Players:
Rhiforath
Mithrandir (Gandalf)
Belegrama (Northern Eagle)
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Weather: Clear
Time: Early Night (about 9 PM)
Season: Summer
Date: Sunday - August 13, 3014
Real Time: Wed June 13 17:15:20 1998
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Minas Tirith: Before the Great Gate
Rising up before and tappering off towards the great moutains behind them, a walls of Minas Tirith climb into the air. Here, at the roadside a small hill rises to the entryway of the city where guards stand before the gate. These men are known as the Doorwardens. Currently the gate is withdrawn into its housing and the doors before it opened wide.
The great Gate itself is housed between the two Doortowers before you, standing some 100 feet tall and nearly 50 feet wide. The gate to is made up of a pure steel bounded about the trunks of an unknown wood. The gate is said to able to withstand anything, as even the most strongest blows will just make the gate bend slightly and then return to shape. Men and women enter and leave the city being stopped, most pass without contest others pass over weapons they carry or have them peace-knotted. Others are turned back as they approach with a horse or a cart. Only the horses of the Stewards errand riders are allowed in the city. Off to the south are the stables and inn houses outside the walls.
To the east lie the crossroads of Great West Road and the Great North Road.
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Off duty but still in his uniform, a clean and crisper than normal Rhiforath comes up from the south after having visited the stables with a hand full of carrots for the horses - as he does everyday. Instead of his usual scruffiness, his hair is pulled back and not loose, his whole posture one of a relaxed upbeat individual instead of sulking or brooding as he so often does. Seeing the others at the Gate he raises a hand in greeting and smiles shyly, "Ah, see you again, old... eh, Sir."
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
Mithrandir smiles beneath his great and broad brimmed hat, and settles his staff easily in one hand. "Ah!" he exclaims as the young man approaches. "How fortunate! I have heard strange cries on the air of late... come," he smiles. The staff is lifted from the earth, and points at the nearby mountains. "It is a short walk, for lively feet," the wizards says. "You will find this most interesting, young man."
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Rhiforath blinks but does not hesitate to follow the tall, older man, "Strange cries? Can you make it that far all right, sir? I could ask for a horse for you..."
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
That draws a laugh from the elder, who already takes to the road with a crunch of gravel under heavy boots. "The horse," he says, "would be in far more danger, considering the company we seek."
Ered Nimrais foothills -- Just outside Minas Tirith
The western horizon still glows with the Sun's departure, but the Moon now rules the dark skies, and the Sickle swings clear and bright in the clear Autumn sky. There is a waxing gibbous moon above.
Darkness flows like a shroud over the crags of the Ered Nimrais, enfolding you and all about you in impenetrable gloom. Your view of the sky depends on the weather, but your eyes give no clue to the twisting of the trail. You are isolated and alone, plunged deeply into blackness!
Contents:
Mithrandir
Belegrama
Gondor Forest
Obvious exits:
East, North, and West
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
The darkness begins to fall upon the land, resting heavily in the crooks and valleys of the rolling foothills. A pair of footmen come into the rocks, marching away from the ringed city which lies now many miles behind them...and with the coming dark, the walking stick of one begins to glow a faint, pale blue.
[Belegrama(#25526)]
At the level of the nearby mountaintops, a great winged shape soars, crossing the darkening sky in slow, wide circles. Eventually, it's course takes it out over the foothills, and the eagle's sharp eyes spot this blue glow apparently, for it glides down towards the walkers...
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Although for most of the hike, the young man's feet are placed as though the trail is familiar to him, and he smiles faintly to himself often without saying anything. As they approach and then slowly pass the herds tended by common folk hired to do so, the lad lags behind and even pauses twice to look, then catches up. Still, though they walk casually for a few hours, he isn't particularly talkative. The darkness here does not bother the young man but he does glance a few times curiously at the old man's staff. Still, the night is pleasant.
Finally the youth asks as he walks, "We are beginning to get as far as I've come recently... what are we looking for, sir?"
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
"Soon, now," says the aged figure to his companion. "Ere the sunset I thought I saw his shadow o'er the peaks. He will see us, and come to us." The old man smiles, and pauses in his travels. Looking upon his companion, a mere boy by comparison, the wizard offers a glittering eye in answer to the questions. "We are looking for a friend of mine," he says. "Or one of his kinsmen."
