Rhayader fell unconious due to loss of blood.


(Not gonna be online later so thought I'd leave like this. Might be doing something drastic with Rhayader soon)

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"Rock N' Roll is the only relgion that never lets you down!" ~ Lemmy Kilmister

[!*#_:]

((okaies...when are you going to get back on?))

Tindomerel kicked Lebethron's sides hard, holding Rhayader on the horse with her right arm, weilding Narmacil in her left. "Hang on, Rhayader, meleth nin," she whispered, hacking down an orc as the black stallion started off in a gallop, the elf leaning foreward, her heart beating faster in fear for her love.

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The Ever So Confused One

Sig ll Moi

Jax looked back to be sure the two cleared the orcs and then continued focasing on his fighting.

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Visit The Varsian Kingdom!

(Ok, slow down guys.... let Aemorn catch up with the Gondor force.... and I have to go... tata.... not sure if I'll be back soon but I'll try...)

Arinae saw comrades fall and closer friends wounded. It was with anger that she now fought, her green eyes lit with determination, her brow creased in concentration.

The battle drew out longer, as the strength of the men wore down slowly, the enemy so high in number that it seemed nearly impossible to make a dent in the masses of orc and foreign men. Men fell bravely, while others managed to keep strong and stand their ground, refusing to give an inch, trusting their comrades to watch their backs during the close moments. Things happened swiftly, tides turned back and forth in the blink of an eye, while the enemy pushed, then the Rohirrim pushed in return, eventually baring down on the enemy enough to cause them to be pinned against the force of the Gondorians. The lines upon lines of Rohan's aids were indeed an impressive sight, with armor glinting and banners unfurled in their splendor, a mere glimpse setting fear into the enemy. Several orc battalions leaped readily into their death, while a few hordes of less foolish, less battle lusting mortals ran from between the fiercely angered Rohirrim and the battle-ready Gondorians. Yet still the majority of the enemy, driven by anger and the want for revenge, stood ground and continued the cruel battle.

Arinae continued to call to her men, who answered with their own battle cries, diving again and again towards the enemy, cutting down numbers upon numbers ata a time. Arinae herself barely managed to keep her seat upon the saddle, Stardance now constantly agitated by the crowding, his grey coat flecked with the blood of the enemy his mistress had brought down, and the blood of comrades as well. Clearing one mass, Arinae urged the steed over fallen bodies of friend, foe, and horse. An orc charging forward from within the fray ahead of them, brought his blade towards the horse's front, slicing through the breast plate and cutting deep into the steed's flesh. It was more than the faithful Stardance could handle, his squealing whinny of fright nearly defening to Arinae's ears as the horse backed up hurriedly, panicking and finally forgetting his place of duty. The steed forced his rider off and headed faulteringly towards the Rohirrim camp, joined by another steed who had lost his own master.

Arinae now fought on foot, not something she was very capable of concidering she weilded a sword off balance to her left arm. Rallying the men would also be difficult from this lower level, but it was her duty to see it through and so she continued, splattered by the blood of the enemy, as were all her comrades, for such was the gruesome nature of the battle.

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I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

[Forgive me for not being able to come sooner, had much to do. My apologies!]

The onsaught begun and soon blood was drawn from man and orc alike but furious was the onset of the Gondorian force and bravely did the Rohhirim stood in defence.

Aemornion charged straight through the field to the spot where he beheld a dozen Rohhirim encircled "Show no mercy for you shall recieve none!" he cried out while he held the sword firmly in his hand and counted enemy arms, legs and necks.

"Archers! Prepare volleys!" called out Dagonet from the northern field. Soon a shower of many arrows rained across the enemy and many fell under lethal wounds. Many of the archers had come from Blackroot Vale and are considered the best archers in the land of Gondor. Once again they prove their skill.

Aemornion with the main host pushed a large part of the enemy together and soon they turned to madness for they noticed they had been trapped. Once a hunter has now become the prey. Heads had been cleaved, shields fell asunder as the bright steel dropped ontop of them

Soon mighty cries came from the Gondorians as they roused their voices into a battle song that trembled the ground. Fear was on the enemy soon.

Aemornion looked around seeking for his priorities. "4th! 7th! Follow me!" he called out to the leaders of the battalions as they pushed more and more towards the trapped group. Aemornoin beheld a mighty fighter in the middle but of a relatively slender form and was amazed for he saw the true Rohan spirit in that soldier "Behold! Eorl has come forth!" He yelled out "Death to the enemy!"

