Chapter 19: Fornost Erain

Hello all,

As regards the Quest of Mandos in which your characters are all assumed to be a part of (though you don't all know that), time travel is problematic. In the previous incarnation of the Quest, Mandos showed himself as both obliging and unobliging in regards to visiting a certain time. Often, the party had no control of which time would be in effect when they visited an area. Some locales always seemed to be "fixed", the party arriving after weeks, months or years, only to be perceived by the locals as having just left "yesterday" or the "a fortnight ago." Other locations seemed to shift in time, from anywhere from the Second Age to well into the Fourth. It seemed that Mandos was only interested in capturing memories of areas at pivotal times. For mundane activities, such as visiting family members who were not part of the Quest, Mandos seemed to be obliging enough. Otherwise, the times the party visited an area were under the control of that enigmatic Valar.
Part of the obligation of being in the Quest is not to reveal its identity to anyone outside of it, taking care to scope others as to whether or not they are part of Mandos' design. As Quest members, you are all expected to give your lives rather than reveal the nature of the Quest. If a figure like Morgoth, Saruman, the Witch King, or Sauron should learn of their futures and find a way to undo them, all fate would be jeopardized. Even if you are presented with a situation where you could slay the Witch King early in the Third Age and prevent the fall of Arthedain and thus many men's and elves' lives, some of whom might be dear to you, you are not allowed to do so, knowing that the Witch King is fated to fall at the hands of Eowyn. As I said at the beginning of this campaign, your characters know the events of the Silmarillion, the Hobbit, and the Lord of the Rings, so to better guide your wisdoms when dealing with Fate and Time. These events come to you as dreams when you first "join" the Quest.
And speaking of Fate, the party is cautioned to not interfere with the great events of Middle Earth - no "borrowing" the One Ring from Gollum, no killing Bilbo or taking a Celebrimbor's sword. Also, the time travel contrivances of science fiction are not allowed. No going back in time to undo something that didn't come out right. If you, as a party, are experiencing an event or personage, then you can be assured it is Eru's design that such be as it was when you encountered it. Thus, you have to accept the bounds of Fate. Your part is to experience and flow with Time, not change it. The actions you take actually become part of the timeflow and bind the disparate events together, as the stuff of your dreams and memories is plucked by Vairë and woven into a tapestry of existence. Mandos has shown grim punishment for those who try and flaunt his desire, transporting characters back to the time before Eru's song and the choir of the Valar had created the land itself. Such characters swam in a primordial sea until their strength left them or some ancient creature of the waters found them. Leave no doubt that you're expendable. Your memories will serve, no matter how fleeting, and Mandos will not risk the unraveling of Fate because of your actions.
To continue, once the great events of the Third Age have passed and the elves have left Endor, leaving only a few of their folk to wither and fade as mythical shadows, then with the passing of the Elves and their Doom as laid out by Fëanor, you as party members are released from the bounds of Fate. Part of Eru's pact with Mankind is to release men and women from Fate and let them find their own destinies.

Also, a CORRECTION: I did some Spanish Civil War studies for another project and I'm afraid they've crossed over into this game unintentionally. The term for a knight is Requain NOT Requete. A noble knight is a Requain, while a Royal knight in service to the king is an Arequain. Ordain is a Requain (not Requete) in service to Lord Marl Tarma. (Just incase you're curious, a Requete was a Carlist soldier, usually from Navarre, who fought for the Nationalist side in the Spanish Civil War. - Brain crossover.)

