I mentioned in a previous post that I intended to do some ’serious’ writing (i.e. writing I hope to actually submit somewhere) during my time off and have been attempting to switch gears from my quick little posts concerning Noruind and gang to the subjects I intend to work on. However it seems that the more I try, the more ideas spring forth for my little champ and this is what came of it. It is a story of her first battle, her ‘first blood’ and as such is happily running away with itself, rather impertinently in fact. So, even though I swore I would do my best to shy away from these, it will most likely be a 2-parter and I hope it will not stretch further than that. Hope you enjoy!

Previous Story Part II

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Noruind flopped to the ground and began unlacing her boots. Wincing as she peeled the hardened leather away from her feet she examined the reddened and broken skin there. Tírad, a grizzled veteran, knelt next to Nora and tossed her a vial.

“Rub that into the blisters but ya’ll want to keep them boots on. Nothing worse than havin’ to fight a midnight ambush barefoot.”

Nodding her thanks Noruind reluctantly pulled back on her boots. After Tírad’s warning Nora left her armor close at hand. Folding her arms beneath her head she listened to the sounds of the night. The wind as it whispered through the trees, the crackling laughter of the fire as it danced and the low rumble of her companions as they spoke. Lulled by the rhythmic sounds her leaden eyelids slowly fell over her eyes.

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The idea of marching to the rescue had lost some of its shine by the third day and Nora struggled to remain focused on the task at hand. By midday, the weary squad finally reached the little hamlet they had been dispatched to and while Berenthor spoke with the village elder the rest abandoned formation to stand in quiet circles conversing amongst themselves. More than once Noruind caught the villagers staring at her and was glad when their captain announced they were moving further out.

Setting in a fiery display of color, the sun was sinking below the rim of the world as they reached furthest outlying farmstead. At the sight of the charred and blackened timbers still smoldering, Nora’s hands curled around the hilts of her weapons until her knuckles were bone-white.

“We will set up camp over there, rotating sentry shifts. Hopefully we will catch them before they can strike again.”

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Night had fallen quickly, plunging the world and all within it into shadow. Nora lay tightly curled on the hard packed earth, her coarse blanket drawn up over her head. Something sharp nudged her between the ribs and she steadfastly ignored it. Whatever it was, however, it was very persistent and after a few minutes Nora rolled over moaning.

“What?”

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she glared irritably up at Berenthor who glared equally, if bleary-eyed, back at her.

“Your turn.”

Running a hand through his short auburn hair, Berenthor dropped wearily next to her. Nora frowned as he then grabbed her blanket out from under her and rolled it into a pillow.

Leaning over she hissed into his ear, “I was still going to use that!”

The only response from the prostrate captain was a soft snore.

“It is really cold. Berenthor? Berenthor!”

Muttering under her breath, Nora gave up and stalked to the edge of their camp, strapping on her armor as she went. There was no fire as it would announce their presence to the orcs, who would then easily avoid them, and so there was nothing to ease the chill of the wind as it howled across the plains. Drawing her knees to her chest, she peered out into the black. The only sounds to break the stillness were her quiet breathing and the soft chiming of her armor as she shivered.

There. Something had moved, a shadow sliding over shadow. She stared until her eyes began to water until she saw more of them, formless shadows silhouetted against the night. A breathless Baranfinn appeared at her elbow, the small, thin man’s dark eyes boring into hers.

“Get the captain.”

I just wanted to take a sec and thank everyone for the really nice PMs I’ve gotten, and I finally got around to replying to them all! If you are new to my.lotro you may not know that you will not get a notification of unread mail so you will have to check your inbox manually to see.

Here’s the next chapter in the Noruind series. It’s my weekend on so we’ll see how much writing I get to - especially since my night off is the stress test on Bullroarer (yay! I am so going to that!) I also have a blissful 6 days off starting next Friday and aside from sleeping like a normal person again (you know when it’s dark outside) I’m going to lock myself away for a lot of it and finally get down to some serious writing again. So sorry if my posts become a bit sparser than they’ve been but I’ll shoot for at least once a week! Hope you enjoy!

Oh and I finished updating the Links section - they should all lead now to the short stories. If you have any troubles with them let me know!

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Noruind lay stretched out on her bunk. As one of only two women currently stationed at the militia’s headquarters she was lucky enough to get her own quarters. Even if it was barely ten feet long by ten feet wide and could only just hold a bed and her little chest. To Nora, it was perfect; it had a window that opened onto the training grounds and, most importantly, it was hers.

She smiled as the sounds of steel ringing about the courtyard drifted in through the open window, when a sharp knock at her door shook her out of her reverie. Baranfinn stuck his head inside the room, grinning at Nora.

“Noruind, Captain says we’ve the day off seeing as we’re to be deployed.”

Nora propped herself up on her elbows and returned the brown-haired man’s grin.

“Deployed? Where?”

“Not sure really, some little town to the south that’s having orc troubles. Better get that armor of yours shiny, might distract from how ugly it is, right?”

