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Asvak cursed his dogs as they ran from him leaving him alone with night falling soon his supplies on his sledge gone with them. He stopped chasing them after only several steps knowing it a useless expenditure of energy that he would need to survive the long dark cold that would last hours before the sun would hint at the horizon once more. If he was lucky the dogs would make it back to their village and his people would come looking for him at the same time he started towards them.

If he was not luck? He did not dwell on that thought long he needed to find shelter, and he turned looking at the imposing wall of stone and ice that was behind him a few miles. This was the closest he'd ever come to the Dolyahatni. The elders always taught it was dangerous to go there, the ground and ice was unstable from the ground fire that lead to dark things living there and that one should not go there unless it was ones only option. Asvak for his part knew of no other location near enough to him where he could find shelter and perhaps even warmth to last the night that was coming soon. And so he trudged towards it through the snow the wind battering his face as he drew near as if to warn him away but he knew he needed to press on and eventually the biting teeth of the wind gave way in the shelter of the Dolyahatni which allowed sparse trees to grow up thin in it's shelter. Asvak glanced around nervously, hearing the deep groanings of the earth and the ice around him even as the darkness began to swallow him whole as the last light of the sun faded to black and the only light was from the twinkling stars and the brightness of the snow against the stark black of the trees and the stone face that he was heading towards.

He reached the stone face and followed it hoping to find some fracture in it that was letting out heat when he rounded the corner and turned and ran as his dogs had wildly into the night.


***

The next day his kin found him frozen in the tundra no where near the path of his dogs which had made it home and they were confused, until they followed his tracks not yet filled in by the blowing wind and snow and felt the same fear he had and fled back to their elders. This this was something they did not know how to deal with, this had never been seen before. And soon a small expedition set of south, not even the dead of winter was enough to stop them they needed the help of the elves and the men of the west.

RP Guidelines:
To join please feel free to RP yourself seeing/hearing of the arrival of the men of Forochel and following them to hear what they have to say to Lord Elrond.
Please check with Fuin before using canon characters.
This RP is survivalist/expedition based. Which means while there will be some fighting it will not be militarily based.
Please avoid excessive use of images and no gifs.
The GM reserves the right to Godmode characters/events for the sake of the story should the need arise.
The color #FF0000 is reserved for major GM updates.
Please use Content/Trigger Warnings (CW/TW) if applicable to any of your posts in this thread.
For OOC and questions please use The General OOC Thread

The Noldo was glad to see the sight of the valley within sight. He looked at Tirindo and smiled, I look forward to a hot bath and a good hearty meal, gwador. Both Elves were on horse-back, having been away for a month scouring the land of Tharbad for the Enemy’s movement. Aran considered this patrol to be a success, better than the previous months, years and seasons before.

Yrchs and Men from Dunlending laid dead and buried where they were ambushed. Close to three scores they numbered! The 2 Noldor were taken by surprise by their high count, so far North especially in the winter months. The only course of action then was to leave no survivors behind lest one escaped and called for reinforcements. No other adversary did they meet after that. Soon they have to report this incursion to Lord Elrond but for now rest and respite beckoned in the hidden valley.

Aran's horse stopped in its tracks suddenly, which jerked him out of his thoughts. His warrior instinct instantly kicked in and he scanned the surroundings. His eyes stopped at the sight of Men, he had to double check his eyesight to ensure he wasn't imagining seeing Men wearing animal furs as their clothing. Shorter than the average Edain and brown skinned, the Elf surmised they weren't of evil intent but they did look wary especially after spotting both Tiri and himself approaching unannounced.

Greetings, friends. I am Aranadhel of Rivendell. Are you people lost? he called out to them in Westron. He held out his right hand in a gesture of peace and waited for their response.

The path before them ran homeward and, as though the valley emitted a soundless summons, the horses had grown ever more fleet in the last few hours. Tirindo flicked temperate grey eyes about the cavemouths that his helm shaped, so that he might better see, yet be not known. As a raptor, ready, he remained, for this close to home was still not quite there yet and it would not do to slacken their guard. The pastel morning laughed at his chary attitude though, dressed as dawn was in her beads of dewy pearls, as though vast reams of bunting. And the early birds were risen to gladly serenade the homecoming. A blithesome breeze, tugging at his senses like tantalising aroma of home baked cooking .. diluted the grief from delving in the bitter gores of conflict they had frequented of late. And even the guarded heart of the Noldo could not long resist the power of Imladris.

For all that it was satisfying to wipe some of the fell stain of cruelty from the earth it tainted, few could sustain their soul long without the gentle, essential reminder of how things ought to be. Here, in the valley where the few and the free remained in an ageless unchanged moment, they could take relief, and recover, and reflect, before heading out anew. Beside him Aranadhel was already envisaging the delights that would soon be theirs. But Tirindo would forego either of the treats his old friend yearned for, in favour of reuniting with his wife. Halyanis. Tirindo was not a flamboyant romantic soul. But he knew what he wanted, and he was gracious enough to praise the generosity of fates awarding all they knew he’d need.

He caught sight of the strange herd of men, when his steed snorted at their alien scent. There were foul men, the Noldo knew, but also there were some countless others whom had proven their worth time and again. Here he and his fellow were outnumbered regardless. But the Mortals need not know that. And the Elf could not yet venture an opinion of those who reared up out of the wilds. Was it chance which had brought them to the doorstep of the hidden valley ? Or some thing else ?

Before he could advise caution, Aranadhel had already boldly sought out contact. So Tirindo hung back, rising a little in his seat as he did so, curiously. Long dark tongues of his hair clutched and gathered around the Elf’s neck, dull and lightless in their escape from the base of his helm. The dark garbed arms which spilt in more fluid fall out of a dusted golden cuirass presented a similar contrast in the dual colours and character of his costume. But the cloud blue-grey of the Noldo’s cloak was the greatest asset he could exploit in that moment. It didn’t veil the claret and gold embossed quiver, still populated with enough arrows to make a difference. But it was concealing the Elf’s struggle to not reach for his bow upon instinct. Thankfully it was not up to he to make a first impression. His friend was the far more fluent of the two in common speech. So the elder of the two archers awaited quietly and watching closely to seek what would come from this most unexpected meeting.

