The Crossing of Cair Andros

[Angusmungus]

I don't remember if I told anyone, but I was logging all of our posts of this RP. Here is a compiled and edited version of "The Crossing of Cair Andros".

We should be able to pick up where we left off, I tried to perserve each persons post in the form of paragraph breaks. Keep in mind this is an edited version and you might say "thats not what I wrote", but I only edited for spelling and grammer (besides the formatting).

If you don't like it we can always get rid of it start again. If it's ok we can pick up where we left off.


The Crossing of Cair Andros


(Since our RP thread looks sort of sad, I figured I'd start up a new role play. Basically, Arathain and the rangers who had chosen to come are travelling south after a visit to the Lonely Mountain, down the Anduin, towards Cair Andros. Here, they will cross and see the lands of Gondor, especially Southern Gondor. We are currently travelling upon horses and have gone around the Dead Marshes and are entering Northern Ithilien. Everyone is welcomed and encouraged to join in on it.)

A rather young man riding bare back upon proud and noble steed was seen riding in front of a company of rangers. Not many of the rangers spoke, as they were uneasy, for east of them lay the lands of Mordor. It was evident that a few of the horses were uneasy, as they snorted or neighed gently. Arathain's own horse, Aethelwigend, seemed very cautious but made no sound. The ranger and his horse had a very close bond of friendship.

No other sound was heard except for the horses moving ever so softly through the soft terrain. The hood of Arathain's cloak lay upon his crania and rustled slightly due to his body moving to the groove of Aethelwigend's pace. A shadow veiled his usually stern face; only from the lips down to his chin was visible. His eyes were strained for any movement ahead of him and his ears for any sounds. So far, nothing had disturbed their journey. Even the Men of Rhun had seemed blissfully ignorant of their travels through their lands. Eventually, they entered the lands of Northern Ithilien and one thing made Arathain glad: trees. The trees would hide them from unfriendly eyes. At this, he removed the hood of his cloak and a rush of cool air hit his hot face; it was very hot underneath the hood. The horses even seemed to realize this fact and proceeded more willingly. The danger seemed to receed; yet the shadows of Mordor had not...

Angus takes a deep breath, “Ahh, it’s been to long” he thinks. The miles of golden grass they have put behind them eased his mind even more. As Epos galloped beneath him, he felt nary a bump in the saddle, this was truly a special steed. It had been many a day since Angus had been this far south, yet it was all very familiar to him. The constant drone of hoof beats on the hard ground seemed to become his own heartbeat. After many hours of travel there goal finally drew nearer. Only the forest lay between the small party of rangers, and the last safe stop in the south of middle earth. He looked forward to passing through the gates of Osgiliath and on to Gondor. His daydream is interrupted by the pounding of hooves, looking to his right he notices Creedoc riding beside him. He looks in the direction of the pledge and smiles.

Eoden rides sluggishly atop his broad steed Raedor, peering out to the fading horizon beyond him. With every step the horse took, another leave crunched. The sound actually scared the horse a bit, causing it to take gentle steps as they trotted through Ithillien. Eoden yawned and focused his attention to his kinsman beside him, though they seemed tired and unenthusiastic. The deeper into Ithillien they rode, the thicker the trees became. The sun was no longe fullyr visible, it only peaked through the gapes in the treetops. It seemed like it was night, but it was nearly that. The forest gave Eoden a slight chill throughout his body as he closed his eyes and daydreamed.

Arathain gave a slight grin at Eoden's remark. He too was eager for an ale but he knew better. He knew better to drink during the nights of their travel incase of an invasion on their camp. Especially since they were this close to Ithilien, nobody knew when Orcs may stumble across them. Then he too closed his eyes for a moment before answering Eoden, "I know what you mean. Yet, it would be unwise to drink, especially on this side of the Anduin. None know of the Evil that may lurk in these parts. We'll drink all the fine ale we can get when we cross into Gondor, Master Eoden," he said rather eagerly, wanting to get to Cair Andros already.