The fighting continued fierecly on all grounds but the enemy host was growing more and more less. Not more to go and only a half of it will only remain.

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I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the Warrior for his glory. I love the homeland which they defend.

"Death to the enemy!" Arinae joined the clearly heard cry, though the enemy was thick, making it hard to see beyond the task before her.

The Rohirrim also joined this cry, all voices in unbroken unison, and it was then that the enemy found true fear, the strong arms of both Rohirrim and Gondor upon them with all their might and ferociousness.

It was with a wearied breath that many of the Rohirrim fought, but their minds and spirits were set on driving this enemy from their fair fields, aided by the strong men of Gondor.

The enemy fled at any gap that was seen, any escape they could find, and their feet carried them beyond the fields and to the hills, where no doubt ran those who had scattered beforehand.

Blood and the fallen covered the ground, but dawn shone brighter, and with it the new hope rose higher, when it was revealed that the enemy had thinned.

New breath was found upon the cool air, though throats were dry and weariness was felt to its full extent, but the Rohirrim and the Gondorians fought as one, taking down what enemy still stood.

Arinae, now clearing what remained of the enemy near her, looked upon her own men and that of Gondor. The men were wearied but proud, and Arinae leaned upon her sword to more steadily support herself and observe through her Rohirrim helmet, which she had somehow managed to keep upon her head, the scatter and fall of the enemy.

She took that moment to note the pride with which the Gondorians fought, as though this had been their own land under attack from the cruel enemy.

Her green eyes, the light lit by battle now fading as the enemy had finally dwindled, strayed to view the fallen of both lands. So many were there, and the sorrow was expressed in those same eyes, even though she stood her stature taller, as though to honor those who fell with such dignity as was earned in such a battle.

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I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

The dawn approached on the east and sun was about to strike on the horizon thus defying more the enemy.

The two fair kins fought with all their splendour and courage they could muster in their wearyness. Swords have become slowly heavy, spears too long and arrows too slow but that did not stop them from getting the lands cleared from the wreched creatures and the evil alike.

Many evil men and orcs tried to flee from the battle but archers had their sights on them and barely few escaped their precision.

Aemornion let out another victorious yell as it echoed through the battlefield while raising his sword to the skies. The blade gleamed with dark and crimson blood as it begun to catch the first rays of the sun, a red sun. Victory was at hand and only a few remmenants of the evil host remained.

For the last kill Aemornion dismounted his horse. It seemed that both he and his beast were steaming from the heat of the fight in the chill dawn. His target was a chieftan that stood mockingly among the dead. Swiftly the swords rang between them but the rage in Aemornion's eyes was unquenchable and with all his mustered strength he slayed the wreched creature with passion.

Suddenly the true world rushed back at him. The vast ringing of swords and the powerful voices was replaced by weeping, screams and shouting madness. The true picture of war opened up once again infront of his eyes. The picture he dislikes so much in all his years in battle. Many mighty men lay dead while being mourned over by their wounded comrades who couldnt make out what hurt them more; their own severe wound, or their heart and soul for being torn away from someone they held close to themselfs.

Aemornion looked around with a heavy heart and broken soul fighting back strong emotions, he saw his brothers in arms slain laying lifelessly on the ground but he beheld even more of the fair and mighty Rohhirim among the corpses as well. His gaze strained to the same slender Rohhirim fighter of high rank that stood among the corpses. He inclined ins head respectfully in a bow and with a shaking stride and a firm grip on the sword hilt he went to seek out his men and help those in need

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I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the Warrior for his glory. I love the homeland which they defend.

Arinae's gaze caught that of a Gondorian leader, and held it for a moment as she watched the battle-strong warrior give a careful bow of respect. On impulse, she removed her helmet and held it beneath her left arm as she bowed low to this worthy leader of the aid they had so needed.

Her features, still youthful in years, were revealed in their full, but still disguised by the blood of battle, blood of comrade and foe. It was with a heavy heart that she turned her gaze from its observation of the vast field of the fallen and began to tread her way through the mess of battle, bending occasionally to encourage those wounded and for those more severely wounded, to see that a healer tended them.

