Welcome to Tol Eressea. We hope you enjoy your visit.
You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.
Member No.: 594
Joined: 11-October 08
A blood-covered Huan met them halfway to camp followed by many horses and some of the other dogs. The horses were fearful as most of their kind, but the hounds bayed their excitement and relief at seeing their masters, their tails wagging with greeting.
"What's this?" Celegorm knelt down to examine Huan, running his hands over his rough coat with care. The teeth marks could be felt but all were superficial, most of the blood was not his own. "More treachery from Morgoth? Our rear lines were attacked. He had no thought to parley!"
Ossindo came up leading Celegorm's horse along with his own. Wendel and Helcano were tending to the wounds upon their own horses as were the others, but some stood forlorn and glancing into the distance for their own mounts. VinyŠro cursed, for his horse was missing as well. They all moved toward the camp with dread.
It was worse than they could imagine. The bodies of the rear guard lay strewn about the ground as warriors from the company of smiths treated the injured and put some of the horses out of their misery. The horses they brought back with them snorted and shied, their eyes rolling in fear, their feet hesitant to move closer. There were piles of the slain wolves and other strange creatures mingled with their own fallen warriors and horses. The smell of blood permeated everything. A numb resolve had settled upon Celegorm and Curufin and their returning troops as they gazed over the wreck before them. Healers rushed here and there and a small knot of solders stood over a fallen comrade lamenting.
At the sound of his uncle's voice Celegorm strode to a copse of trees where their picket line had been fastened while a healer slipped past him on an urgent duty. If this was the devastation inflicted upon their rear guard then what of the front? What of his brothers? What of their king? He shivered in response to his thoughts. Where was Maitimo? He must get to the front lines! Something was wrong!
He turned to give orders to his troops but they were scattered, attending to their horses or lamenting their losses and consoling each other. Curufin was alongside him and as one their eyes lay upon their Uncle Maikhel.
"Uncle?!? Are you hurt? What happened here?"
There was the young page of his brother Maitimo, laying injured but alive. The slaughter had been horrendous.
Member No.: 642
Joined: 2-April 09
When Maikhel picked him up, it hurt so much that Tyaro cried like the child he was. Once he started crying, he found that he could not stop. His friends lay dead around him and death-screams and mourning filled the air and it all smelled like blood. He wanted his father, who was dead in the waters of Aqualonde. He wanted his mother, who was back at the camp at Lake Mithrim. She was head of the supply train there, and who knew if that camp had been attacked too? What if everyone back there was dead? What if his mother was dead, and his uncles and cousins? Who would take care of him? What if the attack on the rear lines here meant that they were losing the main battle? What if, oh Varda have mercy, what if King Maitimo was dead? They were all dying, some quickly, some slowly, but whatever was killing them all would exterminate all the Noldor, Tyaro was sure. Why else would everything that provided safety disappear all at once--home, father, King?
Tyaro cried so hard that the sobs degenerated into dry coughing. Then he had to stop, because the wolf had crushed his collarbone and the spasms made it feel worse. Shaking, he tried to make himself be still. King Feanor had said that they would have war and hatred undying. Tyaro would have to accept this hard, cruel world as their new reality.
Exhausted, he fell into a glum silence. His head hurt when he opened his eyes, but he still tried to make them focus. To his surprise, two sons of Feanor stood before him and Maikhel. It was Hir Tyelkormo and Hir Curufinwe. Tyaro was mortified that he had cried in front of them. His eyes grew very big and he wondered if they would consider his family disgraced because he had disobeyed King Maitimo's command.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. --Walt Whitman
1 User(s) are reading this topic (1 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
Disclaimer: The items contained on this site are works of written roleplay, poetry and short stories. They have been created because the authors enjoy writing and have a boundless admiration for the works of J R R Tolkien.
The book characters, settings, places, and languages used on this roleplay board should be considered the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and perhaps in some cases New Line Cinema. The writing, original characters, original artwork, and original poetry belong to the authors themselves. The authors will not receive or accept any money or other remuneration for presenting their work on this site, it is for their own enjoyment and the enjoyment of those who read what is written here.