Archive for Arda (The Two Towers LP Mud)

Meril flees the Shire

Meril grinned to herself as the last load of the first full issue of the paper to be printed since she woke up left Common Tater Headquarters. It was a good day, but it was also bitter sweet. She pushed away from her desk and wandered through the polished, but mostly empty caves until she came to the empty room that had been the paper’s library. One lone bookcase remained, a replica of one once owned by Bilbo Baggins that had been rescued from Hugo Bracegirdle’ s estate, who’s habit of borrowing books and never returning them had finally got him thrown in the lock-holes. (Apparently he “borrowed” a ledger from Sharkey’s men and got caught on his way back from the drop, but at least the resistance had a more detailed account of everything that had thus far been stolen from the Shire.)

Meril hesitated a moment considering the bookcase and the fate of its owner, then activated the hidden mechanism that she and her brother Drakoe had devised, and slipped into the hidden maze of tunnels that led down into Ranhoth headquarters. A few minutes later she emerged in Ranhoth’s quite full library from behind Hugo’s real bookcase which was kept empty in honor of his bibliophilic tendencies.

Meri stretched and then archived a copy of the new paper before stopping in front of the wall facing the entrance to the library and tried to hold back her tears. So many in the lockholes, more simply missing, and her heart always near broke at the list of confirmed lost. Scapegoat had been a Gaffer when the troubles started, and it seemed that things had happened during her enchanted sleep that had aged him further. Kae was gone, her son Cugine missing. Drakoe had gone to help mumsy with the rope yard while da helped move supplies under his old alias Mook the crook. Sila couldn’t bare to stay at HQ because of how quiet it had become, and Meril couldn’t blame her.

Morale and moods were subdued, there were far, far too many names on that wall. There was one in particular that hurt her the most, she perhaps a bitly unwarrantedly carried the guilt for it in her heart and it brought a great sense of personal loss that kept her going. Luth Proudfoot. The day Sharkey’s spell had hit her they were supposed to patrol together. He was dead because she got herself caught. Tears burned in her eyes and she clenched her fists. He had been her best friend, and the best foot groomer in the entirety of the Shire. Now all that was left of one of the finest hobbits she ever knew was his name on a wall and her memories of him.

The cry of a hunting horn echoing through the halls brought her to herself and she burst to Action, zig zagging through the mine shafts until she found Scruffy and looked to him expectantly.

“Ferny and Rocco were seen fording The Water and headed this way an hour ago with a large band and blood hounds” he said softly.

Meril nodded quickly and shot off into the un-excavated section of the tunnels until she ran into the tarnished shirriff.

“Ferny is coming, he’s probably after me but go make sure Saldo and the rest of Fatty’s guys are ready if my plan doesn’t work…”

The ex-shirriff raised an eyebrow. “Plan?, what’s the plan?”

“Not now Hrastan! Just go!”

Meril turned on a dime and launched herself back up the tunnel the way she came then into the barracks and grabbed her kit, then into the graffiti littered cave where they were keeping the weapons they managed to smuggle away from Sharkey and grabbed a man sized main-gauche that had served her well in the past as a rapier then rushed out just as quick, pausing only long enough to catch her breath and write a quick note for the bounders and everyone who was out ranging.

Once the note was safely attached to the board she grabbed a torch off the wall and a bottle of moon shine and rocketed back through the library and tunnels to CT HQ. Once she was back in what had been her library, she gave the place one last mournful look over, then doused the trick bookcase with alcohol and torched it, sealing the passage until such a time it was safe to return.

A blink and a half later she emerged into daylight from the main entrance of HQ, high up on an overlook reachable only by a hidden trail. She pulled a spy glass from her kit and scanned the river. They were heading west. Damn. It was time to act before Fatty Bolger’s cell got caught. Meril took a breath and fished a parcel out of her pack and unwrapped it and glanced at her special order of elven made enchantments and fished the note her contact had included.

Miss Softfoot,
Here are the items we discussed. They are attuned to the stone in your ring. Good luck!
<=

Meri grinned and folded the note then pulled a small megaphone out of the box and hanging it around her neck and then, after finding the group of thugs again with her spyglass, she grabbed a vial of eagle sight potion from the box and took a sip.

“Gotcha.” She said once her eyes adjusted to the new view before touching the canary yellow diamond in her ring to the megaphone then putting it to her lips she coughed once, the sound reverberating through the hills.