Baranfinn winked as she frowned at him and ducked out of the room, closing the door swiftly behind him and with good reason as a split second later one of Nora’s boots followed, slamming into the very spot where his head had just been. Sighing Nora hopped off her bunk and began digging through her chest. In the six months since she had left home she still had only the few things she had taken with her. Over her shoulder Nora looked over her armor and grimaced. It consisted of various pieces she had pilfered of Hílamarth’s armor sets he had worn when he was young. The fit was poor and the overall look was rather unsuitable for an aspiring knight.

Grabbing her purse she dumped the contents out onto the coarse, brown cloth of her blanket and quickly counted up the coins. With what she had brought with her combined with her weekly pay from the militia she had nearly a gold.

“That should be more than enough for a suit of armor.”

Humming quietly to herself she dressed in the only gown she had and set out for the market.

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Even in the morning the market bustled with activity, all it’s tents laid out like a brightly colored quilt before her. The scent of fresh bread and pastries wafted in the cool breeze. Warm sunlight burned hotly on her neck and once again Nora was glad she wore the loose white gown. Smiling as she wound her way through the throng, Noruind politely waved off the over zealous merchants as she gazed at all the beautiful silks, exotic foods, jeweled daggers and painted shields.

Walking around a garishly bright red and green tent, Nora’s eyes widened joyously as her gaze fell on a merchant’s table overflowing with armor of varying sizes and styles. Trailing her fingertips along the hard grayed metals, Noruind’s gaze roamed until she found what she was looking for.

“Ah hah! The little lady has a good eye, yah?” The rotund armoursmith leaned his ruddy face in and smiled at her. “This here is elvish armour, it is flexible but still strong.”

Noruind ran a hand longingly along the chest plate’s scaled surface.

“How much are you asking for a commission?”

The merchant looked her over shrewdly.

“Ten gold.”

Nora’s eyes widened.

“Ten?”

“For the chest piece.”

“Oh.”

Her heart sank as suddenly the gold she had worked so hard to save up seemed so insignificant now. Never before had she realized how much things actually cost. Sensing that he was not getting a sale today, the merchant bid her farewell and turned to more promising customers. She was still staring at the beautiful elven set when she felt a hand fall on her shoulder.

“Your hair is growing back finally.”

Turning her head she broke into a wide grin and launched herself into Hílamarth’s arms.

“Hanar! You are back!”

Chuckling, Hílamarth wrapped his arms around her and spun in a quick circle. Setting her back on her feet he ruffled her hair affectionately.

“And you are actually wearing a dress! Wonders never cease.”

“Hílamarth!”

The two turned to see Berenthor walking up to them. He bowed low to Noruind, before clasping Hílamarth’s forearm and clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“It is good to see you again, my friend. Are you going to introduce me to your lovely…Noruind?” He said her name as if he were being strangled and stared, mouth slightly agape, at her as Nora felt a flush creep up her neck.

“Yes, it is I.”

“You, you are wearing a dress.”

Her cheeks were burning now as Hílamarth could no longer contain his laughter and she frowned self-consciously at the both of them.

“Yes, I am. Your powers of observation are truly awe inspiring.”

Berenthor thrust his hands on his hips and Hílamarth stepped in before the two could launch one of their infamous arguments.

“Berenthor could you help me with something please?” Turning to Nora he motioned her to wait. “We will just be a minute.”

She watched as the two spoke at length and Hílamarth handed Berenthor something. The captain nodded once and Nora frowned as he winked at her. Hílamarth walked back and throwing his arm about her shoulders steered her deeper into the market.

“Come little bit, I know you have a weakness for blackberry tarts.”

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As she entered her room the last of the tarts Hílamarth had bought her fell out of her hands. On her little bunk lay a full set of the elvish armour she had seen earlier. Tears brimmed in her eyes and spilled over down along her cheeks as she ran a hand carefully along it’s mirrored surface.

“I take it you like it then.”

Nora sniffed loudly as she turned to see Hílamarth and Berenthor smiling in the doorway. She managed a nod before she buried her face in Hílamarth’s chest.

“Thank you so much,” she mumbled into the smooth leather of his hauberk.

Pulling away, she brushed the tears from her eyes and turned to where Berenthor stood almost bashfully.

“You had a hand in this too.”

The captain shrugged nonchalantly and gave her a crooked smile.

“A little bit.”

“Thank you,” she whispered before giving him a quick, fierce hug. Stunned, it took him several seconds before he wrapped his arms about the little woman.

“My pleasure.”

I try and write at least a page of prose every day, to stay disciplined in writing. It does not matter so much if it is excellent or sucks horribly but just so that I stay in the habit of always writing and hopefully always improving. This was yesterday’s exercise (written quickly at 4am since I had some down time then and realized that I had forgotten to do it). It’s not my favorite piece (in fact I had it posted for about a half hour earlier today but took it down for a little bit of tweaking) but it is at least decent, and I hope you will enjoy it!