And on to adventure,

The 26th Day of Ivanneth. T.A. 1640

"Son of a..." Fred sat gaping for a moment. After a while he pulled himself together and continued "I _knew_ I should have accompanied you guys. We left only a few hours after you and here I've missed a lifetime of excitement and go...old times. Well Ordain OLD friend" Fred continued with a smile "I for one would certainly like to meet the man that the little one we sacrificed so much for has become. I hope that you and the Lord Tarma's soldiers cleaned out that foul manor and avenged Eoras?"
Ordain sadly shook his head. "Lord Tarma did send a force to burn down Imtarumbar, and also to reclaim some of the wealth that was thought to lay there as well. But alas, the foul wood was the undoing of his soldiers. Waiting for the spring thaw, his force was beset by all manner of illness as they sought to cut their way through the mire and mud of that cursed forest that surrounded the mansion. Nearly all took sick and one man in three died there from illness over the course of a month. Remembering the place all too well, I fear that the bones of these good men do not rest well. The rest of the force was beset upon by orcs and though a number of these were slain, they seemed to come back again as dead, along with the corpses of those that they had slain. The elder Lord Tarma left over three-hundred good men there. I would not want to venture near there again. That wood now is shunned by all travellers and only in the day is the road beneath it walked. Looking at the place now, you would never know that Lord Tarma's force had ever been there. The short road he attempted to cut through has grown over now in the years that have passed and if anything, the new trees are even more black and twisted than those that were felled."
Fred nodded his head while Ordain told his tale. When Ordain had
finished he said, "I feared as much. We almost died in that forest once and I never wanted to return. I was not hopeful that the soldiers would make it through if we left and were no longer providing a distraction for the evil forces that dwelt there. But I had not counted on losing 50 years when we left. It will take us a few dozen years before we can even think of trying to return to that place now. Just more years for the place to grow in its evil power. Well I guess on the good side it is doubtful after all these years that the occupants will still be looking for us." He tried to seem upbeat, but it was obvious that he was very depressed at this news.
Kirahan, who had been quietly observing the conversation, suddenly sat up straight, his wooden cup falling from fingers gone slack. "Sweet Eru," he whispered, we `have lost some fifty years. I was on my way to Fornost Erain to see my uncle..."
Bolting upright, the Dunedain peered towards the door, blithely ignorant of the drops of mead wetting his boots. "I must find him, and send some word to my mother. Sweet Eru!" Looking panicked, Kirahan began to push his way through the crowd.
"1640!?" Clarissa stated loudly. "That must explain things, and the dreams....Kirahan, WAIT!" She ran after him.

"Kirahan, wait, don't go so fast..." She paused, but still stayed with Kirahan. "You may of lost fifty years, I LOST over two hundred!" She continued hastily, "This explains the changes here in Fornost, let's not rush to find things in this past, come back to the table, let us think rationally on this news. Let us find out what the others have lost, this is a mystery we should not rush into."
Kirahan hesitated just before the doorway and turned to regard Clarissa. His expression was dismayed and his eyes flitted nervously between the Dunedain and the door. "You speak soundly," he said, bobbing his head sheepishly. Looking once more at the door, perhaps with a trace of regret, Kirahan began making his way back to the table and his stunned companions.

Kirahan and Clarissa later returned, having been gone for only a few moments.
When things had settled down Fred suggested to the party, "I think we should spend a couple of days here, getting equipment and supplies and speak with the new Lord Tarma. I think our lodging and supplies should be covered, and there are some things I want to pick up." They could almost see the gears revolving when he continued "I think that there should be ample opportunities with Lord Tarma." Fred took another bite of mutton and a long swallow of ale and continued. "I'm not sure if we should go around talking to relatives, who knows we may end up back in our own time yet. If we ever end up back in the manor and the mirror is still there we can probably use it to travel wherever and WHENever we want."
When Fred had finished his meal he got up and talked to the owner and Ordain briefly before retiring for the evening.
Clarissa, remaining behind with the others added, "I agree with Fred. Lets go slow for a couple of days. As far as relatives...it's been two hundred years for me. I don't have them anyway". She paused in reflection. "I have been thinking, our time differences must of occurred before we went through the mirror, because Kirahan's and mine differences, I would bet money that it is the same for all of you, that would mean.....well, I can't surmise yet. We should keep a very, very low profile until we have a full grasp of what is happening".
Kirahan thumped onto the table, tired of chatter.
"I have a mind to visit my uncle," he announced to the others. "I'll be back here to sleep and I'll see you all in the morning. I don't know about you, but I'd like to set about travelling after I've rested. The world is wide and I have always had a desire to see it." Gazing at Fred's bulging satchel, he added, "And I wouldn't mind finding some riches such as you have all had to the fortune to find. Certainly, such would keep me better in my old age than many years of selling my sword or tending cattle. Good evening to you all, my strange companions," he said, getting up.
"Good night," Daern nodded. "We'll see you on the morrow."
Kirahan left the tavern, pushing his way through the crowd and past curious glances.

