and the liquid quickly turns yellow, and is now covering the wound completely. Smiling, seeing that what he did was succesful, Jormun takes out a bandage and start putting it on, again he does it tight. \"I have put this on the wound, so that it will heal faster, and not hurt so much, when I put this bandage on!\" Jormun says, perhaps mostely to himself, then he finnish the bandage, and look at his work... he seems satisfied.

[Thorondur] Alone in his own thought, then, the Lord Girithlin turns from campfire and slips back into the darkness -- a moonlit figure of light amid the night.

Though where the healer seems satisfied, Rowaen seems naught... For tis him who suffers from the pain, caused by first the liquid, then the powder and the bandage. Though no sound comes from his lips, mere his eyes closed, biting on his lips against the pain, while his hand never leaves his leg, holding it in place firm and steady. As Jormun finished and speaks his words, Rowaen aswell takes a glance at the now rebandaged leg. Perhap a twinkle of surprise lingers in his eyes, still tis not clear, for more wounds await, more pain being the Squire\'s part...

Now working on to the next wound, Jormun inspects the huge gap in Rowaens side and the wound in his chest, \"Now these are not good, my friend!\" Jormun speaks as he takes of the bandages, and look at the wounds. He takes yet a bottle from his bag, and this time he look at Rowaens face, \"You need to drink this, it will take away the pain Lad!\" Before he puts the flask to Rowaens lips, Jormun notices the scar that runs across his cheek, \"We will repair your face a little too!\" he says, \"Now drink this!\"

Yet before he drinks, Rowaen raises his hand at the dwarf\'s last remark. \"Master Dwarf... please leave the scar, tis a memory I am still willing to hold... As for the chest and side.. aye, yet I deem no wound will look \'good\' when being slashed at with a battle axe and a scimitar, while lying defenseless and beaten...\" And then he drinks...

Moving back to the two wounds, Jormun takes out yet another kind of powder in a small purse, and then two small flasks again... searching for a moment in the bag he finally picks up a little knife. then he uses the knife to gently scratch the top of the chest wound, taking away all that makes it unclean. A small pool of blood is slowly filling the wound, but Jormun doesnt seem worried, instead he empties a flask in the wound and quickly puts on the powder. this procedure seems to stop the blood, and Jormun then goes on to the side. Here he follow the same procedure. Now with both wounds done, he starts putting bandages around them again, making them tight as the other. Finally he moves his hands around the bandages to make sure they are in the right place. Then he looks up at Rowaen, \"Now that wasnt so bad, was it?\"

[Amano] All throughout, as words flit through the dawn air, spoken by men from the south and dwarf alike, the youthful visage of Amano remains fixed on the flames, unseeing, thoughts lost in the pathways of his mind, not even glancing to where the Squire is being tended to by the dwarf, though no doubt his watchfulness has not lessened in the slightest. And it is small surprise when he stirs at the first rays of the yet weak sun, cloak rippling with the movement, stepping closer to the twain from where he stands, limned in the glow of dawn. For though other things may dwell upon his mind, his place is here with the Company, and what weariness he might bear, none shows upon his pale features, grown leaner since embarking upon this journey. \"Morning is here.\" he murmurs, seating himself on a log nigh to where the Dwarf and the injured squire are. \"Though I shall keep watch a little while longer, I shall soon enough retire to rest that I have not taken since before yesterday,\" he remarks, to Rowaen, grinning wryly. \"It seems that you are in good care, at the very least.\"

[Rowaen] Perhaps not \'bad\' for the healer, yet tis once more the young Nimothan feeling the pain that is caused. So tis Rowaen who grasps for breath as the Healer checks his bandages on his chest, eyes narrowing with the surge of pain, lips turning pale of the force placed upon them by his teeth. Slight is the nod the Blue Squire gives in reply, words spoken somewhat hoarse. \"Aye... though... might I inquire how long it will take for the leg and arm to heal? The bone... is the breach one complex or a clean cut? And yes, little knowledge I have of healing, my love back in Dol Amroth being the cause of it... Dania...\" as the young lad speaks the name of his love, he smiles, pain no more then a memory, long forgotten. Yet not ignorant Rowaen stays, peacefull blue coming across with Amano\'s now seated figure. \"Indeed, my friend it seems so,\" is all the lad seems able to remark, granting his friend a faint smile, then for a moment holding his silence... Though as Rowaen blinks his eyes stand surprised, and a brow the Blue Squire raises in wonder! \"Amano!\" comes the sudden exclamation, \"what of your stripes... almost had I forgotten off them... last time we spoke, before I had my rest. Speak my friend for it would mean but two things, and gravely I hope for only one of them..\" And grave is the glance given to his friend, eyes deep and dark as the sea itself, seemingly to pierce whatever words spoken, to distinguish truth from tale...