I figured that since she comes from a well-to-do family from Gondor that it would be natural for her to speak Sindarin as well as Westron so I put a little in, feel free to correct me on any points as I really fail at languages I used Hiswelókë’s Sindarin dictionary extensively and hopefully correctly Sindarin ties back into her story a bit as it was used frequently between herself, her brother and her father (while he was yet alive - he is very much dead by the way, in case that was unclear), but I hope to go into more detail on that in a later story.

P.S. Is anyone else experiencing difficulty when trying to change their profile image? Every time I try to load an image in it shows up blank

And P.P.S. Happy Veteran’s Day!

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Her head felt as if it would float away. It was making her quite dizzy; but she had come too far turn back now. Her hand trembling she raised the dagger for a third time, the blade glinting blood-red in the fire’s light. She hadn’t thought it would be this hard. Closing her eyes she felt the edge slice cleanly through and more raven strands drifted softly to join the swiftly growing pile on the floor. It was almost painful, she could not even bring herself to look in a mirror as she cut.

Picking a handful up, she twined the silky strands about her fingers and sniffed loudly. Nora was far from vain; she rarely even took the time to care about her appearance, but her hair had been one of the only features she loved. If you asked her, she was too short and her curves tended to make her look chubby instead of womanly or graceful. Wide blue eyes set above a rounded, pixie face combined with her short stature led most to assume she was several years younger than she was, and generally a great deal more innocent. But her hair, black as midnight and silky soft; that she was proud of.

Gathering her courage, she stood and immediately felt like she might topple over. She had not realized how heavy all that hair really was. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she turned to the mirror.

“Oh.”

She really should never become a hairdresser. After fussing with the newly shorn locks for several minutes, she sighed and pulled a face at herself in the glass.

“It will grow back in. And-and it will be much cooler to practice in. No more hair hanging heavy on the back of my neck…and at least I no longer look like a lady…” A tear rolled down her cheek and she scrubbed it away angrily. Sticking her tongue out at the mirror, she turned sharply away and began to pack some things.

After tightening the last buckle on her pack, Nora straightened and walked over to the ornate sword hanging proudly on her wall. Brushing a hand lovingly along its worn sheath, she whispered quietly into the night.

“Ada, gûr nín râd.” ¹

Nora bowed her head quietly before reverently lifting the sword from its mount and strapping it across her back. Shoes in hand, she paused in the doorway and gave one last look around her rooms. Barefoot, she crept down the back stairs and out the servants’ entrance, shutting the door quietly behind her.

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“Absolutely not.”

Commander Gaerdagor’s expression was stony but it did little to dissuade Noruind. Her jaw set in a hard line, she placed her fists on her hips and leaned forward earnestly.

“And why not? I wield a sword better than most of your lieutenants, my family is in good standing and has a history of exemplary service. I am a great deal more qualified than all of your potential recruits combined.”

“Your family knows and approves of your decision then?”

Gaerdagor frowned as she self-consciously chewed her lower lip.

“Well, I have not asked them directly…not in so many words. Yet. But…my brother, Major Hílamarth, he approves. He has been training me since I was a child and my father before him.” Warming to her argument, Nora’s eyes blazed with passion. “And Lieutenant Berenthor, he has been my instructor for over a year now. He would certainly approve, I am sure of it.”

Gaerdagor leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest thoughtfully.

“Berenthor, aye?”

Noruind nodded enthusiastically, smiling with all the charm her mother taught her. Out of the corner of his eye he looked her over once more. Crudely shorn, her hair stuck out in all directions; her armor was old fashioned and obviously made for some one larger than she - probably one of Hílamarth’s old suits. A giant antique sword, that was nearly as long as she was tall, hung awkwardly across her back. But on her belt hung a short sword and dagger both well-cared for and he noted that she rested her hands on them easily. And then there was her sword work. He would deny it three ways to Sunday, but he was well aware of her training sessions with Berenthor; nothing happened within his post that escaped his knowledge. She was a rarity, a natural swordsman.

Gaerdagor frowned, there was also the matter of Lord Saerchen. He would not trust that man with a rat, let alone a young girl. He glanced over to Noruind again. Her large eyes glinted with determination, she held her head high and her back straight. She was desperate and he knew that though she would come at him relentlessly from all sides, she would never give up but she would never stoop to begging. Grudgingly he admitted that he liked that about her. Blowing out a long sigh, he nodded once to her.

“Very well, I’ll sign you on.” He narrowed his gaze and shook a finger sternly at her. “But only on a trial basis. You will have to earn your keep.”

Smiling widely, Noruind saluted sharply.

“Yes, sir! I will not let you down.”
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Hílamarth wandered into the tavern and dropped wearily into the seat next to Berenthor. Signalling to the serving girl, he stretched out his legs and folded his arms behind his head.

“By the Valar, I hate recruitment day.” Hílamarth scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “So much paperwork.” Turning to his friend, Hílamarth saluted him with mock sincerity. “I heard about your promotion. Congratulations, Captain Berenthor.”

