The Great Quest

Ulrog winced as he was kicked around on the hard surface of the raft. He struggled to his feet just in time to see the lizard-like being sink into the water. Then he noticed the dark forms of the mercenaries. He had heard about them from some of the other orcs. They were allied with Vardor but had little regard for his servants. Ulrog had no doubt that they would kill him as well as the others, regardless of who his master was. He considered leaping into the water, but quickly decided against this when he saw that the mercs were slowly encircling the raft. Grabbing a piece of drift wood Ulrog began to frantically help the others repel them.

Harnauro shot down one, and injured two more, before they were upon him. Slinging his bow across his back, he darted around the one before him, rolling into the river itself. When he came back up, after passing the submerged body of the warrior he had taken out with an arrow, he wielded its blade in one hand. Two of the warriors came at him, and he immediately set to parrying their weapons, but at the same time found himself without a moment to strike them down himself.


Meanwhile, upon the raft, the fight went strong, less than a half dozen warriors still trying to get aboard. Realizing the futility of their position, they withdrew, and for a moment the defenders thought themselves safe. In moments, the warriors ran up onto the bank, and then began to hurl themselves onto the raft! The first one across was taken down with a well placed dagger throw by Slythre, but the second one landed right behind him, using his comrades corpse as a shield, and thrusting the body at Faradin, set to the fight once more, as the others came across behind him, rocking and shaking the craft wildly. Only four of
them were left, but the fight was by no means determined for either side.


The broodlord looked about him, scowling. The lizard beast was dead, and his men had already suffered great casualties. They would have had them, had not the wolf man interfered. The more he hunted, the more unexpected foes appeared! And he was now sure that the shadow man was not with the others! Angered and furious, he drew his blade and charged Harnauro. Harnauro barely managed to register the new threat before having to leap away, a flurry of blows driving him back. He had almost gained an advantage against the other two, but this one was much faster and skilled then them - and wielded a blade that Harnauro felt pulsing with some malevolent force.

Stumbling back up to the bank, Harnauro kept the broodlord at bay, but finally the ruby blade slipped past his defenses, though it only opened a scratch across one arm. Harnauro flinched from it, and then gave a gasp, as he felt a sensation spread from that spot, a sensation he had felt only a few days before, as though his very soul was being sucked away. But as the weakness spread through him, a newfound rage burned against it, and he thrust all his energy into driving the broodlord back, and hurling him into the waters.

Spinning about, Harnauro dashed towards the boat. With a cry, he threw himself across the waters and onto the craft, slamming into the backs of two of the warriors and dashing them overboard. The other two, alarmed at his presence, faltered in their stances, and Faradins blade plunged through ones neck. The last one gave a cry, and made a dash out of the craft, vaulting over the Gungar's head, and slashing his blade across Elrov's arm before diving, as well, into the water.

Within moments, the raft was cleared of enemies, and the party had survived, though not unscathed. Scratches adorned them all, and Elrov had a nasty gash on one arm, while Harnauro was pale-faced, and staggering. Fortunately, the warriors seemed to have stopped the chase, and a they all had a moment of peace.

Slythre drew her dagger from the body of the warrior before kicking it into the water. She nearly sheathed the weapon, but caught herself and laid it down on the planks instead. Putting it away would make a mess which would probably make a mess taking at least an hour to clean up.

"So we've scored a victory," she said, looking up at the rest of them. "But this can hardly be the last of the fight. I don't think they'll take to being defeated in this manner without coming back for revenge. And they also are on a mission, to capture Ayna or Dania or both. Something tells me they won't slow down now, and they will probably not be taken in by a surprise attack from Harnauro, either. Only a fool attempts the same tactic twice against the same opponent."

"Matter of opinion," Elrov muttered. "Depends what opponent your facing."

"So what will be our next move? Do we continue on the raft and hope for the best, change direction and go on land, or do something else entirely?"

"Personally, I'd feel a lot better if Mal were with us," Narsh said.

"Well he isn't, and we'll just have to take care of ourselves as best we can." She glanced over at Harnauro, waiting for him to decide.

It seemed a unanimous unspoken decision that he was taking on the leadership of their group. As he opened his mouth to speak, a shadow fell over the whole group. Ulrog cringed and covered his head with his hands, uttering a cry of fear.

Looking up, Ayna's jaw dropped in amazement as a great eagle swept downwards, flying low and matching its pace with there's.

"Well met, good people," it said in its high pitched voice. "I was flying over the territory when I saw your valiant fight with those creatures, and swept down for a closer look. I overheard you were at a loss for direction. If it is a safe haven you seek, I would be honored to have you stay at my eerie for as long as you are hunted."

"How can we trust you?" Slythre called up, craning her neck to maintain eye contact with the massive creature.

