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Tol Eressėa is a Tolkien writers roleplay. We are G-rated & well moderated. If you like to write, come join our friendly community of roleplayers as a Tolkien book character. We also have an area for original poetry, short stories and artwork. Many of our members are also playing Lord of the Rings Online and you will find us there on the Landroval server in the kinship Leaves of Laurelin. Come join us there.

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 ***Ascendancy of Evil***, The Fall of Ost-in-Edhil
Posted: May 21 2007, 08:50 AM


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Melui guided the cart after the others and hoped that no yrch were near by to fire on her or the wounded in her cart. As she moved away, she thought she heard the battle cry of the dwarves. She however did not look back she was more concerned with getting away from the enemy.

As she moved away she heard Andaer yell to Lalon. To this she did look back to see what was going on. It was then that she perceived Glorfindel and Elrond in the distance and there were two yrch there too. From the look of things Elrond was injured. Melui prayed to the Valar for help and to guide the arrows of Lalon to their intended targets.

Posted: May 21 2007, 09:56 AM


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Buggut sighed heavily as they climbed the hill, it was very hard to breath but she knew that they had to get to safety, there was no telling if there were more yrchs around and she could tell in his voice and how he moved that something was wrong. She did not say a word other than to cough and sigh and did her best to keep up with Cotumo’s pace.

Gonat Gur Vraklashat! (Watch me Dance!)

The Inn of the Prancing Pony
Buggut's Bio for AoE
Posted: Jun 10 2007, 10:50 AM


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Joined: 10-June 07

Celeborn stood tall and erect on the crest above the battle ground, his silver hair flying round him on the cold northerly wind. His face was set like cast iron, and in his eyes great sorrow was visible.
He surveyed the massed armies before him, the great black cloud of Sauron, and the comparatively tiny island of silver and gold that marked the lines of the retreating Elves.
Then, standing on that lonely hillside he saw before him the whole history of the world, summarized before him. The Elves standing, out-numbered and lost before the rising tide of Evil. As it had been for many ages of the wold before this black day.

In the distance he saw back to the ruin of Ost-in-Edhil. And he thanked the Valar that Galadriel and Cerebrian had been safe in Lothlorien, and had been spared the terrible fate that had befallen so many.
Behind him his host stood ready. They had been able to retreat out of the city on when first the enemy attacked, and had taken with them a large portion of the horses. Now, they were assembled here, awaiting his call to battle.

He turned away from the battle, for the past days he had been awaiting the moment when his aid would be most needed to the retreating host in the valley, and it seemed that the time was fast approaching.
Facing his lieutenants he spoke to them in a slow, yet level voice.
"My kin, now is the time we show out quality. From here we will ride down onto the enemy. Thir, I want you to take the second company and ride against the Warg-Riders that beset the right flank of our kin. Thul, you and I will cut a path to Elrond with the first and third company. Cirion, you will take the footmen, and reinforce the line that defends the refugees. At all costs you must prevent them from being out-flanked from the river."
The three elves nodded, and turned away to attend to their duties.

Celeborn himself went to his horse, that was being held by his aid, the young Daug. Celeborn mounded, and told daug to do the same, then he turned his head to face him, "Good luck, my young friend, he said, before donning his helmet and drawing his sword.
Moving out to the very crest of the ridge, Celeborn turned to his assembled men, "Today is a dark day. Today the Enemy has done us much harm. Today we have all lost friends and family. But I say to you that despite this, we shall pay back our Enemy in full for his treachery. Never again shall Sauron be welcome among elves, and never again shall we listen to the crooked tales from a lying mouth! Now, ride with me, ride down these betrayers with me! And we shall be avenged upon them! For Eregion!"
And with that the host charged, with a sound like thunder rising in the distance they rode down the hill towards the beleaguered Elrond.
Posted: Jun 10 2007, 12:24 PM


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Rekshak shrugged to the angry voice of Crulegūl. Then he composed himself and made his way to chop in at the elf the commander told him to kill. His old warg moved reluctantly apparantly now getting a bit tired after all the running around it had been doing at pitch speed during the last hours of battle.

The young aidee did not think his new opponent looked to dangerous, especially not after the fighting his commander had done with it. But he was not as over confident as in the beginning of this battle. He had learnt that the elves were both stubborn and tough and they where not as easy to dispatch of that he had believed the day before after listening to older soldiers bragging at the campfires.

He studied the other for a few moments to find out how he should do his first attack. A few arrows whooshed by and Rekshak even though he was not really aware of them coming instinctively bent down lower so he came closer to the neck of the old warg. One of the arrows almost hit the elf but he avoided it with a surprisingly elegant movement in spite of being injured.

Rekshak did not see if the arrows were from their own or if they where elven and he did not care. During the battle he had seen both elves and orcs dead at the ground with arrows of their own kind in their bodies. In a battle of this magnitude arrows where shot in hundreds and not all of them hit the soldier, horse or warg they where intended to kill. And if an arrow missed one soldier it might hit another several yards further away. And arrows themselves did not seperate friends from foe.

In girum imus nocte et consumimur igni (We enter the circle during night and is devoured by fire).
Posted: Jun 20 2007, 12:03 PM

Balrog Slayer

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Upon his arrival on the scene of the contest between the orc and Lord Elrond, Glorfindel's mind was torn open by the shout from the young one Elrond had saved. The hesitation almost cost him a blade in the neck, for the commander orc moved toward him with two weapons drawn. If not for the instinctive reaction of moving his shield up he may have been upon the ground close to death.

Still, the enemy's heavy sword caught on the edge of the golden boss and ripped the leather arm straps in two with the force. The shield pulled his arm away as it caught on his gauntlets before clattering upon the ground, the sound low and melodious. For an instant it reminded Glorfindel of the evening bell often heard in Lindon and a quick glance at his shield showed it was unable to be used.

The fight was looking to end quickly if the blond Elf did not find another weapon. With no more than a split second passing while these thoughts went through his aching mind, the enemy orc sent an overhand sword chop with its right hand weapon while its left swiped in from the side. Glorfindel jumped backward and swiftly blocked the overhead weapon with his own. Very aware of his vulnerablity, he hoped to avoid the heavier and longer weapon the orc wielded. Fortune was not with him however for the tip of the weighty weapon caught upon the rings of his mail, twisting the blade sideways. He felt the blow under his aketon and thought he heard the crack of ribs to signify the impact.

Anger flared up within him as the hurt swept over his body and the strength that came with it flooded into his senses. The orc had yet to pull back its weapon, leaving itself vulnerable on the right. There, an opening! Glorfindel took it and with his blade sent it forward into the space between the breastplate and the waist where the seams of the mail opened.

Glorfindel was tall and straight; his hair was of shining gold, his face fair and young and fearless and full of joy; his eyes were bright and keen, and his voice like music; on his brow sat wisdom, and in his hand was strength.

Glorfindel Biography

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Of The Return Of the Noldor

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