Berenthor tossed him a crooked smile.

“Thanks.”

“By the by, you haven’t seen Noruind around lately have you? She has our mother in a fit.”

Berenthor grimaced into his ale.

“Unfortunately, yes I have. The little fiend managed to not only talk Gaerdagor into letting her sign up with the militia but got herself assigned to my new squad.”

Hílamarth sputtered into his tankard. Choking back his drink, he began to laugh loudly while Berenthor glared.

“Thanks for your support.”

Wiping back tears, Hílamarth spread his arms in a gesture of apology.

“Sorry, sorry. It is just I have spent the entirety of last night and most of today fearing what she rash things she might concoct. To hear that it was merely joining the militia is a relief. Though I am sure our mother will not see it as such.” Hílamarth chuckled lightly. “In fact, when you first mentioned you had seen her I was a bit afraid she had managed to talk you into marrying her.”

Berenthor snorted. “As if I would agree to that; I do not care what she needed I would have found another way.”

“Do not lie to me, my friend, you are a white hat if there ever was one. The minute a girl is in the slightest amount of trouble you ride in to the rescue; needed or not.” Hílamarth took a long swig of his mug. “Besides, if she had put her mind to it, you would not have had a choice. Believe you me, Noruind could talk circles around an elf.”

Glancing innocently about the room, Berenthor added casually, “Oh and before I forget, my squad is directly under your command. Looks like the little spitfire will be our problem.”

“Valar protect us.”
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¹ Hopefully this says, “Father, counsel my path.” and not something embarrassing like “Father, you smell like fish.” :/

I am still getting acquainted with my new notebook, but the going is much easier now that I purged the first poem (if you can even call it a poem) blues from it. Anyways, I was playing my champ Noruind a bit over the weekend as it was my weekend off and nobody else I know is free at 4 am and I’ve been on rather a kick to get her backstory done. She’s really the only one of my characters who has a solid backstory - the rest of them have more of a vague inclination about what they’ve done before. Like Telwen was born into a family of traveling bards, Ciorstan was born in Rohan and served for a time in an éored but that’s really the extent of it. So I’ve been having fun trying to flesh this out. Though I can’t wait to get to some action again because I just took a whole bunch more fight scenes that I think are pretty neat. Hope you enjoy this quick little scene (I even put in pictures this time! )

I’ve also been working on my links - there is a category now of links that lead to book-like versions of my short stories so you can read them all in chronological order, instead of scrolling down posts or clicking link backs. I have some of them done and the rest should be done soon - just working on consolidating the stories into one big doc on google docs. Though you can still reach everything through my neatly (I think anyways) organized categories up at the top too. Yay choices!

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“One, two, three, one, two…Noruind quit adding that riposte into the cadence. Just perform the manoeuvres as instructed. One, two, three…”

The sounds of metal splintering wood rang out in the little enclosure. Sweat beaded on her forehead and ran in sticky rivulets down her face, the salty trails stinging her eyes. Lifting her sword she began the manoeuvre again, her sore muscles aching every time the blade made contact with the training post. Watching her every move with a critical eye, Berenthor sighed and motioned her to stop.

“I know that the riposte feels right on the back swing and you can pull it off in time with the cadence but that’s not the point of the exercise. You have a great instinctive grasp of swordplay but you lack control and finesse. Do the manoeuvres as instructed…” Suddenly he reached out and began shaking her gently. “Miss Noruind? Miss Noruind do you hear me?”

“Miss Noruind? Miss, it’s time to get up!”

Nora woke with a start and instantly regretted it as each muscle cried out with the movement. One year. One very long year she had been training with Berenthor in a back enclosure at the militia post and still each day she awoke barely able to move. And she had thought Hílamarth was tough.

Blinking owlishly at the poor maid who had been talking to her the whole time, Nora allowed the girl to help her up and tried not to wince as she helped her into her dressing robe.

“Your mother is very excited today, Miss. She told me to tell you that she has a great surprise for you and that you need to dress in your gray silk.”

Nora sighed inwardly, of course mother had to pick the day after one of her training sessions to force her to parade around like a painted peacock. She wanted to cry just thinking about cinching a corset around her bruised waist.

Two hours later, when the maid was finally satisfied with her hair and dress, Nora dashed off to find Hílamarth. The silk of her gown rustled softly as she walked, carefully avoiding the painted stares of her august ancestors hanging on the walls. Even as a child she had felt that the stern faces were always judging her, and finding her unworthy.

“Hey little bit.”

Hílamarth’s voice drifted to her from one of the open doors she’d passed along the hallway. Thrusting her head inside the little study, she found him lounging on one of the overstuffed chairs, a book laying forgotten in his lap. He smiled at her as she entered, and she gave a wan attempt in return, running a hand along the polished mahogany of the desk.

“Something on your mind?”

Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, Nora turned hesitantly to her brother.

