Aemornion dropped the hood and flung the mask from his face showing a conserned face. He placed the bow and quiver down and with a slight sigh he glanced at Arinae

"There are men trapped inside the Hornburg itself. I did not see it, but i've heard a quarrel between a Rohirrim and a Dundeling. I've heard only the Rohhirm say in your tounge that they shall never give up the Tower, not while men reside in it." he glanced towards the Hornburg "We got allies inside but they are trapped inside"

He paused for a moment before speaking.
"The breach is a good way to storm the keep, but it is no good if we break in expected. A diversion must took place on the far side of the Deep in order for us to get enough of men through the breach and put some offense against the enemy. If we dont do that, we will break like glass upon jagged rock and count many casualties. Think neither of us wishes that" he rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

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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 furrowed her brows, folding her arms before her as she turned her glance to the few torches lit upon the deeping wall. "Supposing we were to feign an effort to break through the postern. It is a blind spot for their arrows for the most part, yet they will indeed focus their attention upon the source of the ruckous..."

She released a sigh, her expression troubled, deep within thought. "But did you happen to catch what the smoke might have been about? We would not wish to run into any devilry they have made ready..."

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

Aemornion's gaze dropped at the fear of her asking the question of the origin of the smoke. He hasitated for a moment.

"The smoke came from a dozen carcasses within the courts." he swallowed "many those who held the Deep fell under the evil and hidious strength of the orcs. Those were their bodies. Now the wreched creatures are scavaging through the piles seeking either riches or weapons or iron" his fists clentched and the face was struck with pain as the images roll in of a spoiled and slayed soldier's face that looked towards him dead.

"Forgive me for the loss of your men milady" he murmured "they fought bravely, but I promise you, we shall avenge ourselfs upon those who did this"

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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 dropped, her composure lost for a moment as she seemed about to speak but no words came to present themselves, the horror of the thought shocking her to silence. She had heard of such things, but never once imagined coming upon such a situation, and it dawned on her how little she had truly been exposed to in her few years. Nothing had prepared her for such an experiance, and it took all she had to contain herself at the mere thought of such a repulsive nature as the enemy had.

Finally she brought herself to look towards Aemornion with a steeled expression, though her voice still faltered, her stature far from steady at that moment. "Thank you... Milord... Your assistance is greatly appreciated and... your judgement on matters well honored..."

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

Aemornion nodded to her noble and gesture and he beheld as she tired to set an example to those around her. The spirit of a warrior was in her but still her heart showed care and sacrifice for those in need. He inclined his head respectfully.

"There are no needs for gratitude milady" he spoke with a low but solemn voice "Its what any man would have done in my stead alike"

Slowly he lifted his gaze from Arinae as the flames from the campfire slightly reflected in the distance of his glance "There are still many of them in the fortress." he spoke "some two thirds of our force as much as i could estimate. But it dwindles" a slight smile comes in the corner of his mouth but his eyes didnt play along with the smile "The evil will punish themselfs tonight, but still we wont be spared from a battle. I would advise you all to take some rest for it will be an enduring battle."

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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.

(*gasp* *scolds* Aemorn! That was hardly what even I'd call "sleep" .... *shakes head with a sigh* )

Arinae nodded, gaining her composure to the best of her ability, but it was still difficult. "The Rohirrim and Gondorians alike will put in a fierce fight to avenge the wanton death of our comrades," she murmured, quietly but firmly.

"If you'll excuse me...." her sentence drifting off, she gave a slight nod of her head and turned to take her leave, fearing she would fail to hold herself up for much longer, and not wishing to show weakness among such men so strong in stature and composure, even though the pain of the burden was still revealed within their eyes.

"How many more shall the count come to..." she murmured to herself as she sat upon the ground after having tread a distance through the camp, restless, even though when she sat, it had been more so a form of collapsing

Staring with an expression of loathing towards the torches lit upon the deeping wall, Arinae's thoughts went through the events that had brought her to this point, the losses that had been counted, the fears that had been overcome, only to return again.

It was with a bitter sigh that she lowered her head to her drawn up knees, wincing vaguely towards the dull pain from the contact to her aching forehead. "It shall come to an end," she murmured, as though in reassurance to herself as she closed her eyes, only to see visions that haunted her waking hours as well as her incoherent slumber.

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

Aemornion watched Arinae as she strode off with an uneven stride to find peace. He wanted to follow her and to share another word or two, but he knew that she also desires some time alone. He respected that privacy for he knew the feeling and the burden alike many times.

Slowly he glanced back at Ingold "Go gather your strength my comrade" he spoke in a low and also a bit weary voice but still the determenation of it did not relenquish "the next battle will be a hard one but Im certain we shall prevail. Have no fear." he placed his hand on the man's shoulder assuringly and then he went to find some peace alone alike.

