Borum was suddenly cut from his thoughts and dreaming of new profits by a young human girl, who came to him with another girl.

"Excuse me, master dwarf." She said. "My friend and I are looking for our siblings. Four children, possibly more though. A girl at the age of seven and three older boys. Around the age of twelve. Might you have seen them?"

Borum smiled at her taking his pipe out of his mouth and looked at them the city for a while after answering, at least this human showed respect bu calling him a master dwarf, but usually he heard that from elves who used it all the time when talking to dwarwes.

" I am sorry, but I haven`t really seen anyone going for that description, but there might have been some in the crowd there around my caravan where my clansmen are selling our goods. I hope that I have been heplful..."

Borum put the pipe back in his mouth as he waited for an answer.

_________________

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!

A floorboard creaked.

Liran tensed, and slowly half opened an eye. The door was ajar. And a cloaked figure was slowly walking out towards it. Turning his head slightly, he looked through the room, his eyes instinctively looking for the flute.. and it wasn't hanging where he'd left it!

He leaped from the bed and grabbed for the staff. The figure turned swiftly, drawing a dagger and rushing towards him. Shouting something, he knew not what, Liran swung the weapon with all his might and brought it hard on the man's skull, before he could come within arm's reach of him. The man fell limply on the floor.

The innkeeper came running in as Liran knelt by the man. He gasped.

"What's this?"
"A thief, it would seem" Liran replied coldly "my flute's not where I'd left it. Help me turn him over"

"It's that strange fellow alright.. still alive though" the innkeeper frowned, after they had rolled him on his back.
"and look! here's your flute.. only, it seems he fell on it, by the way it's bent like that.."

Liran stopped listening. He had already seen. The flute had been a gift from his late mother. And now it was broken. He sighed and blinked back tears, but one rolled down his cheek.

The innkeeper cut off the man's purse and emptied it on the ground. Dozens of heavy gold and silver coins fell out, along with a heavy gold ring. His mouth dropped.

"This ring, it's my wife's.. He must have taken it from our room! Blasted thief. Good thing you've knocked him out."
He paused a bit..
"Look, Alyan," he said, putting a hand on Liran's shoulder, "two of the farmers are going to Minas Tirith for the market tomorrow morning. They're leaving as soon as they've loaded their carts, and traveling through the night. You could go with them, surely someone in the City could fix this for you. And here.. take these coins, they should pay for the flute. It's the least you deserve from him"

Since he couldn't see any other course of action, Liran nodded slowly.

"Thank you," he said, smiling weakly.

Rowen looked slightly alarmed.
"A caravan? Why of course, that's where they'll have gone. It's getting dark, Radiel, we must hurry. Thank you, master Dwarf, we'll be off now!"
As soon as they were out of earshot, she muttered, "Mother will have a fit, the taverns will be closing, and the drunkards and unsavory characters will be out soon."
They hurried through the streets, the crowds becoming less and less and the evening wore on. Finally they saw wagons ahead, and people surrounding them. Shoving their way through, they arrived at the front of the group to find a very bulky dwarf selling jewelry. He had obviously been drinking; he reeled slightly as he shouted at the crowd.
"What about you two ladies, eh? A fine piece of work for a fine wearer!" He roared with laughter, and a few of the more bawdy members of the crowd joined in. "Or this--neckwork, and at a fetching price! You'd be a fool to pass-" Rowen cut him off.
"We have no desire to buy your wares, and you will kindly refrain from pushing them on us. We're looking for four children, a small girl, and three boys around the age of twelve. As they don't appear to be here, we'll be going now." She started at the dwarf in icy silence.
The dwarf roared again. "Ah, she's got spirit! Unlike her quiet friend here...I just sent the four on their way, told them it was getting late and they should be running home. So ye might as well head back..."
But Rowen had already grabbed Radiel and pushed back through the crowd. When they were out of earshot, she groaned.
"What a fool. I hope their caravan doesn't stay long, if all or any of them are like that dwarf." She snorted. "And he thought I was the spirited one! Little does he know..." she cast a sidelong look at her friend.