"Eagles do not associate themselves with . . ." it trailed off as it noticed the orc. "What are you doing in that creature's company?" it demanded harshly. "Perhaps I will withdraw my offer. As I was about to say, we do not associate ourselves with orcs or creatures of evil."

"He is merely a prisoner, who we haven't found the time to question," Elrov shouted up to the great bird.

"I believe you. What is your decision?"

"...we do not associate ourselves with orcs or creatures of evil."
If he hadn't been so afraid Ulrog would have laughed at that remark. He had heard that his master was forging an alliance with these very creatures, although probably by trickery. Ulrog knew only too well how little eagles thought of orcs, and now he was going to their home. But their was hope. Perhaps he would see another agent of his master in this place.

As the others look to Harnauro, for a decision once again, he shakes his head. "Don't look to me to lead you - I am not sure why I am even still aiding you, and not searching after Mal. The only reason I am not going after him is because if he doesn't want to be found, he won't. Since staying with you is the best option till he rejoins you, I will go where you go - but I won't speak for any other than myself." He stops speaking, the unusually long speech having startled some of the others.

He glances at the large bird, then sits down near the back of the group, obviously not going to be saying much more for any amount of time. As the others look away, to confer amongst themselves, he lets a bit of the pain he still felt show through, clenching his teeth. It had passed last time - though he had been mostly unconscious throughout. He waved it away, giving a small shake of his head, and glanced upward, at the eagle. At least it kept the curse dulled down somewhat, or else the bird would surely sense its darkness about him.

*Guys, I may or may not be active for the next few days, just a warning.*

"Very well, we'll go with you," Faradin said as their discussion ended.

"I will get a couple of my brothers to help carry you all. I cannot do it alone."

Then the eagle swept away, quickly dwindling into a speck and vanishing from sight. When it returned a few minutes later, the others assisted it in lifting the raft straight out of the air and carrying it upwards through the air.

*Hey Roland, I thought Ulrog wasn't supposed to know much important information. That alliance is top secret. But oh well, it actually doesn't matter too much whether he knows or not.*

As the eagles set down their burden on the rocky ledge, two days later, a young man came out of the rocks, clad in green. Beside him was a large eagle with stronger, gold feathered wings and a sleek, powerful body.

"We welcome you to our kingdom," it screeched out at them.

"Thank-you," Narsh said as they bowed. "We are grateful that you have allowed us to remain in your realm for a time."

"We will find an eyrie for you to sleep in."

"Sir, you forget yourself," the green robed man beside him quietly admonished, speaking for the first time. "They are humans, and should probably like to sleep without the risk of fall down a cliff. They have no wings, and are not used to the . . ."

"You've made your point," the eagle interrupted, before turning back to the group. "Very well, you may stay with the cliff dwellers. Arnon will show you the way."

"Once again, we thank you," Narsh said. "If there is ever any way for us to repay your kindness . . ."

"We will tell you," the eagle said. It gave a final, slightly sharp look at Arnon before dismissing them all.

Arnon turned his eyes back to the group; a commanding gaze. Then, he beckoned with an arm, and they fell in behind him. He moved with a smooth assurance, and Slythre marveled at how he had actually repremanded the powerful eagle lord, and gotten away from it unpunished. She put herself on her guard, carefully keeping an eye on him. He was a potentially dangerous man, and all such people had to be kept under your eye, or they'd take you unawares.

*Lief, Ulrog knows very little about Vardor and has no idea of what he is actually trying to do. However, a combination of being smarter than he looks and the fact that he is one of the few orcs who reports directly to Vardor and his immediate cohorts allows Ulrog to overhear the occasional bit of info.*

Ulrog looked around him unhappily as they were led to their dwellings. There was no hope of escape this high up, and he had failed to spot anyone he recognised as an agent of his master. But as Ulrog knew, that didn't mean they weren't around.

Vardor looked down at the group and considered them. How had this happened? Had they uncovered his plans and come here to sabatoge them? There were too many possibilities for his liking, and all of them were dangerous to his plans.

He looked closely, and saw to his surprise that Mal was not with them. But that didn't end his unease.

Harnauro follows Arnon along the cliff, staying near the back of the group, and wondering how he had ended up in this place. He glanced warily at Arnon's back, but no more than he looked upon most of those he traveled with...

He still felt a strange sensation, about these adventurers, but repelled it, avoided the fellowship and comradery they shared. He knew all too well where that path led.

Rubbing one arm that had been s****ed by the sword of one of the warriors, he continued on along the cliff, silent and contemplative.

Lights flickered in and out of Mal's eyes, and he slowly blinked into awareness. A faint pain pulsed through his entire form, and it felt as though his entire body had been beaten and pummeled.

