RP#56-Mists Unknown (private rp)

[Anamatar IV]

A warm, sunny day was blooming in Dol Amroth. The gulls were plentiful and the waves crashed upon the shores with pleasure. Men, women, and children worked and played on the beaches. But one dock man spied from afar four black ships coming. They approached the shores at great speed. The children were silent, the ship-wrights idle. Soon the black ships sailed up onto the shore and stopped.

The man who had seen them walked up to one of the ships.

"Greetings, fellow sailors," he called to the deck of the ship. "What brings you here to Dol Amroth?" The man fell dead with three arrows. Out of the four ships sprang hundreds of hideous Orcs, clad in black mail and bearing great scimitars, axes, and bows.

Women and children screamed and tried to flee. The Men grabbed knives and charged at the oncoming Orcs. But all would die.

The Orcs torched small homes and sunk great ships. They cruelly slew and then hacked the bodies of men, women, and children alike. They tore apart docks and burned the boats with people in them. They ravaged the shore line.

When the Orcs felt that they had caused enough death and destruction they boarded their great ships and set sail again.

As the ships sailed beyond sight, a great cavalry of the house of the Prince of Dol Amroth rode from the castle. But they were too late. When they reached the shore they saw a dismal sight. Houses were still on fire, tips of boats still sinking were seen in the water. And bodies littered the sand. No one was alive who had seen the attack; no one there was who survived it.

[Galdor]

The knights of Dol Amroth walked across the dismal land, searching for at least one survivor, but none could be found. Amongst the Knights who had ridden out were some Elves of the Grey Havens who had come under the leadership of Prince Galdor to help with the ship building projects that Anamatar, Herald to the Prince of Dol Amroth and captain of the armies of Amroth, had been supervising.
And so the Knight and Elves alike began picking up the bodies and taken them to where some of the other knights had already began to dig graves. Others still were digging through the ashes that had once been people's homes. Many of them cried as they worked, for most had had friends and family who had been killed.

Galdor had been searching through the bodies, hoping to find one that was still alive whom he could heal. But soon it became apparent that there were no survivors. And so he instead sought out Anamatar, it wasn't long before he found him. He had just sent out some men back to the castle to give news of the tragedy.
"Where did they come from Galdor? How many wars will we still have to fight with orcs? Who now has now the power to command them? Sauron is no more, and the Mithril Knights vanquished the Blue Wizards many years ago. How could there be such an army of these vile creatures living undetected in this world?"
"I know not my friend, there may be none who can answer these questions. But if none know where the orcs have come from, then they must be found and destroyed. That, is the one thing I can tell you for sure now. Indeed, there have always been to many questions without answers, to many." Galdor trailed off sadly as he looked around him once more.
Anamatar looked up once more, his face was set like stone.
"Well, it will do us no good standing here talking about questions that have no answers, let us help our men."
With that Galdor and Anamatar grabbed some shovels and began to help with the many graves that had to be dug.

[Arathin]

Anamatar's personal bodyguard, Urolòkëo Suule, picked up a shovel and joined him in the grim task of buring the dead. Her visage was as hard and cold as stone, but from one of her fine grey elven eyes a single tear fell into the grave she was digging. Urolòkëo Suule keeps pausing in her work and gazing about her and out to sea. She was extremely careful to keep her task of protecting Anamatar as her first priority as the Prince of Dol Amroth would have no hurt to him that she, Urolòkëo Suule, could prevent.

The noon day sun continued to drift through the sky, as if it was unconcerned about all the dead the Knights and Elves were buring far below it.

[Anamatar IV]

Soon the many bodies were burried and great mounds raised. Anamatar set torch to the few Orcs who fell do to stray arrows of their fellow attackers.

"Galdor, Orcs as ruthless as these will not stop at one attack. They will come again," Anamatar spoke to the Elf standing near to him. Anamatar stooped and lifted a great shield borne by one of the fallen Orcs. It had no marking or design. It was just a plain grey, round shield.

"There are no tokens on this Orkish armor that would lead us to know whence they came," Anamatar continued. He turned and looked at a burning home with a man kneeling by it-The skulls of the occupants sticking through the window. anamatar walked to the weeping man's side.

"Take rest, Aden, Swift-handed. You could not have protected your family throughout the entire attack, no matter how valiant indeed you are."

[Arathin]

Urolòkëo Suule stood gazing out to sea. She still kept half an eye upon Anamatar, but she knew there was nothing truely left in this ruined village to harm him... "Unless..." she thought ruefully to herself. "He decides to through himself into one of those burning homes... but then not even I can help him fore he will truely have lost his mind." Urolòkëo Suule shrugged and continued to gaze out to sea. Suddenly she left the shore and came to Anamatar's side. "We must leave this village soon. If we hope to find out whence these Orcs came from, we must leave soon and follow them into the sea."

[Nenya Evenstar]

But Anamatar did not seem to hear, for he was gazing upon the young man before him, pity in his eyes.