Aethelwigend had to slow down to be able to maneuver through the thick trees efficiently. After it became dark, Arathain led Aethelwigend westwards towards the Anduin to allow him to drink and see how far Cair Andros was off. "It appears to be a league or so. What would you say?" he says without turning around to any of the rangers, leaving the question open to be answered by anyone.

"A lot of fires burn in that valley Naru, are they friend or foe?" Angus asks.

“Perhaps we should continue to Cair Andros?” Said Creedroc, forming the suggestion as a question, knowing the full-fledged members of the Kinship had much more experience than himself. Being not sure of the Rangers’ relationship with the men of Gondor, he asked, “Will we be welcome guests, or unwelcome pests?” Chuckling at his unintentional rhyme, he continued, “Will we be able to camp at Cair Andros? If so, I suggest we carry on to the ford, and rise early tomorrow morn to ride towards the White City and receive our permission to continue through the good lands of Gondor.”

Creedroc waited on a response from his fellow travelers, and continued riding on his borrowed horse, hoping to find his own soon.

Aethelwigend began to drink from the Anduin as Angus pointed out the flames. "I know not," Arathain said, just as uncertain as Angus was. His eyes scanned for any sign of movement but he could see nothing from this distance. At this point, Creedroc's voice renting the night air gave Arathain, also known as Naruzil, an idea.

"We shall continue towards Cair Andros, Master Creedroc. And to answer your other question," he began and turned to him with a grin. "That depends on how we approach this situation. I have use of you, Creedroc. As a pledge, you will have to be put through several trials of strength, endurance, and perservation. Go steathily into the woods and spy for us. Once you find out, return here. If you're caught, hoot like an owl thrice and we shall come to your aid. If you are not dead," he added grimly.

“…..Aye, aye.” Creedroc responded hesitantly, “I shall venture near, and hope my eye is keen enough to spot foes, though I am no elf. I shall venture on foot, so as not to be heard, and report back what I find. Mark my words, I will be coming back.” Creedroc disappeared into the forest, leaving his horse behind to be tended by the other rangers.

As he continued through the heavy forest and came closer to Cair Andros, he began to smell food being cooked on campfires, though it was a foul odor. “What is that wretched stench?” he though to himself, quick to realize he was drifting into thought and quickly pulling himself back to the dark, tall forest he was currently in, now only about 3/4ths of a mile away from the camps. As he scanned the camps with his eye, he confirmed the camps were indeed foes, Orcs to be exact. “They could try to stir problems up, but as long as we carry on quietly and alert the men of Cair Andros, they won‘t be a problem.” he thought.

As Creedroc returned to the position the rangers were waiting, he hoped this endeavor would help him prove himself to the more seasoned Kinsmen. Moving through the forest, he thought he caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision, and was nervous of an orc scout spotting him. Close to the rangers’ position now, he heeds an owl hoot, laughing at the irony, he thought, “I’m glad I did not have to make any such sound on this venture.” Upon returning to his fellow rangers, Creedroc was a little short of breathe, but he managed to explain that the camps were inhabited by orcs and that he and his company should carry on stealthily.

Seanan went to the river to fill his pouch with the fresh water of The Great River, as he kneeled on the riverbank he saw the image of a pale moon in a small pool that lay still beside him.
He gazed up, the stars shone bright in the dark sky and a cold Northern wind desensitized his face. He filled the pouch and as he walked back towards the other kinsmen he covered his long, dark blond hair with the hood of his cloak. His eyes stood serious and a frown lay upon his young face.

He had heard Creedroc speak of his findings, Orcs were near and their sense of smell is strong, stronger than that of a man. If the wind would change direction the chance at stealth could be diminished.
He walked among his fellow rangers and spoke, “My friends, I feel a decision is to be made. If we linger here, they could smell us should the wind change, and that would mean the loss of our cover. Now, we still have the advantage, we could surprise them while they fill their cursed stomachs. What say you, brothers?”

