Middle Earth

Long has been the day since the return of the One Ring and the fall of Isildur. Since the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. Since the march onto Barad-dûr. Indeed, since the fall of Sauron. For long, we have feared the Rings return to the world of Men. But alas, such fears have come to pass. The Eye of Sauron stirs once more, calling out for the Ring and dispatching his Nine Riders to seek it.

The winds carry a darkness which blows from the East. A shadow crawls over Middle Earth, like a plague consuming the healthy flesh. The Gates of Mordor are opening. Barad-dûr howls with the war cry of orcs. And Rivendell? That, dear fellows, is where our story begins. Just beyond the safe and serene glitter of the Elven homes, in a clearing of the great trees of the Trollshaws, various heroes, men and women of all races and beings, gather their strength and resolve.

It is the day before the departing of the Fellowship from Rivendell, and the sun is beginning to wane. Durhnoram, the Great Eagle, stands perched atop a rocky tor. His sharp beak grooms through his feathers as he looks smugly upon all of you. His talons clutched around an ornate bag, Lothlórien emblems embroidering it's dainty silk.

"Gandalf sends his greetings, my friends, and begrudgingly the Elven Lord send their blessings."

He holds the small pouch out in front of him, indicating the consent of the Rings of Power. His head tilts to the side, scanning over you all. You feel the cold sensation of being judged, before finally his head lowers with a friendly grin. A flick of the foot, and the bag plopped to the ground with a small jingle.

"We are to make way a day ahead of the others. Rally your valor, my friends, for this may be the only peace we'll know for quite some time."

---

Cold was the wind which wisped through the leaves. Colder still were the shadows in which Valinor stood. He bathed in their enveloping darkness, concealing his form from sight. Unwilling to be within the grace of the sun, amidst these mortals, these strangers from across Middle Earth. Elves, Dwarves, Men of all races and creeds. They were all gathered here. And that damned bird. Durhnoram, the supposed "Great Eagle" merely lay perched at his spot, sheening with pride. Of course, leave it to the avian to claim a higher standing than the rest, and of course there was his placing of the Rings. He merely lay them there before the group and watched, waiting to see who would step forth to claim them.

Great Eagles my arse. This is not but a test, seeking to see whom among us will show greed and claim those accursed trinkets for themselves. They may revere themselves so highly, but in truth they are no better than those damnable elves.....

But still, the rings stayed where they were laid. Likely within that silken bag, they were adorned in white gold and beautiful gems. So many pretties to hide the ugliness of their foul corruption. Valinor's eye, gazing upon that which no mortal could see, perceived them for as they truly were. Within the cloth, dark vapors and ink-like blackness emanated from the three tiny bobbles. So dark, so tainting, but....... they were...... beautiful. Truly, they glowed with a sense of pride and a beckoning luster. They seamed as begging to be worn, to be owned. To be owned...... by Valinor. So tempting was their call, but Valinor's gaze rose up, and saw The Eye of the East. A deep, all-consuming black shrouded the lands of the Shadow, and in it's sky, as close as if Valinor stood at the Black Gates, glared The Eye. Wreathed in the flames of wrath, it's black pupil gazed directly at him, filling him with a dread unknown and intolerable even for one of the dead.

No!

Freeing himself of the temptation of these lesser Rings of Power, Valinor feared what would come over him should he ever behold the One Ring. Still, for now his will was his own, but he'd be damned again before he ever carried those foul bits of jewelry. His freezing stare washed over those that remain, judging for himself which he believed would be trusted with the cursed rings. Of course, there was the elf, of which Valinor cursed under his breath. Of course they could never leave their precious rings in the hands of Men, they had to send their envoys to play nanny and make sure all was by their standards. A female, with her kin's gift of unearthly beauty and timeless youth. Valinor's first thought was to pass her off as yet another vain and self righteous warrior of the fair-folk, sent to watch and belittle them throughout their journey. Four millennia had come and gone, and they were still as arrogant as they had been when Arnor marched against Barad-dûr. Truly then, the only thing timeless was their presumptuous opinion of Man. But lo, what was this? She was not as pure as her kind implied. With spectral eyes did Valinor scrutinize her being, and it did not take long to spy it. Sorrow burning in fire, the kindling to a flame. Anger! In an elf! She knew hatred in her heart! Oh, and how Valinor did have to suppress a cackle. She was corrupt, the chink in elven armor that proved they were not immune, and Valinor relished in it. So much that he would have revealed himself to this herd if only to point her out as the black sheep she was. But no, time indeed for that later.

Among the others, a hobbit was unexpected. Valinor was ill-sure what possible use a Shire-folk would be to warriors and soldiers. She may slow them down, or even merely be a hindrance. She was of their stereotypical light heart, an honesty which Valinor had come to mock over the ages. Such purity would only lead to her own end, for in such a heart lurked room for doubt and the inability to make difficult decisions. She would hesitate, but Valinor would not. Then there was this..... woman. Nothing particularly intriguing about her looks, she held herself with confidence in her movements, but.... There was something.... off. Her spirit, it did not sway in the ways that humans usually do. It was more fiery, wild even. Like something was contained beneath a faux, a fake surface. Like she wasn't just some mere mortal. Past the will for violence, the longing for a vengeance and the sorrow of loss, there was something hiding from Valinor's sight. Harder he tried to peer past the deceit, pushing through this illusion for the truth tell at last it gave way. He was not expecting this. He tried peering deeper into the barbarian woman's soul, only to have what appeared to be an enormous beast slash at him with it's powerful claws. Taken aback by this, Valinor tried to understand what he was seeing. Standing there, in the place of this red-haired maiden was no longer the spirit of a human but the spirit of a....... bear? Sure as there was snow on the mountains and leaves donning the trees above, she stood on the ethereal side as a large grizzly.



His scanning of the herd was interrupted, when the mortals began to talk amongst themselves.......

In contrast, Bernadette sat in the sun, cross-legged and soaking in the warmth with her spear on the grass beside her. She watched everything around her with a rapt curiosity; from the elves ghosting within their halls to the odd little Halfling to the great Eagle that watched them all from his perch. Resisting the urge to scratch loose silk bandages that hid tender pink new flesh, she marveled that she could feel the grass beneath her grasping fingers. The Wizard's salve had done its wonders. She would be good as new before they left Elvish lands, if she was any judge of ground travel speed. The short legs of the little Shire-folk would slow them a bit, but not enough to worry her. Bernadette preferred a lazily plodding pace when she could afford it.

Her eyes kept skipping over Valinor's darkness, as if some instinctual caution warned her gaze against settling there too long. Finally this fact registered on her, and in stubbornness trademark to the Bear-folk, she eyed the shadows until they gave up the secret of the armored man-shape standing there. Focusing on him made the hair of her neck stand on end, and chilled her despite her skin being quite used to enduring cold. She looked away.

"We are to make way a day ahead of the others. Rally your valor, my friends, for this may be the only peace we'll know for quite some time." The Great Eagle rattled his wings and spoke, gaining her attention as the sun slid off of the golden feathers.

Bernadette looked down at the dropped bag, having heard only legends of its contents. They were supposed to be beautiful and, guessing from the rest of elvish lands, she'd believe it. They were gifts to Immortal Kings. Men of power that stood at the dawn of the world, people who lead men better than she into song and legend.