[Amano] Where he had remained tranquil, even in the face of the strange events of the past few hours, now the raven-haired Isilrim shifts slightly, his neutral tone vanished and replaced with the hesitance that belies his own youth, even as a furrow appears on his white brow, where the cloth that had been tied there had been replaced with a slender band of silver, without gem or adornment. \"Ah.. my stripes were taken from me, Rowaen, for disobeying the Lord Arnafel in staying guard over you and the.. well. Twas foolhardy, but I rushed forth to the battle, thinking my aid better at the forefront than remaining hidden in the forest. I shall speak of that later even now to me it is a shame.\" The young man lets slip a sigh, eyes following the silver line of the horizon. And not long does the melancholy remain upon him, for lo, he smiles, sudden and unexpectedly as the sun rising, and quietly casts back the fold of his sable cloak. Clad he is in the blue requain, with the Silver Swan of Dol Amroth emblazoned therein. \"My stripes were taken from me, but I was given this instead.\"

Smiling back at Rowaen, Jormun replies, \"Nothing broken, but you have been cut to the bone, Lad, and it have moved a bit out of place, but it seem to be healing normal\". Jormun then thinks for a moment, \"The other wounds will be fine within a week I would say, but ye wont avoid scars, Lad!\" Then looking at the leg Jormun smiles, \"Your leg there will be senceless for at least a week, then it might begin to hurt again, but within two weeks I would say that ye should be able to walk around, not running Lad!, but walking quietly around!\" Then he starts putting his items back into the bag and finally he stands up.

\".... A knight.... you were rewarded Knighthood...\" In awe Rowaen sits, amazed by that what is now revealed, though not many of it is reflected within the tranquility being the surface of his eyes, the young Squire as always sealing away most emotions behind a cold calmth, deciding when and what is to be shown. Still a glimpse of merriment comes forth within, perhaps even a slight trace of pride! Almost fixed his eyes remain on the sign that is shown to him. \"My congrats Amano! You earned a great honor, proud I am to call you my friend! Your actings shall be taken as an example for all the good. Woory naught of your rash action, we will not make unneeded trouble. For have I not lived through the entire of the battle? Perhaps I owe my life to your rush forward, for not one of the acursed even came near to me!\" Silence... tis Rowaen\'s part, more time he stares at the silver sing of the Swan... yet as the dwarf answers his questions, tis him Rowaen grants attention. \"Master dwarf! I would bow if I could, for my gratitude is yours. Both for your services and diagnose... I will pay heed to your advice, my thanks again.\" With respect a nod is given, eyes strengthening the curtious gester.

Looking serious at Rowaen, Jormun answers, \"Ye better pay heed to my advice Stonelunding, and ye will be just fine!\" Then he send Rowaen a broad smile and starts walking back to the camp... not to far away he shouts back, \"I will check with ye later!\" Then he dissapears behind one of the wagons.

[Amano] \"Perhaps it was so,\" the Isilrim chuckles, dropping the fold of his cloak back into place with an offhand gesture, mantling the fabric about him once more to ward off the chill of dawn. \"The fruit of that encounter is your own safety, at least for now, friend. It would not do, nay, for no one to return to Dania when this quest ends, and our road leads back to the lands from whence we came.\" He hesitates, as if the thought of that, far away and likely not in many moons to come, disquieted him. \"We will rest little I deem, in the coming days, even those who are wounded so I urge you to do so. Akin to a doting healer I might seem, and for that I ask your pardon, but we would not be so lightly reprimanded if you were to fall asleep here and not in the tents.\" Rising swiftly from the log, he motions aside to one of the men keeping watch, exchanging a few words with him briefly ere he turns once more to the Nimothan. \"And with that I shall follow my own advice though you may hold him in poor regard, your brother seems to have done well in tending my wounds, and though they have healed nearly to the full, they are still a little raw. Let us hope the leechcraft that was attended upon thee will bring ye a swift recovery. Till later this day, friend.\" Inclining his brow, Amano steps forth, disappearing into the outer circle of tents on the fringes of the camp.