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our dreams of hope & peace [MP]; [ open to LIGHT/NEUTRAL characters ]
Topic Started: Jan 6 2010, 02:30 PM (825 Views)
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Andrea's Grasshopper

The ancient docent shuffled into the empty room on sore rheumatic ankles. He had seen many remarkable gatherings at the Aldburg in his long lifetime as servant to the Third Marshals, though none as grand as this. The man moved about the room, straightening chairs and arranging seat cushions as well as his hunched shoulders and fragile bones allowed.

The Great Hall of the Aldburg had been transformed into a council chamber overnight. The servants had done well, the docent noted. In the center of the room sat an enormous circular table for the Lords and diplomats attending. Fanning out from the central table were hundreds of handsome wooden chairs for all who wished to attend the summit.

A strange arrangement, the docent thought. Never in his years had he known the rulers of Middle-earth to invite all and sundry to such a prestigious event, much less to allow them time to question and comment on the proceedings, but he trusted the will of such good and noble men as the Captains of the West.

Stooping painfully and slowly, the docent stoked the fire in the enormous hearth. At last, the flames burst to full life and banished the early Spring chill from the cavernous room. Satisfied, the old man motioned twice to the wardens by the doors. The soldiers gave a respectful nod to the wizened elder. As they opened the great doors, the docent shuffled out of the room.

For a moment, the meeting hall was void of all life, and then the Free Peoples of Middle-earth began to enter and gain their seats.

OOC: This is the LIGHT SUMMIT we’ve been planning. Before posting, make sure you’ve read the plot and signed-up as a participant.
Edited by heatherbee., Jan 6 2010, 02:34 PM.

As Arithnar rode up toward the Aldburg alongside his men he began to wonder what this summit would achieve. Representatives of all the Free Peoples were meeting now to discuss how best to combat the growing threat of the Hand of Sauron.

Arithnar hoped they would achieve something. Orcs were attacking in greater and greater numbers, striking deeper into Arnor than they had for some years, all across Northern Arnor his men were fighting running battles with Orc war-bands and being pushed steadily back. They could not afford to give much more ground without endangering the civilian population of the region, but he could not hold for much longer without reinforcements.

He hoped that the summit would at least give him a chance to request reinforcements. More importantly however he needed the King's permission to lead an attack on the Orcs, in an attempt to disrupt their latest muster before his over-stretched Rangers were destroyed and Arnor was laid bare.. Unfortunately he couldn't do that without reinforcements.

Drawing up outside the Aldburg Arithnar dismounted along with his men and swiftly tethered his mount. Motioning to his companions he said "Aelfred and Dothrond you're with me, the rest of you take up guard positions, the Rohirrim may have posted guards but this summit is vitally important and the more guards the better as far as I'm concerned."

As his men moved off silently into whatever cover they could find Arithnar strode into the Aldburg flanked by his companions, ready to take his seat.
Edited by nehlo, Jan 16 2010, 10:34 AM.

Nothing was going to keep her from this sumit. And she was intending to do as much as she could. As she came across the the lands that she grew up in, Eowyn smiled. "These are the lands of your Uncle." She whispered to the bundle. Used to carrying weapons, and shields, the cargo that she carried on this journey was more precious to her than even the finest jewel or sword. And while her son was growing up quickly, there was no way in the world that she would have left him in Ithilien with anyone. Not with the problems that are breaking out.

As they got to the destination, the company stopped. Of course they wouldn't let her leave by herself! Not her and the future of the Kingdom. Eowyn's eyes scanned the area looking for familar faces. . Hopeing that there would be people here, enough people to get a decent plan together. For she did not know who all got 'messages' from the dark messenger, but surely some that would be here did.

The Queen of Rohan's eyes fell on the one woman that she had been waiting for. Rushing out she met her sister in law with a smile and the two woman embrassed.

"You're looking well. . Though You shouldn't be here in your condition." Eowyn frowned.

"I think that it's a little more importnat to be here now don't you" Lorthiel smiled at the other woman. "Besides, look at the young man you have with you."

Eowyn just laughed. "Indeed. But you know me, as does most of the people that will be here. . I don't back down from anything. If there is any help that I can bring in this fight, then I must."

Master Storyteller of Arda

Pippin disliked having to leave the Shire so soon after returning to it. While he was more than glad to give up his time to discuss and combat the gathering darkness, he resented having to leave little Faramir and his wife behind, though he trusted the hospitality of his fellow hobbits. In more ways than one, the Hobbit also wasn’t exactly prepared to return to Rohan. Licking flames with a biting heat and the bitter, smoldering taste of ash in his mouth were sensations that hadn’t left him—even when the flames had long been quenched and the ash swept away by the winds. They would stay with him, he realized, just as how the Scouring of the Shire stayed with him as a memory—now near a decade old. How long would the destruction of Edoras stay with him, he wondered?