Well, at least they thought they were better than she. Elves were always arrogant in their own home, barely paying heed even to the Beorning who guarded their boarders and asked for nothing in return. Did even a single elf cry when they heard that the Bear-men died in fire? Did a one even care? Or care that she had come to help THEM? Here she stood when even Grimbeorn himself stayed up in his mountains. Bernadette answered the call and stood with the strength of her people. Yes. Her people. They could be hers, at the end of all of this. She could return and lead them back to strength and glory. It was easy to see; standing at the head of a clan .. no, an Army of Beorning warriors, roaring her name, praising her bloodline for eternity.

Her bloodline. The thought brings a pain sharp as any spear into and beyond her chest, as if it passed through to pin her to the ground. Bernadette stopped. Stopped because she -had- been moving. Without noticing, she had stood and taken a single step towards that gleaming silk bag and its whispered promises. Coming back to herself, her burned hand wrapped desperately around the cool glass beads clasped at her throat. No.. Damned whispering Rings.. there were only two who she needed to stand at her side, and their Master had taken them from her.

The highland woman sat heavily and glared openly at the dainty satchel. Damn those jeweled baubles to any number of Hells she could imagine. Them and their maggot-riddled Master, both. Her lip curled in an animalistic display of flared teeth before she shivered and rubbed her face vigorously.

"Aye, Eagle. As y' say. Sooner we move, the better... If it's attention we're out to grab, then I cant wait to wipe my arse with the hide of a few hundred Orcs and then wag its cleanliness right in the Dark Lord's own face."

Rala stood in the crowd, with the heavy breath on her neck and feeling the sweat of others. It was one of those moments when everywhere you looked, you felt as though an enemy or an adversary was looking back and looking down upon you. Even the shadows didn't feel safe to look to. No, she thought as her eyes flickered to the shadows again, That's wrong; especially the shadows. Feeling as though there was no choice she just bowed her head and listened. Yes, she was an elf, an elf a part of the Ñoldor clan, from Lothlórien forest that seemed to hold the same unearthly beauty as the elves that occupied its area. Or is it rather that we get our beauty from the Lothlórien forest? She knew it was silly to think of such a thing, though in ways others wouldn't understand, it had its merit. The mountains, though beautiful themselves, were jagged and rough and the people who lived there were the same. She looked to a woman in the sun who looked as though she was a Beorning; beautiful, wild, and rugged; just like the mountains. The shire was bright, soft, and kind looking; she looked to the little half-ling whom had somehow made it to be in this group; kind and soft just like the land she hailed from. So was her theory so far off?

There was that nagging feeling coming from the shadows again. Rala tried to ignore it, she knew that the feeling would only intensify if she looked to see what it was. Besides she had to focus on keeping herself strong right now. The Great Eagle had thrown the rings they were to carry on the ground. Images of sorrow filled Rala's heart and mind; seeing her mother dying of sorrow, of her brothers having to take care of her as she followed her mother's path. Then images she had only imagined came, along with the anger; her father being stabbed, being shot in the back by Dunlending filth. Rala could feel the pull of the rings strongly and forced herself with great concentration to stay still. Her feet dug into the ground, her head bowed with her hair covering her face as her eyes squeezed shut, one arm grabbed the other to hold herself back. That isn't what happened, Rala thought to those "memories" of how her father was killed, When they brought his body back his head had been smashed in. It was cowardice that the Dunlendings didn't face him.

Through the curtain of her hair she glared at the bag. She knew, while she had been traveling here, that she would not be able to carry them. Though, being an elf in this group, it was expected that she would go and pick them up immediately. She could feel eyes on her, judging and wondering why she hadn't moved to pick the rings up. After all they were part of her culture, weren't they? The elves had sent her here to watch the rings and make sure no other filth would touch them, correct?

Rala took a deep breath and held herself high. At first everyone thought she was heading to pick the rings up; there were grumbles of anger towards the elves when they saw her, but she wasn't heading in that direction. She turned on heel and walked to the back of the group. Towards a spot under some trees; shadows hiding behind it. Though she had felt there was something wrong in the shadows, she was being suffocated by the group's menacing thoughts, so she headed to the clearing. Though it might not be entirely safe, it would be easier to breath. She leaned against the tree and let out a sigh of relief; farther from the crowd it seemed as though the air was fresh again. A breeze blew by in time with her sigh; as if it too felt the freedom from the crowd. Though that gut feeling that made spines shiver only worsened as she became comfortable next to the tree. Someone was there, hiding in the shadows. With the shadows. As a shadow themself.

"I know you're there," she said, her voice was clear and strong, barely above a whisper, "There's no point in hiding now that we are all gathered, so why don't you make yourself known?"

"We are to make way a day ahead of the others. Rally your valor, my friends, for this may be the only peace we'll know for quite some time." She heard the Great Eagle say at the front of the group.

Peace, Rala thought bitterly to herself, There hasn't been a peaceful day since my father left on that hunting trip.

The trip to Rivendell was less adventurous than Amaranth an anticipated. Though she wasn't exactly sure what she had been expecting, the journey was simply a long one. Gandalf had even been so generous to provide her with a Hobbit Pony, which she was extremely grateful for, especially since she carried such a large bag. The trip had taken her almost thirteen days, even with the pony. The thought of making it solely on foot was unimaginable for the small creature.

Though the journey was rather long and tiresome, Amaranth found a spark of energy when she first noticed the Misty Mountains. She had heard legends of the Mountains, as well as the Elven city that was hidden within. The excitement she felt when listening to stories Bilbo and Gandalf used to tell suddenly hit her and she tapped the pony, so that it would speed up.

Upon arriving at the meeting spot that Gandalf had told her about, she noticed that several others were already there, however he was not. Though she had guessed he would not be present, it still was a slight disappointment.
As soon as she was within the small clearing, she unmounted the pony and stood next to it. Her green eyes gazed at the others, obvious child-like excitement filled them. She noticed an elven woman, who she thought of speaking to, however decided now was not the time. Next, her eyes gazed at the other red head who seemed to bath in the sun. She couldn't keep a small smile from forming on her face as she gazed at the beautiful woman.
However, her attention was taken by an odd sound just up ahead. Her eyes slowly travel to the creature. ”Durhnoram, the Great Eagle “ she whispered to herself as she gazed in aww at the large bird. Again, her mind went to the stories she used to listen to and she remembered hearing about him. He was more magnificent than she imagined.

"Gandalf sends his greetings, my friends, and begrudgingly the Elven Lord send their blessings."

Amaranth gave a small smile as she listened to the eagle, however her eyes slowly moved to the satchel he had clutched in his talons. What could be in there? She could barely hear the sound of metal hitting metal, however that didn't tell her very much.

"We are to make way a day ahead of the others. Rally your valor, my friends, for this may be the only peace we'll know for quite some time."

The bag hit the ground and the contents chimed against each other. Amaranth was confused as to what the eagle meant by 'this may be the only peace we'll know for quite some time'. What exactly had she gotten herself into?? She gave a puzzled look before gazing around at the others. They too, seemed very interested in what the bag held inside of it. Then again, it looked as if they already knew. She saw curiosity but also horror on their faces. Being the curious creature she was, she gazed back at the bag before heading over to it.
Slowly, she bent down and picked up the bag. Carefully, she opened the satchel and noticed it was nothing more than a set of rings. She sighed before gazing back at the others. “Its only a satchel of rings....” She mumbled before shrugging her shoulder. There was something odd about the rings, something that felt almost dark, but Amaranth wasn't sure what it was or if it was just her imagination.

