Aye I can tell you a story ... by Arkiriel

[Arkiriell]

This story is fictional and has no bearing on the characters in LOTRO. It is fun and editable!

Aye, I can tell you a story of a band of warriors I once fought for, many years ago, called Flame of the West. And you mark me, unlike you fishermen out there, this story is true! Gather around my fellow warriors. These tales will make you wise!

It was late at night when our leader, the legendary Amdor, gathered us quietly together. We had far to ride and we had to get there before dawn. The trolls had taken over Sarnur and not one was to survive. There was no time for farewells, we had to leave as soon as we could wake up Markiel, a powerful master of lore.

‘I’m always ready’, yelled Vokrim, a sturdy, plucky little dwarf minstrel whose sword was more out of its scabbard than in. He was always waving it about and once even cut off a lock of Vorean’s beautiful white hair. ‘Damn these excitable dwarfs’, said this beautiful elf, ‘What am I going to do about my hair!’ But secretly she loved Vokrim and missed him when he was not there. She would send him the lock as a love token! No – he might end up cutting off all of her hair!

‘I’d better grab some pies before I’m missed,’ said Pipeleaf the ever-hungry hobbit who quickly scuttled off unseen to fetch his food. The band of fighters was growing. Someone was shouting orders. ‘Westsiefslsefajine!’ cried Leodwig. ‘What did he say? What did he say?’ said Arkiriel not understanding a word. ‘Westsiefslsefajine!’ ‘Oh, well, I had just better follow the rest!’ ‘Wait for me,’ she cried.

Tiriwen, an officer and leader of the hunters, lit a small campfire as the chill of the night bit right through the heavy steel armour of the band of warriors. Galenthir, a gallant guardian of exceptional skill sat down to ponder his strategy. He would approach the trolls and stare them down so that they knew he was not afraid, and at his side would be his loyal and trusty companion Annwyl, whom he would protect ferociously with his fierce flashing swords.

Not much later we set out. Sarnur was far to the South West of our base. The strength of the little band was their friendship and loyalty to each other. They were kin. Two officers, Kidosarian and Teluil rode ahead, fearless and confident of yet another victory for Eriador. Leodwynne was checking on everyone, making sure they had not left their potions behind and reminding each one of their combat tactics. Arkiriel trailed behind, always last! The band were happy to have her along because she sometimes cast terrible spells, even though she largely just managed to get lost or keep out of the way. Markiel would sigh in despair of all his teachings to her.

We reached the cave shortly before dawn. Not a word was spoken. Amdor gave hand signals to Bekkers, Florian, Barstan and Edwolf - they knew what to do. He then turned to Naridin, Sanwaru, Florienand Dagelmore, they nodded and moved into position. ‘Where do I go? Where do I go?’ called Arkiriel. ‘Shhhhhhh…. And keep that bird quiet,’ said Tiriwen.

It was time for battle. Teluil charged - the rest followed. Then we saw them. Big, fat, clumsy brutes they were. There seemed to be hundreds of them! They were almost as tall as the giants in the Misty Mountains, but heavier and very much bigger. Their large flat feet pounded ponderously towards us as we entered the cave, and as they yelled out their fierce fury, the sickening stench of their recent raw meal enveloped the fighters who had to fight hard against their desire to turn and flee to the fresher air of the plains outside. The trolls swung their mighty fists and stomped on the brave warriors. Their hoarse bellows rang through the caves in a terrifying tremolo of reverberating rage.

One of the band was a dwarf called Thyrialin – but he was not an ordinary one. He dropped everything you gave him except his sword! Put one in his hand and he became the most dangerous dwarf in middle earth. Show him a troll and he would roar in revenge for them destroying his once-peaceful way of life and like a maniac on pure Athelas, he would put his head down and charge! He forgot everything, even his name when he fought in a battle and he couldn’t be stopped until the last of the evil intruders was dead. It was best to just stay out of his way as getting close to him could mean getting in the way of his trusty twirling swords and shield. His raging frenzy drove him to delirium and he would often ask where he was. ‘Kill the trolls’ we would shout and he would storm into their midst, slashing and hacking and baying for blood. He was unstoppable, but only in battle. He was nothing like that at home. ‘He’s a kind, gentle sort,’ his wife would say.

Dahngar nimbly jumping out of their way, kept yelling that he needed to get back to the Shire as he had only had 9 pies for dinner and his stomach was groaning louder than the trolls! The need for food gave him the determination to get the fight over and he lashed out with his sword, poking the trolls between their toes, behind their knees, slashing and lashing at their thighs, not missing anything in his range of sight! This maddened the trolls even more and as they whirled around, trying to catch him, great globules of gooey sweat flew in streaks and circles from their flaccid, fleshy, foul-smelling bodies, while Dahngar nimbly averted their fearsome blows. His hunger drove him on. They couldn’t kill him! He had to eat!

Ah, there she was at last! Arkiriel stumbled into the cave. She had got lost again! She stood quietly against the wall, unnoticed, calling on Flame, her fearsome eagle to give her life and strength and to divert the attention of the trolls. She stunned those that threatened her kinfolk and every now and then would call on the elements to send a bolt of lightening to destroy those trolls who had already been weakened by the fearless, fatigueless warriors of Flame of the West. They fought on tirelessly, even though they knew they would not all be returning. Slowly, and one by one the terrible trolls slumped heavily before the band, roaring loudly in the anger of their defeat, and causing such a tremor with their fall that the rocks were shaken out of the walls and came cascading into the cave, dangerously close to the little band of warriors.

Andriennewas a sharp-eyed hunter. No other had her swiftness of skill. She aimed her arrows into the eyes, ears and necks of the deadly trolls, many of them just brushing off these arrows with huge pan-like hands covered in a thick leathery skin. But many battles had taught her to fire quickly, at the same spot, and slowly those mighty flailing trolls dropped to their knees and fell face-first into the dust of the earth, slowly succumbing to her arrows.

It was not long before the air became quiet. ‘Loot everything’ cried Amdor. They have no right to have anything that belongs to Eriador!’ Then there was the deadly silence where friends checked on friends and family and Gloromund quietly sang his ballads of healing. Some would be carried home on the backs of their steeds, but the cheer went up for their victory and it will echo in the caves of Sarnur forevermore.
[i][b]

[galenthir]

Haha, that was great, and fun! Thanks!

[Annwyl]

Aww, what a lovely read! Thank you

[Tiriwen]

Ahaha, that was really funny, keep it up!

[Teluil]

Hehe, that was funny to read. *cheers for Arkiriel*

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