He drew a stiff breath as the fortress appeared on the horizon, backed by the towering mountains. So he was here. After days of riding he was to present himself in the summit. He knew his nerves wouldn’t have been so taut if Merry or Sam had been nearby, but at the same time he knew he was no longer the “youngest” hobbit who had ventured out of the Shire those years before.

Making sure that his steed was securely fastened, Pippin made his way into the great halls of the Aldburg. At once he was welcomed by the roaring hearth, whose heat seemed to dissipate the uncertainty he had harbored on his journey here. It soothed his spirits, steeled his resolve. The dark notice that he had hidden in the pocket of his garb no longer seemed to burn against his skin, for he was confident now that he could trust the gathering council for aid.

But the crowd befuddled him, and he inched himself upwards just slightly on his toes, bright eyes flickering about the room to catch a familiar face. The effort that it required reminded him that although the Ent-draught had done wonders for his height in hobbit standards, he was still petite compared to the physique of men. Now where was he to sit…?

The King of Gondor slowed his horse as he descended down a hill where he could finally see the township of Alburg before him and the men who had journeyed with him. He had only been to Aldburg a few times in his lifetime and at none of those times had he stayed long but he had a feeling this was going to be a trip which changed that. He wasn’t visiting the town to rest or just passing through on the way to somewhere else. No this time things were much more serious mission which would require him to stay there longer than he had in any of his previous visits. He felt relief as he entered the anxious town knowing that they were finally going to be organising the free world to fight properly against the Hand of Sauron and his allies. In Elessar’s opinion it had taken too long for everybody to get organised enough to even think of holding a summit and he couldn’t help but feel largely to blame for this late hour. He had been so focused on the individual attacks on his people and those of Rohan that he hadn’t paid enough attention to the bigger picture that they faced; how to actually defeat the Hand himself.

Entering the city Elessar could feel the anxiety and excitement that the Summit brought with it, nothing like this had happened in far too long and the people of Aldburg were more than interested. Dismounting from his horse he rubbed the beautiful brown horses strong neck and muttered some soothing words to the creature before handing the reigns to one of his men. He wanted to get into the summit hall as soon as possible and was anxious to get things going. This was an important meeting and he didn’t want to miss a second. He entered the hall finally after giving a polite greeting to the guards and looked around. The sight that greeted him reminded him immediately of the many years previously when he had been summoned to Rivendell except for the fact that there were many more chairs for others in this meeting hall. They had all decided that all who wished to have a say in the future of middle earth were allowed to enter the hall, after all it was everybody’s fate that they were deciding not just nobilities. After a quick look around he spotted several men he remembered, Rangers who he had not seen in quite some time. He gave them each respectful nods and was about to say something when he spotted a familiar small figure, his friend Pippin Took, “Pippin, my friend” he said giving the hobbit a small smile. He had not expected to see the hobbit at the summit and motioned for his men to take their seats as he took his own at the front of the room.

Araed felt the tension of the entire town the moment he stepped he stepped across its boundaries. The people of Alburg knew that something big had come to their town and they were all more than interested to know what it was. He heard whisperings of rumours as he brushed down his dark coloured horse in the stables. There were many theories about what was going to happen in the hall where the summit was being held and many were planning to be there themselves he could tell. Finally finishing his job he gave the horse a small whispered goodbye before stepping out of the stables and making his way to the hall. This would be a time to remember he knew and he was more than interested to know what interesting events and decisions would come of it. Araed was tired of seeing the enemy wander through the land unchecked and unchallenged and so he was glad that this summit had finally been called, he did not know if there was anything of interest that he could add with the exception of the Haradrim tribe he had met only a few months ago on his travels. He wondered if to himself if the leader of that tribe, Dariya, would come to the meeting, although he doubted that she would even have known about it.

Dismissing the thought from his mind he made his way past the guards and into the hall where he saw King Elessar, a Halfling and several other rangers already there. He gave his King and the hobbit a respectful nod before making his way to where the other rangers were. It had been a long time since he had seen any of his kin but he still remembered them all well. He recognised the three other rangers as Arithnar, Aelfred and Dothrond, all of whom spent more time in Arnor than he did. Araed had a habit of spending more time near the borders of Rohan or wandering into distant lands than he did protecting the home of his ancestors, a habit he knew he should never have let come about but the day he met his now wife, Ides and had a son that everything changed for him. He found that he spent less and less time in Arnor and while he still spent the majority of his life in the wild and away from his family the distance from them got less and less every year that past and now he was beginning to regret some of those choices. He knew of the darkness that was pressing in on Arnor and he knew that he would need to go back into the wilderness of Arnor soon, but it wasn’t something that he was all too thrilled at the prospect of doing, “Arithnar” he greeted the ranger respectfully. He offered the other two greetings as well before taking his own seat without another word.
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It had been quite some time until more recently since Náriel had been to the West. Of course, her job as Ambassador of Eryn Lasgalen had taken her all over quite a few times in the past few thousand years. Coming to Aldburg, however, hadn’t been done all that recently, and Náriel found herself looking around for whatever changes had taken place. As an Elf, she got to see all of Middle-earth as it evolved and changed, no matter what the race. After all, she was one of those that had to be the most open-minded – and observant whilst at it – of a lot of the jobs that one could come into throughout the lands.