“Hey Bill! Inquiring minds must know… how IS your foot feeling? I bet it just BURNS.”

Meril watched the mauraders carefully as Ferny raised a hand and the band and their horses halted and they began looking around for where the sound had come from. Then she grinned as she made out the form of Ted Sandyman in the group. Perfect.

“Speaking of things that burn… I heard the most awful rumor the other day that your wife’s death wasn’t an accident. Maybe you should ask THEODORE about it.”

Meril suppressed a laugh as Ferny’s eyesbrows arched in suprise and his glance fell to Sandyman.

“Oooh Ted, by the way, I have been dying to ask… how’s the Mill yard looking these days?, I got a most interesting piece of mail the other day post marked from BAG END signed ROCCO that requested any unwanted junk be dropped off at YOUR place. I went ahead and published it since that was obviously the intent.”

Meril’s grin grew larger as the son of Sandyman slowly flushed up in rage and began glaring at Rocco. Time to seal it.

“By the way, Rocky, buddy, pal! Don’t you think it incredibly convenient that WILLIAM has been cosying up to Lotho since he got kicked out of Bree?, I have it on good authority that he is after YOUR job.”

Rocco quite suddenly kicked his horse and pulled his club off his belt and turned to face Ferny who began talking very quickly to his angry companion, too fast for Meril to read his lips anyway.

“By all means Billy, do try to talk him down, Eru knows you got YOUR whiny ASS handed to you by a scrawny DWARF a few weeks ago. Regardless, I do not expect any of you to take MY word for anything. Check your saddle bags, I left you gifts.”

Meril smirked as Sandyman and Rocco instantly took the bait. Ferny on the other hand had turned his attention back to scanning the hills for some sign of where Meril was since he was smart enough to have figured out that she was watching. It was almost a shame that he’d throw his envelope in the river without even opening it as his had unfiltered truth in it, but the editoress had already arranged for the original to be delivered to his new quarters at the mill later. Rocco’s and Sandyman’s on the other hand were a little more varying in the quality of truth contained. There was truth there, but some of it was hidden in plain sight, some was forged, and some was worded so it seemed the way she made it sound. She expected Sandyman to figure it out later, he was gullible but not entirely stupid. Rocco on the other hand would believe all the correspondence she put before him, the real stuff, and the forged. Meril predicted that it would take about five minutes for the fuse she had just lit to start going off.

Three minutes, fifty-nine seconds later, Ted Sandyman looked up from the letter she had provided and quietly put it away and started studying Rocco intently with menance while he silently began untangling his sling. At four minutes, fifteen seconds; Ferny attempted to hide the fact that he was loading a bolt into his crossbow. At four minutes, fourty five seconds, Rocco ripped the piece of paper he was reading in half and started taking a swing at Ferny even while Sandyman started pelting Rocco’s horse with sharpened rocks.

Go time. Meril walked back to open entrance and grabbed the “staff” her elven contact had sent and touched her ring to it at the same time as she raised the megaphone to her lips one last time. “Boys boys, no need to fight over little old me!” The light gave off a bright flash, Ferny lit his crossbow bolt on fire and shot it directly at where she had been a second ago, directly into the crate of fireworks she had set up behind the potato vines. They immediately went up in a brilliant plume of light doing just as they were intended to, delivering both a message and covering the fact that she destroyed the trick bookcase.

“See ya later breakfast skippers!” She yelled like swearwords in pig-elvish to add to the confusion and then dived off the drop with the elvish kite designed to look like a giant eagle that had been hidden in the staff and started gliding to the south towards Longbottom, where a second set of fireworks went off moments later with an even bigger boom.

When she landed outside Tighfield some time later, Primrose jumped out of the bushes and gave her a hug. “How’d it go?”

“Couldn’t have gone better if I had planned it myself.” Meril grinned cheekily.

“But… Meril! You DID plan it yourself!” Primrose said and poked the editoress gently in the tummy.

“Did I REALLY?” Meril winked. “I can’t say that I know what you’re talking about.”

Primrose sighed then looked over her friend. “So what now then?”

“Draks has the rest of my gear and Ebony at the rope yard. I think I’ll give Sharkey’s lot a run around for a bit if they manage to find me, then…”

Meril somberly looked to the east and then started again softly.

“I have to leave the Shire, Primrose. I don’t just mean take a trip to Bree leave either. I have to go. I’m too visible. I put all of the Resistance at risk. If I hadn’t made this happen now, it would have happened when I wasn’t there, and right now the timing is critical, Roden says there’s a leak.”