The Forodwaith outside of Imladris (A few hours before)

The men of the north had followed the words of the matron exactly but now they were come to the last stage of the journey which they did not fully understand or perhaps it was because of the season that they had arrived in but they found no path of white. It was all white here just as it was in the north, the snow fall obscuring the ground that would have guided them in if the Matron was right. They jumped at the sound of loud steps in the crisp snow and looked to see two beings upon tall dog "Iso-koira" was whispered among them as the one approached, and they were not sure what to do though neither of the dog riders seemed terribly dangerous to them, they were like ghosts they often saw on the icy tundra those ghosts often were sad but a safe omen to listen to and occasionally a ghost made flesh would visit though it was a very rare occasion that had not happened in many years the last time most of the group had been not yet adults, some children. Ficsu was not the oldest of the group, indeed he was not the leader but he had earned his place in the group because of his tribe he had perhaps the best grasp of the Southern language so when the flesh ghost spoke the others turned to look at him and he had to blink, confused at what was being said at first they had spoken so very quickly. He was pushed forwards towards the big dog and his rider his hand held out.

That was something he knew he'd seen it before and held his hand out the same way. "Greetings." He said in a very heavy accent "Lossoth need help-" He paused looking for the right words in the southern tongue but did not know them he only knew the one word that the matron had taught him. "Imladris." He hoped that that would make it so that these being would take them to where they needed to be. He knew that at this point their supplies for the journey south were running low, and while they had spears and their snow shoes and could hunt that they did not know the game in the area well enough that they could easily replenish. For they had been traveling with haste to get help for their village. He glanced towards the other being who was still sitting further back and raised his hand in the same fashion of greeting to that elf as well hoping that it would show that he and his people were not dangerous.

Aran had to stifle a laugh at the confused expressions on the the strangers' faces when he spoke. One of the four Men was pushed to the front and approached him cautiously with his hand also raised in a gesture of peace and replied in a heavy accent. Aran, who is a linguist in his spare time could not place his origin but raised his eyebrows in surprise when (Ficsu) mentioned about Lossoth, and needing assistance. The Noldo wanted to reply just then but gave Ficsu the space to reveal their intention, judging from the latter's facial expression to answer cohesively. Aran finally nodded at Ficsu when Imladris was named.

He turned his head at Tiri and said quietly in Quenyan, If my memory serves me right they hail from the bitter North. Arvedui of Arthedain found refuge at their homeland during the Witch King's siege. Remember our battle with his son, Aranarth back in Fornost? Aran turned back to see the desperate and famished look in their mortal eyes. He knew what must be done then and turned back at Tiri. We will take them to Elrond. I deem them to be of no threat, brother. Let me lead. Aran let the second last sentence linger knowing how Tiri distrusts the Edain and their kind.

Aran turned back and took off his helm, letting his raven hair spill out and feel the chill breeze of the winter morning. The Lossoth had no idea that they were actually standing on one of the hidden paths to Imladris, only the Elves and the Dunedain knew the way even when blindfolded. Aran glanced quickly at the trees around them and nodded left and right, signifying to the hidden Elves guarding the borders that the four Men were not the Enemy. He sighed in relief and smiled at Ficsu and the other three Lossoth. Welcome to Imladris. Follow me. Aran trotted to the front on his horse and by Elven magic or so it seemed to the eyes of the Mortals suddenly there was a small opening between the trees and he led them into the valley with Tiri guarding the rear.

Their keen homecoming halted, the horse stomped once impatiently but held to afterwards, without having to be told. The Noldo did not express any regret or rebuke at the animal’s behaviour for indeed he somewhat shared the sentiment himself. Still this oddity was clearly their responsibility, now and that was a thing that he would not shirk, regardless of the delay it afforded.

It was not so much that Tirindo disliked or distrusted Men, though assuredly Aranadhel would not have forgotten his friend’s ‘choice’ words about the treachery of The Secondborn, after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. That battle in particular had cost the Elder Elf dear and it was not an Aiwenare trait to withhold their opinion. The fact though of Tirindo’s tight-lipped demeanour now was more for the fact of a second group of Men who’d been found, in a short span of time, well far from where they might have been expected.

First Dunlendings so far North, and Lossoth now come South … it was a tilting of things in the world, suggesting all was gone awry. That something was afoot. That concern, rather than the Menfolk being Men, was the cause of a less than subtle frown from the more distant scout. So if Tirindo appeared unfriendly, it was not his intention. But until he heard some cause not to raise cares, a smile would scarce keep him company.


The shared words besides ‘Imladris’ meant little to him, so Tirindo had focused rather on what the Men could tell him without words. His sharp eyes found their spears, his intrigue noted their dependence on the one whom they all looked to speak for them, and his suspicions still glanced about the locale for concern that others were hid apart from this group, not yet seen. If ever a distraction were to be served, then such a strange find would oblige. He was not willing to take any chances. The Lossoth did not have to be complicit with others that might lay in wait and would seize on advantage of the scene.

For all that, Tirindo met Ficsu’s gesture with a slow nod that he felt conveyed respect, but more likely appeared grave.

“They are far from home,” the Noldo marvelled after, in a Quenyan return to his old friend. It was a pleasant feature of their patrols together that he could fall into instinct and his mothertongue, rather than the Sindarin that younger generations favoured. Aranadhel had known him as far back as Aman and, though the less mature Scout had made an avid study of countless languages, there were few that he could now practice their eldest with.

“I doubt such folk would come so far unless in dire need.” Efforts were made to rein in Aranadhel’s excitement, as with the experience of any encounter with such strangers. Efforts were though, Tirindo knew, unlikely to make any impact. His younger friend had made pilgrimages to Numenor even, to better immerse his understandings in the culture of Man tribes ..

“There is likely fell news to be heard this day.” Aiwenarion supposed grimly, though he consented wholeheartedly to Lord Elrond being advised of the situation. There were unseen Elvish eyes stowed about the entrance to the Hidden Valley and the Noldo liked the shift that sent the odds toward their favour. Just in case. He took up at the tail of their now grown procession of folk, glancing at intervals behind him before all were swallowed by the secrets paths and ways where Aranadhel led them.