“Híla, do you know what mother…”

Nora trailed off and dropped into a curtsy as a handsome woman swept into the room. Like her children, her hair was black as night, shot through with warm copper highlights. Her face held few lines, and despite her age she was still a striking beauty. With a facile smile that never seemed to reach her eyes, she nodded regally to the two.

Standing, Hílamarth bowed gracefully. “And how are you doing today, Mother?”

“Wonderfully, thank you dear, would you mind stepping out of the room for a moment? I need to discuss some things with your sister.”

Exchanging a quizzical glance with Noruind, Hílamarth bowed low again and reluctantly left the room, giving Nora’s hand a reassuring squeeze as he passed. Once the door shut behind him, her mother stepped forward suddenly, grasping Nora’s hands in her own gloved ones.

“Surely, Noruind dear, you know of Lord Saerchen?”
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Declaring she had a headache, Noruind had begged off appearing at dinner. Dressed in her favorite robe, she sat in front of the fire watching as the red-gold light danced along the little dagger she held in her hands. At the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, she quickly tucked the blade into her sleeve and snatched a book from the nightstand behind her.

The door to her rooms burst open and Hílamarth stalked in. Nora had rarely seen her brother truly angry and watched quietly as he paced without a word. His dark hair hung disheveled into his eyes and his mouth was set in a thin, hard line. The normally large room seemed paradoxically small now, and not nearly large enough to contain his wrath. When he finally spoke, the words seemed to erupt from deep within, bursting forth with volcanic intensity.

“How could she? He’s twice your age! You are too young for marriage anyways.”

“I am not so young, Hílamarth.” To her own ears, her voice sounded strange and distant, as if she were overhearing some one else speaking from the next room.

Hílamarth froze, his arms dropping to his sides and turned a shocked expression to her. His voice was low and he sounded almost as if in pain.

“Please, please Nora, do not tell me that you agree with her…”

“Of course not Híla! I have no desire to be tied to that lecherous old man. I was merely saying…oh Híla, I really do not feel like talking about this right now. I am sorry.”

Hílamarth’s face softened and he knelt in front of her, his eyes like deep pools of water. Clasping one of her hands in his larger ones, he rubbed it gently.

“No trouble, little bit, I understand. I will go and try and talk some sense into Mother.” Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. “Rest easy and though I know it goes against your nature, try not to do anything rash.” His teasing smile was infectious and she felt the corners of her mouth curve in response.

Dimly she heard the click of the door shutting and his steps retreating back down the stairs. Pulling the knife out of its hiding place, she turned it thoughtfully in her hands.

“Nothing rash,” she murmured quietly to herself and her grip tightened on the hilt as she made her decision. Outside her window, the wind wailed mournfully to the night.

Well I finally managed to break in my new notebook, though it was rough going. I think perhaps it is because with a new notebook there is only the immense emptiness of the pages, a white abyss that will devour you unawares, trapping your thoughts in the vast sea of nothingness. In an old notebook all you need do is flip back a few pages to remind yourself how that abyss was in time filled with thoughts that grew into words which in turn blossomed into phrases and verse; but in a new notebook there is only the 300 hundred brilliantly blank pages staring back at you with its vacant, soulless eyes (how was that for melodramatic? )

Needless to say I was going back and checking out the (now semi-) new Bree-land content, readying myself for the newly shiny Lone Lands that is swiftly approaching and found myself deep in the now solo Othrongroth. This is what (eventually and with great toil) came out of that. I don’t personally consider this among my best work as I had to drag it kicking and screaming out of my subconscious but it was a start for a new notebook. Hope you enjoy!

Oh and I was a complete airhead and accidentally rated Aerhinn’s post a 4 instead of a 5 which kicked her off the Highest Posts list early So go there and watch the vid she linked - it was quite funny!

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at the ravenous mouth I stand in awe
called by the black crow’s mocking caw
“dare you brave the dark, little maid?
or will you abandon this fool’s crusade?”

the infernal night’s unwitting pawn
down where kings lie I am drawn
wraiths cry with unrestrained glee
as I hear the darkness call to me

“next to noble heroes find
beggars and thieves lie in kind
join them as your song fades,
each one in death, equals made”

from the dreadful night I fled
searching for light’s fragile stead
but came I to the darkened cleft
and of hope’s remnants was bereft

caught in the dire blight’s domain
horror courses through my frozen veins
but when all the world turned grey
darkness the light stayed
back to the deeps it was cast
and to journey’s end I came at last

I lost my poetry notebook! I think I left it on the train when I went into NYC earlier this week but I’m still hoping I misplaced it somewhere around here. My entire brain is in that ratty thing so I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I’ve already tried to start another one but it is extra slow going without the notes from the previous one to fall back on. So needless to say the 3 poems I had rolling around my head are not coming out anytime soon. But I consoled myself by writing another Noruind short. It takes place a few years after the last post, and Nora is about 16 now (and in case it’s not immediately obvious Hílamarth is Nora’s older brother - I’m seeing him around 20 or so). Hope you enjoy!