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
The gibbous moon, fat and bright on this cool clear night lights their way as easily well as the blue light from Mithrandir's staff. The grasses whisper their endless song thick with the scents more often known to the Eorlings of the north, grasses, earth and livestock. Autumn rains have left the ground damp, and wind a bit chilly but not unpleasant though the footing is becoming steeper and trees more frequent.
Rhiforath nods, "I've been out here many times... sometimes thought I'd seen great Northern Eagles like my step-father saw once... he was rescued by one at the Siege of Pelargir, infact, after he'd been captured by orcs trying to free it. Have you ever seen one, Mithrandir?"
The lad continues blithly, "Your friend some kind of hermit? Nobody really lives out here much but a few poor folk."
[Belegrama(#25526)]
Lower and lower, the giant eagle glides, silently drawing closer to the pair. Staying out of the moon's face, it's dark feathers make it hard to pick out against the dark sky.
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
A laugh escapes the old one's throat! "Have I seen one?" he asks. "Indeed! Yes, I once rescued the Windlord himself from an arrow through his wing. But keep your peace, son," the old man continues. "You will see what brings us here soon enough. His eyes will not miss my staff." The wizard indeed sets the gnarled oak into the earth, that it might stand as a beacon for all about who are sharp of eye and wit.
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Rhiforath walks along with lanky strides, accustomed to doing a good deal of walking and fit that way. His steps light though his feet are shod in boots for cobbled streets. He wears his black cloak against the chill, still in his uniform from his duty-watch earlier in the day. He walks with his hands tucked into his belt, watching the ground or the horizon around them, casually scanning for movement of unwanted visitors... but they are far from Osgiliath and likely have little to worry about here.
The young man listens to the elder quietly. Curious, Rhif's pale eyes glance about even more as Mithrandir assures him the one they seek will find them. He stops asking questions, suddenly more patient then his usual. He goes on, enjoying the walk.
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Breaking his silence once more, the boy adds softly, "I used to walk up here with him, oh... every week or so. He showed me how to use a bow and we'd ride. He loved horses." There being only one 'he' the boy ever speaks of incessantly, there is no need to clarify that he speaks of his deceased step-father - again.
[Belegrama(#25526)]
Finally, the bird is overhead. Literally. Flying low over the path the two took, the eagle skims over them, scant feet over Mithrandir's hat, letting out a soft cry as it goes by. Ahead now, the eagle cups it's wings, stalling out of the air and coming to a soft landing on the ground, where it turns and waits.
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
The wizard stands still as the boy chatters on, listening to each word with a quiet and friendly expression writ upon his aged brows... but his eyes watch instead the darkness, until the shuddering blast of an eagle's wings tear open the night. A smile spreads across his lips, then, as he turns to look upon his young companion, ere he goes to meet the visitor. "It would seem," he says, "that my friend has found us after all." The staff's glow fades to naught.
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Rhiforath's silvery eyes go wide suddenly as they are strafed from behind and overhead buy some HUGE dark shape on silent wings! Reflexively the young guardsman throws himself face first into the tall grasses and shouts a belated warning, looking up and trying to see what it was, sword quickly drawn.
"Friend! What wings on the night but Wraiths?!"
He breaths, "But I didn't feel it coming..."
Carefully Rhif sits up, watching the older man and reassured slowly by Mithrandir's own reactions. Rhiforath gets back to his feet and holds his blade low, looking for it...
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
Mithrandir's own eyes have no trouble in picking out the shadow of the bird, nor does his voice wait long before he hails it in noble language: "Greetings, son of the winds!" he calls. "I am well pleased to see one of your kin this night, for I have been seeking your brethren since my feet left the boughs of Fangorn. Come forth, if you would: for I have a favor to ask of you."
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Rhiforath sheaths his blade and watches puzzled... he did not know the great Eagles flew in the darkness. Oddly enough, though he's never seen such a noble and large bird so close, he is not afraid, though awed. Rather, he cautiously walks closer, just to Mithrandir's left and slightly behind. Pale grey eyes are wide in the darkness as he silently studies the awsome being.
[Belegrama(#25526)]
Belegrama shuffles his feet around a bit, getting comfortable, one talon flicking away a small rock that was in the way of a decent perch. Then, the eagle raises his beak up to the sky, and screeches out something, before going on, this time in the tongue of men! "By the glow of your staff that I saw from afar, you are a wizard. What favor then, do you ask?" The eagle doesn't, however, come forward, leaving that for those that are built for walking better than he.
