Encounters at sea

[MilouOpo]

Long time had passed since this blue hooded figure had been aboard an elven sea vessel. Foam-covered waves kept splashing to the hull in a familiar manner and birds shrieked in the distance. All those sounds with deck's creaking and swaying, with occasional crack from the sails formed soothing, almost dream-like tranquility.

He leaned to the railing, looking at the surrounding mist and somehow all that movement didn't seem to bother him at all. Hooded figure remembered vaguely that he didn't like vast oceans much. Thinking felt hard. The unanticipated power of ocean was overlooked by some, but he knew how those regular pounding waves and that steady breeze could be turned into terrible storm in a matter of seconds. Yet he didn't pay much attention to that now, since his attention was captured by dark, low-flowing currents that began to form rapidly spinning vortex to the ship's deck. Something concrete was taking form between ship's masts.

As the mist started to thicken into terrifying shape, he gathered his willpower and started to chant ancient elven words:

"Entulesse an móre! Auta i ungor!" (q. Return to darkness! Away shadows!)

His vision blurred and he was slammed against the railing, almost like bashed brutally with enormous, invisible field of force. That demonic shadow loomed in mid air before him and laughed mockingly. Hooded figure tried to regain control of his limbs, but it was futile. He hadn't ever experienced such feebleness, total lack of control. Despair. He felt dozens small needles piercing his skull as terrible surge ripped his consciousness away from his body to some darkness. It showed him images of past or present or even future, it was all obscured to him. Only images that kept repeating were elven ship sometimes white and fair sometimes dark as a night; and round stony orb, shattered to pieces.

Elcamring woke up at the slopes of White Mountain's foothills, near Edoras, at the place where he had set his camp the night before. Apart those images and pain inside his skull, only one word rang in his aching head – Palantiri!

After these long weeks it all started to seem more and more important. That hobbit, Bingo, had told him about some similar experience at Edoras. And this time it could not be just some hobbit tales. Perian had vile scar to remind him about that.

Elcamring sighed and returned to study some of old tome, somewhere in the not so frequently visited chambers of Imladris' library.

[the-small-print]

Rewarding and well-written. I am truly glad to see more IC stories being posted here. It certainly adds depth and insight into the server's population and goings-on

[DM_Morgoth]

She smiled at him, apparently bewildered, but sure that she had enchanted him with her smile. Soon it would happen.

It was dark. Too dark for her to see what he was doing. People only saw what they thought they were supposed to see.

While she still smiled at him and before she began to doubt his intention, he moved a hand to her neck. She thought that he wanted a better grip while she performed her services.

She leaned her head to the side. Perfect.

With his thumb and with a groan of exertion, he crushed her throat.

A smile spread over his face. Her half moan would not wake suspicion right away. People heard what they were supposed to hear, exactly what they wanted to se and expected to see. He bent down over her to make it look like it was intended while he squeezed the life from her.
“A little surprise” he whispered and met the gaze from her eyes, that was on the brink on popping out from her head.
He guzzled in her startled look and smothered expression. He let her arms fall as they went limb, grabbed her hair and kept her up. He bent her head over his thigh for her to sit straight while he waited.

It only took a few minutes before he heard the sneaking footsteps from behind. More then one, just as he knew it would be. He knew what this was all about, robbery.

A few seconds later they were close enough. For him it was a time of expectation, of all the details he heard and saw, could smell. He was a remarkable man; he was the ruler of time. He ruled over death. And now it was time for the rest of the enjoyment.

He pressed his knee hard to her back and with a fast twitch he snapped her neck, he turned around and ripped the man open from his groin to the chest. He ran past the man while guts welled out in the alley.

He turned around, another man. There were two. A woman like this usually had two men robbing her customer. He had never seen three before and it made him dizzy with delight.

The second man raised his arm. He saw the knife in his hand, sidestepped and avoided a sweeping cut. When the third man closed in he drew him back with the boot into his chest. The man fell heavily into the wall behind him and down to his knees moaning in pain incapable to draw his breath.

The man to the right stiffened. In that moment they stood man against man. It was the face of a boy not yet man. With boy’s courage he turned around to flee.

He smiled. There was no more perfect target than a running head. The head was almost always still while the arms and legs moved in raging pace. The head was the stable point in his view.