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Noruind stood and stretched, easing the night’s chill out of her stiff muscles. Turning her face to the east, she closed her eyes and smiled as dawn’s ruddy touch warmed her face.

“Hey little bit.”

Brushing wind-blown locks of hair out of her face, Nora turned an icy glare on the tall, well-built man lounging casually against a tree trunk.

“Didn’t we come all the way out here away from dear mother’s prying eyes to practice? Because if you just wanted a slumber party you could have simply gone to Eirien’s as you told mother you were.”

Nora pulled a face at him and kicked dirt over the remnants of their campfire.

“Quit stalling, Hílamarth.”

Edging the toe of her boot beneath the sheath of his sword she flicked it at him. Smirking, Hílamarth snatched it mid-air drawing it with a fluid motion and dropped his left leg back, easing into a defensive stance. Nora mirrored him, bringing the point of her sword up. His sapphire gaze met hers and Hílamarth smiled wickedly.

“Tower defense.”

With no further warning, Hílamarth lunged, his blade glinting red in the early morning’s light. As instructed Noruind counted with the tower defense; sweeping her sword up to block his. Not missing a beat, Hílamarth dropped low under her block, kicking out at her knees.

“Teardrop return.”

Spinning out of the way of his kick, Nora twisted her hips as she swung her sword from her left shoulder down, thrusting his aside before completing the movement by bringing her sword back over to her right. Grinning Hílamarth settled his left hand about the hilt of his weapon and started a series of two-handed maneuvers, his movements precise and polished. Dust rising about her, Nora frantically attempted to parry his broadsword’s heavier blows. Suddenly, Hílamarth swept his sword up for a downward cleaving blow.

“Double block.”

Breathing hard, Noruind rolled backwards out of the way, drawing her dagger with her left hand as she did. On her knees she brought both weapons up, locking the hilts and catching Hílamarth’s broadsword between them as it slashed downward. Grimacing with the effort, Nora tried to hold the block and disarm him but Hílamarth easily flicked the weapons out of her hands and brought the tip of his sword to rest at her neck.

“Yield?”

Nora noticed with annoyance that he showed no signs of exertion. Casting her eyes to the ground Nora frowned. Satisfied, Hílamarth lowered his blade.

“Never!”

Leaping up Nora thrust his sword arm aside and landed a kick to his chest that bowled him over. As he found his feet, she retrieved her weapons and charged forward, calling out her moves as she performed them.

“Butterfly.”

Wielding each weapon independently, she twirled them as she stalked forward so they looked for all the world as a great steel butterfly, its grayed wings flashing. Raining blows down upon his broadsword, she exploited its weakness. With lightning fast strikes that his heavier weapon couldn’t match, she slipped easily past Hílamarth’s defense.

“Serpent’s bite.”

Drawing her dagger arm slightly behind her, she wove her sword in an ‘S’ pattern occupying Hílamarth’s blade as she thrust her dagger to his neck.

“Killing blow. I win.”

Now, she noted with intense pleasure, he was sweating. Brushing her knife aside he glared at her.

“She’s a horrible cheat isn’t she?”

Wide-eyed, Nora spun around to see a young auburn-haired man leaning casually against a weathered oak. With broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist, he had the build of an experienced swordsman. His sea-green eyes danced with wicked mirth and Nora realized with annoyance that she’d been staring.

“I never said I yielded,” she replied indignantly. Hílamarth brushed past her, grinning broadly and shook the other man’s hand.

“Lieutenant Berenthor, so glad you could make it! So what do you think?” Returning the taller man’s handshake, Berenthor grinned.

“Anything for you, Major.” Frowning he turned to where Noruind stood staring at the two men bewilderedly. Shaking his head, he looked her up and down. “Her offense is impeccable but that defense! I’ve seen boys fresh from their mothers’ apron-strings do better.”

The two men watched with poorly disguised amusement as a flush crept up Nora’s face and her fingers curled into fists at her side.

Her sapphire eyes glinting with a blue fire, Nora strode up to Berenthor, and rose up on tip-toe as if to intimidate the much larger man. Pointing a finger menacingly at him, she punctuated her words with sharp jabs to his chest.

“If you think you can do so much better just say so.”

Grinning widely, Berenthor folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned his face several inches lower bringing it close to Nora’s.

“I can do so much better.”

Suddenly Noruind dropped back down onto her heels and gave him an angelic smile. Unsettled, Berenthor let his arms drop to his sides and stared uneasily at the little raven-haired woman.

“I am so happy to hear that, Lieutenant Berenthor. I look forward to our training sessions with great anticipation. Tomorrow at noon works best for me, I will see you then.”

Still smiling, Nora curtsied with as much as grace as one wearing pants and coated in dust and sweat can manage before turning back to the campsite to pack up her things.

Barely holding back laughter, Hílamarth clapped a baffled Berenthor on his shoulder.

“You are in for it now, lad.”