As he left the tavern, Kirahan was once more set upon by the rain, now coming down harder, with more of an edge to it. Huddling himself against the damp, Kirahan wandered through the streets of Fornost, at once both familiar and strange to him. Asking his way as he went, he soon found the Street of Tailors, and the shop of his poor hard-working uncle. A signboard above showed a needle and thread painted on its boards as it flapped in the wind.
Peering into the shop, Kirahan noted that everything seemed still and quiet. Not wishing to awaken the man, he paused, as if wondering what to do. Finally his curiosity got the better of him and he knocked, first softly, then when there was no answer, with more force on the stout door.
In the window above him, Kirahan espied the light of a lamp or candle as it was being lit. The window cracked open only slightly and a gruff voice accosted him.
"Begone from here, stranger. We're are closed until the morrow."
"I seek a tailor by the name of Evrin," Kirahan said, calling up. "This is his shop is it not?"
"Evrin?" the voice paused. "He died years ago. Now, away with you before I call upon the watch. I need my sleep. If you wish service, come back at a more decent hour."
Kirahan paused again. His uncle was dead. And what of his mother, he wondered.
"Please, sir," he called up again, "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. But there are some answers I must have. Do you know what happened to Evrin's sister, Yvain? I must know!"
"Yvain? Who are you!" the voice demanded.
"I am Kirahan, son of Kirithil and Yvain, and once nephew to the good Evrin," he said.
"Kirahan?" the voice said, after a shocked pause. "That's impossible, for he's dead!"
"Then you see a ghost of flesh and bone before you," Kirahan insisted. "For I am he."
There was the sound of movement from within. The window shut and the light disappeared, but Kirahan soon saw it reemerge from somewhere in the back of the shop. The light came up to the window and an middle aged man gawked through it at Kirahan, examining him. The shock that registered on the man's face was quite evident.
The door unbolted.
"Kirahan!" the man walked out into the rain and embraced Kirahan.
Kirahan drew back and regarded the man. "Do I know you, sir?" he asked.
"I'm your cousin," the man told him. "I'm Machant!"
"Machant!" It was Kirahan's turn to drop his jaw in disbelief. "Machant? But, you're so much older." Though he knew the logic of this, the reality still managed to shock Kirahan. When last he saw him, Machant was a young boy, just coming into manhood. Though his Dunedain blood kept him more youthful for the years, still, it was quite a change.
"You've changed so much," Kirahan said, shaking his head, unable to believe his eyes.
"Well, I'm not so fortunate as to have the blood of elves in my veins," was the reply. "I must say, you haven't changed since I last saw you. It's been so long, that father and I long ago gave you up for dead."
"Strange," Kirahan said with some bitterness, "but it does not seem so long for me. Tell me, what of my mother and father?"
"Your mother is dead, as well," Machant said, laying a sympathetic hand on Kirahan's shoulder. "She was killed by bandits on the road from Mithlond. We live in sad times, cousin."
Kirahan fought the tears welling up in his eyes. "And father?"
"He was fine when we last heard from him. I believe he dwells in Mithlond now, but we lost track of him when your mother died. I am sorry, Kirahan."
Kirahan nodded.
"Well," Machant continued. "We must catch up on times. You must've seen the whole of Endor, by now. Come in and I'll give you some dry clothes. We'll both catch our death out here."
Kirahan allowed himself to be pulled in from the rain.
"Father, who is it?" a young girl's voice called down from above.
"Children?" Kirahan asked.
Machant nodded. "Five," he said. "And you?"
Kirahan shook his head. So much had changed.