Náriel dismounted her horse, patting him gently and whispering to him soothingly in Elvish. Straightening her dress down, she then left for the now-converted council chamber. Things had been going from bad to worse. Of course, she and the other Elves had seen this a few times. Peace had seemed like it would come upon them and stay – and then it would sadly prove not so. Náriel had really hoped though, that after the War of the Ring, things would be much more stable for them all. Though they had lost much, much was also gained. The king of Gondor had returned, and all the lands seemed more united than ever before. Things were certainly looking up for them all. But when the Hand of Sauron had come about, Náriel’s hopes were shattered, along with those of everyone else in Middle-earth.

Coming into the meeting room, Náriel looked around. This was another meeting of the countless hundreds that she had attended in her life, yet she hardly had to force herself to concentrate. Everything was becoming more and more crucial in these days that they fought for peace. She also knew that these meetings would be where everything was decided. As little as they had been united before the War of the Ring, there was still room to go on how well the peoples of Middle-earth worked together. It was extremely important that the growing issue of the times were nipped before escalating into the full-out war that they all just experienced only a decade ago. They weren’t ready for that sort of damage, not just on their growing economy, but on their small hopes and dreams. Morale was extremely critical, and Náriel feared for when it would begin to decline once more.

Going to sit towards the front, Náriel took her place where she could make her voice heard as needs be during the discussion. She knew that Thranduil was becoming more and more involved these days, and she knew how important it was for Eryn Lasgalen that she represented them well. Looking around, she began to note some others that she recognized, and of course, those she did not. She looked forward again, clasping her hands in her lap and waiting for the meeting to begin.
Edited by Saphira, Jan 29 2010, 03:41 AM.
Master Storyteller of Arda

“Pippin, my friend.” The Hobbit stopped his fussing, and it only took him a millisecond to register the voice. Even when he did, he couldn’t allow himself to fully believe it. Was it— He whirled around, eyes lifting before settling upon those of his familiar companion. A smile broke before he spoke, bright eyes twinkling with the recognition.

“Aragorn!” he cried, but then swallowed abruptly as he realized the lack of formality in his words. “Ah,” he muttered, catching his mistake, but there was a familiar, impish twinkle in his eyes. “Forgive me. It has been too long, but how—” Pippin had meant to ask whether or not the ranger was in good health, yet swallowed his words as he noticed how everyone else began to take their places. He gave a smile and nod to his old friend before hastily taking a random seat before there was no longer any more room.

Oh good heavens. He really did not want to be here. Dark eyes—a common characteristic of the Easterlings—flickered about the room. While Cellon was staunch believer in the concept of being fashionably late, the old man, Adarhídh, had convinced him otherwise for this occasion. Although the player would love nothing more than to draw attention to himself, the logic, reasoning, and utmost peer pressure from the rest of his troupe won over. He trusted them, of course. What type of leader would he be if he didn’t? On the other hand, he’d have to be on his deathbed before admitting any of that.

For Valar’s sake this was boring beyond all comprehension. Did he really agree to this? The mundane buzzing of the commoners around him so numbed his mind that he found himself forgetting why he was here in the first place. But, of course, it came back just as quickly as it had vanished. The man shifted his position, leaning his back against one of the stone pillars. Around him, sitting or standing, were the other members of his band, huddled together in a tight circle. Off to the side, under the dim light, they were near hidden; for once, Cellon planned to not utter a word throughout the summit. But as the crowd dispersed and milled about, taking seats, the player allowed himself a word and a sigh: “Finally.”

He straightened himself, motioned the others with a mere wave of the hand, and cocked his head to listen.
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Andrea's Grasshopper

The Swan Knights of Dol Amroth had arrived in the Riddermark some time ago, but Erchirion had delayed leaving Edoras as long as possible. He had not been here since the attack, and though the reconstruction was well under way, the scars of licking flames could be seen still in buildings and in suspicious eyes.

Accompanying Erchirion to the summit was Bellion, his First Officer. The rest of the men would remain outside to assist the Rohirrim in defense of the settlement. As he crossed the steps toward the meeting room, he noted that others had had the same idea for their men. Within the converted hall, his eyes spotted King Elessar first, and then quickly his sister and cousin. He joined them at the head of the hall.