It had been a relatively long journey from Umbar, taking a swift ship across the Bay of Belfalas and around the peninsula of Gondor, further than he had ever gone, before sailing up river through Enedhwaith and Dunland to just outside Rivendell. As dawn broke, exactly one month after he met Gandalf, Harathir packed his supplies into his sturdy rucksack and slung it over his shoulder, before jumping over the side of his beached vessel and making his way into the woods. As he wandered among the great trees, unfamiliar ground beneath his feet and thick, woodland air filling his lungs, he wondered at the feelings this strange land had stirred in him. Or perhaps it was the fact that he had begun a new adventure, something he thought he would never do again.

He made good time through the woods, though he kept one hand on the hilt of his sword in case he encountered something unfriendly, stopping only once to refill his flask in a shallow stream. Finally, as the sun neared its zenith, he came to a clearing in the woods where a strange and colorful crowd was gathered. A great eagle sat perched on a branch to one side, gazing over the assembled group and occasionally preening himself. A girl with fiery hair stood closest to the giant bird, gazing curiously at a small bag in her hand, he wondered briefly why a child was here before he moved on to examining the others. There was a tall, well built woman, also with red hair, who was standing nearby. She looked to be slightly injured, judging by her bandaged arms and strange stance. Then there was what he could only assume was an elf, and a she-elf at that. She was slight and feminine, with pointed ears and fair skin, one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever beheld in his life. He was distracted from his observation by a cold breeze that left goosebumps on his skin, it was not a natural cold and seemed to emanate from the shadow of one particular tree. From those shadows he felt the sensation of being watched, and it was an unkind gaze that made his skin crawl.

Attempting to ignore the unnatural feeling, he turned back towards the eagle and the girl standing beneath it. Everyone in the clearing seemed to be doing the same and he realized that they must be staring at the small bag in her hand. Curious, he attempted to get a better look at it, noting several strange symbols embroidered along its edges gleaming in the filtered woodland sun. It whispered to him, whatever was in that bag, whispered of riches and treasure, enough to fill the gaping emptiness in his heart where she used to be. It would be so easy, all he had to do was step forward and take them from the girl, to unlock the rewards that the whispers promised.

He began to reach, unwillingly, his left hand outstretched towards the whispering cloth, when the sun glinted off the rings on his hand and dazzled him for an instant. That was all it took, the whispers stopped abruptly and he caught himself before he could take a step. He took a moment to gather himself, shaking away the last echoes of the whispered words, before he stepped fully into the clearing and made himself known.

"Is this our task then?" he asked of everyone and no one, "To bear the darkness in that bag away from here and destroy it?"

As the sun began to sweet down over the distant hills it cast a pale and translucent light over the land. Small birds could be seen nesting while the last of the gulls were drifting over the edge of the roiling falls below the sparkling city.
Small gust of wind were blowing chords through the trees and kicking dust from the earth off into the sunset. All things in this light were coming and going with ease, save for Gavin. His heavy boots trudged up the beaten path towards the destined meeting point and his eyes stung lightly with the beads of sand that rolled off his face. He had been traveling for almost six straight days with barely sleep or drink to make sure of his time and even then he was unaware of his lateness to such an important meeting.

His nose was picking up the smells of the minerals in the earth and his ears were tingling with the sounds of natures daily drifting but the sounds of the instruments from Rivendell were bothering him more then the damned sand. He hated the sound of Elven music, so pious and soft nothing in the ways of his people or those of other races. At least the humans had some revelry in their sound. This sounded like it was looking down its own nose at him, even if music didn't have one to speak of.

He could hear the sound of conversation beyond the edge of the rise and he was only now starting to think of who it was that he would meet. Gandalf said he was looking for "Warriors" so it was now that he was sure there would be more then one to this gathering.
He slid his weapons mass off his shoulders and under his arm along with his sack, tucking hem in to hold them tight. Either way it felt good to get the stone blades weight off his back every now and again.

As soon as his boots kick up the dust of the small clearing he looks at the surrounding few and finds his suspicions pulled in more ways then one. He can already see sights that do more then perk his brow in response. Two people from the realms of men a woman and a man, though the woman with her fiery hair did seem to be more "fun" in terms of possibilities. However the man was more then enough on the terms of looks and he even had some age to him, or as much as a human can get without getting unreliable. The next he noticed was a small hobbit girl and even though Gavin's eyes aren't bad he could swear that her head was on fire. That or a bright orange creature was living on it, though just looking at her his stomach began to growl. It had been some time since he had eaten well and his memories of spiced venison were being sparked, a very nice hobbit meal that he liked much so more then most.

But the two in the shade caught his attention more then the others, it was the woman that stoked the flame of his ire for a moment. He took a quick glance at her and then flicked his head to spit on the ground, as if the very look of her left a sour taste in his mouth. His attention was so distracted that he failed to realize the one she was speaking with was not just standing in the shade but was mostly a shade itself. It took a moment for his mind to catch up with his body as his arm wanted to clinch up his weapon and swipe away at the creature. He was more trained then that though, he already understood that if the specter was dangerous the others would not be so easy as well.

He looked up at the great Eagle finally, one of the only beings that he could bear more then enough respect for as he gave the noble creature a slight bow of his head before addressing the group. "Gandalf said he needed warriors.. he didn't tell me he was.. this desperate." He chewed the words in the back of his mouth, unfortunately a habit that most dwarfs were suspect of.
His left hand lightly pulled on his beard as he ran his fingers through it.

Bern watched the Hobbit reach for the bag, and almost spoke up to warn the fiery little Halfling. But she picked it up and bounced it in her hand as if they were nothing more than cheap trinkets. The sight of such legendary evil rendered impotent by the jolly little Hobbit made Bern laugh suddenly; a hearty noise that stood out starkly in the somber meditation of Rivendell.

"Well! S'that, then! We've all just been made fools by the Shireling!"

Still chuckling at her own distaste, the Beorning hauled to her feet. Gingerly, she unwrapped the elvish silk from her arms and, rolling it with care, stored it in a belt pouch for later use. Thanks for the Immortal Folk's healing care; her burns had faded to new skin only occasionally marred by rippled, silvery scars. Stepping forward in the shadow of the Great Eagle, she towered over Amaranth and held out her palm with a broad smile and a cheeky wink.

"Here, lend me just one. Cant have you looking the most tempting target of the lot, or else you'd have all the fun."

If given one, Bernadette would toss it in the air a few times before fastening it to the leather braid around her neck. The warm glass beads competed with the cold metal, and she made sure it was displayed openly. All the better to wave the red flag before the bull.

She turned towards the others, then, noting they'd been joined by the next few members of their party. Bernadette had never actually seen the sea; nestled as Beorning lands were deep in the mountains. If a man could look LIKE the sea, she imagined it'd be the bearded and rugged man with the curved sword. He still smelled like salt and sun to her Bear-Kin's nose. By sharp contrast, the smell of the hidden earth drew her eyes next to the dwarf. Hard to miss, that one. She grinned with a wry sort of humor. Beorning had their disagreements with Dwarves, though few could quite remember why. Probably something to do with the Beornings' fight to keep the mountains clear of goblins and wargs and the Dwarves' commitment to stay out of anyone else's war... even if that war benefitted them.

Either way, Bern had never been personally wronged by a dwarf and, frankly, her heart was too full of hate for any more to elbow in, so it's a smile that Gavin receives.

"Is this our task then?" he asked of everyone and no one, "To bear the darkness in that bag away from here and destroy it?"

Bernadette shrugged in response to Harathir, "More's to say we're going to be th' stick, friend, and these - " She flicks the ring around her own neck distastefully, " - Are the carrot. Orcs'll be salivating at the chance t' get them back t' Mordor, and if they're chasing us, they aren't chasing others."