_________________
I am a Shieldmaiden for Christ!

I was Nienor before Nienor was cool. *nods coolly*
Kudos to Kitoky for the fabulous signature set, and art credit to engelszorn.
Who wants to join me in bringing back the lady?

Nineveh held a blade near to the flames which seemed to dance from the candles placed on a bare wood table. She had been cleaning the blade moments before and decided to look the weapon over once more for missed smears.

How handsome the blade looked with the light shining on it! She knew that the owner would be quite pleased with the repairs she had made on it.

“I am leaving to deliver this blade to its owner. Behave while I am gone.â€

The lands of Middle earth had been swept in darkness. Wolves could be heard in the distance, just like any other night in Minas Tirith, while Varda's stars shone brightly on the sky.

As the two girls came to Rowen's home, they said "Good night" and Radiel continued the last hundred yards on her own. Surely, just as Rowen had predicted, the drunkards and unsavoury characters had entered the outdoors of the night life. Radiel did not fear them, though, but she hurried home without running into troubles.

She entered the house, meeting with the warmth of many candles. Chede, her youngest sister at the age of five, was sleeping. Ceiveth and Raliar were washing their hands and her mother was finishing a stew. Her father was not to be seen. "Nice of you to join us" her mother said. "Where is father?" Radiel asked. "He's out fighting the evil people of the night!" Raliar said with a grin. Radiel rolled her eyes. "He's taking the night shift, he won't be home until early dawn." Her mother replied.

Radiel's father, Ragner, was a guard at the Hall of Kings. He worked a lot, so they did not get to see much of him. Of course, that was the main reason to why Radiel's family could afford her lessons.

Chede woke up as the stew got served. After supper, the three youngest went to bed, while her mother and herself did the last chores. As they finished, Radiel found an old map, trying to figure out just how long time it would take to ride to Helms Deep. Not long after, both her and her mother went to bed.
Radiel spent many moments staring at the ceiling, but soon she drifted into a dreamful sleep.

_________________


^/^^ Thanks to tulk.

Sitting on the seat of the cart by the farmer driving it, Liran looked out across the plains. The last rays of the setting sun illuminating the snow-capped top of the White Moutains faded, and darkness rolled over the land. Further East, where stars already twinkled in the night, was Minas Tirith.

He moved his hand to his unusually heavy purse. He really had to stop feeling it like that, disturbed by the new weight. Someone would be bound to notice, and if it was a pickpocket... Leaning back against a barrel, he closed his eyes. Tomorrow would be an exciting day; long had he wished to see the City. The cart's gentle swaying rocked him off to sleep.

The day had been good after a shouting and arguing, they had made quite the profit and perhaps just because dwarwes products were usually known as top quality as they were. Borum and his clansmen had lighted up a small fire in the centre of the opening because they didn`t want to spend their night in a smelly bar of humans. They passed the bottle around burning their pipes and telling stories each at a time, but as the hour grew late they began talking about their next destination. The people of Rohan would undoutably buy their products, but the trip might prove to be slightly dangerous since there were always warqs everywhere it seemed not to forget bandits.

"Bah... if they dare to come closer I`ll chop their heads off and be rid of them..."

One dwarf claimed with a loud and drunk voice, Borum slapped him in the back of his head.

"Not if youre tired and drunk like a human afer few drinks!"

Some smiled and the other dwarf just laughed, but Borum had enough because tomorrow would probably be a long day since they would perhaps stay for a while to sell some products, but if there wouldn`t be any deals they would leave at some point of the day. Borum put out the fire and went under one of the wagons to sleep since there was no space in the wagons.

_________________

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!

Rinkemen left the tavern feeling rather merry and began walking home. Eventually he stumbled into his house door and walked inside. He laughed quietly to himself at the events in the bar, there was a fight and it ended up with the entire bar except him fighting. He enjoyed sitting back watching the eruption of violence ensue. He walked further into his house and finaly found his bed and sleep.