"My Lord," Aden wept, "this is a hard blow to bear! If only I had reached here sooner I could have saved some of them... but no, there was nothing I could do! I was only able to save a few, my family not included. Your compassion, my Lord, is comforting." Aden bowed his head.

"Come, Aden Swift-handed," Anamatar told the kneeling man, "on your feet! I believe that I am going to sea. To sea to find these infidels and avenge our kin! I feel that you would like to take part in this venture to avenege your own family?"

Aden stood on his feet, his grief plain to see, but through his pain could be seen resolution and hate -- hate of the foul creatures who had done him so much harm. "Yes, my Lord," was all he said.

[Anamatar IV]

"Fetch your sword, Aden." Anamatar told him. Aden dug around in the ashes of his home. The fires and coals seemed not to burn him-or the pain of his loss was greater than the heat. He pulled a glistening sword out from the grey dust. The sword was yet unscorched and it gleamed in the sun. And it was at that moment that Anamatar beheld that in light of the attack the sun still shined down upon the tilled earth.

"Galdor!" Anamatar called. "Away at my docks I believe there may be ships unspoilt. Please set sail with one ship and any of your Elves that are willing to risk the calling of the sea." Galdor walked off.

Anamatar paced to the surf of the waters. The foam, stained with blood, laped at his feet.

"Lord?" Anamatar heard a voice from behind. He turned. "Lord, where wilt thou go?" Urolòkëo said. "Surely thou doth not know from whence these fell beings came and the Sea is great."

To which Anamatar replied:

"We go where the winds lead us. Ossë will be behind us and the clear waters before us." Anamatar suddenly glanced to the inland. He saw from afar the castle of the Princes of Dol Amroth and a lone rider coming swiftly. He soon reached the shores and dismounted. A stout dwarf trodded the sand.

"Who dare rides in the land of Amroth in wake of devestation?" Anamatar cried to the Dwarf.

[Arathin]

Urolòkëo Suule came to stand beside Anamatar. She was silent, but her hand was upon her sword beneath her cloak. She waited for the dwarf to answer her lord, reithing at the fact that until then she could do nothing.

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

The Dwarf dismounted his grey steed, tears were upon his face. His mithril jacket was broken and stained with travel, its once radiant gleam had faded to a dull shean only visible in the afternoon sun. His helm was twisted and dented, his gauntlet missing from his left wrist. The one thing that would distinguish this Dwarf from a weathered statue was the gleaming axe upon his back. Its surface was perfect and shone almost as radiant as the Sun herself.

"Lord Anamatar," the Dwarf bellowed admist tears, "I am Lord Dain Ironfoot of Erebor, I have travelled many leagues for 180 days, but it seems I am too late..." With that, Dain Ironfoot wept at Anamatar's feet. Urolòkëo looked upon the Dwarf, at disgust, her hand clutched her sword as she remembered that horrible day, so long ago.

"Stand up, Dain, tell me what you mean when you say 'I am too late,'" Anamatar commanded. A cold fury was in his eyes. Aden stood by a ruined building a sword in his hands, the same fury in his eyes, yet colder. The Dwarf told of his encounter with the mysterious messengar upon his mountain and his offer of wealth for the destruction of Dol Amroth, of the Orcs that attacked the next day after his refusal, of the Dwarf blood spilt at the hands of the Orkish invaders. Dain told the Lord of the many perils he overcame on the journey from Erebor, and how he gave the lordship to his wife, Dame Kilease.

Dain looked around in awe, guilt rose up inside him as he saw the many burnt corpses and ruined houses.

"I have failed, Anamatar, I have failed, and my journey has been in vain!" cried the Dwarf, whom wept once again upon the blood-stained sands.

[Anamatar IV]

"Though the purpose of your journey has gone in vain your journey will be all the more fruitfull for vengence upon these attackers," Anamatar spoke. He motioned for Aden and Urolokeo to lower their swords and then continued.

"What can you tell us, Lord, of the messenger? Would that the messenger wore no cloak and presented himself it would do us great help." The Dwarf looked up.

"His voice was raspy, as a windy day on the beach it seemed. As if mines of salt blocked his voice. And he was tall. Twice the size of me! And I am no short Dwarf, mind you," Dain said stoutly. "He was vieled in a cloak but his eyes were uncovered. They were grey...and cold like the stones of Erebor."

"Bore he any weapons?" Anamatar inquiried.

"Naught but a sheathed knife-shorter than the mattocks of the Dwarves," the king of Dwarves replied.

"And what of the Orcs that attacked you?" Anamatar asked another question.

"They bore no token of identity. Their shields were great and they were clad in heavy mail. They were shorter than the messenger yet tall still. Nothing more can I tell you."