She smiled and rubbed her tender hands gleefully at the thought, and it was clear what bloody lure Gandalf had offered her to gain her support.

Just then, Durhnoram responds to a conversation she hadn't heard, and it draws the smoky Shade out of his self-imposed solitude. The sight of him still put her hair on end, but Bern suppressed the shiver as he spoke.

Silence falls like the grave after his words. Gondor's curse was as widely told a tale as those of the Rings, and Bernadette knew enough Elvish from her dealings to know that the word Naerrandir was laden with emotion. A ghost walked among them, and they were expected to treat him like any other member of their party. Worse than a ghost; a wraith cast from rest by his own actions of betrayal. She had no particular loyalties to Gondor, but Beorning were never found anywhere near cowardice.

He stood finally in their midst, sure in his stance as the cold wisps of his essence drained the sun out of the clearing.

"Gandalf said he needed warriors.. he didn't tell me he was.. this desperate."

Again it's another - the Dwarf's quiet quip this time - that kick her out of her own stagnation, and Bernie squared her shoulders stubbornly. She stalked up to the Shade with all the subtle quiet of a charging grizzly and stopped short of him, folding her arms and looking his cold, battered armor up and down as if looking for the measure of the man within.

"Well if you're here, the Gray Wizard trusts you enough not to stab US in the backs." She declares, biting back to his deliberate baiting of their fears, "And I trust the Wizard. So well-met, Valinor! Y' may call me Bernadette Winterborn. From the Beorning of the High Pass. I've put my share of Orcs to the spear, and I plan on doing so for a good while yet!"

Turning to the others, she includes them in that introduction, stamping the butt of her spear into the ground as if a line of warg cavalry couldn't move her. But she beams a toothy smile to soften the challenge in her words. To not give their names now would just be rude.

"Why don't you?" the shadow retorted, "I merely show within my own company, hiding in no more than what I am. A shadow of life and the living. You hide behind the mask of an elf, but beneath that timeless face lies something else, doesn't it? A festering rot, a flame which burns black with sadness and rage. Any mortal may lay eyes on me and know of my crimes in a heartbeat. It is not I who hide, sweet little elf. It is you...."

Rala leaned against the tree, her hands gripping at that bark, all the air silently and quickly leaving her. Then she smirked. It wasn't something she was aware of, just a slight lift to her rosy lips. The Great Eagle retorted, a burst of anger releasing from its beak hearing this person's comments. Never had she heard Durhnoram so protective. Though he was one to help another and was kind, she had only ever heard that kind tone from him. A cackle exploded from behind her and immediately her stance stiffened, her hands gliding with the grace of water to her hand scythes. A shift in the shadows rippled and then the owner of the voice emerged. The elf hadn't expected what was about to step out. It was a Shade. Rala sank into the tree, though stayed where she was. She could feel bits of bark breaking into her hand and her nails scratching the surface of the tree.

"That explains that feeling earlier," she said to herself. Her brown eyes were directed at the shade, watching it's every move. As she watched the shade carefully no words came to her ears. The speech that the shade was presenting to everyone had passed her unnoticed and unheard. Just the armor with small shifts and night wisps coming out from his armor.

"Or perhaps 'Naerrandir, to you elves. Hmmm?"

Rala's eyes lifted to where the face should be a loud breath sucked through her nose, her jaw set and she lifted herself off the tree to stand tall. She was a few feet away, much closer than she would like to be with a shade, but she knew Gandalf and knew that he would not have asked this shade here if he would be danger to their mission and those in the group.

"You speak true Naerrandir," she said, her voice as strong as she could get it, though she could feel her heart increase its speed, "That's good. I do wear mask, but as you can probably tell everyone here does as well, I'm no exception." She leaned a little closer and lowered her voice, "Though this includes you as well, just because you're a shade doesn't mean you don't have your own secrets." With that she leaned back against the tree, but this time her body was soft and curved with trunk. Its bark reassuring on her back. Her instinct was to run in that moment, but logic told her she would be alright. Not only was it apparent that the Gray Wizard seemed to trust him, but the Great Eagle was nearby, as well as an entire army, if things turned sour. Not to mention she knew she could at least hold herself against him long enough to get away if need be. There was no reason to be scared or to run. Though fear has little to do with reason.

A loud woman suddenly appeared beside them and introduced herself. Rala noted that she was rather odd; at first demonstrating a fierce anger, but quickly changing to a more joyful color. One thing was for certain though, she wasn't a quiet type in the least. Rala caught that this woman's name was Bernadette Winterborn and that she was from Beorning. A good warrior and one that would be wanted in battle. Rala also noticed that she had taken one of the rings and placed it around her neck. That is either assured bravery or arrogance and wanting to look better in front of the other, Rala noted, though she held off on the judgement call to see what Bernadette's other actions would lend to this.

Her eyes drifted over the crowd once more, her view better now that she was further away. It was till then that she noticed the hobbit female with a fiery head of hair, holding the bag with the rings inside. She knew it wasn't bravery, just innocence to the point of curiosity. She smiled, it was gentle and the curve of her lips glided up on her face.

"Only a hobbit," she said. Her head leaned to the tree as well. She had never gone to the Shire before, though she had heard plenty of stories about it. Hobbits didn't normally travel outside their sweet community, though the story of Bilbo Baggins was well known, even to a traveler. No doubt this hobbit whom was now examining rings that made others shy away, too was looking for an adventure like that. It was curious to the elf as to why the hobbit wanted this adventure. Most hobbits would prefer the comfort of their own home, seeing their neighbors for tea or a drink, they would prefer their normal habits as opposed to an adventure that was ever changing. This girl must be special then, Rala thought, To see adventure outside her home with strangers and fear danger never leaving. I can see why Gandalf wanted her.

She brought herself back into the moment. The loud woman, Bernadette, was still standing looking at everyone else. Apparently she's waiting on introductions, Rala thought.

Once again she pushed herself from the tree and stepped nearer Bernadette, "I am Kavrala Shalandalan, from the Lothlórien forest. It's a pleasure to meet you," Rala held out her hand.

Harathir stood quietly, observing the strange interactions between the others. The tall woman referred to the girl as 'Shireling', a thing he had never heard of before. Perhaps this 'Shireling' had powers of its own, to counter the darkness of the Rings so easily. He now knew that it was the Rings that had been whispering to him, given that the woman took one and fastened it to her necklace, though he was confused by her words. What could be so important that three Rings of Power moving together become a mere diversion?

He was distracted from this thought when the giant eagle spoke. He was so surprised by this that he completely missed what it said and just stood there staring blankly. That is until he heard another voice, hollow and bitter, and turned to see a creature of shadow, wearing full plate armor, emerge from behind a tree near the she-elf. The creature was called Valinor and was apparently a man, in life. The woman made a show of introductions, Bernadette Winterborn from a place and race Harathir had never heard of, causing the others to follow suit with their own. The Elf was called Kavrala and hailed from another forest, called Lothlorien, which he knew to be further North from the coasts of Gondor. Amaranth, the Shireling, was from Hobbiton, which he could only assume was somewhere further West.

He smiled at the determination in the small one's words, so full of hope and adventure. "Fear not, Amaranth Brandybuck from Hobbiton, Gandalf the Grey chooses carefully his agents it seems."

He looked around again at all those gathered in the clearing, all those gathered from the West, before shrugging his rucksack off onto the ground and making his own introduction.

"I am Harathir of Umbar, though the men of the west know me better as Whistler."