As Kirahan left, Taurvantar noted that two men had followed him out. Fearing that Fred's flamboyant display of wealth had garnered them new enemies, Taurvantar decided to leave, to ensure that Kirahan reached his uncle's safely.
"I think I'll take a walk," he told the others.
Upon exiting the Cockade, he noted that the storm had seemed to increase in intensity. The rain, before a gentle patter, not came down with more weight and force. As he huddled against the wind and rain, Taurvantar felt the wetness soak through his clothes. A bead of water ran from his hair down the length of his back, soaking his breeches from within.
The two men had followed Kirahan and seemed to be gaining on him. Taurvantar increased his own speed. Once of the men looked around and espied Taurvantar. He tapped the other's shoulder and both men stopped stalking Kirahan and turned around to regard Taurvantar.
Taurvantar eased back his drenched cloak, trying not to blink as the rain pummeled his face. With one hand, he slowly reached down and put his hand on the hilt of his blade. Both men watched his movement but as he grasped his sword, one of them ran off, leaving the other alone in the rain. Taurvantar and the man squared off against each other. Taurvantar noted that this man walked with a limp. Finally, after reaching down to display his own weapon, the other man cautiously walked back in the direction that he'd come, passing Taurvantar warily and with some distance. Turning off onto a side street, Taurvantar watched him go.
Then he sighed. Facing a fight was never an easy thing, he decided. Though he felt confidence in his ability, one never knew which way Fortune would smile in combat.
Racing to catch up to Kirahan, Taurvantar just caught sight of him as Kirahan turned off onto another street. Taurvantar stayed well back, not wanting to intrude but also to ensure that Kirahan reached his destination, unwaylayed.
Judging by the signboards blowing in the wind, Taurvantar realized that they had come into the garment district of the city. Shops of tailors, seamstresses, haberdashers and all manner of trades tied to clothing lined the way on either side. It was a clean district, but now, all shops were closed and their windows dark.
Kirahan stopped in front of a shop of a tailor and, as Taurvantar melted into the shadows, started to knock on the door - first softly, then as there was no answer, with more force such that Taurvantar feared that Kirahan might draw the Watch.
In the window above Kirahan, Taurvantar espied a light, coming from either a lamp or candle, flickering into life. The window cracked open slightly.
"Begone from here, stranger. We're are closed until the morrow," a man's voice called down.
"I seek a tailor by the name of Evrin," Kirahan said, calling up, his voice fighting the wind. "This is his shop is it not?"
"Evrin?" the voice paused. "He died years ago. Now, away with you before I call upon the Watch. I need my sleep. If you wish service, come back at a more decent hour."
Kirahan paused before continuing. "Please, sir," he called up again, "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. But there are some answers I must have. Do you know what happened to Evrin's sister, Yvain? I must know?"
"Yvain? Who are you!" the voice from the window demanded.
"I am Kirahan, son of Kirithil and Yvain, and once nephew to the good Evrin," Kirahan yelled to him.
"Kirahan?" the voice said. "That's impossible, for he's dead!"
"Then you see a ghost of flesh and bone before you," Kirahan insisted. "For I am he."
The window shut and the light disappeared, but it reappeared from somewhere in the back of the shop. The light came up to the window and Taurvantar could just see a man's face peering at Kirahan.
Then the door unbolted and a tall middle-aged man walked out into the rain, still wearing his night garments.
"Kirahan!" the man embraced Kirahan.
Kirahan seemed to draw back and regard the man. They exchanged words for some time, though Taurvantar couldn't make out what was being said. Finally, Kirahan allowed himself to be pulled in from the rain. As the door shut behind them, Taurvantar returned to the White Cockade and a warm bed.

As the evening and full bellies of drink and good food lulled them towards sluggishness, one by one members of the party yawned and drifted off towards their beds, escorted by one of more of the servants. Other guests too bid their goodnights to both the tavern keeper and the generous party. Only Ordain and Fred seemed willing to put off slumber for a while, ready to catch up on old times.