Primrose nodded quietly.

“It doesn’t mean I’ll never be back, but its just too dangerous right now. Things need to cool down a bit. The elf that gave me this…” Meril motioned to the glider staff. “She said that there’s some sort of information network working out of Rivendell, and there’s a whole giant world outside the Shire, I think its maybe time I learn about it, and maybe I’ll find out about the truth about Sharkey while I’m at it.”

Meril shrugged.

“It’s not any one’s idea of what they wanted to do when they grew up… but I think that Bilbo, Frodo, Meridoc, Peregrin and my cousin had the right idea. Sometimes getting where you NEED to go involves leaving what’s comfortable and breaking some traditions. I’m bound to get people upset with me along the way, but I tried keeping them happy and it wasn’t working, I’ll settle for them being safe instead. For right now, as far as they’ll be able to tell Ranhoth is in Southfarthing, not East.”

Meril hugged Primrose once more.

“As the elves say: Galo Anor erin râd gîn na lû n’i a-goveninc. May the sun shine on your path until we meet again.”

Meril then quickly turned to her friend and slipped into Tighfield, pausing only once just inside the walls of the rope yard to wipe away a few tears.

Growing up was hard and she’d done more of it in the past year then she had in the thirty-three years before, and as the sun began to set in the west, she found herself looking east as the moon and evening star rose, hope filling her heart once again.

She ran into the Roper Mansion, kissed her mumsy, lifted her brother’s money purse, changed into some more stealthy attire, grabbed her pack, then rocketed into the stables and saddled her pony, then took off at a gallop out of town on a northeast heading, blew a clear crisp note on her hunting horn, and then activating the megaphone one last time she yelled so loud that almost the whole Shire heard…

“UP THE SHIRE BREAKFAST SKIPPERS!”

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A Hobbit Birthday Party in Bree

Based on my aunt Jackie’s birthday party at the beginning of July, this piece was published as coming from Meril in the July 28th Issue (I51) of The Common Tater. Note that Aunt Jackie only turned 65 though, Hobbits have a bit longer lifespans and come of age at 33.

A Hobbit Birthday Party in Bree
Meril Softfoot

A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of attending my dear Aunt Goldie Broadbelt’s Grand 75th Birthday Bash.

The party was a traditional sort of hobbit occasion and was quite possibly the best party of its kind to occur in quite some time (I couldn’t say if it rivaled Bilbo’s Party, I am not near old enough to have had the privilege of having attended that event.)

In any case, I don’t know if I mentioned, but Goldie is a bit of a city gal nowadays, she lived in Edoras for quite some time with her husband Hamson, before his lack of sense walked him right under a falling printing press that was being delivered to their place of business. (Rest in peace Uncle Hamson… rest in peace.)

So Aunt Goldie has come back to the more sensible parts of the world, and while Bree isn’t any one else’s idea of a big city, she prefers it to Michel Delving possibly soley for the ability to acquire Rohirrim Cuisine. (And its a good thing too, I’m sure her business like manner and backbone of steel would have gotten her thrown into the lockholes just as quick as other upstanding hobbits.)

Where was I? Oh, The party! Yes. The party of course was in Bree as I have mentioned she lives there, so I guess you could say it was largely possible to have such a wonderful day because of the civic improvements done recently. Now I know no one thinks that lots was changed, but when do civic improvements ever seem huge after the initial inconveniences of blocked roads and construction noises? When my Uncle Andy petitioned to the mayor of Tighfield for a tree that got hit by lightning twice ( Both hits were recorded a certain same period of time before Draks and I’s birthdays… huh. Odd.) to be removed from town property in front of the rope yard right after my first birthday in 2986, the matter went to the town council and got filibustered about until Draks and I were tweens and lightning about went and struck that tree again. That’s about when they got the thing removed like Sharkey was chasing them. (Not that we knew about Sharkey then.) So considering Ferny was making all sorts of things impossible in Bree for a time and whatever else had been going on with town council politics and what not…those Bree improvements came faster then it took to get a dead tree removed in Tighfield. Primrose already made mention of it all anyway, but I think at the very least the grungy old feast hall getting knocked down after only after two-ish years of it being discussed is much faster then some old dying tree that took 15 or so years in Tighfield. And really, which do you think had more impact on how things looked?