Seanan anxiously awaited the reaction of the Rangers, he was still young and quite new to the brotherhood, he feared that his words would be taken as high hearted although they were not meant that way. He would hear the judgement of the others and respect their opinion, for there were many that bested him in rank, and even more in experience.

Eoden continued to ride in silence. Though, oddly, when Seanen spoke he immediately lifted his head and interjected. "I am rather bored," he whispered, "if there are orcs out there, let them come. I have to test out my new sword." Eoden smirked and lowered his head again, glaring at the damp ground. He knew it would be foolish to wait around for a pack of orcs to devour him, but he spoke truthfully. He was blood thirsty. He quickly went off into another daydream, thinking about Minas Tirith and the day they would finally arrive there.

Eoden opened his eyes and rubbed them viciously, entering reality. The air was cool and dark, with strong gusts of wind blowing at his cloak. He seemed tired and worn out, despite not having battled for months. He massaged his shoulders as he waited for another kinsman to speak.

Arathain was young, yet for all his youth he did have some wisdom. He thought they should find out the key points of these Orcs. He sat atop Aethelwigend with his arms crossed and listened intently to Creedroc, Seanan, and Eoden. He too was thirsty for battle, it seemed like they had had nothing to do since they left Erebor.

"How many in number are their regime?" he inquired of his fellow ranger. "How far are they from Cair Andros? And lastly, could you tell if they are from Minas Morgul?" he pressed Creedroc for answers.

As Angus waited for Creedrocs response, the sound of the Great River rushing past brought back the memories of his youth. The days spent fishing with his father in it's head waters, and the nights this very sound put him to sleep. These days have passed long ago but are still fresh in his memory.

Angus shakes his head as he returns from his dreamlike thoughts. Agreeing with the concerns of Seanan and Eoden, he speaks up. "Arathain, I think we will need to move soon as well, I fear this west wind will not conceal us for long." Epos was growing restless beneath him and he knew this meant he was ready to go as well. Angus continues "Let us make an attempt to the south flank, if we are scented, their numbers are likely to be fewer. If we go undetected we should have a clear ride to the Ship of Long-foam."

Zirand stairs blankly into the dark, rushing waters of the great river, as his bull (there was not a horse near the bay that was tall enough to carry Zirand- he just hated dragging his legs). A pipe hung from his limps as he pulled the smoke deep through his lungs and exhaled. The sweet air from the river brought back.....bad, almost horrid memories..of flames and...pain...

He pulled himself out of these memories and shut them away, living with his kinsman at the bay, but it was almost overwhelming trying to just not collapse from the hurt he felt. He repressed him as best he could, though, and joined in the conversation. "I agree with Angus. I highly doubt we'll be scented now. Even if, we can make haste and escape, or possibly defend ourselves..."

[Seanan]

Seanan listened to his kinsmen talk, when suddenly he heard a twig crack. He swiftly turned his head towards the sound. It came from some bushes within the forest. As he stared into the darkness from left to right he picked up some movement in the corner of his right eye. Allthough the movement lasted but a moment he reached for his bow and placed an arrow upon the string. Remembering the location of the movement he slowly pulled back his string and released. The sound of his arrow splitting the cold night's air broke the silence as Seanan lowered his bow. A silent squeel could be heard upon the arrow's impact. Seanan pulled his sword out of its holding on the left side of his saddle and ran towards the bushes, careful to not make too much noise.

An orc scout lay behind the bushes, the arrow had pierced his longue and he stood upon the edge of death. Weak laughter sprang from his dirty, cloven lips as he coughed up his black blood.