"Ordain old friend, it is good to see you," Fred said. "Even though for me it has been only a few hours, the passing time I see in you makes it seem like it has been years for both of us. There is so much I want to hear, everything you've done since we parted. But there is hardly time at the moment for such reminiscence. Maybe we could get together tomorrow if you are off duty and we can have a nice long talk?"
"Certainly Fred, most certainly." Ordain patted the hobbit on his hand. In both their eyes was the warm dullness of mulled wine and warm mead.
"I did want to congratulate you on your becoming a Requain," Fred told him. "I always guessed you would go far in this world."
He paused to see if Ordain had anything to say before continuing. The Dunedain mage just nodded, saying, "Well, you had no small part in my success, Fred. In fact, you would be in my shoes now if you had left with us through the mirror to return the child. Having said this, Ordain patiently waited for Fred to continue.
"Just a couple of quick questions before I retire for the evening," Fred told him "Is there somewhere around where I could get a flute? I found the most beautiful flute back in the manor but like everything there I think it was cursed. But it got me to thinking that I would like to learn to play, and maybe I could pick up my companion's spirits if we are ever in such a nasty situation again."
Ordain nodded. "I know just the place and I'll take you round there in the morning. There's a music shop with the most wonderful craftsman. He mostly supervises now, but all of his work is in great demand and unlike many, he doesn't specialize. I think he'll have something for you, but I should tell you he commands a great price. But then, I suppose you can afford it now," Ordain smiled.
Fred and he shared a bought of laughter, as if Ordain had just passed off the wittiest of comments. After this, Fred pressed on with his questions, before the drink muddled his head altogether.
"I also wanted to pick up a pony if I could. All this walking and lugging things around is wearisome." Fred smiled.
"Certainly," Ordain nodded. "There are many fine beasts in this city. I'm sure we can find you something suitable tomorrow. I'll even have one of my men seek to procure you the necessary tack and harness."
"Thank you," Fred nodded. "Now, there's just one thing more. If you could give me some information about young Lord Tarma. He was hardly much to look at when last I saw him, and now he is all grown and a mighty warrior to boot. Having invested so much in him, I wondered what he had grown up to be like, you know, his interests, strengths and his abilities. What about the rest of his family?"
Ordain blinked, as if trying to concentrate.
"Well, where to start?" he asked the air. "Marl, he's a young man in heart, though he's well into manhood by Dunedain standards. He's only taken up for his father fourteen years ago, when the old Lord died. Let's see. He's very very bright - a natural tactician and soldier. He's handsome and a bit ruthless as times, though he'll risk everything, has risked everything, to save one of his men. Obviously, the Rangers are devoted to him. The Rangers are the élite of the King's men," Ordain explained. "Some are warriours, some are scouts, some are even magi or even former shepherds or athletes. Still, they are considered among the King's best troops and they are of a rank equal to the King's own knights. In fact, some are knights. I think it says a lot of our former charge that he's the commander of this force."
Fred nodded, almost feeling a sense of pride.
"Anyway, Marl commands the utmost loyalty and devotion of his troops and many men throughout the Kingdom. His exploits are legendary and everywhere he goes, good folk bless his name and evil men tremble. Because of this, he's been appointed as a court advisor in matters of stare. He's definitely a man of action," Ordain said to Fred. Then the mage lowered his voice, almost in a conspiratorial tone before continuing. "In fact, some folk, many folk in fact, think that the King is too much a planner and has little stomach for campaigning and war. Some say that as Marl seems to be doing all of the King's work for him, he might as well be king. It's no secret that House Tarma and House Eketta are calling for a war and invasion of Angmar as the only way to free the borderlands from the continuous raids and strife that plague them now. The King has come out against this and there are some who feel that someone like our young Marl would make a better king. Certainly the same royal blood flows in the veins of the Tarmas as does in the Royal family."
Fred whistled appreciatively.
"Young Marl is betrothed to Elaine Eketta, daughter of Lord Eketta. Such an alliance will cement the two most powerful families in the Kingdom. Of all the noble houses, only House Noirin stands staunchly by the King. And of the seven great houses, they are the least."
"Will the others join with our Marl?" Fred asked appreciatively.
"I think they will," Ordain nodded. "Except for House Noirin, of course."
Fred's excitement showed in his face. "I can't wait to meet young Marl!" he exclaimed. "He sounds like such a dashing figure."
But as he said this, Fred could sense a darkening in Ordain's face.
"Ordain? What is it?"
Ordain shook his head, a pained expression upon him. "I'm sorry, my dear little Fred. I am so sorry."
"Sorry? Sorry about what?"
"Marl Tarma will not see you," Ordain told him. "I will tell him of your part in his salvation when a babe. But you see, Marl has no personnel recollection of the event. He has no emotional tie. I'm sure if his father were alive, you would be welcomed with open arms, but as it is, you cannot go to Tarmabar. I'm sure though that Marl will send some monetary recompense your way, to reward you. It was my plan to invite the others tomorrow, so it is just as well we had this conversation now."
Fred looked and felt shocked. "But why!?" he asked. "What have I done? I was one of those who saved his life," he insisted.
Ordain merely nodded, not disagreeing with Fred's protests. "I know, I know. You see, hobbits are not popular with House Eketta and House Tarma right now - especially House Tarma."
"But why?" Fred asked, insisting on knowing the answer.
"Because, the hobbits have been granted a great deed of land in southern Arthedain by King Argeleb II. The Tarmas had laid claim to this land, but now the King has given it to your people. Marl Tarma is furious and he hates the hobbits. It is his plan, should he become King, to drive the hobbits back east where they came from. This grant is very unpopular with all the great houses - even Noirin, though they stand by the King. Lord Eketta has even said that hobbits are little better than hole dwelling rodents with speech and a poor knowledge of farming," Ordain said, wincing as if saying such caused him great pain. "So, you can see why I cannot present you to Lord Tarma and why you cannot travel with me to Tarmabar."
Fred slapped himself on the head. He realized now what was wrong with the dates as voiced by Kirahan and Clarissa, as well as the off duty watchman who they encountered earlier. He hadn't paid attention to it, but now he realized that, according to his own reckoning, he had gone back in time. It was 1970, in the Third
Age when he had left the Shire. He was back in time, when his own people had only just been granted the Shire. He thought hard. Marcho and Blanco Fallohide had led the hobbits to Arthedain and in 1601, King Argeleb II had granted them the land that would in time become the Shire. If it was 1640 now and that meant that the Shire had only been in existence for only thirty years - not three hundred! When he had gazed through the pool at his friends at the Green Dragon, he had been looking into the future. He had been farther from home than he could have ever imagined.
"I'm sorry Fred," Ordain got up and laid a sympathetic hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "Tomorrow, when I invite the others to Tarmabar, you'll not make a fuss, will you?"
Fred, his head bowed into his hands, shook his head.
"Thank you, Fred. I'll tell young Marl about your sacrifice. He has nothing against you personally, you understand. It's just hobbits in general." Seeing that he could say nothing to alleviate Fred's shock and disappointment, Ordain sadly wandered off to his own bed.
Fred, recovering from his shock, went up to the inn and tavern keeper, Trabas. "I thank you for your gracious hospitality, sir. My friends and I will probably stay for a couple of days before moving on, and would appreciate food and lodging for as long as my credit is good. As I am new to this area I was hoping you could direct me to someone who might be able to fashion a flute for me, and also somewhere that I might be able to purchase a good pony. Finally, I was wondering if a bath were available and if someone could be found to clean and mend these clothes?"
"I'll see that one of me lads sees to your needs in the morning - SIR." Fred noted that the innkeeper's tone had changed. He had been nearby when Ordain and Fred were talking and he might have overheard their conversation.
"Is there a problem?" Fred asked.
"No SIR," Trabas said. "I didn't know that you were one o' them `obbits. I didn't think your KIND liked ta take baths."
"We're a very clean and polite folk," Fred assured him testily. "Please see to my bath."
Trabas nodded and walked off. He yelled at one of his servants to draw Fred a bath. When it was ready, Fred went off and allowed himself to soak in the hot water, his privacy guarded by a screen. Two young boys attended to his needs, pouring him new hot water as his bath cooled. Fred felt as if he and his cares were melting in the water. Every now and then though, he caught the boys sneaking a peek at him. They seemed fascinated by him - especially his hairy unshod feet.

