(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 40

Middle-earth time is:

Midnight on Hevensday, Day 26 of March.

Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 18:31:45 MST on Fri Jan 05 2001.

Celebannon

You stand upon the western square of a small river settlement. A well-packed dirt road cuts through the town and follows the river\'s path to the east. Several buildings line the square wooden cabin-like structures with thatched roofs all of fine construction and some elegance. To the north is a low circular building, built around a tall healthy oak tree. People mill about entering and exiting the structure on personal business. To the south stands a quaint structure over the doors is a sign bearing the stylized image of a wolf. Smoke makes its way lazily from a small chimney at the side of the building, and the smell of fresh food wafts from the place. In the center of the square stands a tremendous oak tree, nearly one hundred feet in height. The shadowy boughs of Mirkwood loom to the west.

You must either add a seasonal description (ie. &descnight.darkSpring) or add a normal &descnight.dark to the room. See Thranduil for help.

It is raining.

Contents:

Morrandir(#24549PVenAcf)

Huan, Wolf-Hound of Dol Amroth(#29314V)

White Pavilion

Cork Board with 2 note(s).

Obvious exits:

SouthEast leads to Shipping Docks.

North leads to Trading Hall.

South leads to The Dindraug Inn .

West leads to Meadow outside Celebannon.

East leads to Mal Taurduin near Celebannon.

Out of the heavy darkness, a lone figure strides from the meadow to the west of the square. The steady fall of the dense rain seems not to affect this cloaked man. Large drops of water bead and drip steadily from his hood but onwards moves Drenlyn, Blue Squire of the Knight-Herald.

Stopping in the middle of the square, Drenlyn looks upwards, his hood slipping off his head. Heedless he stares upwards, closing his eyes, as if in peaceful concentration. Running his hand through his hair, this simple squire stares back towards the meadow as if in memory. Heedless of the rain, Drenlyn walks casually towards the inn bareheaded, a frown crossing his face.

In the Gondorian camp the opening of a tent flap coupled with a loud groan announce the arrival of another squire, Morrandir. He is in a terrible state. His left arm is a mass of bandages and bloodstains, his cloak is ripped and also stained with blood. He emerges from the tent limping, and weak. He is also not wearing his eyepatch, and his mutilated left eye is bared for all the world to see. He staggers across to Drenlyn, and moans \"Rowaen! Where is he? Did he come back to camp?\"

Raising his head sharply at the groan, Drenlyn pivots, and jogs to Morrandir, grasping the injured squire firmly. Bringing Morrandir\'s good arm about his own neck Drenlyn leads the squire gently, but surely, to the porch of the nearby inn, acting as both guide and support.

\"Sir, you should not be up. You are weak, and your arm will catch a burning infection. But if you must know, I fear that Rowaen has not returned, nor have I had any word regarding him. I fear for him, but my heart tells me he still lives. Perhaps the Knights have found or heard something.\"

Leading Morrandir up the rough wooden steps of the covered porch, Drenlyn eases the weak squire towards a bench by the wall of the inn. \"Come good fellow, let us rest hear. It is no good for you to wash your life away in these torrents that fall from the sky.\"

Morrandir sits down on the step, resting for a moment to catch his breath. \"He has not come back?\" he says, looking anxiously at Drenlyn. He grits his teeth and looks away, watching the raindrops pattering on the dirt.

\"I last saw him fighting two orcs...one of them was huge. It was him that did this to me.\" He indicates his battered arm. \"I should have stayed to help him...we both should have. Rowaen ordered Maernus to aid me in my retreat, and that was the last we saw of him....\"

Sitting beside Morrandir, Drenlyn\'s eyes gaze upon the squire. The gentle stare, filled with both sorrow, and concern, roams Morrandir\'s face, searching for some sign. Sighing he to stares at the muddy ground, \"No he has not returned I fear. Yet if he would stand up to two such orcs, as you say, there is more hope than it may seem. Never have I seen such bravery, and it is all the more noble that he did so to protect two of his fellows.\"

Looking up to the sky, Drenlyn smiles, \"The noble spirit can never be conquered by such crude orcs. Perhaps he died bravely, but do not mourn yet, he makes his way hither. Nonetheless he should be praised, and you good squire should rest, for we will need your strength in the weeks to come. I doubt not that these orcs must be dealt with eventually, and when we do find them, we will need all men of arms to be strong.\"

\"Aye, if he did perish it was a noble death. But wait...\" he looks at Drenlyn with hope in his eyes. \"I take it no corpse has been found? Surely those horrid creatures would defile his remains and leave them for us do discover? As some...grisly warning of their supposed \'might\'. He may yet live within their clutches...\" He sighs. \"But it is a vain hope.\"

Nodding, Drenlyn stares solemnly towards the hopeful squire, \"Nay, no corpse has been found yet. And the hope that these gruesome creatures found value in his life is faint, but not vain. It can only be hoped that such orcs would use their heads so. For if they have, they will find that the capture of such a spirit will harm them more than assist them. But let us hope if that is all that can be done now...\"

Trailing off, Drenlyn\'s gaze wanders to the meadows, a deep look of concern tracing his features. His eyes flashing with the lighting of emotion, Drenlyn turns to Morrandir, \"Yes, let us hope! Let us hope, and show these orcs that the Men of Gondor avenge their own, and pay three fold for the injuries of their enemies!\"

\"Indeed. I only hope that I am well enough to fight when the time comes to have our vengeance.\" Morrandir looks down at his arm and smiles faintly. \"I am a lucky man you know. I almost lost this arm. It is only just held together. Any sudden movement and it would quite probably fall off.\" He stares at the wound, as though wondering what it would be like to have lost the arm completely.

Smiling as the Morrandir speaks, Drenlyn\'s eyes calm now after the inner emotion, \"You are lucky...yes I would say you are. But do not tempt fate by running head first into battle with your arm hanging behind you on a thread. I doubt it will ever be the same...\"

Peering at the bloody arm Drenlyn frowns, as the bandages appear swollen with red, \"But come now, this is now place to heal, especially at this hour of the night. Let us repose in the dryness of the tent, and I will change your bandages as the Lady Ivriniel showed me before we departed Dol Amroth. Do not worry, I will be careful, and you will be dry, now come.\"

\"Alright, thank-you.\" Morrandir stands, with apparent difficulty, and begins to stagger towards the tent. \"You should have come out with us, a squire with healing skills would be of tremendous benefit in the field.\" He brushes the hair back off his face and discovers he is not wearing his eyepatch. \"Oh dear.\" he mutters. \"I had better get out of sight before anyone sees me like this.\"

\"Alas that I can not heal the wounded as I would like dear squire, nor can I learn the healing arts before the Knight-Herald releases me from my oath to him. When that will be I can not tell....\"

Standing briskly Drenlyn grasps Morrandir\'s arm, as the two of them begin to stagger towards the tents. As they reach the eaves of the tent, the sky seems to brighten, and a smile breaks across Drenlyn\'s solemn features. \"Look Morrandir. Perhaps the new day will bring better tidings. Now let us see to these bandages, and perhaps you will find peace and healing in your sleep.

And so the two squires disappear into the pavilion, as the rays of day strive to pierce the gloom-filled veil that hangs over the forest. A lone bird breaks the silence, filling the still air with a brief song before people begin to fill the square.