Every once in awhile I post random thoughts that I have - usually inspired by posts and thoughts of other players far better than I. But I would like to take the time to say that it is not because I would see LotRO change. Far from it, the whole reason I play LotRO and actually think about the random (and usually frivolous) things I think it would be fun to see is because of how much I love this game. The other games I’ve played in the past, (just MMO’s here) GW, EQ2 & WAR, once I shut the game off I didn’t think about it again until the next time I logged in. For each of them it was about dungeon crawls and instances/raids to get the uber loots. I never read quest dialogues (though I was a quest fanatic there - I had one of the highest completed number of quests on server for a dirge in EQ2 it was more of an OCD compulsion that any real interest in the story, mostly because there was no story) I just accepted and looked up where to find it so I could rip through it. I took zero screenies in GW, about 5 in WAR and in the 3 years I played EQ2 I took a whole 15 screenshots.

But in LotRO, I not only read a quest the first time but every time I run an alt through a place. Even after a year and a half and numerous alts, I still feel the epicness of a little group of 6 people standing in front of GB, or GA or Fornost…And I’ve stated many times that I have over a 1000 screenshots in my folder (and over 700 currently displayed on my picasa page), I have wandered for hours before just exploring, taking screenshots and just soaking in Middle-Earth.  My favorite still is the epic storyline because it is engrossing and, well, totally epic.

The first time I entered the deep dark of Moria I got chills and was so inspired by just the feel of the place that I actually wrote a poem while I wandered (and died a lot because I had went into 1st person and hid my UI to spam screenshots :/).

It’s also part of the reason I’ve held off on raiding. I don’t want to become focused again on downing some mob or getting loot, I love that I can wander sight seeing, or making up dumb little stories/emo poetry or getting together with a group of friends and helping Legolas, Radagast and other old friends from the books.

The care and detail that they put into everything from quest dialogue, NPC chatter, to just the exquisite details in the beautiful scenery really makes this game a whole bunch of notches above the rest.

(I mean come on - you can almost read the books!)

And that’s why I <3 LotRO

I was checking out the new and improved 1.1.11 Othrongroth the other day (I know, I know waaaay late but better late then never right?) And I went on a screenie frenzy (like usual) just taking the time to spot things that I hadn’t bothered to look at before (back when I needed a group and was more focused on them then the scenery). After looking at them for a bit a saying popped into my head and I thought why not? so I made a picture It sparked some lines for a potential new poem but I am still just way too over tired from Day Light Savings (I work 3rd shift as a nurse and so we got to work 9 hours Saturday night…yay…) so maybe when I regain access to more of my brain cells I’ll crank that out with another of the shots I took. Until then, I hope you enjoy this little scene!

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Gaelic Saying:

Sìth do d’annam, is Clach air do Chàrn

In English:

Peace to your soul, and a stone on your cairn

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Ok so my viking nobleman is the first one to pick up his costume today, according to their mom, the lazy pirate and knight are still snoozing (but they are 2 and 4 respectively so I suppose I can cut them a break…this time). So I am only going to post pics of the viking costume now and maybe the others later but probably more likely tomorrow as I am wicked tired (having worked last night), sick and have to work tonight (/cry!!!) Hope you enjoy!

Now for the nerdy details This tunic is based off a sketch I found of an 11th century viking tunic found at Viborg, Denmark. What makes it fit for nobility is the detail work around the collar. There is a geometric, gold-threaded trim mounted on brightly colored ’silk’ (or satin, the cheap man’s silk :P). Everything was hand made (a friend of mine made the shield, I only painted it). Hope you enjoy it and sorry about about the quality, if I ever get around to developing the pics I take of them trick or treating I might replace these with those but for now it’s the uber cell phone camera quality!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Well I’m still swearing at my sewing machine over the costumes. I have an idea in my head for the heraldry that will be emblazoned on the knight’s chest (it’s my interpretation of our family’s heraldry) but turning that idea into a reality is proving most difficult (and headache inducing). But as tomorrow is Halloween, I’ll have pictures for you by early afternoon regardless if I get the idea working or not. I do, however, have some consolation prizes to tide you over! Here is a (very light, was hand drawn and scanned in) sketch of the offending part of the heraldry. It will (it will, it will, it will darnit!!!) be a blue lion rampant:

And here are some pics of Halloween goodies! Scary Skull Cakes and Wizard Hats (sorry for the low quality of the pics - had to use my camera phone. Can’t find for the life of me my digital camera and wasn’t about to crack out my 35mm for this). If you want the recipes you can find them at pillsbury.com though you will have to sign up for a newsletter to get them, it’s free so hey why not! Enjoy and have a creepy, crawly, spooky Halloween!!

Just some quick random thoughts about some silly, superfluous changes I’d like to see in LotRO First is horses. I LOVE the new changes they are proposing and can’t wait to play with them. I hate the clipping. Every time I bounce (which is a lot, as someone who has ridden competitively, the terrible seat that everyone has physically hurts to watch - if you really bounced all over the place that badly you’d be saddlesore in minutes!) my shield and my weapon look as if I’m impaling my poor horse. I wish that:

a) your weapon and shield would disappear when mounted up,

b) are slung over your back

or c) hang from the saddle (which I would think would be considerably more difficult than a or b but just throwing that out there).