By the time Taurvantar had returned, he noted that everyone seemed absent except for the servants cleaning up. He assumed that the others had long since gone to bed.
Seeing the gelatinous jiggle of a certain creamy white pair of breasts, held tightly in their bodice, Taurvantar bent down and smiled at the wench as she scrubbed the floor.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Tired and goin ta bed - ALONE," she replied, not looking up at him.
"Sorry," Taurvantar told her. Shrugging, he ventured off to his own bed. He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping when he felt the weight of someone's body pressing down on him. He grabbed for his sword, but a small, yet surprisingly strong hand gently grabbed his wrist, urging that his hand move to someplace softer.
As he cupped her breast, he asked her, "I thought you didn't like me?"
"Didn't want the others ta think I were easy," she giggled. "A girl's got `er reputation ta think of."
"What is your name?" he asked her.
"Jenny," she said kissing him. At that point, they stopped talking altogether.

Having finished his bath, Fred wrapped his steaming body in clothes and headed off for bed. He was more than a little surprised, upon opening the door to the room he was to share with Taurvantar.
Taurvantar had returned - but he was not alone.
The young woman with Taurvantar, Fred recognized her as the serving girl that had waited on them earlier, shrieked when she saw Fred, covering herself with a blanket from the bed.
"Ah, Fred!," Taurvantar bolted up upon recognizing the hobbit. "Uh, I thought you had made other sleeping arrangements. Uh, I hate to ask this of you, my friend, but could you"
Blushing, his face totally red in the lamplight, Fred backed off. "Oh no, excuse me. I'll, uh, I'm sorry. I'll just, uh, go to sleep somewhere else." Fred closed the door as quickly as he could.

Mumbling silently, Fred wandered around before finally settling himself under one of the tables in the tavern.
"Great! He's gets a girl and I get to sleep on the hard floor," Fred mumbled to no one. It was only a moment more before he drifted off into sleep.