“My Lord, my Lady,” he murmured as he passed each friendly face.

Looking around the room from his seat, he saw a mixture of all the free people gathered for this summit. Even a Hobbit had ventured south. Erchirion wondered who else had received a threat. He did not image he had been singled out, though he was sure of the reason – Erchirion had been into the northern fortress to rescue Lady Gwenneth, and he had lived to tell of it.

Being in Rohan had dredged up memories of Gwenneth that he would rather not dwell on, so he thought instead of his journey here three years ago. He had fought Orcs at Farrowhelm with Gamling then. What had ever been done about those marauding bands? Or had they moved north finally? It seemed to Erchirion that this summit had been needed a long time ago.

Their enemy had confounded them. He attacked in ways and with methods unthinkable to any civilized nation before now. But the West was not confounded now. This summit was proof enough. And when the talks began, Erchirion knew what he would say. In his mind, there was only one solution.
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the [rebel child]

He had been lingering, uncomfortable, seeing as he was not usually the Prince that would go to these gatherings, Amrothos found himself a bit out of depth. The threat, however, had changed that. Something he may not have been so involved in had turned into something that had targeted him, and his family. The most important thing to him, and whilst he wasn’t surprised, it still nagged away at it, as most things did.

The threat had been vague, but very precise, and whilst he understood Erchirion’s connection to this every growing darkness, he was blind to see his own, other than simply his birthright. Entering the hall, a brief look of confusion coming over his face to find that he was not late – something that very rarely happened to the youngest Prince – before he relaxed and made his way over to his sister, giving her a grin and a nod to both her and Eowyn as he passed.

He took a seat and brought his hand to his temples, rubbing them gently. He knew this summit would not end on a good note. Glancing to Erchirion, inclining his head slightly before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and support himself up, frowning in thought. Again with the death threat, it confused and irritated him.

Not that it would matter, their retaliation would be simple, to seek out the evil, and to destroy it. Like the darkness the One Ring had created before now.

Ever since she had followed her Queen inside the hall, Lyda sat herself down and sighed, looking down at her hands in her lap. She wore the same depressed expression that always seemed to grace her features whenever she looked out across her home, to be reminded what had happened, and how much they had all lost.

This meeting was long overdue, and whilst Lyda would never think of giving blame, she did wonder why nothing had ever been done sooner about this threat. The mad elf had warned them, and then this happened, they were warned, so why hadn’t they listened? Why had they just carried on without worrying about it at all? The world was changing…how could they have just stood there and done nothing at all?

Soon, they would learn, their choices were few. Glancing up, looking around, she could tell many were ill at ease, the threats had troubled them, as they should. Reaching up with both her hands to tuck back the pale blonde strands of her hair, Lyda let out another soft sigh. She didn’t expect to speak, but it was her duty to accompany her Queen.

Cupping her hands together and closing her eyes, sending a very quick and silent prayer to the fates above them, Lyda relaxed back in her chair and waited.

Elessar waited patiently in his seat as more and more people entered all looking eager for proceedings to get under way and he couldn’t help but understand their eagerness. He himself believed that the present council should have been organised much sooner than it had and he blamed himself for his short sightedness for a lot of it. But now was not the time for him to think too much on his many mistakes as King, now was the time to fix them and find ways to move forward against this evil that plagued them. The Hand of Sauron and his forces had forced darkness onto them for far too long and it was time that the free peoples began fighting back.

He waited until the flow of people slowed down considerably and stood up, silencing much of the quiet murmurings of the meeting hall he carefully chose his words, “Friends of middle earth, we have gathered here today to discuss the present threat of the Hand of Sauron whose darkness has plagued us all for far too long” he said clearly looking around at everyone that he could see in the crowded hall, “This threat belongs to all the good peoples of this world and so all have been invited. Here is where you may speak freely to give any information and help decide the fates of all”

The gravity of the situation was felt in the room and it seemed to Elessar that many were more than ready to begin talking; he just hoped that an argument such as the one in the council of Elrond would not erupt in the room. He had a feeling that such frustrations could not be contained even by the greatness of the beautiful hall they were in.

Araed sat unmoving as the King stood and made his speech however his eyes never left his king as thought after thought rushed through his head. There was so much to be discussed and he wondered where the council would begin and who would be the first to stand. Araed had little to say himself as the majority of what he knew was contained in the increasing number of orcs moving about the north and the single strange meeting he had Dariya, one of the Harad, however he was not sure that it would be of much use or even if it would be in Dariya’s peoples best interest to bring up their leaders allegiance. He had only talked to her about speaking with Elessar, not about alerting all the peoples of middle earth to it. So he sat silently, his eyes fixed to his leader and his hears ready for any type of sound.

((ooc: sorry its so short but at least its a start. I have a feeling its a little to Elrond-ish but I'm really tired so, sorry again))
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