Note: This is the log of one of the of encounters the Lorien Elves travelling to Imladris with Beornings. The Elven party is camped on the Western bank of Anduin, right across from Beornings villages on the East bank. During our few days stay we met Beornings few times. This meeting took place over the course of 3 RL days because every time we started the MUSH would crash.
Middle-earth time is:
Twilight on Monday, Day 22 of June, 3011
Real time is: 16:18:36 MST on Fri May 09 1997
Ford of Carrock -- Anduin River
The Ford of Carrock passes from the west bank to the east bank on the northern side of the massive hill of stone. A quick current murmers over the stoney surface of the ford, though the water is not much more then three feet deep; still, crossing can be a tiring affair to struggle against the water. To the west the Misty Mountains can be seen asserting their presence over the area.
Night lays about the land though it doesn't inhibit your seeing the land and its
shapes. A clear cut stone stairway leads up the side of the Carrock.
Talorc can be seen standing at the base of the Carrock. The setting sun casts a fiery orange glow across his grim features, serving to enhance the fierce image he already possesses. His gaze sweeps across the surrounding region, searching for something perhaps... or maybe just keeping a check on the nearby lands.
A splash can be heard from the west bank. A spectral figure can be glimpsed near the shore. For a fleeting moment, it seemingly condenses into a more or less solid shape, that of a very tall man. Then it's just a shadow again.
The sounds of activity can be heard echoing from the eastern side of the river, where the heart of the Beorning village lays. At the sound of the splash however, Talorc immdiately turns to seek out its source. His hand strays to the shaft of his axe, fingering it lightly. In a calm, yet powerful voice Talorc inquires, "Who goes there?!"
On the west bank few branches of the bushes part silently, and a tall man steps into plain view. He's garbed in a cloak, which seems to be green-brownish while he stands among the foliage, but slowly changes its hue to gray as he approaches the gray waters. The man appears to be unarmed and walks with a long staff. The shadow of his hood conceals his face. He apparently is facing you, and you hear a high melodical voice, which comes to your ears like a song, woven into sounds of river, trees, wind, and birds. You cannot make out any words.
Talorc squints slightly, finding it hard to pinpoint exact details of the figure despite it being in the open. He mutters something to himself before speaking again, "Obviously you must be an elf. No others do I know who can blend into the terrain such as those of the eldar race, nor who speak with such musical qualities." He steps forward, into the shallow waters of the Anduin. Obviously he is used to fording the river, for he does not hesitate in his footing nor does he blanche at the chill waters that swirl around his knees. "Come forth elven one, I believe we have something to discuss..."
Taigan wades towards you from the east bank of the river.
Taigan has arrived.
Talorc can be seen striding through the waters of the Anduin towards a tall figure that blends almost flawlessly with the terrain.
Taigan walks into the current, holding her staff up, her small size both an asset and a hindrance to her motion forward. She moves in Talorc's direction, a look of determination creasing her brow.
The tall man on the west bank appears to be listening intently. He makes few steps toward the water, but seeing Talorc wading across, does not enter teh waters himself. He tosses his hood back, and his long golden hair, released, fall on his shoulders in waves. In the rays of low sun, a single white gem flickers on his forehead.
Talorc continues his progress across the river and emerges upon the west bank, wet up to his mid thighs. He gazes upon the figure intently and although his hand never strays far from his axe, you do not sense any hostility. Seemingly unaware of Taigan's presence, Talorc speaks once again, "You are not the elves we have come to know as allies... at first glace I thought you to be from the halls of Thranduil in Mirkwood, but upon further inspection I find this not to be true." He pauses a moment, thinking things through. In a low voice he continues, "You must be from the woods to the south of our borders? I have heard rumours of your kind, but have never met with your people." his voice is calm, but a tinge of curiosity and even uncertaintly can be felt within.
Taigan kneels at the shore, gathering a few roots she finds there, looking up at the two figures talking.