Speaking of the feast hall, the party happened to take place where it had been. Boy was I surprised to see that big old magnificent cherry tree with its big pink blossoms. Makes you wonder who thought the feast hall had been a good idea anyway, but I digress. The grove was the perfect spot for the party, it was a really hot day for early March, but the shade from the tree and a slight breeze that occasionally caused a cascade of petals to fall really set the mood that was especially enhanced by the pair of bards she hired.

Food was catered by Mrs. Butterburr and included delicious sandwiches with ham and turkey on light, perfectly formed croissants; a salad made with pasta with vegetables, cheese and a light dressing; extremely thinly sliced taters that had been fried to a pleasant solid crunchy state; and a variety of bite sized sweet pastries for dessert. The drinks! Ooh! The Staddle brewing company has out done themselves. Not only did they bring in the best of beers from all around the Shire, including Nobottle’s famous beer that’s more like a mead… but they had most of their specialty brews such as the pale lager, cherry and blonde ales, and the stout. However! that wasn’t all! Apparently the master brewer is a widower himself and has taken to Auntie Goldie, because he broke out some of his experimental creations for the occasion that included beverages in the same vein as the cherry ale; malted, but capturing the flavors of other beverages offered to the tweens and children as soft drinks along with tea and water. The two most popular of these were the hard lemonade and something he called a wine cooler. Ah, tater rot. Now I’m thirsty.

Gandalf was nowhere to be seen, so we had no fireworks to speak of, but the conversation was pleasant and I was able to talk to many relations that seem to have conveniently forgotten about me while I was asleep under Sharkey’s spell in a cupboard in Bywater. The afternoon finished up as any good Shireling hobbit’s birthday party is wont to: presents.

I myself came away with a very specially selected gift: A watercolor rendition of what might possibly be Smaug himself, depicted flying over a full moon, painted by one of Goldie’s friends in Edoras. The verdict is out on if the artist witnessed Smaug’s sacking of Lake Town or not, but ask me if it matters. (HINT: It does not.) Every other guest went home with something as well, mostly small trinkets including large brightly colored daisies in clear glass dishes with luminescent glass beads at the bottom and small paintings of the flora of Rohan.

Such an event was a boon for all who attended, and it has also served as a boon for you as I, Meril Lily Softfoot of Tighfield; am now again inspired to spread the light that has been rekindled in my heart to wherever it may take.

Up Bree! UP THE SHIRE!
(and… why not?)
UP MIDDLE EARTH!

The Wisdom of Dora Baggins #1

Some of you know that in the game I play, I am the editor of a Hobbit Newspaper. One of the new columns that I’ve started is something of an advice column. The way she says things applies mostly to things in game, but the general wisdom is something that maybe everyone could hear. Originally posted in the July 28th Issue (I51) of The Common Tater.

The Wisdom of Dora Baggins

Dora Baggins, paternal aunt of the infamous Frodo Baggins was legendary for her letters of advice. Her only niece; Daisy Baggins, has taken up the art and has agreed to write for the Common Tater.

On showing appreciation

Now a days it seems that there is a permanent state of uncertainty in the air. We go through our day to day lives and we try not to think about what’s going on because of either fear or indifference brought on what perhaps what seems to be the inability to make a difference.

In these times, we often forget to stop to show our appreciation for something someone else does for us, whether its a general thank you to the random passerby that returns something we dropped or gives us directions no matter how confusing or oblique they might be, kudos to someone who is playing their role in the community, or just simply telling someone (like your local Newspaper Editor) that you liked something they did.

Not only will they know that someone appreciates what they did when they might have not otherwise (especially because some people don’t particularly like to have to ask if you liked something), but they’ll also be more likely to continue to continue on in that fashion. Isn’t that what we want to happen with anything we appreciate?

Cordially yours,
Daisy Baggins

P.S. Thank YOU for reading!

Olanwa’s Reprise – Prologue

This is just the first draft, it WILL be edited.

 

Prologue: Returned by Sea

The fisherman dropped his sails and whispered an incantation before taking up his oars and maneuvering his small vessel into the hidden cove that his father had fished before him.

Once he was happy with his position,  he dropped his nets and shellfish traps then stretched and found himself gazing at the twilight sky, lost in thought.