The 27th Day of Ivanneth. T.A. 1640

The party assembled the next day at breakfast. Fred was the first on the scene and everyone commented on how soundly they had slept in their comfortable down beds - to which Fred curtly replied,
"You know, I don't think knowing how well you slept is high on my list of things that I want to hear in the morning," he snapped.
"Oh, it's a beautiful morning," Clarissa said, dancing into the Cockade from outside. "The air is fresh and the birds are singing."
"Clarissa?" Fred asked.
"Yes, darling Fred," she smiled.
"Shut up."
Everyone looked around, surprised at their normally festive friend's ill temper. Still, seeing the look in his eyes, no one dared to ask.
As Taurvantar arrived, Fred asked him, "Sleep well?"
Taurvantar coughed. "Oh yes, very well, thank you. How did you sleep?"
"Not very. My bed was as hard as a floor," he said sourly.
Kirahan arrived at this point.
"Did you find your uncle?" Taurvantar asked.
Kirahan shook his head sadly. "No, most of my family are dead of old age. I did find a cousin and I spent the night at his tailor shop."
"Tailor?" Fred looked up. Thumbing through his worn and frayed coat, it was obvious what was on his mind.
"I'll take you there after breakfast," Kirahan told him.
As the tavern started to fill up, the servants brought out eggs, flatcakes, churned butter, mushrooms, biscuits and milk to the party for breakfast. Ordain's men were seen entering the room, soon followed by Ordain himself.
"Ordain!" Daern called out. "Come join us." Daern and Takenya moved their chairs aside so that Ordain could squeeze in.
"Eat!," Takenya urged. While the others ate, Takenya continued her lesson in Westron, pointing at something on the table while Clarissa or Fred gave her the Westron word for what she was pointing at.
"Ordain," Taurvantar asked while the others were eating. "I was wondering if there was a chance for me to go out on one of the scouting parties of the Rangers, near the border. As you serve Lord Tarma, is there any way you could get me on such a patrol?"
"Certainly, but why would you wish to do that?" Ordain asked Taurvantar.
"Well, I'd like to get in lay of the land. I also thought it wouldn't be bad to have some contacts in the Rangers," he said.
"Well, you already have the best contact you could have," Ordain told him. "You have their Captain and he'll be very obliging once I tell him who you are."
"Well, you won't be going without me," Kirahan insisted.
"Count me in too," Daern said. "I wouldn't miss a ride in the country for all the gold in Fornost."
"Well, I'm certainly for a ride. Do you think we'll run into some orcs. I feel like I could fight the Witch King himself," Ranciryon boasted.
"Actually, if you're all set on riding out into the country," Ordain said between bites, "why not come with me back to Tarmabar and let Lord Tarma give you his gratitude in person?"
"Hey, that sounds like an idea!" Ranciryon said, beaming. "A fine suit of armor and a good steed would be gratitude enough, eh Fred? How about it? What say you we go to Tarmabar and see how the lad has grown. I can tell him how I once changed his diapers," he laughed.
"Actually, I think that Kal and Ordain did most of that," Fred said testily. "And no, I think I'll pass on going to Tarmabar."

Fred and Ordain exchanged a meaningful look.

"Why don't you want to go, Fred?" Daern asked. "Don't you want to see how Marl turned out? I'm sure he'd be glad to see you."
"No thanks," Fred insisted dispassionately.
"Well, I can't think of anything else to do," Taurvantar said, eyeing Fred with curiosity. "It seems a shame to split up now, after having come so far together."
"No, you go," Fred insisted. "I'd rather wait here. I'll explore the city. I've got a good idea of things I'd like to do and see. Maybe I'll head south and visit the Shire. I'd be curious to see it, the way it is now."
"Are you leaving Takenya?" Takenya asked, concerned about loosing her new friend.
"No," Fred assured her, patting her hand. "No, we can plan on rendezvousing here a few weeks from now."
"Did anyone else find out about any new possibilities?" Taurvantar asked.
"Well, it's not much but I heard that the King's Guard is offering a shilling (1 s.p.) for every bandit or orc head brought in at the frontier," Daern said.
Kirahan said, "Sounds like dangerous hard work - and for not much money. Still, it's work. And I don't have the luxury of Your riches."
"Well, if you're part of our party, we share in both good and bad," Ranciryon said.
"Are you offering?" Kirahan asked.
Members of the original party looked around at each other. Finally, Taurvantar put his hand out into the center of the table. "A band of brave adventurers are we. Here we vow to form a company intent on exploration and the acquisition of honour and wealth. And in all things, we offer allegiance to our fellows and companions. This bond shall be witnessed by"
Everyone waited to see what Valar Taurvantar would call upon to witness their oath.
"Mandos. Who joins?"
People at the other tables, witnessing the oath, commented on the odd choice of Mandos as a witness. Manwë, Aulë, Ulmo, Oromë or even Yavanna would have seemed to them to have been more appropriate.
Raniciryon and Daern raced each other to place their hands onto Taurvantar's. Fred had to get up on the table to add his own. Looking at the others, Kirahan, then Clarissa, and then Takenya all added their own hands. Smiling, Ordain was the last to place his hand above all the others.
"So we swear," Taurvantar said aloud.
"So we swear," all the others voiced in unison.
"So, what shall we call ourselves?" Ordain asked.
But his question was never answered as a troop of armed guards entered the tavern. They were well armoured in black mail and wore black surcoats, upon which were stitched seven six pointed stars in a semi-circle adorning the chests of their surcoats. Black plumes sprouted from the sides of their black helms while their weapons were edged in silver.
"Sir Ordain Pentacost?" one of them asked.
Ordain withdrew his hand from the oath circle and nodded.
"You are hereby placed under arrest on the charge of treason against the State," the guard said.
"I am innocent of this charge!" Ordain insisted. Behind him, several of his men drew their swords, ready to defend their master.
"Put your weapons away!" Ordain ordered them. "These are the King's Guard and we are loyal subjects to the throne, - whoever sits upon it."
Fred jumped up. "Ordain? Before you go, could you tell me the name of that music maker that you were going to take me to?"
As the guards waited for Ordain to collect his things, preparing to lead him off, Ordain turned to the party and whispered in a low voice, "Go to `The Seven Stars.' I have friends there and they will take care of you."
"Come," the guard who had been speaking commanded. Ordain gave them one last look and allowed himself to be led off as the party watched, helpless to aid him.