The sunlight crept through a narrow window into his room. The sunlight warmed his face and he smiled in his sleep. He was then awoken to an aburpt knock at the door. He slowly got up and heard the the knocking continuing answering the progressivly louder knocks with his voice.
"Yes yes i'm coming!"
He eventually reached the door in his bed clothes and answered it. To his surprise the person knocking at his door was a soldier of Gondor. This wasn't that surprising but the soldier was a tower guard and they stay on the top level. He stuttered slightly and gathered his thoughts.
"Um Yes?"
The guard's face was emotionless as he handed Rinkemen a letter. Rinkemen looked blank for a moment then glanced at the rolled parchment. It had the seal of the king! This was important news indeed. He looked back at the guard and looked slightly shocked. He swallowed and took a deep breath.
"What is this?"
The guard spoke in a commanding tone that demanded respect, obviously he was high ranking.
"My orders were to deliver this letter personaly to a Rinkemen. It is from the king himself, that is all i know."
Rinkemen got over the shock of recieving such an honured letter. He glanced up and down at the letter and guard. He nodded to himself and looked at the guard.
"Thank you."
"Your welcome sir."
The guard turned and walked away from the house. Rinkemen closed the door and sat on a chair putting the letter down on the table in front of him.

He spent a while simply looking at it in wonderment. After his service and dishonurable discharge he thought he would never recieve anything like this again. The last time he got a letter from the king was to release him from his service.
After an hour he opened it and began reading. He read it though once more to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him in his old age.
He let the letter settle on the table and knew he had been given his orders. It was time to become a soldier again. He began packing...

_________________

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

[!*#_:]

Liran slung the flute case over his back and walked out of the silersmith's shop. He had started searching the town before dawn, and the repair had been relatively quick, if not exactly cheap. The sun was rising, giving a new beauty to the White City. Now that the flute was taken care of, he wandered through the streets, staring in wonder at the massive walls, the architecture, the rapidly growing number of people out in the streets, the statues. He had often heard of the City, but no desciption had matched what he was seeing.

He decided to go up to the upper levels of the city, the view on the lands around would be worth it, even though he could be afraid of heights sometimes. As he threaded his way through the fourth level, the sound of trickling water caught his ear. Looking around, he saw an alley from which it seemed to come. Out of curiosity, he walked into it.

A few paces further, the alley opened to a little columned courtyard, with a few rose bushes and a small fountain in which half a dozen sparrows were drinking. Upon his arrival, they fluttered away, leaving him alone. Charmed by the beauty of the court, Liran put thoughts of reaching the heights of the city aside, and sitting on the edge of the fountain, he pulled out the flute and looked at it closely. The repair had been very well done, it was practicaly invisible. Putting the instrument to his lips, he played a few notes and sighed in relief. The sound had not been harmed, as he had feared it would. Shifting to a more comfortable position, he played his heart out into the morning..

Borum awoken at dawn and sighed as he got up, he stood up and looked at the sunrise with a smile on his face as some of his clansmen were up already. They were packing few items in the wagons and prepared to leave as the others still slept. Borum went to them and woke them all up getting curses at him for waking them up, but they knew that it was time to leave. Finally when they all were ready Borum jumped on the wagons bench and took the leashes of the horse, he whipped the slightly and placed his pipe in his mouth as the caravan began to make its way down the streets of Minas Tirith.

_________________

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!

Rinkemen quickly prepared and double checked he packed the letter. He took only what he could carry on his back. He got dressed and opened a large chest in his bedroom. The chest opened and let a cloud of dust spew out. He coughed slightly and found what he was looking for, his old sword. He unsheathed it and smiled.
"Hello old friend."
This was his first and only sword, given to him by his father. It gleemed in the light and looked fairly new. Master craftsmanship Rinkemen put it down to, but it was unusual for a sword of it's age to be so well kept, even when left in a chest. He smiled and stood having a few swings. It felt incridably light. He put his belt on with the sword sheath and sheathed it. He wasn't going to war, but he felt he needed protection for his long journey. He slung his pack on, grabbed a walking stick and stepped out onto the street

As he began going down the streets the sun rose. He thought he best leave a note for Calera. He walked to her door and slipped it under the door. It said he would be unable to teach for a while as he would be leaving Minas Tirith to go to Rohan.
After he delivered the letter he continued down the various streets to the main gate on the first level. Time was against him so he hurried, nearly falling over a few times.
He approached the gate slightly breathless and saw the wagons of the dwarves. He had heard of their arival from the King's Arms. He jogged over to them and went to the leader. Walking next to his wagon he looked up and smiled.
"Hullo, I was wondering if you would let me travel with you? I would be willing to pay for transport and food."