He threw the knife. The boy ran as fast as his legs could bare him. The knife was faster and hit him with a loud thump. The young man fell immediately.
The third man got to his feet. He was older, muscular, strong and angry. Good.

A sidekick broke the nose of the man. Howling in pain and rage the man threw himself forward. He saw the glistering blade and dodged to the side as he swept the legs out from under the man. Everything happened in one instant motion. It was a glorious moment, with this furious and dangerous bull that tried a foolish attack.

He took in the details, the mans clothes, the little scratch on the back of the coat, the little hairless spot on top of the head reflecting the damp light, his curly greasy hair, how the man fell prone when the kick hit him between the shoulder blades.

It was when he bent the arm of the man up behind him he saw the blood. Blood was something he always carefully noticed. The blood surprised him. He had not stabbed the man – yet. The blood did not come from the broken nose.

He seldom experienced such a tickling surprise like this unexpected blood.

He realized that the man was screaming in pain. He screamed even louder when he pulled the shoulder from its joint. He threw the man on his back and punched him hard in the face, crushed his teeth on a stone in the alley and got the man somewhat silenced.

He jerked the head up using his greasy hair and listened to the moans.
“Robbery is a dangerous business, it is time to pay the price.”
“We wouldn’t had hurt you” the man gurgles out “only robbed you, you.. you.. animal”
“Animal….?”
Carefully and slowly he cut the throat on the violently gesticulating man, enjoying every inch.

What an unexpected enjoyment this night had brought. He raised his hands and breathed in the essence of death from the air, gathering the sweet sensation when it rose in the darkness.

He was there life’s accomplishment. He was the balance. He was death.

He stood up inhaling the sweet smell of blood and swayed of the glory. He was sorry that it had not lasted longer.

Then he noticed the cut on his arm, a smile flickered on his pale lips. This was something that rarely happened and what a wonderful sensation it was, he licked it of quickly.

The voices had been right when they told him to leave for Tharbad. But he had not yet found what he was to be given. Soon he would cut the elf and the hobbit; soon he would enjoy the blood from their veins, see their surprised expression when the life slowly descended from their bodies. He shivered in delight and continued down the ally.

[the-small-print]

:)

I don't look nearly so depraved now. Thanks Morgoth :P

[MilouOpo]

How he hoped that he could have been aboard one of those fair ships again. No more worries, no more quarrels, no more agony. No friends alienating. To smile again!

It all seemed so distant now. Perhaps the gardens of Lórien of could heal the unseen wounds that he had, perhaps the sheer presence of purity. Aman. He breathed deep and looked at Arien, finishing her journey once more as she disappeared beneath the rolling hills as he rode trough Rohan. He had never felt such strong urge to give up and travel to the havens. Only one thing kept him here. Doubt.

What would happen to if he gave up now? That ignorant hobbit would surely perish and if lucky, only die. What about others? They would seek revenge; tears on their eyes, fighting to the end. He could visualise it all too clearly. But fighting that... Thing. A toad, as the hobbit described it. Even the thought was absurd. A toad? Hobbits! But now he could only sigh....

Fighting that thing was useless. Useless. He had seen it few days ago once more. His friends falling around him, trying to help. Not listening! It had merely glanced at his companions and they were all but destroyed. Carnage all around him. Perhaps this was the way. Travelling alone. Not risking anyone else. He could keep them safe like this. Except that hobbit. He had to find him.

He had felt so helpless in that cold cave. Knowing that even small gesture towards it, an attempt to help them, could have meant the last decision for him, and for his friends. Happenings in that cave had not been without cost. He was glad that they were alive, but he might have lost a friend. A dear friend. But if that was the price that had to be paid to save her, he was willing. Perhaps time could renew that friendship, perhaps not. It seemed unimportant now. She was alive and so where others.

Now he had to find that hobbit. And visit one place before that.

The last golden rays of sun, as men called it, glimmered at the horizon and revealed crude spears on a hilltop. His journey wouldn't be without a fight this time. Whispering to his horse Elcamring drew his icy sword and charged. Frost and hail that swirled from his blade shattered the orcs like unforgiving winter storm and he cleaved the last one of them as the white steed galloped over the brittle remains of the ambush.

[DM_Morgoth]

Aisling watched the rider from the top of the hill. A grin flashes briefly when he saw the posture, a broken elf. His delight in the sight made him shiver of joy. How fun this game was to play and the pieces just moved around on the board.