Fiscu nodded when the one seemed to agree to take them into Imladris and he shared that with the others and they all seemed quite relieved though the other elf seemed perhaps less friendly. They glanced back occasionally at them but were content with following the lead of the other as they descended the twisting path into the vale until before them stood the House of Elrond.

When it first came into view they stopped eyes wide in amazement, for there were no structures like it in the north and no stories passed down generation from generation did this place the justice that it deserved in Fiscu's eyes. He tried to drink it all in, to memorize it, how the wind sang in the valley, and the sound of water! Even now running and the songs of birds he didn't know far kinder and sweeter sounding than most of the wildlife's calls from Forochel. They needed to press on though and soon they were no longer looking down upon the House of Elrond but up at it as it seemed to loom over them as the great mammutti's did and there were others now seeming to join the strange procession to this house.

The stairs lead up winding to their party and while they had been exhausted ready to lay down in the snow and give up on finding the mythical Imladris, now that they were here there steps were swifter and lighter as if getting to be in this strange and fabled place gave them a new vigor even after their long days and nights of travelling through the harsh winter and then they saw him the lord of Imladris that hopefully would help them and they quickly brought forth a pack that they had carried with them with gifts to hopefully get the elves to help them and perhaps to understand why they had come.

Fiscu held the bag and glanced around realizing that this was far more important than meeting the head of some other tribe, no Lossoth had been this far south in so many years. He licked his capped lips and glanced around hoping he was speaking with the right elf, as if sensing his confusion a dark haired elf stood and walked towards him hands before himself palms up, a greeting that his tribe often did with others that they did not know to show they were not dangerous and immediately Fiscu responded in the same manner though he held onto the bag with his left and so that his right hand would be seen to be open and without weapons.

"Lord? Elrond?" He asked a hopeful look upon his face even as his kinsmen looked about at all of the other elves that aside from their hair all looked the same to them.

A last glance to the world beyond, and then the metaphorical veil dropped. And though he did not – even after all this time - think of Imladris as ‘home’, there was no better word to award the feeling in his heart. Tirindo wished he might embrace the comfort of that sentiment and all that it promised. The temptation to bask in the evident awe of the Lossoth was not his, by right, but a pride was kindled all the same within the Noldo. To recognise the powerful peace of his people, the growing relief of those whom they had ferried into their land. But there were yet duties to relinquish. He and his compatriot had brought some of the outer world back with them into the hallowed sanctuary and there might be a tide arising on the outskirts out there which might threaten that same refuge. The Men were no threat in themselves but what their words might now form, what had brought them all this way, could make all of the difference. It would not be the first time that the Secondborn had come, unexpected, into a place that seemed impervious. The Fall of Gondolin had taught Tirindo the hard way, to take heed of what warnings ought be took of such arrivals.

Robbed of Aranadhel’s immediate proximity, the Noldo carried himself in a stately silence. Aware that they were followed from the first and soon headed a curious procession of folks raised out of their day to witness such a sight. But the rightful welcome was awarded and the strangers met by their mighty Host. Lord Elrond of the homely vale, and so much more besides. Tirindo bowed his head in honoured deference to the Peredhel, before retreating to a watchful stance about the small assembly. He and his fellow Guard had not been dismissed, and it was as much as the Noldo could do to regret their rather dishevelled condition. But there was no call to explain what the two Elves had been about before they met the Lossoth. The absence of so great a count of arrows from the archer’s quiver would be enough to alert Elrond that foes had been uncovered, and engaged, and overcome. There were other matters of far greater concern to take precedence and the sharing of these did not lessen the burden upon all who heard.

Mention of a dragon, even the possibility of one, did not fail to have an effect, even upon so ancient a warrior. At such news Tirindo glanced discreetly for Aranadhel and his friend’s reaction which, he suspected, would equal his own. Far worse than they had feared. He wished to ask where a dragon might have been all this time before it had become ensnared in it’s icy cocoon, for surely they had hoped that Smaug should be the last they’d heard of such beasts, and had been, to his knowledge. But perhaps that element of the discussion had been carried out in words he had not heard translated, or were deemed the lesser of things to think on, given the circumstances.

Elrond’s decision to send forth an investigation saw the elder Noldo pensive, as much for his own understanding of what was being asked, as for the small hand which had perched upon his shoulder. Now that the Men were given into custody of friends, Tirindo removed his helm, to better turn for sight and embrace of his wife. She who had slowly amassed with so many of their kind, in growing wonder and then stunned witness of the Lossoth and the Lord's verdict both.



“I know what you are thinking,” Halyanis began, and raised her hand anew, no-nonsense, before he might intervene. “For I both understand and also remember. All too well.” Her other hand robbed him of the helm from greater hands, and let it find the ground and there stand no defence. For none should be required.

“Do you concern for the Dragon ?” he would have her clarify, as they two led off from the crowd, to have their words in private and their old speech. “Or the icelands ?”

“Is either one not quite enough ?” she asked, not unfairly. For they had encountered the both before, and the worst of each in experience; but never the two dread foes both together. Dark hair cascaded from high braids to reveal her high brow and long face, perturbed grey eyes. “You have just now returned to my side.”

“And I would leave it not,” the Noldo took up both her hands in his, and they two pressed that small contact close together, bridging an emotion they could not otherwise express. “Not for dragons, nor for ice. But for one I hold dear ..” He did not require to look back toward Aranadhel. Halyanis had been his for long enough to follow her husband's mind and heart. Together they two looked for their longtime friend. “He was the one who found them,” Tirindo seemed to explain, but rather more eschewed all blame from himself.

“Of course he did,” Halyanis closed the distance between her husband and his sworn brother, somehow managing to do so without rolling her eyes at the more impulsive of the two archers. “Nyarane is waiting on you,” she felt only fair to warn their friend. “And so is our answer to the quest posed by our Lord,” she made clear. It would be Aranadhel’s decision, for there was more than a long-time friendship there. There was too an almighty debt. And since he had seemingly gotten them into this, it must now be Aranadhel’s decision whether his friends would accompany him, to get them perhaps all out of it. As he had once before.

