Intro:
This is a tale pulled from one of my Role Playing adventures in LotRO on the Imladris Server. The two main characters in this story are one of my characters – I have 9 total, one of each class – and one of my friends and Kinship mates.
The pictures of Angelina Jolie and Liam Neeson on the Cover Art are what our characters would look like in real life.
Angethel Noruithel-Me
Revtor Barrowson-Friend
The rest are owned by Warner Bros/Turbine and the Tolkiens
So here it is:
The Siege of Gondamon
A slender figure dressed in red and crimson sat in large high-backed wooden chair by the fire in the little inn. The inn, whose name she had forgotten, was in the great and mighty dwarven home, Thorin's Hall in northern Ered Luin. Her features, fair skinned and dark haired were those of the Eldar out of the far east, for she was one of the Avari, one of the 'Reluctant Ones' that had refused the call to Valinor before the first age of this world was.
As she sat there, she was smoking a pipe, while watching the fire in the hearth, which was quite odd, for her kin were not known for the smoking of tobacco. What was even odder was that the smoke from her pipe seemed to swirl around her, as if it was controlled by some subconscious thought. It would sometimes take the shapes of dragons, warriors, arrows and great ships, other times it would look like the fire in the hearth, flames licking ever upwards, until the smoke would dissipate into the air.
Her name was Angethel Noruithel, a child of the Avari, born near the beginning of this present age, one with nature, a scholar and master of lore, she had a strange way with fire, it seemed to obey her will at times.
She sat there, feeling the fire, sensing it's every movement as she thought, and pondered, when one of the dwarves who guard the halls came running into the hall shouting: "Gondamon is under siege!"
This drew the attention of all within the room as a flurry of questions and dwarven curses erupted all at once, overwhelming the poor guard. Knowing that she would not get any information from the unfortunate fellow, she left the inn in a hurry, seeking the lord of this hall, Dwalin, son of Fundin, and sought to inquire of him what was happening, for she had aided the Dwarves of his expedition in thwarting the Dourhands from raising their dead lord Skorgrim some time back.
She found him surrounded by his kin and advisors, looking as if he was about to start pulling the hair from his already bald head.
"… No Thirdin we cannot send any of the Iron Garrison for those Blue Craig Goblins are too near at hand to send them away"
"But my lord, if Mathi does not receive aid Gondamon will fall!"
"I know! Thirdin my friend I know, but tell me, who do we have to…."
"Lord Dwalin, may I be of assistance?" said Angethel with a slight bow.
"By Durin's beard yes you may! I must impose on you yet again, for your aid in Skorgim's tomb is still fresh in my mind, but heed me, the Dourhands and the Blue Craig Goblins have formed an alliance and have put Gondamon under siege, if the city falls, our halls will be cut off from all outside help, please, I cannot send any of my warriors for we do not have enough to spare, for the Goblin's encampment in Orodost and Dourhand stronghold in Sarnúr are too close at hand to leave these halls undefended. Will you go and aid Mathi?"
Angethel paused and thought, though she did not trust dwarves, Dwalin had proved himself a decent fellow, and her hate of orcs and goblins did much to influence her mind.
"I will go."
"Thank you lady Noruithel! You have the thanks of all the Longbeards in these halls! Now please, make haste!"
"My lord." She said with a bow, and turned and strode out of the halls in a flurry and blur of crimson red, like the flames she so loved.