[Arathin]

Arathin obliged Anamatar by removing her hand from her sword hilts, but she scowled down upon the Dwarf in such a way as to assure him that she bore him nothing but ill-tidings and mistrust. She drew herself up to her greatest possible height, towering over the Dwarf. All pallour drained from her visage leaving it to look colder than the ice that formed every winter upon the tips of the mountain home of the Dwarves that had attacked her people. She held herself stiffly, appearing as hard as dragon's heated scales and harder than tempered steel mixed with iron. Her grey eyes flashed with a flame that had been fueled her whole long life upon vengance and hatred. Anamatar glanced at her and saw her great mistrust, but didn't understand it. She had adamently refused to tell me any of her past beyond the absolutely necessary.

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

Dain looked up uncomfortably at the tall Elf-maiden in her fury. Her eyes were like the embers of a great forge, boring deeper and deeper into the Dwarf's soul, her anger ripped through him like an evil storm. Dain had never feared an Elf in his long life, but he feared this maiden almost as much as he feared the moving trees in Fangorn Forest.

"Lord, if I may, I would like to aid you in tracking these Orcs. Not only have they attacked your fair city, but mine as well. I propose an alliance between Dol Amroth and Erebor, an alliance that will bring our cities together to combat this menace as one. I am not proposing war, nay, but if you ever need assistance, Lord Anamatar, Erebor will be at your side. I will be at your side. Elves and Men are fine companions in a quest for vengeance, but a Dwarf is always a useful friend in need," requested Dain. Urolòkëo rolled her eyes at the Dwarf, Dain snorted in response. "I will go repair my armor in the remains of your smithery," Dain said, looking around at the ruined city, "Now where--?"

"Over there, Master Dwarf," said Anamatar extending a long arm in the direction of a half-burned building. Dain trotted away, sadness and determination in his eyes.

[Anamatar IV]

As the Dwarf turned away to the smithies Anamatar spun around and faced his guard.

"I know not your past," he said harshly, "nor for what reason you wish to pluck this Dwarf's meat from his bones but let it stop, please."


Begging your pardon, Lord," Aden said, "but I don't trust this Dwarf as far as I could throw him. What makes you not believe he is a servent of those that we pursue? How know we that he does not lead us to a trap?"

To which Anamatar replied: "A Dwarf who journeys to Amroth never has dealing with Orcs." Aden argued against this and Urolokeo supported him and yet still Anamatar argued against they. The debate continued for some time.

"He will claim lordship of Amroth when he strikes down the Prince," Urolokeo said. "He comes to claim the throne!"

As Anamatar started to answer this remark the blast of horns was heard. A grand ship was sailing to the shore. Its hull was white and its masts tall. The saild glinted in the sun for they were indeed studded on the edges with diamonds and pearls. Galdor had come with a ship wrought by the elves of wood and silver. On the ship with Galdor came ten Elven sailors.

[Nenya Evenstar]

"My Lord," Aden said, his voice earnest, "I will follow you wherever and to whatever end -- even with this dwarf."

Anamatar nodded, but his attention was now upon the beautifully gilded ship sailing into harbor. Aden, upon seeing that his master's mind was turned elsewhere, ran to the dock and began yelling orders to the few men that remained to man the ships that came into the bay. The ship's anchor was thrown down, and the boards were thrown out from the ship's side for its sailors to reach the land. The Elven folk walked down the plank, their Elvish faces glinting with wisdom. "Perhaps," Aden whispered to himself, "perhaps they will know if the dwarf is true."

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

Dain's eyes gleamed with greed and excitement. Even at times of despair, when all else is lost, a Dwarf's heart can be corrupted by so much as the glint of a gold coin. The smithery was ruined, but the forging tools and anvils remained unharmed. These tools were of fine quality and they would serve their purpose for the repairs Dain had need of. He first removed his helm, copper it was still, but its terrible golden horns had chipped and twisted in many long battles with stray Orcs and wild Men. His jacket was next laid upon the largest anvil in the smithery, its mithril links broken and dull. His gauntlet was missing from his left arm, the result of a near-fatal encounter with a pack of Wargs. His other was full of teeth marks, and was laid along with his jacket.

The Dwarf removed a small obsidian hammer from his remaining gauntlet. "Felak! Work your magic, uzbad ai-menu!" Dain bellowed, and the hammer obeyed. Instantly, the Dwarf and his crafting tool moved together as easily as a seagull glides through the ocean air, and Dain hammered every dent and chip from his helm, every link into place, and made every scratch unoticable. He forgot all his troubles and sorrows while he worked, the very fires of Aule seemed to encompass him with a desire to make things beautiful and full of new life. His jacket was brushed clean with a wire-brush lying upon the scorched earth, a gauntlet for his bare arm was reforged with melted iron found in the ruined store-room. The Dwarf walked out of the smithery, shining as bright as a strain of mithril in the lost mines of Moria. Shadows had started to grow on the east side of the burned buildings, noon had passed, the day was growing late. Dain trotted over to the company, a look of determination upon his haggard face. He was eager to leave this ruined wasteland of death and despair.