Aranadhel & Nyarane



Aran nodded at Elrond when they briefly looked at each other and wanted to just be dismissed and be out of his filthy armour yet the story being spewed out by Elrond's chief loremaster whose name escaped his mind perked his curiosity at the lost visitors plea for help.

A dragon yet lives? Didn't we kill them off in Gondolin and reportedly exterminated during the War of Wrath, otorno? The younger Noldo sent an osanwe to Tirindo since he was quite a distance from the latter due to the growing audience now surrounding the strangers from the North. He scratched his filthy head in irritation at the revelation that Morgoth's abomination is alive and well in the North.

Aran smiled to himself at the reunion of Tirindo and his wife as they made their way to him. His face however turned pensive as he heard their conversation regarding the dragon and the northern wastelands. Helcaraxe. He shuddered at the memories and purged it instantly from his mind. He hid the sad look from Halyanis as she spoke to him and he gave her a peck on the cheek and the biggest smile he could conjure on his fair, scarred face. His mood went up a notch when she mentioned Nyarane's name. Aran eyed the crowd and caught sight of the golden haired troublemaker grinning cheekily at him from behind one of the statues. He beckoned her to them with one look and she came striding down without a second thought.

Well met, little one. Aran greeted her as Rane bowed at the three of them with respect and hugged Aran's arm and wouldn't let go to his utter horror. Aran regained his demeanour quickly and looked at the couple in front of him. The younger Noldo then spoke his mind. I would gladly go and do what must be done to vanquish this dragon if it were said to be true. Remember my vow to never leave Arda till all traces of Morgoth's influence is gone, otorno? He then looked at Halyanis. I know what lies at the tip of Arda yet I would prefer if your husband come not to join the hunt lest it would jeopardise his life. He has lost too many and I would not bear to let him be parted from you, my dear sister. Aran then turned his attention at Rane. Would you join me, then little one? Aran asked her in all seriousness even when she looked up at him and the couple in amazement at their faint glow as the remaining few Calaquendi left in Imladris.

Aranadhel’s golden shadow broke apart from the crowd to meet his side, and beam there brightly like a sun amongst dark clouds as she joined the crescented dark crowd of Noldor. But as their friends were reunited, in due turn, Tirindo and Halyanis exchanged a knowing glance. The former drawing away in a silence even as the younger archer spoke his concern for his elder. Tirindo did not protest or criticise Aranadhel’s reasoning. But neither would he consent to it. He was a one quite overly responsible and was equally as aggrieved at the thought of being left behind. As though adventures were beyond him now, at his vast age. True he was less zealous in the act of seeking out exploits, but that had ever been the case and it had never kept him from finding himself still embroiled in their like before now.

“I fear that traces of Morgoth are now sown so deep in the soil and the sea and the sky all the same, that he shall never be forgot,” Halyanis lamented, in response to Aranadhel’s vow. She dropped her gaze as though engrossed about deep, quiet, thought, not least for her son; in the self same moment that her husband found, close still at hand, both their Lord and the Lossoth, and a growing company of volunteers.


“My Lord Elrond, with respect, there is much about the timing of this trouble which concerns me greatly,” Tirindo declared his intention, courteous if quietly, while Halyanis diverted their friend. “And I would pledge to go north to this matter. If you feel you can spare me from my duties in the valley ..” He added this last rather self-importantly, but did not raise eyes until his Lord acknowledged the volunteer. In truth, the archer’s ‘duties’ were very much conducted outside of the valley, and nobody asked it of him save his own want. For he patrolled quite regular, rather than dwell easily amongst the motley collection of guests that enjoyed the Last Homely House. It was quite atypical of the Noldo to insert himself deliberately into the business of strangers, for all that; but in this case, he could not sit and wonder and wait. It was equally atypical for him to be so patient as await on others or trust that they could manage a thing without his assistance.


“I know as well as you what lies in the far reaches,” Halyanis was reminding Aranadhel meantime. “And you know as well as I that to protect my husband’s life would be to devastate his pride. I would neither have him parted from me, for all that. And he would begrudge you the opportunity to return an old debt. So your answer has led to ours. It would certainly take at least all three of us to keep this one from tugging a dragon by the tail, do you not think ?” she glanced at the last toward Nyarane before turning away and leave no opportunity to argue.

“I believe then we are with you, if you would have our company,” the Noldo offered with a gentle nod of head to Fuin and her Lossoth friends. Whilst she could not recall encountering this Moriquendi before, but she had heard much of her and expected that the Mastersmith be significant about the group, given her professions. “If you would allow us to commit more than simple company, as need arises,” Haly further clarified, and Tirindo nodded once, in resolute support.

Lord Elrond

Elrond could feel the shift in many of the elves in the room, several stepping back as if hoping the be swallowed by shadows not out of cowardice but a dragon was a terrible foe, one that lived in terrible memories for many elves. Some had even worse memories than himself for he knew the tales of the first age before he was born and the first of the dragons emerged. He prayed that this was not one of those great beasts freed from the dark pits of the unknown under the mountains for while he had been old enough to fight when Ancalagon was slain in the War of Wrath it was his father that faced that beast not him.

He knew each of the elves that did volunteer, especially to Tirindo who sought his permission specifically in leaving his duties to guard the vale and gave a nod of his ascent to the request. Indeed the gathering of elves that had stepped forward was small but it was one that he had no doubt would be able to ascertain and deal with a dragon of old. "While I am giving no official title of leader to any of you, I do know that Fuin can speak to the Lossoth with ease but she has no sway on who may join, unless all of us are in agreement that one that wishes to join does not have the necessary skills to survive the harsh journey for then it would be foolish to allow such a member on the team for they would not be able to be returned home, but would need to be left afield under what meagre cover one might be able to afford one that is lost to the Halls of Mandos." Elrond said calmly.

"We shall give our guests time to rest and regain their strength while the company of elves gathers what is needed to survive the journey and hopefully whatever you encounter." With that he sent elves to guide the Lossoth to the House of Healing to be looked over and cared for and others still to fetch food and drink for them. There Lossoth for their part were grateful for the rest for they had not rested in warm dwellings for far longer than any of them were use to this deep into winter.