Then, curiosity getting the better of him, Harathir turned to the giant eagle and spoke, "Tell me, Lord of Eagles, what prize does Gandalf so value that he would sacrifice three Rings of Power and a handful of warriors to protect?"

Gavin strode forward as the group was now acclimating to one another.

He announced with the sheer grimace that many dwarfs do.."Gavin..Shatterstone, so now that we are all getting familiar with one another what is this that Gandalf needs us for?" Pulling a flask from his sash he uncorks the top and swigs the contents. It is obvious from any close range from the smell, that the contents are not exactly water from its strong pungent odor.

Looking over the young hobbit he see's that she is somewhat ignorant of war in her face and features, much less being from one of the shires she is yearning for adventure if not action. Though there was a look in her eyes that gave her promise and a small wry smile graced the edge of his lips.
That was until he looked down into her hands to see what it was that she was holding, the small ornate bag dangled from one of her fingers as one of the Elven rings sat within her palm. Gavin could feel the center of his mind focusing on such a small treasure, its golden silver hoop mocked him almost. Daring him to snatch it from her hand, but there was something off about it. His eyes could pick up some kind of imperfection within the ring and that suddenly began to fan his distaste for its making. However he knew what it was, just from the look of its form laying there in her palm.

He points at the small ring and adds a disdained word "What is that doing here.. don't tell me that this is the mission we are to undertake?" He throws his question to the great eagle before pointing back at the ring in Amaranth's hand causing a bit of a show in the process.

Bernadette nodded as each of the little group introduced themselves in turn. When Valinor started in on the Hobbit, however, the Beorning woman bristled. Her incoming wrath is handily deflected when the Great Eagle screeches fit to match every ounce of the Shade's venom.

As he goes on to reveal the fine detail of the task set before them, Bernie frowns softly. Not out of concern - indeed she relished the idea of drawing the Dark Lord's ire and stringing his forces out on a long and bloody chase - but for the gravity of that chase. If they failed, or fell too soon, it would not be their own lives squandered. It would be the death knell of the true Fellowship, and perhaps even Middle Earth itself.

In thought, she sets the accursed metal at the hollow of her neck to spinning again with a flick of her fingers and casts out her gaze onto the rest. Who, indeed, would take the last ring? She didn't know any of them by more than the names they had freshly given. Dwarves were stout, but vain and greedy things who were slow to care for anything but themselves. Durhnoram had referred to that Harathir as one among Brigands, yet here he stood at the request of the Grey Wizard himself. The Shade had already refused. The elf? She was the oldest and most practiced of them all, and perhaps Valinor's argument with her had just been one more aspect of the ghost's poisonous temper.

Who, indeed, to bear the last Ring of the Elven Kings?

Gavin could feel a sense of intense hatred seething from the shade as he voiced his distaste for the Elven maiden and he could understand why. Elves were by they're nature not the most sociable of people and if Gavin had his say in the forming of the group she would not be here. Just the thought of having an Elf in the mix of company was already putting a horrible taste in his mouth and he was threatening to snatch his head to the side and spit once again to show his displeasure.

But there was the question of the ring, one of the three Elven lord rings that in the past were used to such nefarious means.
Now was the chance to seize such a fine prize for himself, there were those in his land back home that would give much for such a fine treasure and not even ask how he came of it.
However his duty to the old wizards words remained and there was the knowledge that Gandalf knew of the missing treasure he had been missing all these years. The very thought wet his appetite and he silently strode forward reaching his large fingers into the pouch. Taking care to use subtlety in grasping the last of these horrid artifacts and soon it was within his grasp.

"Strange, such a small thing.. who would ever guess?"

He rolls the ring on the tip of his fingers slowly taking in what it looks like and enjoying his ability to actually be there and have it to himself.

Rala watched as each of the rings were taken. It had been one of those moments when she knew it would be difficult for her to carry the rings, but if no one else would step up she would suck up the hardships and take it. When the dwarf took the last ring within his hand, the elven woman wasn't sure how she felt. It wasn't a secret among the elves that dwarves were greedy creatures and would do nearly anything to get their hands on something valuable, so Rala was hesitant on seeing a dwarf take hold of something so precious to her kind's culture. Part of her wanted to go over and take the ring out of his hand and tell him to never touch it again, but it was restrained enough that she didn't even move. The rings had been sorted out. Though if they would stay with those three who now held the rings within their presence was moot.

Standing there among these strangers, Rala could see that once again she was not entirely wanted; at least by the dwarf and the shade. She could foresee this adventure being one that would keep her at a distance until she was needed in battle. Her eyes looked to the tops of the trees. A single leaf was lifted by the wind from the tree, flowing in the wind alone. It's a good thing I'm used to being alone otherwise the future may look more difficult, she thought to herself.

Rala walked over to the female hobbit and placed a hand on her shoulder, "You are already helping, by carrying that ring you prove to all of us how strong you are against its power. We need you whether you realize it or it not."

Amaranth's face showed the concern that filled her mind as she wondered how the others must see her. A small bard hobbit had no place with these warriors. However a tall man suddenly spoke words, making her almost jump from his deep voice.
"Fear not, Amaranth Brandybuck from Hobbiton, Gandalf the Grey chooses carefully his agents it seems."
Amaranth gave a large, childlike smile before bowing her head. "Thank you." She muttered. The simply words encouraged the small hobbit more than one could possibly imagine and it brought her spirits back up. With those few words, she suddenly had the courage and determination that no matter what the journey may be, she was ready for it.
When the man who had so graciously given the encouraging words spoke his name, she repeated it in her mind, hoping to remember it. Her attention was then taken by the dwarf who spoke. His gruff voice made her wince a little at the coldness of it, however she simply took note of his name and gazed at the others. However, her attention moved back onto Gavin when he pointed at the small satchel in her hands and the two ring, one inside the bag the other in her right hand. She gazed at them a bit more before looking back to the dwarf, still not sure of what everyone spoke of. She had only felt an odd chill from the rings, the feeling you get when you know someone unseen is watching you. Other than that, there was nothing she felt from the rings.

Valinor was the next to grab her attention with his venomous words.
"And where shall you be in all of this, little one?"
Amaranth glared at the large shadow man as he spoke. She wasn't sure what her place would be, but she knew she belonged amongst the group. When the Great Eagle gave a scream, she cringed at the sound but was amazed that she was defended. She had not expected anyone to defend her, more or less the Great Eagle of legend, Durhnoram. Despite the fact she thought Valinor deserved the hit from the Eagle...or anyone from that matter, she felt a bit bad. She did not want to be the source of trouble, she was here to spread hope and faith among the group. These thoughts were interrupted by Durhnoram who spoke of their quest and the rings, two of which she still held. 'These rings are three rings of power made by Sauron?" her mind nearly gasped. "That must be why everyone looked at them with wanting and fear...but...why wasn't I effected?"

"You see, my friends, in the courts of Rivendell sits the One Ring."
Amaranth looked beyond the forest trees and to the magnificent city of Rivendell, while still listening to Durhnoram. Suddenly, her eyes widened at the word 'hobbit' and she gasped at the name. "Frodo!" She cried outloud, in almost horror. She had known him growing up and he was one of the few hobbits in Hobbiton that she would call a friend. Of course, he was a good bit older than she, however, she often listened to Bilbo's stories with Frodo, as well as Gandalf's. The expression on her face showed the horror and concern in her heart for the man she knew. She hung her head as she listened to the task set before them. Though she wished Gandalf had told her of the quest, she was determined to not turn back. Even if she had not been yearning for an adventure, she would still go for Frodo. Though he might not be blood to her knowledge, he was family to the small hobbit and she had grown to love him as so.