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Not the least surprised that it speaks Westron, the young man stands very still and respectfully silent, watching and listening with great interest - his mouth hanging open in astonishment.
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
Mithrandir steps forth, then, producing a small pouch from within his robes. "I am a wizard," he agrees as he walks. "Come forward, Rhiforath! The bird will not harm you." Hefting the bag before the bird, the old one lets the eagle take a good look at it's weight. It seems not to be heavy: ounces, only, though bulky. "This is a piece of tainted bark from one of the trees of Fangorn," the old one says. "I would ask that you carry it to my good cousin, Radagast the Brown, along with the letter I have enclosed. Tell him that Gandalf the Grey thought it important, for the anod are concerned for their flocks."
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Slightly indigent, Rhif nods and follows, voice very, very low, "Of course it wouldn't. They aren't evil."
Even so, the young man's light colored eyes are for the beast and although he has questions bubbling within, he goes silent again and listens carefully. If anything... the young man is perplexed... either at what is said or perhaps at what is not said between the old man and this creature.
[Belegrama(#25526)]
Belegrama blinks one eye in Rhiforath's direction, and his beak drops open for a moment in a soundless laugh at the skittish man's fears. Then, the eagle tilts his head to get a better look at the bag offered up by Gandalf. "The thing that kills the treeherder's charges? We heard news of that, and passed it onto the elves of the golden wood. And now the wizards are involved? It must serious indeed. Do you know where your cousin could be found, so he can be given your letter sooner?"
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
A breath, long and thoughtful, passes from the wizard. His eyes turn north by northwest, over the peaks, as if he might see the lands beyond the White Mountains as clearly as though those rocks stood not there. "Most often near Mirkwood," he says in response. "On the western edge, towards the south, is a good place to begin. But he travels afield: you may need to search for him a time."
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Rhiforath stands quietly, really having no idea what the conversation is about. So he listens or glances about them at the dark land, but otherwise waits.
[Belegrama(#25526)]
Belegrama seems to shiver for a moment, his feathers ruffling, before he speaks, in a musing tone. "The south of Mirkwood is not a good place... I hope I can find him fast, and not have to linger in that sky. Do you have a length of string, or rope, perhaps? I don't want to carry that bag in my mouth if it holds poisoned bark, and it's small enough I don't trust my talons to clench it tightly the whole time."
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Rhiforath glances down at his hands in his belt, then from the Great bird to Mithrandir, "You want my belt?" He asks, softly, hesitant to intrude.
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
Mithrandir had set his hands to search his robes, but as a solution is offered, the man smiles and nods. "Thank you," he replies, offering his hand to accept the instrument. "Radagast will be well pleased to have this: he will wish to help the ents, and this is a matter for his Lore, not my own."
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Rhiforath deftly strips his belt from himself, sliding off his longsword scabbard to lay in the crook of his left arm as he hands the leather over with his right, "Glad to be of use, sir." His voice is pitched softly.
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
Mithrandir takes the leather and binds it to the pouch: and then, bending to one knee, he binds the pouch to one of the powerful legs of the eagle, "Once more," he says to the eagle as he stands away, "your kin do a powerful service for the Free. You have my thanks."
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Emboldened, the youth lifts his chin and addresses the great bird himself, "Exucse me, please... I do not intend to be rude, but do you give your name to strangers?" He asks softly, cautious of angering it but curiosity strong.
[Belegrama(#25526)]
Belegrama watches the exchange without comment, but after Mithrandir is given the belt, he extends his stubby right leg, leaning back a bit, and balancing the foot on the tips of his curved, swordlike talons, so that his leg is more presentable for attaching the bag. Meanwhile, he stares at Rhiforath for a moment before replying. "But have you given your name, young ground-dweller? I am known as Belegrama, or Mighty-Wing in your language."
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
Rhiforath smiles as he is answered instead of ignored as he is more used to. "I am Rhiforath... sir? Everyone just calls me Rhif though." His pale eyes twinkle with emotion, hardly able to believe this is happening.
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
The old one smiles, stepping back and offering the great bird a nod of thanks. But he does not speak, hesitant to interrupt the emboldened Rhiforath as that one makes his first foray into the world of things he has but heard about before.