Fuin

Fuin for her part gave Halyanis a smile and nod as well as Tirindo, Nyarane, and Arandhel. "I have seen you at times before in the Valley though I think we have not spoken before, and for that I am amiss, I am Fuin and while I am Forge Master to the Tingdain I have spent many years wandering the expanses that are Middle-earth. I thank you for volunteering to help the Lossoth, they are a kind people if strange from the necessity of what is needed to survive in their homeland." Fuin said with a small bow of her head.

"I must say, I do not think I should want any that merely wish to be company. No I fear this will be a harsh journey this winter is cold and cruel, not as bad as some of the past." She gave a sad smile her eyes held no light of the Trees in them but she had seen much in her long years. "I am sure if my husband Afarfin were not south in the mines he would speak against me taking on this journey for he was at Dagor Bragollach and survived that, fortunately for me he is not here nor will he be for many more months, or else he would be coming with us or after us in haste as well I am sure." She said calmly.

"You are some of you Calaquendi from the look of you, may I ask if any of you travelled the Helcaraxë to return to these lands? I think such knowledge will be endlessly helpful for what we are about to face in terms of what we should bring with us." She knew few liked to speak of such a thing but in this case, their knowledge would be invaluable, normally she would not make the journey this late into winter, especially one that had such teeth but this was not her traveling to sate her curiousity, this was need.

Aranadhel & Nyarane




Aran nodded in assent at Halyanis' lamentations, visibly distracted with images of the past in his mind. His charge, Rane however followed Tiri's quiet steps away from them and raised an eyebrow when the elder Noldo of their company spoke to Elrond. She tugged Aran's arm harder to signal to him Tiri's quiet intention but Aran dismissed her action as simply looking for attention and replied Halyanis. Let it be known, sister dear that there is no debt between your husband and I. It is the will of Eru for whatever that's happened these past Three Ages. I miss still the company of his sister. He paused and sighed.

Aran finally turned his head at Elrond's direction when he heard Tiri's pledge to find the hidden dragon in the North. He looked down at Rane and gave her a death stare and she mouthed a 'I told you so' look back at her Master. He then smiled at her, knowing that nothing would stop the stubborn brother of Feapoldie and he turned back at Halyanis. It seems I would have to be careful with your deceptions from now on, sister. His smile widened and he breathed in heavily at the risks involved but would take his time to think it over once he's fed and washed. Very well, then. We all shall go, even you too Rane. He played with her golden tresses and then greeted Fuin in Sindarin, who he surmised to be a Sinda by her looks with her dark hair and blue grey eyes. A Moriquendi. Well met, Fuin. I have seen you around the forge although tis true that we've never spoken to each other till now. Yes we three are from Valinor. I am Aranadhel and these are Tirindo, Halyanis and my apprentice, Nyarane., as Aran pointed to himself, Tirindo and Halyanis then pointed at Nyarane. Her mother is also a Calaquendi but her father is a Moriquendi like you, friend. He gave her a nod in acknowledgment.

He then continued but spoke in a graver tone. The question you ask regarding the Helcaraxe is a bitter memory which we of Fingolfin's Host wished to forever bury in our minds. Yet since you'd asked then I can share with you that the snow and the frost in the Bitter North has no equal and the land itself could crack under your feet without warning. Many of us perished during our Crossing from Valinor. Aran gave a sad long look towards Tiri. He then looked back at Fuin. I think our company will be of great importance in terms of navigating through the Ice and please feel free to ask anything of us. We are here to serve the Light and banish Morgoth's taint once and for all in Arda. He told her with a light fire sparkling from his Noldo eyes.

Fuin Elda

She gave a nod, as she was greeted in Sindarin, a welcome sound to her ears, it was what she she had grown up hearing even before she and her family had lived in Doriath. Later Quenyan had been banned by the Lord of Doriath, and it had taken her a long while to learn to speak it - it had been Afarfin and his brothers that had eventually taught her and she greeted them in their own tongue. "Indeed I have been around the forge for a long time it was quite a feat we've not spoken sooner really considering everything, but there have been many years were there have been many elves traveling back and forth and I must admit I am a fan of traveling which is how I already know the Lossoth, and some of their speech." Of course if these Calaquendi were working against the darkness that had seeped into this world because of Morgoth and his apprentice she had no doubt that they were as well traveled and versed in survival as she was. "Apprentice of?" She smiled and looked at Nyarane, "Is he teaching you well?" She asked with a smile, she hoped it was something that would help them on this journey.


Fuin for her part pinched her lips together as he spoke of Helcaraxe being a bitter memory. Indeed she had heard as much from Rassëdil who had crossed it however he was not here, and she wasn't sure where he was for the moment. "Indeed, I have traveled the Bitter North however I will admit I have only been there in spring and summer when it is not so cold but the ice is far more treacherous then." Fuin said calmly, "I can only hope that our path will not be as dangerous as that path was for you and your kin because of how deep into the winter it is." She caught the sad look at Tirindo "Is there anything that you would suggest we bring with us to safe guard our passage as much as we may? I will ask Fiscu and his kin but I think they could use some rest first. " She looked to Elrond and at the rest of the small group that was preparing. "The better prepared we can be the safer we will be hopefully, I have access to the stores for the Ost-Halatir so we can get traveling gear and rations there the fastest I think." She glanced to Lord Elrond who gave a nod to her suggestion, indeed the elven hosts stores would be the swiftest place to gather everything that they would be needing.

GM UPDATE: If you are wanting to start the official journey north you are welcome to 'pack and assemble to begin the journey at the end of your posts and we will officially get on the move. If anyone that hasn't joined up yet would like to feel free to hop in now - as I said before you'll be able to join all the way up until we get to Angmar

Well earned was Elrond's reputation as host to a homely house: his attentions toward his unexpected guests were of such kindness, as though he had been waiting upon their entrance for many a year. Tirindo but nodded as the Peredhel outlined his thinking, and was certainly content to leave the linguistics to others. As much as he was not about to admit aloud his own lack of practicing the Common Tongue. The Lossoth surely were equally at a disadvantage against a mutual speech. But that was the first thing they might have in common at least. Who knew but both might have improved their greater skills of communication before this was done ?