"Laugh while you still can, orc," Seanan whispered as he sheated his sword and bent over. "For your cursed life has come to an end and soon you will be no more." And as he looked into the beast's eyes Seanan took the shaft of his white feathered arrow and gave it a slight twist before pulling it out. The orc's chest followed the arrow up as Seanan pulled it out, his eyes grew wide before falling shut to never be opened again. Seanan turned around with the arrow in his right hand. He wanted to wash the stinking orcblood off in the river. As he started walking back towards the others he stopped. As he looked back over his shoulder he saw something shoot away from behind a large tree about fifty yards deeper into the woods. It was another orc scout. Seanan quickly put the arrow back on his bow, but it was too late. The sound of the orc's horn could be heard throughout the woods. Seanan released his arrow which drove itsself into the right shoulder of the orc. Again the scout blew his horn. As fast as he could Seanan took another arrow, but the orc was now a hundred yards away from him. Trees were constantly getting in his aim, untill atlast he saw an opening. He shot the arrow with the greatest precision, it pierced the orc's skull from back to front.

Seanan stood nailed to the earth for a moment, he was breathing heavily. He listened for sounds of klinging metal and the beating of wardrums, yet nothing could be heard. "Maybe they did not hear it, could it be?" Seanan thought, he exhaled in relief. He turned around and walked towards his brothers while he placed his bow on his back.

Suddenly the sounds battle erupted, started of by a terrible scream that would chill the bones of any brave man. Drums, screams and commands given in a tongue Seanan did not understand filled the night's air. Seanan stopped immediatly and briefly closed his eyes, he sighed. He then reached for his sword and ran towards his kinsmen.
"I killed the scouts, which means they do not know our numbers, but it seems our luck has turned for the worst...Or for the best, it depends on how you look at it really. What do we do? We can not run, and these foul creatures stand between us and our destination." Seanan looked up at the sky, the stars and the moon shone bright, casting enough light upon the land to even the odds. Their cursed eyes which see in the dark should give them no real advantage.
"It is a good night for battle, my friends, they will be here in a matter of minutes. Anyone have a good plan?"

[Angusmungus]

As the sounds of impending battle echo in the distance, Angus glances over at Seanan. “Well I guess sleep is out of the question now!” he say’s with a wry smile as he checks the arrows in his quiver. “We are in for a long night boys, I suggest we take what we need and send the horses in the opposite direction. Stealth is our advantage and they may hinder that, they may better serve us as a distraction and draw some of the enemy away with them.” Angus un-straps a sword, small sack, water skin and a second quiver from an uneasy Epos.

As he fills his water skin in the river he keeps an alert eye on the woods beyond. “Eoden, seems that your wishes shall be granted this eve.” He says, without averting his attention from the darkness in front of him. “Blood will flow tonight, let us be sure it is not ours.”

[Suítáchi of the Teléri]

Suitachi had been travelling at the rear of the company of rangers most of their journey, he had never enjoyed being so close to the mountain shadows but Ithilien still held a kind of eery peace for the elf. The darkness surrounding , to him, did not feel ominous in the slightest but in fact made it very much the harder for Suitachi not to fall asleep on his horse and tumble to the ground! No matter how much balance he might think himself blessed with he would be little use as a loud snoring baggage for his companions to alert every foul creature within a mile and slow his brothers down.

"Damn. When your busy for nights on end and dont give thought to rest or dreaming , it kind of ambushes you unawares." Suitachi muttered to himself.

As the rangers made camp to decide their next move and destination Suitachi tried to occupy his mind by collecting firewood. He was just on his way back to the dim golden glow of the already encouraing fire, interspaced by the stark black trunks obscuring his view, when he could just pick out the faint knock of a whirring arrow in flight and the dull thud of impact followed by a shrill broken orc horns blast.

It was unmistakeable. Everything about orcs held the same , disgusting and foul and reeking of hatred. Suitachi loathed the common orc more than any other beast. All thoughts of tiredness were swept away as he leapt to his brethren who were already in the process of planning an ambush. He over heard of the orc presence on route and the cunningness of the Rangers of forochel was instantly envoked, they were an amazing bunch of fighters.

Picking up his sword in sheath he stood by Angus waiting to move.

"This should be interesting."

[Herugrim]

"They already know this position - I have an idea," the young ranger spoke up, "I think we need to funnel them so they don't spread out and flank us or surround us." Wheels began to turn in his head as he pondered what they should do. "Keep the fire lit, stuff our blankets around it...the hunter's shall become the hunted."