When Durhnoram spoke of two of the rings having bearers already, she gazed at them. Only one had been taken. Did that mean that she was to be the bearer of one of the rings? She took a deep breath and assured herself that she was capable of the task. After all, the rings didn't affect her as they did the others, though she still wondered why. Her fingers curled around the ring in her right hand to form a fist while her left hand still held the bag with the last ring. Her bright green eyes scanned her comrades and she wondered who would take it. Her eyes stopped on the elven woman, Kavrala. Since she was elven, didn't that mean she should take the last ring? Her attention moved to the dwarf who stepped forward and gently placed his hand in the satchel, feeling the ring. When he removed his hand, Amaranth gave a look of doubt but kept her thoughts to herself. She had heard great and horrible things of dwarves, however this one did not appear to hold the greatness of the ones she had heard about in Bilbo's stories.

Taking another deep breath, she pushed the thoughts of the dwarf aside and focused on the ring in her hand. She decided to place it in her pocket for the time being, since she was not able to attach it to a necklace at the moment. A hand was placed on her shoulders, making her look up at Kavrala. Amaranth forced a smile, that looked at bit apologetic. She hoped that the elven woman did not hold a grudge for her giving the ring to the dwarf, when in Amaranth's mind, Rala should have gotten it.
"You are already helping, by carrying that ring you prove to all of us how strong you are against its power. We need you whether you realize it or it not."
The smile on her face changed from apologetic to thankful as she nodded her head, in almost a bow. "I thank you sincerely for the kind words, ma'am. I will do my very best on this journey." She replied, while taking Rala's words to heart. It became apparent that though some of the group might think she didn't belong, other's knew her worth. That thought in mind with the fact she was protecting Frodo was all she needed. Despite the fact she was no warrior, she would do her best to become one or do whatever she could for her company and the Fellowship.

Gavin took the small ring and even though it was nowhere near a relative size to sit upon his finger, he would not dare to wear such an item seeing as after all he may have been greedy.. he was not stupid.
He takes the ring and sets it being the crest on his sash, making sure it is tied in and secure for the ride.

"So.." He voiced with a slight breath as he looked up at the great eagle. "What are we to do other then pick a direction and go.. obviously they will follow us to find such an assortment of prizes. His hand absentmindedly pats the section of his sash the ring sat behind. He ran information through his mind that he knew would be of use, everything he knew about the darker forces that would seem to be running ruin over the whole of middle earth.

The orc's & troll's of the highlands or the goblin hordes that run all about the lower plains.
Being a dwarf himself, he was all too eager to take this fight to the little green skins, breaking they're holds and routing the so called excuses for armies they called themselves. Knowing full well that it would be his own personal war that he wanted to run amok on them and not really care for the understanding of present company. His hand ran along the edge of an axe that was hung low on his belt and he looked at the young hobbit that would be accompanying them. He was well older then most other dwarfs that kept to war and was not really certain that he had ever seen a hobbit fight. Other then the side game of rounders of course, but that was a game.. and this was war.

Gavin was not really supportive of this whole thing in mind, though he had known Gandalf and his reputation long enough to know that the wizard would come through on his word. The image of the most greatest of treasures sat in the back of his mind as he adjusted his sash and returned to his things.
The laps of the shades own ethereal tongue as a form of ill consent towards Gavin and his apparent desire of the ring was not missed. But he would let such a thing slide, because the Elves were a race where they're own creations and wares did not possess the same brash overlording manner that they were so well known for.

But when the stillness came Gavin knew something was ill approaching, you don't spend so long in the company of war to no know what such a feeling means and he was quick to retrieve his weapon from the ground letting his sack fall from his shoulder. The first sound to break the silence was an arrow breaking the shadows and glancing against the side of Valinor's helm, knocking it from his "shoulders" and garnishing his own attentions to turn towards his attackers. The bounding Orc that threw itself from the trees was the first to be seen as only a few more came pouring from the treeline and nearer still to the clearing.
Though the shade was quick to dispatch his foe and gather to his feet after his short fall, allowing him to recount himself as Gavin began to move up behind. The creatures stopped just short of the clear, notable to what they were looking at. As shade from the old world and a being that they most likely never would have seen in the normal throws of their days in darkness.

This was Valinor's moment as he took the first moment to strike and the Elf was next to follow suit.
But Gavin was not one to be outdone, he sauntered forth and bore down on the enemy holding his sword ahead like a great mast fording a river. As he moved wide from his party several of the beast broke off to keep him from flanking them and he smiled.

This group was at least smart enough to do true combat, but weather or not they were capable would soon come to light. Three of the snarling orc's broke forward clamoring to strike at him and Gavin gave a mighty swing of his sword which one was unfortunate enough to try to parry. The nature of Gavin's swing was not to cleave but to crush and his strike forced its was through, snapping his pathetic blade and crushing his head in the process. The other two caught the force on the edge of the swing shattering bone and armor alike, they're bodies careened back into the mob.

Gavin planted his stance in obvious defiance, awaiting his next targets.

The elvin woman looked around, the complete silence of the forest making her a bit uneasy. Her eyes quickly scanned the trees, but stopped on one spot in the bushes when she heard a noise, a slight rustling in the leaves. She quietly and quickly took her bow from its resting place and grabbed an arrow. It seemed she did so just in the nick of time because a small ambush of orcs came running out with arrows flying at them from the trees. One by one, Rala distributed her arrows, hitting the orcs between the eyes or at least close enough, but either way it was an instant death for the enemy at hand.

"Stay close," she told Amaranth, stepping between her and the orcs. She wasn't entirely sure of the hobbit's skills in combat, so she figured it was best to protect her, for now. Her movements were strong and yet fluid and there was no hesitation taken while shooting her arrows, once she knew she had the arrow safely secured in its spot it was released with what seemed like no time for finding a target, but Rala had been looking ahead and knew where the arrow was heading.

She was down to only a few more arrows when she noticed Valinor making his way towards a small group of orcs, terrifying them by using what he was. Not a bad plan, Rala thought, Orcs are not known for being scared, but if you can find something, use it. It seemed he found his next prey, one that was cowering under his blade that looked as though it would be chopping wood. To show that she was more than just a pretty face, more than the other elves, she shot the orc that Valinor was about to kill. She could tell that he was looking her way and though she showed no emotion, she did feel a slight raise in her pride at having stolen his kill. She used the rest of her arrows and quickly switched to her hand scythes, slinging the bow back around her. She didn't, however, leave her place by Amaranth's side, not wanting to leave the hobbit in a place of danger where no one would be able to get to her in time. Instead, Kavrala stood her ground by the hobbit's side and waited for the orcs to come to her. When they were close enough the elvin woman would take them down. Though her movements were more graceful than most, they were not up to elvin standards. Her movements seemed to belong rather to a well trained human than a well trained elf. Her stabs were more forceful, digging in deeper and slightly past just killing; her cuts were messier and deeper than an elf would normally go; and her over-all movements weren't quiet as quick as they could be, they showed strength rather than speed.

She could see the enemy was losing, and why not? The force that Gandalf had put together was well planned. Kavrala could see that though they may not like each other, they could fight together well and could possibly take down most any opposing force. Kavrala only hoped that they would keep their fighting pointed towards their enemies and not each other. If they turned on each other the whole group would be lost, possibly even lives would be. Kavrala knew that they would need to become a group mentally soon if they wanted to keep the Fellowship safe otherwise they may tear at each other's throats and destroy themselves instead. Though she was uncertain if that was even possible; the dynamics in this particular group were very different and would always on the verge of destruction.