“You know he believes otherwise, Etelehtaro,” Halyanis assured Aranadhel meanwhile, employing the epesse which her spouse had titled him long years ago, and deservedly. “And I assure you that ‘company’ is the least of what we might manage,” she met Fuin sincerely with at least that promise. Leaving for Aranadhel and Fuin to regale one another then with their language skills a short time, the Noldo sought the side of her spouse, her hand extolling such warmth as she might unto his, despite the subject matter.


“I am .. familiar with the concept,” Tirindo had returned calmly to Elrond’s dire warning, and to his credit did not falter though he quietly harboured the hurt of such a reminder. For certainly most of his family had been lost and left out in the cold clutch of the Helcaraxe. They were yet out there, somewhere. Whatever may be left of them by now. His wife required no words to read his solemn expression, and understand, that he needed to do this, more than even he may understand. Her archer was as strong of heart as he was stern. And he certainly did not like letting anybody, be it even ice, think they had beaten him. At least not without due return. There had never before been such reason to return, but now unsettling news indeed made the risk worth at least an attempt.

The Noldo joined in where Aranadhel and Fuin had already taken care of introductions. They were now discussing the logistics of their mission. “Certainly we should bear as much as we might carry which shall burn. For if I recall there is little flora in such climes to easily catch flame, even when the winds do not blow all to naught." The dragon might of course put paid to that issue, but one matter at a time. It might not even be a dragon. But The Men had clearly done right to seek out the opinion of folk who had seen and suffered dragons in this world before.

He was rather curious to see, the more he thought on it, how an entire civilisation had managed to eke out an existence, within such a land. Men, no less. Who were reputedly more susceptible to extremes of temperature than were the Eldar. Perhaps then the Lossoth’s land would not be all so bad as the Helcaraxe had proven. Might be even that the dread and grief had swollen the details of his memory somewhat ... Or so he might tell himself, at this early point of the undertaking. “I am certain Fuin and the Lossoth shall demonstrate much of how folk have learnt to master the obstacles of those far reaches in the years since last we were so tested. But by my reckoning the path north would still have us to pass first through Angmar. And that is no fair road. Even if the dark shapes which lurk in that fell realm did not give eyes to the Men who ventured South to find us, a more ‘varied’ and numerous party travelling by in return might well draw unwanted attention that we ought not dismiss from mind.”

“Fuin has passed that way before,” Halyanis put in, pointedly, as her husband raised more problems than solutions for their party. “Though perhaps she sailed there from Lindon rather than rode out from Rivendell ?” she wondered, a moment later, of the Moriquendi. “Either way, we might find good stock in the stores of Ost-Halatir.” She nodded, thankful for that opportunity.

“So be it,” Tirindo assumed some outcome of their conversation, or accepted that action was required or talk would see them loiter overlong. “Let us travel first home and take up there what we may. If I understand, Ost-Halatir will be our first step once the Lossoth are ready as well as we to set forth ?" He offered a grey gaze to Fuin and Aranadhel, his hand to Halyanis as they proposed to commence their preparations. “Mind, do not only pack food Nyarane” he advised the youngest member of their party; well aware of her affinity for cooking, even and maybe especially when out in the wild.

Nyarane & Aranadhel


Rane face beamed like a golden flower in full bloom when she was invited to join the dragon hunt by her dear Master. She could only giggle with a slight naughty look in her eyes when her Master's sworn brother advised her to pack other important items besides food as is her wont. It will be as you say, big brother. The blonde elleth teased at her elder. She then winked at Halyanis so that she will be in on her little secret.

She really looked up to the three Calaquendi standing next to her and Rane had a secret desire to finally see their ancestral home of Tirion in Valinor one day. The younger Moriquendi observed the interaction between Fuin and her Master and thought her to be pretty, noticing for the first she has solid arms like Men, being a smith in the Imladris forge. Rane answered without a blink when asked by the older Moriquendi. Yes, Master has ever been my teacher since the First Age in Gondolin. Without him I would have been as ignorant as the Men of Dunland. Rane nodded and hoped Fuin was satisfied with her brief answer. She could always continue to divulge further on her history when they're on their trek up North.

She then tugged at Aran's cloak after he was done talking. Master, what provisions should I get from Cook? And are we going light or heavy with weapons? she asked with excitement.

-------------------------------------------------------

Aran could only smirk at Rane's impending questions for the preparations. He thought for a while before answering, Ask Cook to ready plenty of smoked meats, bread, water and alcohol. Puzzled at his apprentices' starry blue eyed stare Aran then continued We will be going into the cold, little one and drinking spirits would help heat our body up. Oh make sure to prepare the arrows and sharpen our swords, daggers and spears. We need shields too, dragon fire is no joke!. He nodded at her, automatically signaling that she is dismissed from the merry little group. He then turned his attention back at Fuin and the Noldor couple. Fuin, if you could show us a map of Lossath since Elrond mentioned you've been there a few times. We three have not gone back since the First Age ended. Aran was curious to see how Beleriand had changed over the three Ages of the Sun.

Nestor Idhwen

Always as mostly her memory could go back she had been attached to the Gwaith-I Nestoer, the healer’s guild of Imladris. In the past she had worn her red, wavy hair mostly in a single braid, these days it hung mostly loose. She was missing people like Aleandra, Laebeth, Wilara, Aikári and many others. The house Adab Nestad was quiet these days, just as the gardens surrounding it, where Idhwen was mostly found, if she wasn’t called up at duty. She was a good listener, but a quiet speaker, loved to walk outside without shoes, unless in winter or on a journey. Leaves were entwined in her hair, as her love was fixed in that than jewels. Her complexion was pale rose-cream with darkgreen eyes. Her dreams had always be to go on expeditions where her healing skills were needed. And an opportunity was appearing. Word waved among the Gwaith-I Nestoer, this was something up north. Details were not really given, but she had been on other expeditions, and knew what to pack for such a journey. A healing kit was basic necessities, few changes of clothes, a good knife, a small axe and quiver and bow for the journey. And she needed boots, or furred shoes for her delicate feet. However first she had to wash them, and she did in one of the smaller streams cutting through the gardens. She would miss to feel the ground under her feet, but she could live with that.