He looked down at the dead man that lay on the ground beside him. The limbs in unnatural angles and the fingers cut and places in a perfect row to the side. A flicker of sadness showed in his face, the man had only been a hunter and not any really challenge for him.

He found him in the woods while he was waiting for the elf to pass.

A simple moment of relaxation.

A kick in the head tossing the man on the ground. Working with the mans extremityies, bending them against there joints only the hear the cracking sound as they broke, cutting of the fingers only to meet the screams, sobs and pleading with a laugher and satisfaction.

How wonderful it had been, just too short.

The shade spat at the corpse that now lay still at his feet and gazed after the elven rider as he descended into the woods. He knew where to find him, so he was in no hurry.

[Mentat]

It had been weeks now, and no sign of that Perrian Bingo Sandybanks.
Even thourough interrogation of her eyes and ears in Bree and Tharbad had not brought any new light on his whereabouts, and Alvae started to grow tired of seeking his shadows.

She might have to look into shire once more, ... like grain in the straw, so it seemed to her at this point.

As she wandered through Eregion to meet that former brigant again, she watched a bird of prey pass by. The hawk was persuing a dove, though it seemed that he was taking his time with it, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Maybe the way to Bingo was much easier then she had yet thought of, maybe ... After meeting that informant, she would head back to Imladris, and follow the traces of Elcamring. She now was sure that he would find the perrian sooner then she ever could. So all she really had to do is to follow him to their joint goal.

Not yet had the entire scheme of that creature unfolded to her, and in a ugly way she felt like one of its pawns moving on a gameboard. But she didn't intend to play that game to its planned end. At the right moment she would strike, hard and precise, though she knew the consequences of failure would be harsh.

Most definitely that creature was still far from the power it had displayed so directly when they had encountered it. Whatever strength it possesed, it only did so through her dear friend, Elcamring. Most unfortunate, he hadn't realized that so far. But his mind seemed utterly clouded, his high spirit confused by the emotional stress put upon him. She didn't dare to think of the cruelties and torment that were inflicted upon his fair soul, but she knew, that geting enthralled into the fears that this being seemed to place into its victims hearts, would mean certain downfall, for all involved.

By all means, that shards of the Palantir must not be united under the planned circumstances. It would only realease that evil spirit, and then it would be able to unleash its power, and her friend Elcamring would be lost. She had to make sure to have a very unpleasant surprise for that creature, should they meet again.

Quite absent minded she stared onto the shattered ruins of Eregion, another monument for the enemies treacherous and cunning will. It was about time, not to fall victim to the enemies schemes again, whatever form it might have taken this time.

Her look turned stern as the human approched the tower, and she took her time to reveal herself, watching him cautiously pace around the building for quite some time. There was likely someone else involved in that story, someone she had not yet had time to think about. She would have to turn her eyes into the darkness as soon as she finds Elcamring.

[MilouOpo]

Elcamring could almost forget the troubles that haunted him trough day and night. Pressing feeling that someone was watching. Only hint of it remained, like a ongoing headache that numbed senses when the pain lingered for days and days.

At first this all had seemed wonderful, but now even the peaceful glades seemed too crowded sometimes. Tall mellyrn looming massively over him. Heaven of tranquility, between shadow of Moria and rising darkness of Greenwood was crushing him on its gentle embrace. How could he not be happy?

Frustration.

Only few days ago he had seen Alvae Helcariel. Their talks were rigid nowdays. Joy was gone, doubt and mistrust had replaced it, but perhaps they understood each other better after this. The creature's touch was starting to get firmer hold of him; regardless of the healing powers of Laurelindórenan. Sometimes he found himself surprised what he was about to say to one of his most reliable friends. He still tought that way of her while reality was far from it now. She had been that. Trusted friend. Perhaps her ultimate goal was same, but he could not trust her judgement anymore. A choise that he might regret, but he had made it. Sinda would only find herself destroyed on that path.

He remembered the worry on her eyes, but could not tell what it was anymore. Did she really belive that he would turn against his own kin or against some helpless hobbit? The idea was unreal.

He had to see Lady of the Glade soon. Her insight would have to shed some light to the days become. He had postponed the encounter too many times now. Toughts of the future was begining to trouble him more and more. The feeling was like an avalanche, gathering mass and strenght as it rolled onwards. He had not seen end to that steep mountain side yet. This had to end. Somehow. Soon.