Bernadette watched the dwarf claim the last of the rings without misgiving. He seemed a stout, powerful sort as all his kin were, so it seemed to be no harm that he should be the one to carry one. Valinor spits more of his bile, but the Beorning woman is distracted from reminding him of the Eagle's promise by a sudden reeking breath of wind.

Her nostrils flare and she actually curls her lip as an animal might to catch a better scent, "There's something-" Her warning is unnecessary, as the other well-versed members of the erstwhile party are already reacting to the ominous atmosphere.

Clang!

Valinor's dark armor is staggered and felled by arrows from the woods, but the Shade has no worry for mortal weapons, and he rises to meet the orcs that follow the bolts. Bernadette is not far behind him, with the dwarf Gavin a length to her side.

"Eurrraaauugh!" Her bellow is full-throated and comes straight from her gut, echoing with more force than most Men could muster and hinting at the raging beast that she did not yet reveal, relying on her spear instead. And a considerable threat it is, too, as the heavy ash pole descends with a sickening crunch onto the skull of an orc that chooses the highland woman as its target.

A savage thrust right off the top of the newly-curved skull impales the leaf-shaped blade through the chest of another, and a brutal twist frees it again in a spray of orcish ichor.

Bernie wades into the fray as a force of nature; angry and implacable. The orcs fall left and right of her to Valinor, Gavin, and Kavrala, proving that this little erstwhile group -did- possess at least the motivation to survive strong enough to drive their enemies before them. And drive they do, pushing back against the ambush and punishing the interlopers. It isn't long before Bernadette is out of enemies in her immediate range, and she sets herself with the spear tip hovering in front of her, daring more of the foul creatures to come back and try their luck.

Amaranth's eyes went wide as the hair on her neck stood up and a flood of dread washed over her. Her eyes darted all around the forest area and to each of her companions. Their actions told that they too felt the uneasiness. She listened to the rustling of the leaves in the silent forest around them. The small hobbit knew good and well that there should not be silence in a forest, even in elven country.
The sudden whistling of an arrow followed by the sound of something hitting metal made Amaranth jump and look to Valinor. His helm had deflected the shot, however there were more arrows that followed. She watched in horror as his body fell and and orc dropped down from his hiding spot. However, there was nothing there.

Her attention moved to a hissing screech to the right of her, making her turn quickly. Three orcs headed towards Gavin, however he held his own. Amaranth's heart was racing as she watched each scene unfold, her mind racing. She had no real weapon and her pony had long since ran off, leaving her bag on the ground near a tree. As quickly as she hobbit could manage, she snatched the dagger out of her boot pocket and tried to look as if she were on the defense. The little fighting knowledge she had had almost all disappeared in her mind as she stood there. Her eyes jumped to Bernadette as she let out a fierce roar and attacked the orcs that came at her.

"Stay close"
Amaranth hear, and quickly nodded and moved close to Rala. She was glad elves were much taller than hobbits, because this let her get even closer without the risk of getting in the way of an arrow. However, Amaranth still kept distance between herself and the elf, about arm distance. She held the dagger in her hand, trying to make sure she could attack an orc if it came close enough, and she tried her best to watch Rala's back despite her panic. When the woman ran out of arrows and pulled out a scythe like weapon, which Amaranth had never seen before, she moved a step back and to the side.

She took a deep breath and as everyone else was killing the orcs ruthlessly, Amaranth began to hum a soft tune. Her eyes remained open and alert, but the tune continued as she stayed on guard, ready to attack. The tune settled her fears and gave her courage to fight, something she didn't even think to question. Suddenly, a rather pathetic looking (to everyone else's standards) ran towards her. Feeling courage burning inside her, she let out a loud roar as she thrusted her blade into a spot between the orcs armour. It was a fatal hit. The orc stood dumbfounded that he had been struck by the hobbit. Amaranth too, was rather surprised at the action since she hadn't even thought about it before performing it. However, with all her might, she jerked the blade out of the orc and watched as he fell to the ground.

Pride and even more courage washed over the little hobbit as she stood on guard, ready for more.

Gavin took a large huff of air as the Elves intervened, striking down the remaining foes and casting their bodies to the earth.

As they approached from the tree line he caught a curse in his mouth and instead of speaking it, spat to his side. He had just joined the group not long ago and already he found his limit of Elves exceeded far beyond the usual. He was however glad to see that there was one among the group that shared the same love of them that he did, or perhaps even less then that. The thought drifted across his mind as a small smirk grew out of the apparent irony.

He returns his sword to its sling on his back and instantly takes notice of an arrow stuck firmly in the fabric of his sleeve. His chain mail was enough to deflect the shot but his clothing had done the job of keeping a prize. After removing the arrow he returned to his satchel and picked it up from the dirt. "I believe our dark friend here has the idea, moving now would be a good decision. Because I don't delight in the thought of fighting a warg in such confines thank you very much.."

Sliding an axe from his sash he hefts it in his right hand and slings his satchel over his left shoulder.
The fight was fun however as he did get the chance to kill some of the fowl green skins so quickly. Who knows, maybe before this whole deed was done they would have killed more then he thinks of for fare trade.

"But honestly, had I known that we would have gotten to the good part so early.. I would have gotten here sooner." He says as he saunters up towards the tree line.

Rala put her scythes away when the first arrow shot passed her. She knew who was firing the arrows and though she agreed that they were good help, she was still less than pleased, and unsure where the conversation was going to head once they figured out who she was. She watched silently as a wave of arrows struck at Valinor, nearly knocking him over and then started to pick up arrows, whether they were her's or one of the other elves'.

She listened, without looking, as the leader started talked, "You make... strange allies. I would not have thought those of Grey Pilgrim's choosing would travel with such a dark creature," a pause as the Great Eagle interrupted, "Then I suppose I owe an apology for not arriving sooner. We have been trailing the orcs since they first came down from the Ettenmoors. To evade us, the burrowed underground through the spider tunnels which unfortunately lace these woods. This was... quite clever of them. I would say too clever. It seems that the dark forces have taken notice of you."

At hearing this they had their orders to start moving out, however Rala walked up to the leader, "Do you then think that someone gave them orders to hide in the spider tunnels?" She asked. It was too clever of orcs to use the spider tunnels to evade the archer squad. The leader looked straight in her eye which made him stiffen. He had recognized her, not from any descriptions he heard through rumors or that they had actually met, but he would see the revenge, the hatred, and especially the sorrow in her eyes clear as sunny meadow day.

"It is possible," his tone had grown serious and more tight as if he were talking to someone on a lower rank, which was true; Rala's rank was not even on the scale he put himself on. His voice lowered, "Now you should catch up with your group before you are left behind, Kavrala." He turned. Rala just stood staring at him, no change in her posture to reveal the tense moment of being treated as an abomination. Rala shook her head, having had this happen every time she ran into another elf. To them she was not technically an elf anymore. Though she was still not at the level of a dwarf which she was grateful for, though it was just barely. Without looking back to the leader Rala went to pick up her pack, it was not very much what she carried just a little food, some water, a blanket, an extra pair of boots, and her father's journal. Her feet led her then back to Amaranth, a person she could foresee that she would be spending a lot of time with as the hobbit was one who did not seem to judge her.

"Are you ready for the long journey?" she asked Amaranth.