(anything of your move that was not addressed, you will have to address in a subsequent move or send me a minimove. JK)


x.p. awards: Clarissa - 30, Fred - 315, Kirahan - 295, Taurvantar - 330.


[Hi John. I hadn't really thought about the importance of giving you a sense of the characters' internal state since we've been operating in an "observer" mode in the moves, but considering the last couple of moves I think things definitely will be enhanced by some attention to motivation as well as action.]
Since this is probably only the second or third time in my short career I've time-jumped, and certainly the first time I've been directly and graphically confronted with the transition (by seeing Ordain), I'm not as eager as the others to hear what has happened to the others. Hearing of lives lived without me and seeing Kirahan's plight makes me consider a side of my agreement with Mandos that I hadn't before. I feel suddenly dislocated, and will make some conversation the rest of the evening but be more introspective than usual.
Also, hearing of the fate of Tarma's forces at Imtarumbar reinforces my doubts about leaving as we did. Was it good sense or cowardice? My relatively sheltered and comfortable youth amongst the somewhat haughty Noldor and upper-class Sindar in Mithlond did not require many decisions with life-or-death ramifications. There is certainly potential for some internal second-guessing, although my outward demeanor will remain fairly poised and assured.
Our transport also has me wondering in a goal-oriented way about the nature of the transition. It did not seem to be a product of will on our parts, certainly, nor was it standard operation for the mirror. Why did the others not translocate while we did? Is it something we can learn to influence or even control? If so, that admits the possibility of returning to Imtarumbar at a time when its defenses are weaker, or even possibly when Koranthur and his family were still alive before the evil took hold; certainly a more favorable prospect than the time we left, or the present time from Ordain's reports. On a more personal level, seeing Kirahan's distress makes me think of my father, and I'm aware now of the potential for going back and meeting him and maybe even preventing his death. As a long-term goal, I'm determined to explore the possibilities of directing these time-hops.
All of that said, my more immediate action will be to assist Kirahan in his investigations of his family circumstances on the morrow. On an ongoing basis while we are here, I will be engaging the townsfolk in conversations designed to build up my knowledge of the area. This process has begun in the tavern and I will attempt to continue it in more intimate circumstances with the serving maid. I will also ask Ordain if he's aware of parties of Tarma's men or King's Rangers whom I can accompany on scouting expeditions in the local vicinity. Even if he knows of none, I will go myself to get some fresh air outside of the city and get a sense of the lay of the land, using my outdoor skills.
If we end up joining with Lord Tarma I will practice my diplomatic skills amongst his courtiers to attempt to secure a favorable attitude toward the party. I will advise Ordain that our lack of aging should probably not be mentioned. Since I am Peredhil and immortal, it would make sense that I could've been there, and possibly Ranciryon given the longevity of the Dunedain, but Daern and Fred could arouse much suspicion, mistrust, or unwelcome attention if their unnatural preservation came to light.
Finally, regardless of my success or failure with the serving wench I will remain extra attentive tonight and while we remain in Fornost Erain for the possibility of robbers who might see Fred as an obvious and easy target. I will also caution him that his extravagance may have deleterious effects here which it would not in the cozy and bucolic Shire.]

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