Glendor listens to Talorc's words, while shooting a quick glance at the woman upstream. He replies slowly, sometimes pausing and searching his memory for the right word. His Westron sounds archaic, as if he learned it a thousand years ago, not to mention strong accent, "Thus, thee are of the people whom Thranduil's Elves call friends... I come from the lands far to the Northwest." After a short pause, he adds, "I am called Glendor"
Talorc follows Glendor's glance, focusing upon the woman hunched over on the other side of the Anduin. Recognition dawns on his face and he appears about to yell out to her, but for one reason or another deceides against it. Turning back to the tall eldar figure his eyes glint slightly, in a low voice he replies, "Well met Glendor. I am Talorc." He pauses a moment before adding, "Northwest? You are not from the haunted forest?"
Glendor watches attentively, observing Talorc's reaction to the woman's presence. He looks somewhat stymied at your words, and repeats, stretching the vowels and singing the word, as if trying to put it on a right melody, "... haunted?..." A dark shadow passes over his face momentarily, as he remembers, "No, we never went there... The men used to call the lands of Angmar "haunted"". He nods slightly, and speaks more assuredly, "No, Elves did not live there for many years, since I was young"
Talorc follows the elf's words closely, having to concentrate in order to understand the archaic speach. He nods slightly, but you can sense he is not fully understanding of what you're trying to say. Rather than dwell on the issue he shifts the topic of the conversation, "What is your business here Glendor? Have you come alone?" His glance drifts past the tall figure, looking beyond as if expecting to see more shadowy figures emerge from nowhere at any time.
Glendor starts to answer without delay this time. It appears he understood the words as they were meants, and his voice sounds sincere, although his manner of speach remains the same, the words flow like a song, then suddenly the melody breaks as he's searching for the right word in his memory. "No, there are more. Others had no dealings with your people before, and I went closer to your villages alone. We will leave soon, our ways lie younder, "He gestures to the West, over the mountains, "I seek tidings on the recent movemnts of fell yrch"
Talorc spits at the mention of the Dark Lords minions. He looks towards the distant mountains, then across his shoulder to the dark blur on the horizon that is the Mirkwood Forest. Shaking his head slightly, both in anger and in hatred he scowls, "The goblins are always moving. If you're going to travel the mountains you'd stick to the main path unless you had a spider for a brain." He looks at you directly, "But right now our goblin troubles lie not in the mountains.... No, They lie in the forest. The dark minions have overrun the village of the Woodmen." He glances back at the forest and scowls once more, "A counter attack is being arranged. We will retake the village. The elves of mirkwood have come to our aid again, The great Bear will prevail." If success could be determined by one man's faith and confidence, you would have no doubts at all that the dark tide will be pushed back out of Northern Mirkwood.
Glendor does not appear to be surprised at the news, and indeed his next words are, "Aye, I heard the tidings... The shadow of the east is growing, and its darkness fell on your woods. " His gaze turns East, "... not for long, this time. But there will be less light every day now." He shakes his head, as if shaking off some thoughts, and turns to Talorc again, "While they looks for their pray here, we may have a chance to pass"
Talorc grunts and flashes his gaze at the mountains before allowing it to rest on you, "The goblins in Mirkwood and the goblins in the Mountains are of a different kind." For the briefest of moments you can see a remenant horror flash across Talorc's face, something dark in the recesses of his memory. He speaks in a quiet voice, "At least in the mountains all you are up against is goblins and the odd troll... there are darker things that fight alongside the goblins of the forest." His voice is tight as he speaks this last sentence, but now it relaxes somewhat. "If you stick to the main paths and stay in a group, you can make the pass without to much trouble. But a word of warning, do not shelter in any of the caves. The most attractive looking caves are almost certain to be traps lain by the dark ones."
Taomes has arrived.
Talorc can be seen speaking with Glendor on the eastern bank of the Anduin.
Silence. Not a rustle for crack of any kind can he heard as a lanky, shadowy figure emerges from the foilage about. Quickly, the newcomer tosses back his hood to expose, long, wispy hair. Swiftly he moves, stopping several paces behind the group of Talorc and Glendor.