Aemornion found a peaceful corner of the camp that overlooked towards the gap of Rohan, there he took a seat on firm ground and with folded arms across his chest he gazed towards the West. Far in the distance a tiny speck loomed into the air, the deserted Orthanc could be seen over the hills.

He could not rest sleeping and thus his thoughts went to the past and to the stories that had been woven on this same soil not long ago before he was born.

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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.

Tindomerel stood up after awhile, walking around the tent, stretching her stiff legs. She stepped outside the tent for a moment, taking in the air. She patted Lebethron, who was still at war with the rope.
"Easy, mellon nin," she said, untying the rope from the stallion's bridle.
The horse nickered softly, then trotted near the edges of camp, to graze.
Tindomerel turned and went back in the tent, sitting back by Rhayader's side.

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The Ever So Confused One

Sig ll Moi

(I carry news! Awesome news! I have a friend who shall join us and play the enemy! Muwahaha. Just thought I'd bring you that news and be sure you welcome her, as well as be patient, since such a long RP is hard to jump into.)

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

(( Yay!!!!!!!!! More people, yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!))

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The Ever So Confused One

Sig ll Moi

Die! *kills post*

sorry.

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Visit The Varsian Kingdom!

Tindomerel remained by Rhayder's side until she heard a snort outside the tent. She slipped out of the tent to find that Lebethron was back. "What do you want, mellon nin?"
The stallion snorted, then trotted away. Tindomerel remained outside, pulling her cloak around her, looking up to the sky for no real reason.

Lebethron was bored with hanging around camp. The black stallion then saw Jax and trotted over to him, snorting in the man's face.

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The Ever So Confused One

Sig ll Moi

Jax pulled back a bit, a slight smile comming ot his face. "Hi there..." he said as he patted the horse on the neck, his smile slowly fading away to reveal the fealings inside him.

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Visit The Varsian Kingdom!

(erm... hold on the bad guys for a moment... Mire needs to sort things out, since she will be pretty much in control of what the enemy does... )

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

Rhayader opened his eyes slowly to find a healer at his stomach checking the bandages.
"Mhm ... How does it look?"
The healer looked at him in suprise then smiled.
"Well you will need a lot of rest but I think you've come through the worst of it."
Rhayader nodded.
"How long till I can get back to the fighting?"
The healer chuckeled and shook her head.
"You will have no more part in this fight, my lord. It will take many many days to heal, even though you have showed much strength."
Rhayader sighed. He wanted to get back to the fight and help his countrymen.
The healer finished checking his bandages and went onto to look at another person.

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

[!*#_:]

(Greetings! I bring evil tidings! )

In a land of mountains He sat, aware of battle and war. It pleased Him so, for He knew of whom it was to blame. He was also certain as to which way it would turn; He knew who would win the prize in the end. For even though He knew that He was no fortune teller, a "mere" sorcerer who had learned from the greatest, He was certain that His strength could not be overcome.
"Master?"
He turned to look at the source of the voice, a messenger from the East; or so it seemed. The mutation of Elves had always entertained Him, ever since the first sense of betray and hatred had entered the very essence of His being. He ground his dirty teeth before replying with arrogance.
"What news do you bring me, low-being?" He looked at the orc with disgust as it bowed.
"The Southrons and the rest of my kin fighting in Helms Deep ask for assistance. The Men of Gondor and Rohan are clearly out-numbering them." The messenger snorted, then continued with fear entering its voice. "They ain't had no success with the Hornburg yet, Master."
The so-called Master rose quickly with a hidden wrath, for the helmet He bore did not show His burning eyes. It showed naught but His hideous mouth.
"Leave me." He snarled. The messenger bowed low, grateful that its life had been spared, then left; attending to what-ever duty came upon it.
The Master was left again, alone with His own dark thoughts.
"They shall have their revenge," He spoke grimly. "And I shall have mine."

~~~~

"RAAAAAAAARGH!" The cry rang throughout the many corners of Helms Deep. A Captain of the Dunlending, broad and strong, stood upon one of the many huge boulders beyond the Deeping Wall. Orc fighting orc now turned to the Southron and snarled.
"The Enemy," he roared, "is outside that wall! We ain't gonna let them take this fortress! We will kill one and all! Men, women and children, all shall pay!" he took a glance at the audience before continuing his speech. "However, we will not manage if two parts of our own army is fighting each other! We shall take the Hornburg! Rohan shall be ours!"
The two orc-clans spat, snarled and came with cries of in-justice, but most of the fighting had ended. The Captain jumped down and returned to his kin.
"Stupid orcs..." He snorted under his breath.

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^/^^ Thanks to tulk.