Eregion was gone, most of his kin had sailed to West or perished in numerous wars against Shadow. How did he missed the northern mountains now; hot mineral fountains of Hithaelin; long walks in solitude, only surrounded by the vast snow tundra and the peaks of Eren Rhívamar. The only place he ever could have called home. Uichith.

He had dared to leave Lothlorien once after his arrival there. And how did he regret it now. Noldo remembered how he had felt an urge to end it all there and then. Had he been alone, things might have ended in another way, but lifes of his companions could not have been risked like that. Uneasy shape of a man, talking with foul voice. Asking about the hobbit. At least he hadn't found him yet, if he asked those questions.

Hope. That still remained. Like a faint glimmer of Valacirca during northern summer night.

He took another deep breath and continued one of his walks by the river Celebrant. Many light vessels of Galadhrim had set sails and left the peace of Golden Wood behind them during his stay there. Every time one left, his longing towards the sea grew. He could not leave these shores yet. That day was charging towards him like rising wind, but it was not yet here.

[DM_Morgoth]

Aisling watched the hobbit sleep, twisting his blade between his fingers. A cold chuckle erupted in his throat as he watched the half eaten meal at the side of the small statue. So easy it had been to convince the creature to join him in his meal and fireplace. The food had been well prepared, in Aislings special way; the hobbit would probably sleep at least one day.

Aisling would not kill him, no, he would have the hobbit wonder what trick his stomach had put him in this time. Aisling knew that would tear more at him then a painful death and besides hobbits was not in Aislings taste.

He started to go through the belongings, emptying bags with his blade cutting them open and spreading them out on the ground. He shrugged and turned to the hobbit. Of course he would not put an important belonging like that in a bag. He let his pale slender hands walk their way on the outside of the hobbits clothes until he found the object in a hidden pocket. He cut it out and held the dark glistering stone in his hand for a moment.

Aisling turned his head to the sky and started to laugh.

[MilouOpo]

Faint glimmer of light caught the eye of lone deer in the depths of Greenwood. Like a distant lighthouse on horizon its flash lasted a moment and disappeared, only to appear again. That deer had wandered too far from its pack and made hasty sprint to to rejoin them. It did not know that the elf would not have harmed its kin, even if he had seen it. And that elf's toughts were elswhere.

Elcamring lead white gelding through the woods, far south from Men-i-Naugrim or the Old Forest Road as people called that part of it nowdays. He was returning from the stronghold of East Blight and could not afford the time to follow ancient dwarven highway.

Rumors had told that she was in Imladris.

Elf was swamped on his toughts and kept readjusting glimmering, pale grey ring. He had not wore that long enough for it to feel natural on his finger, a thing he had tought on this journey more than once. His mind was much clearer than it had been during past months, but while the strain had grew lighter, Elcamring did not want that old piece of jewelry to become part of his normal set of adornments. His torment had to end before the treatment became as familiar as the symptom.

He had seen her briefly after their heated discussion in Lothlorien. There had not been much time for discussion since Aerendur, a man from Gondor had arrived there, seeking help to vanquish a spawn of ancient Urulóki. The drake was a threat to all ships that sailed down the river Anduin, towards Great Sea and hence a reason strong enough for Elcamring to take a risk and leave the banks of Celebrant.

A trick of faith or blessing from Valar, he could not decide. Something had lead that man to those woods and thus him to Tol Falas. From there he had found that very same ring which had scared a deer away from danger just a moments ago. Elcamrings horse neighed abruptly as it became obvious that huge forest spiders were upon them. Elf managed barely to unsheath his glimmering blade before first of them lunged at him. Crying the name of Elbereth he was compelled into another meaningless battle under the darkened trees of Greenwood. Study of that ring had to wait, untill he reached the other side of Hithaeglir. Design, sensation of calmness and tranquil suggested that it might even be one of the earlier works of gwaith-i-mirdain.

Father.

Elcamring's mind rushed with images and he could almost see him working at the forge.

Spider nearly impaled his foot.

His horse had galloped away from this danger already. Hopefully he would find it before spiders did. Elf braced himself, he had to hack his way through these abominations. Amon Lanc was far, but yet too close for him to risk anything else.

Answers! He needed those. More than ever before.