Glendor looks at Talorc's face all the time while he speaks, and nods with understanding. He choses to start his reply on a lighter note, and even a likeness of smile can be guessed on his face for a moment, "Our kind does not seek shelter in caves. The only thing we need shelter of is the darkness, and the light of stars is plenty for us" He quickly becomes serious, "I know the darkness you speak about, and the fear it brings. Few of those who felt it live to tell, but be glad that you can only see its outter shell"
Glendor is standing right near the water, and quietly talking in Westron to Talorc, who looks like he just crossed the river.
Continueing on with the last several steps, the cloaked elfin figure deftly crosses the river. His cold, lapis lazuli orbs gleaming lightly in dead of night. Though he remains silent, he is now in clear view of both Glendor and Talorc.
Talorc nods slowly, listening closely to Glendor's words. He seems about to reply when he becomes aware another elf's presence. He glances towards the newly revealed figure, his brow creases slightly, but other than that no suprise can be detected. With a faint nod to the newcomer he turns his attention back to Glendor and speaks quietly, "I know very little of your kin, but if you stay out of the caves and stick to the main path, you should manage to cross the pass without much hassle." He adds in a sharper, more direct tone, "Never let your guard down however. In these times the goblins are brave, and attacks on large groups sticking to the main path are not uncommon. Be wary of the pass, for its dangers are often veiled."
Glendor quickly glances over his shoulder, sensing a movement behind. He quickly comments to Talorc, 'This is Taomes, one of my companions'. Without turning back again, he starts to speak in his own tongue, and the words flow like a melody, weaving into the sounds of nature as flawlessly as his shape blends with the surroundings, "<Sindarin> This man says that the pass can be threaded, if we follow the main trail and avoid caves"
Taomes nods in return towards the man and towards Glendor. "<Sindarin> Aye. That would seem the safest of routes." Taomes speaks in his light, merry tone. His lapis lazuli gaze is sent back towards Talorc.
Talorc nods once more to the newcomer, Taomes. He follows the speech of the two eldar figure, and although he does not understand it, the enchanting melodies in which it is spoken draw him in. Shifts his weight slightly and scratches his beard, watching the two figures closely.
Glendor acknowledges Taomes' reply with a nod, and quick affirmative vocal note in his tongue, then remarks to Talorc, "Not all of our folk can speak your language, and even fewer know it well. He cam to tell that the scouting of our own returns similar news, the approaches to the pass are clear, although doubtlessly watched."
It now being Taomes' turn to watch and listen. The Galdarim attempts to put the common tounge together but fails utterly. Absently, his long, lithe finger tap against the fine craftmanship of his bow as he glances about. A curious expression clearly evidant on his fair face.
Talorc nods, "Aye. They are always watched." He looks at the two eldar figures then back across the river at the village beyond. The sounds of rising voices can be heard, and although it is impossible to make out what they're saying, it seems that there is some sort of argument or comotion. Muttering something to himself, Talorc turns back to the elves, "I'm afraid I must leave you. The people of the Naduin Valley and those of Mirkwood are fast allies, but still differences flare up." He adds in a final note of warning, "I would suggest you be careful in our lands. We are an honest people and oppose the dark forces just as any other free nation, but not all of us take kindly to strangers. I know that I used to regard elves as nothing more than tricksters and deceivers until an event changed my outlook. Be wary when dealing with my kin, and under no circumstances kill anything in the valley unless it be a slave of the dark one."
Glendor nods, "We will respect the laws of your land. May the stars shine on your path, and guide you to victory." He looks down, and adds, quieter, "If only for a short while"
Talorc tilts his head slightly in acknowledgement but says nothing further. He turns his back upon the two elven figures and begins to wade across the river, towards the sparkling lanterns that dot the eastern banks of the river.
Talorc pushes eastwards across the current.
Talorc has left.
Glendor follows Talorc with his eyes as he wades across, then turns to his companion, "<Sindarin> Strife of the mortals is not our concern. They will manage on their own. Let us return to the party, mellon"
Taomes silently watches the retreating form of Talorc before turning back towards Glendor with his quick eyes. "Aye." Is Taomes' simple answer as he too, heads back across the river.