Her right arm was no longer held in its protective sling, but she had felt no pain during battle, and still felt no pain as she focused only on the task before her, that task which was hers and hers alone.

Brushing with the back of her hand strands of blood matted hair from her face, Arinae assisted in deftly wrapping the wound of a Rohirrim, then in turn assisted a Gondorian, her mind straying to remember what the elves had taught her of healing.

Finally she stood, knowing there was more to her task than seeing to wounded and encouraging them. With her helmet held at her side and a hand resting upon her ever present sword hilt, Arinae weaved her way through the fallen, in search of the commanders she had assigned to each devision. It required all her strength to keep at bay her emotions, knowing many families would be without fathers, brothers, or sons.

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I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

Tindomerel made it back to camp without a problem after she had cleared the enemy lines. Lebethron's normally shining black coat was caked with dirt, blood and sweat.
The elf maiden jumped down off the horse, walking the horse, holding Rhayader still on the horse. She came to their tent and carefully lifted the ranger off Lebethron. She carried Rhayader into the tent, laying him down. Her muscle screamed at her when she lifted the ranger. Tindomerel had just laid Rhayader down when Nimloth came in. "Go find my pack," said Tindomerel, "Quickly."
The she-wolf darted off. The elf sat down next to Rhayader, stroking his hair, gazing at him. "Please be alright..." she whispered, taking his hand in her own, squeezing it tightly.

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The Ever So Confused One

Sig ll Moi

Corus finnished the last orcs around him as the one`s left began retreating, Corus collapsed on his knee`s and then he just crawled back to a falle horse. He leaned on it`s back looking at his wounds, the one in the shoulder was the most painful, but yet the minor slashes in his feet were annoying.

He then looked around seeing Gondorians and got up, he threw his hood over his head beginning to walk away limbing.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

(Ok sorry for being away)

Rhayader awoke coughing up blood, his eyes were glazed over.
"... Tindomerel?... "
He coughed again, blood spilling out of his mouth. His clothes were now crimson, the pain was even worse.
"...Is... Is it over?"

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"Rock N' Roll is the only relgion that never lets you down!" ~ Lemmy Kilmister

[!*#_:]

Corus stumbled into the aid station seeing Rhayader and Tindomerel, he slightly nodded at them eventough he wasn`t sure, if they saw it and then Corus fell onto a rag made for the wounded to lay on. He layed on the ground looking up as he had his hand over his wound on the shoulder, somebody came to him saying something and then removing his hand.

He just didn`t care, he might have already died or his wounds were being taken care of. He didn`t know, he just didn`t care anymore. Everyone here had a purpose, Rhayader and Tindomerel, Jax and Arinae, but he had nothing.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Aemornion helped out those in dire need as best as he could be it a Rohirrim rider or a Gondorian soldier. He recieved a few bruises on his body but the armor deflected most of the lethal blows. His heart was bitterly heavy by the onslaught.

"Pile the wreched creatures and the foul men on a pyre and burn them" he said to those who had been able to walk around more or less unhurt "but for our brothers and those of the Rohirrim kin build a mound for they shall be burried together for they fought and died together as one" his voice went weak a bit.

With a brink of an eye he percieved a hooded man slip into one of the tents staggering, but it was none from his men nor one of the Rohirrim. He became intrigued by the stranger and would have followed him but he heard Othar call for aid.

"Othar!"Aemornion rushed straight to him where he was laying on the ground. "Where are you hurt?!" he asked in a demanding voice.

"I dropped from my horse and dislocated my knee" Othar said while grimacing "and i would have fixed it myself if only i could bend in closer!" with that he cursed out aloud.

"Lay still!" Aemornion pushed him down and grabbed his leg with both hands "Be strong now.." he murmured and with a yank and a quick twist he placed his kneecap into place. Othar let out a growl holding back a yell but the pain lessened as the tension on the muscle subdued.
"Come now!" said Aemornion to him while helping him up "I dont want you to lie here" with that both of them with a staggering stride walked up towards the Tents

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I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the Warrior for his glory. I love the homeland which they defend.

(Might be a bit busy later on today, so I’ll put a post in now. If you don’t mind, Tin, I’ll be one of the healers, Renya, from the village, to assist you with Rhayader)

Renya stepped in from the battle field, having assisted with many of the wounded, and now directed several of the more seriously injured to be taken into camp and laid upon a mat to be looked after more closely.