Wyr is IC
This young man, perhaps in his mid to late teens, stands slim at about 5 foot 11 inches and still growing. His normally loose and wild black hair is now combed and neatly tied back to lie in a single smooth tail of straight hair bound by a black silk ribbon. Pale grey eyes set wide and deep into a face of regular features with marked jawline and cheek bones in an unscarred face, set this young man to be of Numenorean descent.
For those who are familiar with him, gone are his nervousness and sly ways and suddenly, as though overnight, his whole bearing has changed to one more self confident and open. The change is so strong in his posture and character it is as if a great weight has been removed from the brooding boy leaving him healed of old inner scars and bitterness.
Sporting a newer uniform tabbard than his last, he is clothed in the typical black pants, tall polished riding boots and tabbard with the Minas Tirith crest. His upper left front shoulder bears the Silver Ship of his Company and his other shoulder the rank of Man at Arms. A long sword strapped to hang at his left hip completes his uniform attire.
[Belegrama(#25526)]
Belegrama nods his head at Rhif. "Well met, then, Rhif, for one who was so startled at my appearence. May your journey go well, and your eyrie welcome you home at it's end. And now, I should be off to my eyrie, and rest for the long fight north in the morn to find Radagast. Is there anything else he should know, Mithrandir?"
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
The wind blows lightly on, unmindful of the oddly chanced meeting here at the foot of the mountains. The night has cooled with the promise of coming snow for the heights before morning though most of the sky remains clear and brilliantly speckled with jeweled stars and silvered moon. Here, where they stand the reminants of the grassy plain gives way to more rugged lands.
Stepping back a few steps, Rhif has nothing more to ask just then, thinking he's been bold enough for one night. He glances at Mithrandir though, then back to the one who names himself Belegrama. The youth nods his head in thanks for the blessing home and now keeps silent - so that business might be concluded. He draws his woolen cloak closer against the chill, though he's happily warm inside.
[Belegrama(#25526)]
"Then," Belegrama says, "I will tell him that. And now..." his voice trails off, and the eagle unfolds his wings, half-extending them. "I fly! It would be wise to back off, so I don't knock you over when I go aloft."
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
Mithrandir draws his head high, and offers a farewell to the eagle. "(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH)" he replies, "(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH)"
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
At the warning, Rhiforath quickly does back well off, carrying his sheathed sword tucked into one arm while he shields his face with his free arm against the grit that will surely be raised. He looks to Mithrandir, seeing if the other backs off enough as well.
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
Mithrandir steps back as well, but only just enough: and his free hand reaches up to touch the brim of his broad hat, and draw it over his eyes against the coming gale.
[Belegrama(#25526)]
Belegrama calls out one last time, his voice taking on a liquid, musical tone as he shifts to a new language - neither that of men, nor his own, which Gandalf had not just used, but another. "(Sindarin) Farewell!" Finishing unfurling his wings, the eagle turns to face into a slight breeze coming off the mountains, wings working furiously, raising their own wind and dust. In a leap his feet leave the ground, and he starts gaining altitude.
[Rhiforath]
Rhiforath's eyes go wide at hearing Sindarian and he blinks, surprised. He ducks his head and looks to Mithrandir as the great Northern leaps into the darkness... quickly reduced to a fading blot of the stars in the night sky. Rhif looks back, but Belebrama is already winging too far to still track. He sighs, silent.
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
Mithrandir watches the departing bird for as long as he may, that time beginning when the eagle passes far enough that the clouds settle, and lasting until the bird tops the very peaks: for his old eyes are keen, and he smiles into the dark. "Worth the long walk?" the old one asks the Man at Arms, turning back upon the trail.
[Rhiforath(#26339)]
A nod and a smile is Mithrandir's reply. Rhiforath has no words except for the happy look on his face as though he has something cherished to tuck into a pocket to enjoy for years to come. Something private. Then he turns and slowly begins to walk back the way they had come, pausing to glance back once to see if the older man follows.
[Mithrandir(#27404)]
Mithrandir follows, once the eagle is out of sight: and his steps are quick and strong, and give lie to his apparent age. A light of his own is in his eyes as he watches the youth ahead of him, and if his lips are quirked into a smile, the darkness and the bristling beard hide it well.
This is the end of the first half of this role play session. I have divided it into two logs for easier reading.