Drawing on the last reserves of its strength the white stallion pounded across graceful arc of the white marble bridge scattering elves, dwarves, men and one elderly halfling alike. And at the steps of the Last Homely House west of the Misty Mountains it collapsed and lay twitching where it fell. The rider rolled awkwardly away, narrowly avoided being crushed and got slowly to his feet. Favoring his left leg he rushed to the stricken horse and frantically loosened the saddle straps and hauled it clear.
One glance told him all he needed to know. The fast irregular shallow breaths, the heart pounding fit to burst, the bloody red foam boiling from nostrils and lips.
'Ah Snowheart, Snowheart,' the man cried. “That we should come to this ending.”
Crihir drew a long knife from his belt, patted his old friend once more and drew its keen blade in a firm stroke across Snowheart’s neck. Crihir held onto him through his bucking death throes muttering soothing phrases in an elven tongue. Blood-soaked and kept on his feet only by the two-fold urgency of his errand he turned to the gaggle of stunned and horrified elves congregating at the foot at the stone steps to the Homely House and shouted:
‘The Lord Elrond. I must speak with him now on matters that brook no delay. Speak’.
‘The, the Library,’ an elf maiden managed to stutter. Her face was paler than her gossamer white gown and her voice quiet, like that of a child. ‘He, he spends much time there with the scholars.’
Without pausing to offer thanks Crihir ran up the steps - devouring then two, three at a time – and disappeared through the tall arched doors. And by way of a succession of elves struck nearly dumb by their encounter with a wild-eyed blood-soaked demon he found himself wrapped in the marbled echoing stillness of the legendary Library of Imladris.
Every eye upon him and suddenly acutely aware of his appearance Crihir composed himself as best he could. The Lore Master he found among the shelves on the lower floor and Crihir knelt at his feet rendered powerless of speech by the majesty of his presence.
Elrond looked at him but gave no reaction to the sudden appearance of this apparition other than a single arched eyebow. Crihir followed the arrow of his eye and saw that a large drop of blood had fallen from beneath the sleeve of his travel-blackened leather jerkin onto the white marble floor.
‘You are wounded,’ the Elf-Lord observed.
‘An orc arrow, my Lord,’ Crihir answered. ‘It is nothing.’
‘Then my healers will experience no difficulty.’ Elrond answered with a smile. ‘But I see you have ridden through blood and fire to reach this place and the news you bear, of import too grave to wait upon our leech-craft.’
Crihir nodded and at a gesture from Lord Elrond stood.
‘I bring word,’ he said, ‘from Captain-General Daerdan who commands what forces we have been able to muster in the region of Lake Evendim and the ruined splendour of ancient Annuminas.’
Elrond nodded at him to continue.
‘Since the Rangers departed,’ Crihir said. ‘The forces of the Enemy have returned in main strength and what ground we had taken lies again under their foul feet.’
He took a deep breath before continuing.
‘And there is worse. We know not what it may be but we can feel the stench in our sleeping dreams.’
The man appeared to Elrond to shudder.
‘The Enemy has caused some Ancient Evil to take up residence again in the deep places beneath the ruins. One at least but maybe more. Trolls of wicked guile press our lines and we are sore pressed to retain a foothold. We beg your aid for if we fall then surely the lands of the North will fall also to sword and flame.’
‘You bring more news of dread weight.’ Elrond observed.
Crihir’s complexion grew pale as his last reserves of strength began to fail and his voice trembled.
‘The wound I took,’ he said. ‘Came near the boundaries of this domain. The hills around the Bruinen Ford echo to the sounds of woodcraft and foul shapes prowl the shadows.’
Crihir took another deep breath. His face was gray now and his words came shaking.
‘I have seen what forces hold that position and Lord – I do not think they can stand.’
When he was assured of the arrangements made for the messenger from the north’s comfort Elrond sent for Glorfindel. On his arrival Elrond ordered the Library cleared.
‘Grave news indeed My Lord,’ said Glorfindel at the situation’s outline.
‘Little strength remains in Imladris and what there is may bare be enough to hold the Ford and only a portion of that can be spared given the constant threat of goblin attack from the northern wastes. I do not see what aid we can send Annuminas though I do not question the peril.’
‘I believe The Warband have returned to Imladris from their mission to the south.’ Elrond observed.
‘Indeed,’ Glorfindel answered, his voice carefully neutral.
‘You do not believe they are a worthy instrument? Though few in number the count of their deeds is high.’
‘Indeed,’ Glorfindel said again. ‘Yet the strongest chain will break at its weakest link.’
‘Are you referring to Men? It is by my command they honour the Last Alliance. It is too long since we stood together in the shield wall.’
‘Men have always been weak,’ Glorfindel answered. ‘But not where the blood of the Dunadain runs true.’
‘No,’ he continued. ‘That is the least of my concerns. I am thinking more of leadership.’
The eyes of the Lore Master flashed with seldom seen passion.
‘The Lady Elisbeth and Khalis her companion I have known for many lives of men and they stand firm and high in my confidence.’
‘The Warband is a triumvirate though.’ Glorfindel observed. ‘And how stable can a tripod be if one leg breaks?’
Elrond said nothing and Glorfindel continued in the silence.
‘The third one. The popinjay youth who created such a stir in the Scholar’s Guild concerning the guilt of certain elves regarding the Silmarils.’
He visibly searched for the correct words.
‘It is said ... well ... his chess board may be short of the odd Knight so to speak. He drew weapons on Lore and his son it is said. In Bree.’
‘Yes,’ Elrond replied with a sigh. ‘The matter has been loudly and repeatedly bought to my attention.’
‘And?’
‘And if I exiled every elf who thought of drawing a weapon on Lore we’d all be talking in Black Speech an Age ago.’ Elrond answered with a wry smile.
‘Soldiers at the Ford say he fights with a reckless disregard for his own safety. And that endangers everyone.’
‘Speaks the Elf-lord who fought a Balrog toe to toe.’
‘And awoke in The Halls of Mandos. By the grace of the Valar only am I returned. I do not believe this Tagos, this Dark Hunter as some call him, can count on such grace.’
‘My sons have fought alongside him at the Ford and full chessboard or no they say he fights like a demon and foes flee at the first shimmer of the Bow of Starlight and Shadows. Which they say that though new reforged its like has been seldom seen since the Second Age ended.’
‘No,’ Elrond continued. ‘There is something about him. There is something about the entire Warband. The Fates swirl around them all, elf and man and it would not take much to make me believe there is Purpose to their being here, coming together as if by chance in this our need’s darkest hour.’
Glorfindel demurred but said nothing and when he left to organise an additional levy to reinforce the garrison at the Ford of Bruinen Elrond took pen to parchment and this he wrote in flowing elven script.
To the Warband of Imladris. This day you are summoned and commanded to ride with all speed and all strength to Annuminas where you will aid and assist Captain-General Daerdan in the defence of this region against renewed assault. Ancient Evil is said to have returned to haunt the ruins and the underground chambers. Deal with this threat by any means necessary.
I do not need to emphasize the success of the war in the south and the mission of which I need not speak depend wholly on keeping the forces of Shadow from assailing our backs.
You are also commanded to lend every assistance to our forces at the Ford of Bruinen should you, as I suspect you will, find our defenders hard-pressed.
Indeed – seek out the forces of the Enemy and destroy them wherever you encounter them.
By my command.
(original thread started by Tagos on the Roleplaying forum of the Warband of Imladris.The original thread with attached images can be found here www.guildportal.com/Guild.aspx)