Her room was stacked mostly with Adab things than personal things, but she left for the herb garden to collect what she needed for the journey and inside she prepared a few lotions and salves to take with her. She took bandages and splints as well. Not too much really, but for on the road. As long there was a tree in the vicinity it was possible to get splints for broken bones. She packed a second bag with personal clothing. And she redressed from the dress she normally wore, into something practical along the road. She set on a shirt and leggings and a knee length dress over them. As Idhwen didn’t like it carrying too much on her belt, she settled on the usual pouch she had with her and a knife. The rest she would carry in a bag at her side and on her back. She was not a warrior, nor she knew how to wield a sword or a shield. They could be going on foot, which would take months. But also on horseback? But horses would not survive the extreme colds of the north. But they could make the journey to Annuminas and leave the horses there? She had no idea whom she would all find at the assembly point? A few familiar faces maybe from the early days among the Gwaith-I Nestoer? She left the healing house and headed for the main parts where at least Master Elrond could be found.

A child of these centuries Idhwen had no memory of the older times, and she knew only them from healing books she had read, and stories that were told. However she was not a clean paper sheet when it came to death. Too often that happened in the Adab House. She couldn’t tell if more Nestoer would be going? Or even the Tanestor or the Minestor? Probably not. Anyhow Idhwen knew her way around the wounded on a battlefield. Could it be that all had taken the journey west? Across the sea Belegaer to the Undying Lands? To an island that was promised to them? She had know Aikári in this guild, from apprentice to guildmistress. But then she had returned home. The Vanyar stood so distantly from her, Idhwen hadn’t always understood the maiden of the Calaquendi clan. But she appeared in the Hall of Fire, perhaps the expedition was to gather there? She was fluent with Sindarin only. All other languages were unknown to her. Imladris had always been her place to stay, since birth. Idhwen walked quietly in the Hall, there were a few people around, but she couldn’t tell if they were expedition members or just stayed behind?

“A map would be wise,” Tirindo agreed, as Aranadhel spoke of their destination. “The world is much changed, brother, from that which we knew,” his cloud grey eyes reminded the scholar, beating thin lips back into a firm line.

“But do not pack only books, Aranadhel,” Halyanis observed with a knowing glance all her own. Their associate was soon about instructing his apprentice, and the maiden quietly gathered up her husband’s helm from where he had discarded it. There was no requirement for such garb within the valley. But soon, it’s battle chore would be rekindled. Cradled against the soft fall of her cognac-hued skirt, the dirt-flecked armour nestled, incongruous, as the Noldo idly massaging the dirt-mired metal with one finger. A remnant of the past, as were they also. Hard and ancient and built to last, the helm had seen much and would again.

“You shall find us ready, when you are,” Tirindo swore to Fuin. Extending his left hand outward from his chest, he made a subtle open-palmed gesture of departure and promise. Then, the archer’s chin tucked low into his throat, before the couple took their leave with no more words, to be made ready.


Their passage home was now only a prelude to departure once again, and so all that the couple passed was painted bittersweet. There would not now be the time to linger and enjoy the fairer things which the scout put his life upon the line, repeatedly, to preserve. And for all that peace would afterward perhaps appear more beautiful, in contrast to foulest war, it’s fragrance would be ever the more tainted by the memory of those who’d had to meet their end, so that the winsome world would not.

Husband and wife passed though their painted wooden gate, with all of the committed appetite as they might for a funeral. Tall and staid in countenance; their pall of determined sobriety met the younger elf who flew up from his seat in the garden to greet them, leaving a quiet red-haired maiden where she sat, ringed by the flowers they were tending. Celedir wiped his dirt-stained hands upon his devastated clothes, hardly aware of the fact. He was as pale haired as the two elder were dark, having been born not of their blood, but rather raised up by this second set of parents, ever since he lost his first, when still a child.

“How fares the world at wide ?” the youth could not long delay his interrogation and, immune by now to Tirindo’s stony reserve, was nonetheless puzzled to find that his mother looked the more exhausted of the pair who filed in. She had not so long departed from their home to meet her husband. So genuine surprise registered on the younger face, before his father laid a hand for the briefest of moments on the lad’s shoulder, and then fell away into his study without sound.

The archer perused aisles of stocked arrows, his own personal arsenal. He was something of a collector, possessed of enough passion on the subject to bore anyone who was not bored from the outset, which most folk were. And he had walked the world in pilgrimages to seek his niece, since the West had sunk under sea. Tirindo had found much else all along the way, and through the literal ages of time that it had taken him to finally settle. Of a sort. Feathers, framed and hung upon the wall, were more than mere store for fletching. They were the insignia of the House of Swallow, of Gondolin, of old. Respect called for quiet as the Noldo sedately unlocked each of his glass cabinets, in turn, and mustered his very particular ensemble of equipment.

“I readied you a bath,” Celedir announced, hanging on the study door, belatedly aware of how the patriarch seemed to flinch at the silence he had shattered. “There is such dust about you that you should see removed. Come, unwind, father, and be refreshed. You have only just this hour returned home.”

“There will be no call to unpack at least,” the Noldo replied, sensibly. “Only to restock that which requires replacing. And to add what .. ”

“You require to restock and replace what can not be stowed inside a bag,” was the retaliation. And not delivered with cheek from his son, but still served as annoyance that Tirindo disliked: the notion of delaying.

“It will be a waste of water if you do not concede,” Halyanis pointed out, pragmatic. “There is no call to rush. The Lossoth will surely be granted the time it takes a mortal to replenish their vigour. Go. Bathe.”