Amaranth winced at the sudden screech of the large guarding bird. Her eyes glimmered with unsaid thanks as she watched it carry two orcs off. The words were whispered into the air, though she wasn't sure if the eagle would even hear them or not. It wasn't natural for a hobbit to be fighting orcs, and it was more than a challenge for the small girl. She was half the size of most of the orcs that had tried to attack the small group. It had been sheer luck that the one she managed to kill was the same height as her. She knew she probably would not get this lucky again.

She stood her ground while watching all around herself. She wasn't sure how many there were, but until everyone else assured her it was safe, she would have her guard up. Suddenly, white gold shot past her and she could hear the arrows making contact with orcs, who then screeched before making a thud as they hit the ground. Her eyes looked in the trees and everywhere else until she found the source that produced the arrows. Elvin archers. She was beyond grateful for their assistance.

However, she was shocked when they struck Valinor. "No, stop!" She cried while stepping forward with her hands in the air. "He is our allie!!" She proclaimed but the Eagle screeched and started to explain to them, though it was obvious he was not happy with their sudden attack.
The elven man who looked to be in command of the archers spoke of how odd the group was. There was no doubting that, in anyone's mind. She couldn't help but to smile at the reply the Eagle gave and she almost felt proud.

"Well then, we should be off before more foes are drawn here. Make ready to travel, for we must depart."

Amaranth frowned at the sudden thought of traveling. Her pony had long since kicked her belongings to the side and ran away from the attack. That left her on foot. If her legs were longer, or even as long as everyone else's, this wouldn't be a problem. However, hobbits were known for short and stubby legs that were slower than everyone else's, except for maybe dwarves.

With the cost clear, Amaranth walked over to the large bag and sighed. Of course, with her pony gone, she would have to downsize quite a bit, just so she could manage the bag. She tried to secretly look at Gavin, to see what all he had brought with him. She wasn't even sure what she would need or wouldn't need. Her pride kept her from asking the others. If she was to ask, it would only prove to them she was not ready for the adventure, something she did not want them to think, even if it was true.

She took out a few changes of clothes, leaving her with two in the bag. Next, she took out the books she had packed, on the encase she would get a chance to read. Lastly, was the large pen set she had been given. It was a shame to leave it there, however, one quill would suffice for writing, if she ever got the chance. The bag was much lighter, though she was not happy to leave the things. All that remained in the bag was a few bundles of food, her violin, its bow and extra strings, a book, one quill and ink well, and two changes of clothes. With a sigh, she snatched the bag up and tossed it over her shoulder.

"Are you ready for the long journey?"

Amaranth looked over to Rala and smiled lightly. "Yes ma'am" She replied in a rather chipper tone, that would be odd if she were anything other than a hobbit. She had to stay positive. She had to try and keep their spirits up, as much as she could. Even if she did not feel happy on the inside, she knew she should show the others happiness. Her eyes glanced to the things she had taken out of her bag one last time before she looked back to Rala. "I'm ready." She replied in a happy tone, before looking to see if the others were also ready.

Arrows fly, and Bernadette stamps the butt of her spear into the earth, leaning against it to watch the feathers sprout in the backs of orcs with a cheery smile on her face. She remains perfectly still, having heard of the accuracy of Elven archers, so she's slightly surprised when Valinor gets riddled by arrows. Again.

When the Eagle descends to admonish the attack on their dark companion, and it's clear that only Valinor's pride suffered any damage, Bern cant help but laugh a bit. The scene really was silly, when taken with a bit of humor, and after a round of orc killing to begin their journey, she was ready to be in high spirits.

The elves have no intention of sharing in her mirth, and make it plain that they feel the group should move along sooner rather than later.

"Well then, we should be off before more foes are drawn here. Make ready to travel, for we must depart."

The eagle agrees, and Bern has no objections, gathering her own scant belongings. Really the bag just held some travel rations, and sat woefully empty on the highland woman's broad shoulders. One such as herself didn't normally want for much in the wilderness. So when she sees the little hobbit trying desparately to decide what she could spare to bring and what she would have to sacrifice, Bern chuckles again and crouches down next to the Little Folk, scooping up a bit of extra to ease Amaranth's decisions.

She tosses the small woman a wink before standing again, pack properly filled, "If hobbits like their food and their comforts half as much as I've heard told, It'd be a damn shame to deprive you. Pay the favor back, perhaps, some night when we all could use a hot meal..." And Bern laughs heartily. Hobbit cooking was legendary, after all. Amaranth can decide what else is in the pack, or just call it miscellaneous goods.

Tapping her spear on the ground like a great, deadly walking staff, she saunters to join the rest of the party, indicating her readiness.

And, with their first steps taken upon a blood-stained ground, the journey of a thousand miles began. The dangers of the Trollshaws were few and far between, thinning out ever more as their company made way into the forest of the Coldfells. During this time, beautiful red and golden leaves adorned the branches of each tree, lightly drifting to the earthen ground with magical grace. All manner of wildlife did make merry within these woods, a boast of bountiful hunting. They scattered to the sanctuary of the shade whenever Durhnoram's shadow cast down upon them, a gentle reminder that he still guided them onward. The sun slid down the sky, casting a fiery crown upon the crest of the Misty Mountains. The last light was now upon them, slowly bidding itself farewell until the morrow.

The gentle ambiance of a surging brook was shattered as Valinor's steel-clad foot splashed through, the stone bed providing questionable support. Hissing and spitting curses towards the elves, Valinor wrestled with the last of the arrows lodged in his back. With a firm grasp and a solid yank, the final annoyance was cast down the stream. Though relieved that the task which pestered him all throughout the morning hours was now over, the shade was still displeased it had occurred at all. "For many a year have I kept this cuirass intact... A feat I doubt many others could ever claim, and now this. If truly there is any great justice to be had, those damn elves will end this day a troll's supper." Planting his boots on dry ground again, Valinor cast his spectral gaze down the trail. "The path which the bird leads us; I have walked it on cold nights 'fore. Tis a dark one, and leads yonder down into the Ettenmoors. ...This is not a road to tread lightly, let alone in the dark of night. At least, not for you mortals..."

Valinor turned on his heel towards his compatriots. "So what will it be? Should we brave the night into the dark woods? Or make good our fortifications here till first light? I doubt either will be free of unexpected guests. Last tale I heard from the living, there's been a long-standing skirmish with the Hillmen and Goblin chiefs for these lands."

Gavin looked over his shoulder from time to time as the trail lead on, a cursory glance at most for one never knew what really walked behind them in such places. But he was somewhat annoyed and attached to what the shade was going through, listening to his woes. It was not the first time that elves had stepped in and perceived themselves the right on more then one occasion.

But a thought did hit his mind when Valinor spoke of keeping his armor intact all this time and it soon became vocal as well.

"It is a shame that such fine craftsmanship should be carried in such a way.. if you'd have it, I can shore up those notches. Wouldn't want a lucky axe strike to open those holes any further.. now do we?" Gavin could not really tell where he was speaking from. Either from the idea of helping a companion or from the standpoint of a dwarf who revered such time tested pieces like the shades armor.
But such an event would have to wait, not a forge was in site and it would be some time before they reached a haven that he knew of to take rest in. He gave his satchel a small tug to heighten it along his shoulder, feeling the chisels inside shift slightly.

As he looked on down the trail he could feel the breeze coursing past the party, though it was musty and stale as well it was easy enough to tell they were alone for now. But the thought of bedding down was starting to look good and only one idea was keeping him from saying so.
"I believe we should push on.. higher ground would suit best and I don't like the idea of bedding under a tree full of green skins. If I'm gonna have something over ma head it should be the sky, a roof, or stone.. and not preferably in that order."