He tried to move, and found his muscles unresponsive. His body refused to shift, and as he strained, to no avail, he took notice of his situation. He was looking up at the sky, or rather, through the foliage of trees into the sky. The trees and leaves were moving past, and he felt the wind sweeping over him - whatever constrained him was being moved rapidly through these woods.

He rolled his eyes about, trying to see what he lay upon, but without success. He back, amid the pain and agony, felt as though it was upon something hard and scaled, but more than that he could not tell.

Trying to clear the pain from his mind, he concentrated, amid the bumpy, jerking moving, and began to summon up an escape. Scarcely had he touched the shadow force within him when all movement stopped. An ill feeling forebode about him, and then the pain and agony redoubled, and he felt the sensation of something sucking his force from him once again, and returned to the darkness.

Arnon led them down some stone steps and to large platform. Several large rocks had been positioned so that they formed small dwelling places, and there were also several holes in the sides of the cliffs. People bustled in and out of the caves, busy with different jobs, and it wasn't uncommon to see eagles among them.

"You may take your ease at the guest dwelling," Arnon said. "It probably won't be as soft as you weakhu'ne are used to, but that will simply have to be lived with for the duration of your stay."

He threw them a cool smile before leading them to an opening in the cliff which was set apart from the others because of its size and design. He passed through a relatively large room with a large wooden table in the center and led them up a flight of stairs at the back. At the top was a large opening in the rock wall, shining sunlight into the hallway. There were three different openings in the rock there, each with a cloth covering over the entryway.

"These are your rooms. We don't have enough for each of you to have your own, you must understand that living space is a little scarce up here. You may divide the space up among yourselves as you wish." After giving them a brief nod of his head, he turned and walked down the stairs, leaving them alone.

After waiting a moment in uncomfortable silence, Slythre pulled back the cloth hanging which served as the door of one of the rooms. The rock room was small, with the only furniture being three large rock slabs covered with straw, probably intended to be beds, and a long shelf covering the far wall.

"Don't see how anyone could sleep very well there," Slythre snorted when the other rooms were revealed to have the same decoration. "But we still have a couple more hours till nightfall, so this isn't exactly a dillema we need face now. I still want to know a little more about these cliff dwellings and Arnon. He's a bit too cold for my taste."

"Compared to Unvar?" Narsh asked with a slight smile.

"No," Slythre responded, pushing past him and walking down the stairs, perhaps a little too stiffly.

Harnauro looked about the dwellings, with a smirk almost reaching his immobile face. Whatever Arnon meant by "weakhu'ne", Harnauro doubted he was what the man expected.

He glimpsed Slythre heading down the stairs, likely to learn more of this place. A wise idea, and one he set to as well, also heading back down, with the thought in mind of learning the layout better - and knowing the best way out, should it come to that.

The broodlord surveyed his men, who were fishing the Nrake's dead body from the river. When they dragged it over to him, he spent a few minutes looking it over, hoping it carried something of its masters, but he found nothing, and tossed it back down in disgust.

He looked about. Of his men, a number had fallen, leaving him with only eight left, quite weaker than the force he had come here with. He frowned, and his men gathered about, awaiting his words.

"Shall we sseek a way to purssue the birdss they left with?" The words came from one of his men, but which one he paid no heed to.

He was a few moments responding, but eventually said, "No, the one we sought was not among them."

"And what of the elf we were asked to retrieve?"

The broodlord gave a bitter laugh. "Forget her. I have a new target for uss, and one that may pleasse our master's goals even more than the shadow man!"

His men showed a few glances of shock, but quickly recovered, as he started walking away from the riverside. He gestured them after him, and they followed, heading back towards the city, and he explained their target on the way.

In the depths of a massive stone fortress, thought abandoned by the wise who cleansed the evil that used to house it, now was home to an elderly looking man, who was currently sleeping upon an improvised bed, a stone slab with a few blankets piled upon it.

He sprung from the bed, suddenly, as though stung, and looked about the room with his mouth hanging open, his eyes still glazed with sleep. "Wha- who... uh, er!"

After a moment, he regained his senses, and calmed his muttering, nodding his head in understanding, and sprang from the blankets, striding across the room, with a light robe flapping about him in the breeze that ran through the chamber. He walked over to a small alcove in the wall, where a strange, oval shell-like object was pulsing. His eyebrows, (the only hair he had, other than a long scraggly beard), rose in puzzlement, but he gave a bemused shrug, and lifted the egg in one hand, then hurled it to the ground, where it shattered.

A mist rose from the broken remnants of the item, and coalesced into an image he recognized, the cold and dark form of the broodlord.

"Oh! Uh, er, this is most unexpected! But why did you use the contacter? They are hard to make, you know!" The old man's tone was that of a chastising but not truly upset parent.

The broodlord bowed his head, and said, "It was necesssary, for I have important news. There is another that could become one of your... guestss... and I thought you should know of him."