He smiled as Eärendur’s star appeared in the West as the sun sunk below the water, and the moon soon rose in the east, thick and heavy as if Tilion was a bit drunk and was guiding it closer to the earth then usual. The elf didn’t think much of it at first, these were uncertain times, and while Tilion’s path was sometimes unsteady, the light of Telperion’s flower was ever bright, and the fish rose from the depths with its light, doing their part to feed the Teleri that still slowly filtered through Mithlond to the Lhun and made their last stop for supplies at Harlond before hitting open sea.

The thought of the sea brought the sound of the Belegaer pressing up and in against the barrier between it and the Gulf  from where it had only been white noise, and very soon he could almost feel the fear that his ancestors and elders had felt when they first encountered the Great Sea before the dawn of the first age at the end of the Great Journey. A shiver ran through his body  from the base of his spine as he suddenly realized he was not alone here, and he wasn’t imagining the fear… someone else was in his cove and she was badly injured.  His eyes flicked to the ancient reef lining beach of the cove, and when his gaze settled upon the wreckage of a small vessel his heart stopped before beginning to pump again with the release of adrenaline.  It looked like a lifeboat from one of the Swanboats of Mithlond. In a sudden blur of motion, he cut the lines to his nets and traps and inhaled deeply before drawing up the sails and summoning a wind to launch him across the water.

Within a five minutes he had almost flown his skiff the entire two mile length of the cove, given himself whiplash when he used his anchor as an emergency break to keep his boat from breaking on the rocks, then took a magic aided leap across the ridge to the shore. It was more power then he had tapped in ages and he would pay for it later. For now though, he sprinted across the beach with long strides, past the wreckage and up to the treeline where a crumpled figure was still trying to slowly crawl into the shelter of the woods.

The sindar inhaled and then bent down next to her, touching her shoulder softly.  His eyes went wide at the contact as she managed to turn her head and look at him with wild green eyes.

“Amarië?” his voice was barely a whisper.

Her eyes shifted to the indigo they had been when they were children. “Deltor…” her voice was raspy and her eyelashes fluttered hazardly as she tried to focus on him.

“Deltor…am I really here?”

“Shh… Kam… yes you’re in Lindon…” He lifted her and she stared right into his eyes as they flickered back to green momentarily until the color seemed to drain away from her eyes leaving them gray as hithlain as she smiled slightly and let the pain finally take her from consciousness.

Kamara the Teleri (Updated 2012 version)

The Origins and early life of Kamara Firalkar called Olwana have faded from the memories of all but those close to her. What is known is that she born near the end of first millennia of the third age, a daughter of the Firalkar Clan thought lost by her remaining family; her brothers Nathor and Natael and her cousin Polk, until III 2945 when she was reunited with them after traveling to the Woodland Realm of Thranduil following the call of the forest.

Later, it was said she left the forest with a heavy heart and lingered a while in Rivendell and it grew to be home. And yet, her name was written in the book of those who went west, thought to never to return…

Yet in time, the sea threw her back as it did when she was a child, onto the shores of the Grey Havens. They tried to keep her there, to find what had happened, but her memory was distorted and fogged, the only thing that she did know was she never made it to the undying lands, and that she needed to return home and turn her attention back to the east and the war…

A few more custom pieces I found in the ether…

Loc’s Wizard Ring

From a distance, this fine ring seems to be only a simple but elegant gold band that was accented with white gold on both rims and inlayed with a single milky white adamant stone. However, on a closer glance, you soon come to realize that this ring was not just forged from a mold, but woven from the two metals around an unseen golden core. The adamant sits beautifully inset upon the core with the white gold framing one side of its round glossy surface and the yellow gold framing the other. When worn on the finger of a magic user, the remnant magic that was used to craft it comes to surface, and when a spell is cast, the gem glows with the energy of the spell.

Peering on the inside of the ring, you can see a small smith mark. <=

Someone’s Carimeril bracelet

From a distance; a beautiful bright red rose bloom corsage with baby’s breath, wound about the wrist with dethorned stem and silver ribbon that comes about into a bow near the bloom. On closer glance; carefully crafted, thin fancy cut rubies and tiny pearls, set in green gold pulled into leaves and entwined with silver pulled and hammered to appear like ribbon. The piece is suprisingly light, and though it appears delicate and fragile, it seems quite sturdy for all its detail. Underneath the forged foliage is a delicate smithmark: <=

On the Multiverse…

One of the more interesting things about the Planescape is the fact that not only can you travel around, up, and down within the planes, but one can also travel sideways, though it tends to be a rarer thing.I was reminded of this when Orlandu and I were in the Café and a local was reading “Lord of the Rings.” She didn’t seem very interested when Orlandu plopped down and read a bit behind her shoulder and then told her that Arda was a real place, and we had been there. Actually… the girl wasn’t very interested in anything that didn’t involve her in any way… and her “pet” snow leopard she claimed to have gotten from a zoo that was going out of business shared the sentiment… but that’s besides the point, and a totally different story and rant.