The healer carried her elderly frame well for her age, giving a gentle smile of encouragement to those who needed it, her own sorrow hidden, though it was felt deeply for she could remember such a sight as the one before her now, when she was still a youth in the time of the Ring.

Blue gaze still bright through this weary time, the healer noticed the elf beside the ranger, her keen memory bringing to mind when they had all first met within the village not long ago. It was with a worried expression that she now approached the two, though she was intercepted by a healer requesting an opinion on the wound of a man strange in appearance, though she vaguely recognized him from the village as well.

She bent over the man, tending to his shoulder with deft movements of her aged hands, their steadiness surprisingly more than that of several of the other healers there. Hands now stained with blood from the many she had tended, Renya worked swiftly to stop the outpour of crimson from the stranger’s shoulder, her care shown through her eyes, a smile lit upon her face for the sake of the men she tended.

“Rest easy, milord, and I shall come to tend you farther when I have finished with a few others,” she murmured quietly before turning from Corus and heading again towards the elf’s side, where she crouched down and rested a hand on her shoulder with a smile of encouragement.

“Do not worry, he is strong, milady, and I will do what I can to help you, though I am sure an elf such as yourself knows more than I about healing, but if your hands ever falter or tremble, I shall assist you…” Renya spoke softly, so as not to disturb Rhayader. From the ever present satchel by her side, the elderly healer brought forth various herbs and liquids of precious potions. “Please use them sparingly, for many here are still in need of them…”

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Arinae had bent several times to again assist with wounded, and when she stood again, she noticed two highly ranked men of Gondor, one supporting the other, make their way towards the healing tents, though their steps seemed uneven and strained.

Without second thought, she move her way towards them, having set her helmet aside, and came to pace beside them.

"Are you in need of assistance milords?" She questioned, attempting to keep her voice steady, though she had not used it for a while above a whisper the times she bent to encourage the wounded, and it came falteringly at first.

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I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

Both Aemornion and Othar looked up and soon Aemornion realised in slight shock and amazement that the mighty Rohirrim rider was in truth a woman.
"Nay milady..." he managed to output the words somehow still not believing his eyes "I will manage and so will my kinsman but he needs a place to be seated so he dosent strain too much for a while"

Othar looked then at Aemornion "Dont worry about me captain, go help those how are in dire need. I will limp over to some place where i wont be in the way for a few minutes until the strain goes away. After that I would offer my assistance to the lady here" he glanced back at Arinae.

Aemornion nodded with a slight sigh "Very well, i trust you upon your word my brother" he let him go carefully and gave him a spear for support "Help these people as best as you can for they had come to our aid when we had been in need not many years ago. We cannot abandon them" with that he strode down back to the field to help treating the seriously injured.

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I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the Warrior for his glory. I love the homeland which they defend.

Arinae glanced to their faces, noting their surprise, but barely took heed of it, her mind set only on offering her assistence to these worthy men who had come to their aid.

She allowed her gaze to watch as the captain, whom she recognized from earlier, strode steadily away. It was a gaze that admired, admired the strength of a leader, knowing she could not reach such a standard as he must have held and accomplished so many times.

"Please, milord," she spoke with a careful bow towards Othar, "rest as long as you wish, for I shall see to my duty, and if need brings me, perhaps our paths shall cross again." With that, Arinae turned and made her way towards the familiar faces of her kin.

It was not long before Arinae came upon her horse, the steed dispirited, blood coursing down both his front legs from where the blade had cut past the breast plate. Touching a gently hand to the edges of the deep gash, she grimaced, her expression saddened to see the faithful Stardance in such pain as he was.

The horse, frightened, backed away at the touch and when Arinae pursued with a gentle, pleading tone in her voice, Stardance still only responded by backing farther away, and finally turning to amble farther, lost amid the crowded camp.

Arinae sighed dispondently, knowing it would take much of her time to follow after the steed, and she turned her focus instead to the wounded.

The day wore on, and weariness set in among even the healers, as they did what they could to bring in the wounded and bandage the many injuries, using whatever cloth they could get their hands on.

Lowering her wearied frame, Arinae sat by the edge of the battle field, setting a saddened gaze upon the crimson stained ground. Her youthful features revealed themselves at that moment of her weakness, her steeled expression fading as her gaze drifted distantly.

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I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~