_________________

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

[!*#_:]

Borum turned at the older man and took the pipe out of his mouth with a slightly stunned face for the fact that a human wanted to travel with them, but Borum never denied that he wouldn`t like some humans. He whispered something to his cousin and his cousin nodded back, Borum turned smiling at the man.

"Pay? In your dreams old man! I don`t take payment from anyone who wants to travel with me and give me more interesting company than my clansmen, but if you want to buy my products as a stranger then you would have to pay..."

Borum was interrupted by a shout from the other wagons.

"And what is wrong with us!?"

Borum looked back.

"Your too drunk Bremlan and lazy to say the least, now be silent and burn you pipe!"

Borum smiled and turned back to the man.

"Sure jump on the bench, but tell me your name and surely I am interested to know more about the man who I took with me..."

He waited the man to get next to him and as the gates opened he whipped with the leashes for the horses to move and the caravan to leave for the land of Rohan. Borum continued the conversation as he burned his pipe.

"So... tell me... what do you do for living?"

_________________

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!

Rinkemen smiled and jumped on.
"My name is Rinkemen."
He looked back as the gates closed, then looked back at the dwarf.
"I earn a living by teaching. Teaching people to read mostly as many people are illterate."
He reached into his pack and pulled out an apple, missing breakfast made him hungry. He pulled another out and held it to the dwarf.
"And you are?"

_________________

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

[!*#_:]

Both Radiel and Rowen had been awake for many hours. Neither of them had anything to do, so they were just wandering around in the City.
At once, Radiel heard a merry sound of music. "Listen!" she said and stopped. She grabbed Rowen's arm and pulled her along. As they came to a little alley, she turned, and suddenly they arrived to a little courtyard. There, next to a fountain of dripping water, they met with the music played by a young man. Slightly older than Radiel and Rowen he was, and handsome to look upon. Soon people had crowded the place, just to hear his music. Radiel found it enchanting.
People cheered as he finished the piece. Radiel; standing in the front of the crowd with Rowen, spoke. "Welcome, foreigner! One would have to seek far and wide for such an excellent musician! What is your name and where are you from, if I may ask?"

_________________


^/^^ Thanks to tulk.

Borum shaked his head politely and took the pipe out of his mouth.

"No than you I already had breakfeast... but to the point, I am Borum Of The Bronzefist clan from Erebor, these all are my clansmen and I just so happen to be the 4th son of my father who rules the clan.... I am a tradesman and a politician you see... I am not the best smith or worker anyway, but I can fight well enough as any dwarf..."

Borum put pipe back and blew a cloud in the air, he looked at the sky as the cloud flew upwards. He then returned to the conversation.

"We are going to sell the rest of our goods to the Rohirrim, but I was thinking if there was any left over I could try my luck with the elves of Lorien or those who stayed there.... or are there any there? I am not the closest friend of elves... well.. there was a small case with them and it included some...."

Borum coughed loudly and contiued like there wasn`t anything akward in it, but he sighed as he got the word out of his mouth.

"Mithril...but tell me Rinkemen what are you going to Rohan for?"

_________________

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!

He shook his head.
"I shall tell you later on. When we stop."
He put the apple back in his bag.
He sat for a while huming to himself. Then slowly drew his sword.
"Can you tell me anything about this? It's light and has been in my family for over 100 years."
He handed the sword over.
"It was my fathers, and I have tried to research it but found nothing. None of the smithys in Minas Tirith have seen anything of this quality of craftsmanship."

_________________

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

[!*#_:]