Able but unwilling to protest further, the Noldo succumbed to his family’s good sense. The warmth of the soapy water though, only reminded Tirindo that he would not delight in such temperatures again for some time to come. Given the climes of their destination, he endeavoured to soak up all the comfort deep inside his veins, as though to secure the memory for the frigid days to come. His head laid back, eyes closed, the Calaquendi lost his senses to the backdrop of his wife, singing her sweet hope and pressing blessings like protection into the folds of warm fabrics that would fare for them as armour against the cold. By the time he dried off, newly washed with spirit wakened for the new adventure, Tirindo bedecked himself in fresh garb set for purpose, and found Celedir stood pouting into the sheen of his gilded, mauve shield.


“You said that I could ride out with you the next time ..” came the complaint; and evidence that Haly had instructed the youth that he was set to stay home, safe.

“This is not that time,” the archer declared, even as he held out a hand, prompting for the shield to be handed over.

“So you said too, the last time.” the fair-haired Sinda persevered. “Take me with you. I will not show you up.”

“So eager,” Tirindo sighed, and the curtain of his dark hair shuddered like a breaking storm to frame his frown. “Which only proves you are not ready. You do not understand.”

“I am not a child !” The cry caused Halyanis to ghost about the door frame, as though poised to comfort, and console. Yet she did not. As yet.

“You will hear me,” the Elda laid down his law, meanwhile. “And you will heed me. That is enough and also an end to it.”

“You can not stop me ..” Celedir began. But

“I SAID NO, CULASSO !!”



The unbridled shout which escaped him, the strangled silence which throbbed thenafter, braced in memory and meaning far beyond the words uttered. For that name which had snuck in, the name of that first and lost son that the Noldorin couple had grieved for, long ago, now rose up amongst them all like a shamed wind. And it stole the breath of all three. It said what none of them wanted to speak, or to accept.

Grey eyes closed to the point of puckering so tight, and Tirindo fled in furious strides from the room. The slammed door carrying so much of the emotion which he could not otherwise express .. that it sprang back from it’s frame and sloped woefully back and forth, kicking it's heels sheepishly after the fact. Halyanis reached out, too late, to be soothed by and soothe Celedir. But he retreated back outside himself, and Ennora’s small face followed in sympathy from the window where she had been watching the little family from the front lawn.


There was no farewell. There was no sound spoken between husband and wife, as Tirindo and Halyanis strove stubbornly on, laden with readied baggage that could bear down and quash any remorse at leaving under such a strain of hearts. They were come back to meet with the others of the volunteer party; and happy it was that their mission was one fitting for such ruminative expressions as both wore. For they were not the first to reconvene about the meeting point and they did not know yet the maiden who had come there since.

Fuin

She gave a nod to the short answer she got from Nyarane And then she was asked to show a map of Forochel. A hard ask, she had one from several years ago when Fiscu had been only just raised to a hunter of the Lossoth. "The map I have can show us only the barest information I'm afraid, I did ride part way there, before I had to send my horse back for I would not risk her life on the shifting ices of spring." Fuin said with a small nod to Halyanis' question about if she'd sailed instead of walked. Indeed sailing there was far easier it was what she had done the second time in the summer when most of the ice had fled the bay. "The other trips I took by sea, for it was swifter and safer but that route is not open to us in winter."

"It is not a winter map nor would I dare to say the ice and snow will have stayed in the same places exactly but I shall bring it and show you what I ca, we perhaps can even find out where in their lands they speak of exactly." Fuin said calmly to Aranadhel "Before we depart we can study it with the Lossoth and glean further information from them hopefully, for now though even I need to pack." Fuin said with a bow of her head as Tirindo swore they would be ready when she was. She had no doubt in the high elves words at all, she expected they would be ready well before her if anything, before the group dispersed to gather what they would need.


_~_~_~

The old morquendi elf packed swiftly, she often spent long months abroad without hesitation. Today though she did hesitate and sent a crow with word to her own home further south letting them know where she was headed... and that if she was not heard from by the summer to go to sail north to hopefully find her. After all why walk both ways if it was not needed? The message sent her bag was soon loaded with fatty and starchy rations that would help get her through the trip. She also made sure to have a ration pack for the men of the north made up as well, one for each of them to refresh their stores. while they could still possibly hunt in the early portion of the trip it would get more difficult later, especially when they got to the ice pack.

From Fiscu she learned that they should bring rope and plenty of it to reach across great gaps in the ice, where they might need to climb down and make their way back up, they had brought much with them but had needed to leave much of it behind in the ice pack itself, hopefully it would still be there but they could not guarantee it. This Fuin understood well and called for a good length of rope for each of the men as well as herself. She packed as well herbs from the apothecary, athelas chief among them more perhaps for the fact that she was passing close to Angmar and that land now made her shiver at the thought of passing near it without the herb. She'd brought it last time she'd been there on a whim. It had sustained her barely long enough for Elrond to reach her. She brought also bandages and dry herbs to make poultices as as might be needed as well as the largest bottle of miruvor she should get her hands upon at such short notice. Being the Minestor did have blessedly it's perks.

_~_~_~

When Fiscu and his men had rested well and had a full belly of food and a hearty drink of miruvor to steel them for the trip back for they wanted to travel swiftly she showed them their packs and led them back to the hall of fire where she found not only those she expected but also one of her healers that she had missed while shew as working on getting the Lossoth ready to travel, Nestor Idhwen, bore a pack and was dressed for the journey. "It is good to see another healer on this trip." Fuin said with a smile, she herself had on clothing that was closer akin to the Lossoth, boots made entirely of fur that went well up her legs and a coat and pants that seemed of similar make, she pulled the map from a pouch at her waist and motioned for Fiscu to come as well as the other eldar that had gathered.

Soon they realized that indeed they would be crossing the bay itself mountainous peninsula beyond it. A long hard journey but one that they would hopefully make together safely hopefully at the end of it there would not be a live dragon for them to fight. Fuin reached back and brushed her hand against the smooth curve of her bow, once her fathers from the Marches of Doraith, it was a comforting presence though it had never faced a dragon, and she hoped that it would be enough. It was time to begin the journey, the fastest route was west along the road until they made it past the Hoarwell. It would be swifter than trying to push man and beast through snow directly north and need to find a safe passage for them all across the river.

GM Note
Alright sorry for the delay but we are off now! Feel free to RP heading west to the Last Bridge on foot/horseback - from there we will be turning North!