The truth is, that Arda is its own place, its own universe; Eru, the Ainur, hobbits, elves, dwarves etc, exist just as you and I exist. You see, with the multitude of different possibilities that sprung from the beginning of time, along with all the choices every one of us has ever made, there are splittings and rejoinings of different universes all around us. But again, I digress… the interesting part is how often stories and slices of these other universes cross each other, it is as if the authors and artists somehow see across borders to see what things could have occurred in their own reality. The funny part is how a woman sitting in a nexus of the multiverse could possible not believe that anything had a possibility of existing.

However, that being the way things are, it is a fact that Orlandu and I did, by chance happen upon Arda.

It is an interesting place, the little bit of it we saw, the forest… Eryn Lasgalen, Wood of the Greenleaves it was called, reminded me much of the forests that surrounded the palace I lived in as a child on my own plane. We wandered those woods for quite a while, passing ruins of campsites and … battlegrounds. There was a sadness to that world, scars of a taint that had been fought off within the last fifty years. I don’t know how long we wandered before we came to an abandoned fort. It was housed in one of the largest and oldest trees I had ever seen. Dusk was coming and it seemed to be a good enough place to camp for the night. The entrance spiraled below the large roots of the tree and we descended carefully, it was true enough that there was no one there at the time, but it had definitely been occupied sometime in the last few weeks.

There were many passages in those catacomb, some laced with crystals and precious metals, others plain rock. I did not doubt that one could get lost extremely easily in those caves. Orlandu did not lead me astray however, his nose knew where elves and now a man tread frequently and he led me through the caves to a set of stairs built into the tree that spiraled up to a flat. The first stars had started to come up whilst the sun had begun to set and hundreds of small butterflies danced in these higher limbs. It was truly beautiful… the whole world was. Neither Orlandu nor I heard the man come as we gazed upon the beauty of the stars of the world. To this day I do not know if it was his elven blood that made him inaudible or if it was a spell woven by the song that the sky of the world sang.

“Who are you that trespasses here?” He asked to my back, his voice was quiet, but stern… but I thought I heard a touch of regret in his words.

I turned to look at him, and he inhaled sharply a name barely escaping from his lips.

“Kamara?”

He came closer now, dropping his knife and looking at me closer.

“No… The eyes are wrong… and she left for the undying lands a quarter of a century ago… Who are you?”

Orlandu stepped out of the shadow then. “Perhaps you should sit down.” he purred slightly.

He almost fainted then, but managed to contain himself as I explained as gently as I could… in turn he told me of the war of his world that had passed in the last 50 years, and departure of the elves, and then some of the history and stories of the place. He was one of the few that came from the joining of elf and human…His mother an elf, his father a knight of a place in the south called Dol Amroth.

It might seem insignificant to some, but this ex-knight… ranger… Cliffton Pathor helped me realize more about the planes then some of my travels ever did, the significance of the multiverse, and alternative versions of myself. There were many similarities between myself and Kamara Firalkar called Olwana, but differences as well… she was no princess, but she was a lost orphan, she was a soldier, a magic user, a protector, patron of the earth. I imagine that if Kamara Firalkar had met me, we would get along, circumstances only partly make the person. I am sure there are other versions of myself out there, and I’m sure that not all of them are elves, we are reflections of one another, but none are exactly the same, they made a different choice, or grew in a different way, weren’t offered the ability to planewalk, didn’t lose their mother, stayed and was slain with her family, or became the murderer herself…

My choices should perhaps not burden me then, or rather my inability to save my family… somewhere out there… they live… and I still wander.

Kamara’s Ninquilohtë Circlet

Dark walnut polished to a mirror like shine intertwined with a lightly green tinted lustrous metal that appears to be an alloy of silver and gold forms a symmetrical band of ellipses that increase in size until the band itself curves down in the middle, allowing the loop in the center house an eye sized marquise cut emerald. Accenting the emerald are two perfectly paired white iridescent opals mounted in the two elliptical loops on either side of the rich green gem. The emerald itself is cut quite finely, catching the light in such a way that within its depths it holds the illusion of a blooming white rose.