The old man clapped his hands together in glee. "Excellent! Who is it?"

"He callss himself Vardor, and I have ssensed even more power in him than in the one called Malagar."

"Oh, delightful, wonderful!"

"My men and I have lost track of the shadow man, however, and are going to sseek out Vardor to... invite him to join you."

At this news, the man's face darkens, and he shakes a finger at the image. "Well, you do that! And maybe you need some more help, too, eh? I might send one of my birds along, yes, to help you, eh?"

The broodlord once again bows his head, and says, "Any aid may be needed here. As well, the friendss of the shadow man were taken from our grasp, carried away by great birds, the kind called eagless."

The old man scratches his beard, and nods sagely at this news. The mist abruptly dissapates, and he blinks at the empty space for a moment, and then shrugs his shoulders, and heads back to sleep.

The rest of the band soon followed Harnauro and Slythre out of the dwelling, soon dispersing among the rest of the people. There were many new things to see, here, although the people looking down their noses at them and calling them 'weakhu'ne.'

Gungar eventually got mad enough about it to sock one in the stomach, and that hushed them up about him. But it also ended all possibilities for him to talk to, or learn anything from any of them.

It wasn't long before Harnauro found Arnon, and as he moved over to speak with him, Slythre walked to the side, joining Dania.

"Hot day," she said nonchalantly, looking up at the sun.

Dania raised an eyebrow, seeing clean through the attempt at casualness. "What do you want to ask?"

Slythre saw it would be impossible to start this from an easy going angle. She never had been very good at that. "So when you were . . . captured and questioned, did you learn anything about our enemies? Anything we could use against them, at all."

Dania frowned. "Not really. He asked me a lot about my recent activities, and where I kept the key. I didn't know what he was talking about."

"Still, it could be useful. Is there anything from your past that might give us a clue as to what this is about? Anything at all?"

She concentrated hard. "I don't think so. No, I can't remember dealing with anything magical until we ended up in Fangorn Forest. And nothing else, even not magical, which I can identify as having linked me in some way to all this. I'm truly sorry if I have caused it, unwittingly."

"It's all right," Slythre said softly, hiding her disappointment. "Well keep trying."

"I will."

Harnauro approached Arnon, who turned to meet him, a cold look of strength upon his face.

"Can I help you?" he inquired, his tone implying that Harnauro - and the rest - obviously needed help.

"Doubtful," responded Harnauro harshly, narrowing his eyes, but continuing, "but I had some questions. About this place."

Arnon looks displeased at Harnauro's attitude, but responds curtly, "What questions did you have?"

"Tell me about this place, and these people."

"All right," Arnon said briefly, turning his gaze away from Harnauro and out at the slowly setting sun.

His face betrayed none of his emotions, except perhaps distaste. And judging from his previous actions, that was most probably an emotion that he was indeed feeling.

"Our people are one third of a group which has existed long, in peace with all. One third of us live here, another third at a valley called Ethrilien, and the last third near there, in a hill area. We split our civilization a long time ago, after we were forced to flee from the darkening kingdom of Beleriand. We do not know the reason for this splitting, it took place many, many years ago, and the reason has been forgotten. One specific family in our three part kingdom has always been protected because of a covenant given us by the Valar around the time of the splitting. The secret of why has been passed down through that family, never leaving it. But for an unknown reason, and by an unknown enemy, that family has been completely destroyed. A couple of the bodies were never found, but all of the search efforts were in vain, so the hunt was stopped a couple months ago.

"One person commands each of the three sections of our country, but on very important decisions, they always gather, and the majority vote rules. A voting has not taken place in many years. About three years ago. The eagles allowed us to live up here because we could work together with them to make the civilization better for both groups. There are certain things that our fingers can do which eagle's feathers are incapable of. Our way of life and lack of weakhu'ne comforts has hardened us, making us more than what we were." His lip curled as he looked at Harnauro. "What your company are."

With the same smooth grace as he had previously shown, he moved away, his feet making no noise on the solid rock. Harnauro waited a little longer before rejoining the others.

The sky was getting darker and a cool breeze had picked up. It probably was a good bet that it would be more than merely 'cool' by the time the night was fully underway.

A valley, and a hill nearby, where a family was slaughtered by an unknown foe... these thoughts turned over in Harnauro's head. Strange games, Eru played, if these events were more than coincidence with some of his own recent travels.

If the hill Ayna, and the elf, had weeped over was indeed the same this man spoke of, than more forces were at play than Harnauro had previously thought.

He turned, heading back towards the quarters they had been given. He had some questions to ask Ayna.

As he joined the others, they had just finished agreeing on the sleeping arrangements.

But just as Ayna was joining Dania and Slythre in the other room, Harnauro took her arm.

"I have some questions to ask, before you turn in for the night."

She hesitated, looking away for a moment. "Ask away."