What Comes?

What comes? The heat and flame take their toll;
What comes? Aicanáro leaps to steal my soul.

Fire warms and fire touches…
Fire of life, fire of passion…
Fire that burned the earth to ashes…

What comes? The zephyr nears, its whispers cold;
What comes? Súlimë sings its songs of old.

Wind blows and wind hushes…
Wind of breath, wind of caprice…
Wind that blows away the pieces…

What comes? Tide has turned, step from the lee;
What comes? Celussë washes over me.

Water flows and water cleans…
Water of hope, water and rain;
Water that heals the shattered remains…

What comes? Now I wake from the silent deep;
What comes? Kementári watches from her keep.

Earth grows and earth revives…
From the earth a flower thrives;
It blooms forth, majesty enshrined…
Symbol of light; four souls entwined.

What comes?

Kamara Firalkar (2005 Version)

The Origins and early life of Kamara Firalkar called Olwana have faded from the memories of all but those close to her. What is known is that she born near the end of first millennia of the third age, a daughter of the Firalkar Clan thought lost by her remaining family; her brothers Nathor and Natael and her cousin Polk, until III 2945 when she was reunited with them after traveling to the Woodland Realm of Thranduil to join his army as a battle mage after hearing of the losses of the Battle of Five Armies.

That which had been called Greenwood the Great became her home, and a passion burned inside of her that grew until the trees and creatures of the earth were as much her family as her brothers, cousin and her brothers and sisters in arms.

Through this passion for the forest and Eä, Kamara inherited the Emerald, one of four jewels of powers created from the essence of the lost Silmarils–Emerald and Sapphire from that was lost in the depths of the sea by Maglor and Onyx and Ruby from the Silmaril that Maedhros threw himself into the fiery depths of Eä with in his madness–returned to Middle Earth with the coming of the Istari, granted to four elves who together became known as the Jeweled Mages, elected to battle against and hold the forces of the Necromancer until the White Council could set their plans into action.

It was the end of a four-day patrol; Kamara and her friend and brother in arms, Maxwell Rayne had broken from the rest of the group to investigate some orcish activity. Maxwell was the last surviving member of the Jeweled Mages; Wielder of the Sapphire, and when the two sat down for a morning meditation before going on to the orc camp, he observed her closeness to the earth, and as he concentrated on the Sapphire and the ocean his meditation took him, he felt the Emerald awaking from its slumber, and the ocean became a river running through the forest. He reached for Kamara in his meditation and showed her the forest, and followed her into it, and as she stood in the forest of the mindscape, the emerald appeared before her and when she touched it, it became part of her.

Together, the two attempted to heal the corruption that had entered the onyx, but though they failed, the Amethyst was rendered, and awoken from its shards, a jewel of the wind, and taken up by Anand.
The three parted ways in hopes that they would find one that could find one to wield the ruby and in turn find a wielder for the sacred untouched Pearl borne from the essence of the Silmaril that remains upon Eärendil’s brow; the morning and evening star. Anand traveled north, crossing the mountains, standing guard at Imladris, and dwelling with his kin among the Ring smiths, bearing the title Sage of Crystals. Maxwell journeyed to Lothlorien, giving his aid to the elves of the golden wood against the threats emerging from the depths Moria.
And when the Kingdom of the Greenwood came under siege, the Emerald Mage was counted among the sect of the army that stole to outside the cave fortress to fight for freedom from the shadows of the wood.

The three kept in contact through virtue of the stones, and they stood guard and searched as they could. Time passed and the siege continued, but it was not without happy moments. Kamara fell in love and was engaged, but not long before the wedding, her beloved was lost in battle, and slowly she grew weary. Her companions could not keep her from falling into the illness of heartsickness and soon enough she left base and wandered deep into the forest, disappearing from the world from every one but Anand and Maxwell, and they only a little, it was a faint reflection and pulse of her former self. A year passed… and the Emerald Mage slept, allowing the barren field of her heart to rest and heal as the earth would after a great fire. Silently Maxwell gave her what aid he could from afar, allowing quiet tendrils of water irrigate her heart and soul until the day she awoke with a new seed of hope and love within her. Leaving her engagement ring in the forest she emerged from the forest and returned to the land of the living, ready to fight against the Darkness for the Greenwood once again.

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