Which segues rather nicely into my next random thought. I think it would be awesome if you could chose how your shield is displayed while you are wandering around. Either on your arm like it currently is or to have it slung across your back.

So what do you think, dear readers, of my silly little thoughts?

An equally random shot of the fall of Durin’s Bane, to spice this up a bit

Well between those dumb costumes and then the frustration over the Banning’s Tale storyline (I still can’t find my focus or the inspiration again, it’s completely vanished and I have zero clue as to where I had meant for the story to go now) I find myself needing a break and so of course, I started a new storyline! (as if I don’t have enough going on here already ) I was looking at Noruind’s previous story and her bio (in-game - the one on my picasa page is much shorter and not as complete. Maybe sometime I’ll get around to posting a page here or something with full character bios) and a story about her childhood just popped into my head. It was written quickly and merely a way to help clear my head. I’ve been too tired and creatively drained of late to truly write anything decent but I hope you still find it fun at the least. Hope you enjoy!

Next Story

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The white walls of Minas Tirith shone brightly in the early morning sun. Two sisters were strolling along a well manicured street in the upper levels of the city. The elder looked to be about eighteen, her long hair, warm cinnamon in coloring, had a glossy sheen and was elaborately braided and draped fashionably about her head. Her dress was equally exquisite and spoke of high status. Tall and willowy, she walked with measured step and practiced grace, her shoulders back and chin raised regally. The younger was her opposite in every sense of the word. Following a few steps behind her sister the tiny raven-haired girl, who looked young for her twelve years, tugged irritably at the delicate lace of her collar as she trudged along. Noticing this, her sister placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

“Noruind, pet, mother would be furious if you ruined yet another of your gowns.” Smiling she squeezed Noruind’s shoulder lightly. “Relax and enjoy the morning stroll with me.”

Turning her deep sapphire gaze to her elder sister, Nora sighed deeply but relinquished her grasp on the now misshapen collar.

“But Bainind, it itches something awful.”

Bainind smiled indulgently at her younger sister and took hold of her hand.

“I know dear, how about if you can walk the rest of the way as a young lady should, I buy you a warm raspberry tart from Madame Cuguiel?”

Nora’s face brightened and she straightened her shoulders, trying to mimic Bainind’s walk. Her dark brows furrowed and the tip of her pink tongue peeked from between her lips with the effort.

Focusing intently on her walk, Noruind was so startled by the sudden caterwauling that broke the morning’s quiet stillness that she nearly tripped. Spinning around she saw a well muscled young man kneeling next to a cat who was struggling fiercely to escape him. Rage flooded through Nora at the sight of the poor panicked animal. Puffing out her little chest, she placed her hands on her slender hips and called out with all the force she could muster.

“Hey you! Cut that out!”

Bainind rolled her eyes heavenward in a silent plea, though knowing it was hopeless she still called out a low warning.

“Noruind…”

The boy glanced up just as Nora’s fist came crashing into his face with enough force to send him toppling head over heels. Dropping her right leg back, she raised her fists in a fighting stance.

“Leave that poor creature alone you big bully!”

Sitting in a stunned heap, the lad brought a hand gingerly to his nose and stared incredulously at the bright red that stained his fingers.

“You, y-you…”

“Noruind!” At Bainind’s exasperated cry, Noruind turned to her sister and gasped in alarm.

“Oh no…the tart!”

Recovering the young man took advantage of her distraction and lunged for Nora, attempting to grapple her.

“You’re coming with me you little brat!”

Seeing the movement out of the corner of her eye, Noruind went limp, dropping to the ground and rolled underneath his legs, effectively tripping him. Twisting onto her back she raised her legs and gave a powerful kick to his backside, sending him sprawling to the stone once more. Hopping to her feet she blew the short strands of hair out of her eyes and brought her fists back up. Gingerly the lad got to his feet and eyed his little assailant warily.

“Enough!”

Laughing a tall, broad-shouldered man attired in the black of the guards uniform strode out from the building behind them. Red-faced the boy straightened hastily and gave the man a sharp salute.

“Commander Gaerdagor, sir!”

Nodding to the lad, he turned to Noruind.

“Lass that was quite the impressive show, what’s your name?”

Bainind walked slowly up, cheeks flushed with embarrassment for her younger sister.

“Noruind! I apologize for my sister’s behavior, let me assure you that she will be reprimanded.”

Gaerdagor started to raise a hand in protest but was interrupted by an unabashed Noruind.

“But Bainind! That boy was terrorizing a cat! I had to do it!”

The lad puffed out his chest indignantly.

“I’m no boy, I’m 16 years of age and a member of the guard.”

Noruind blinked at him unimpressed and thrust a finger under his bloody nose.

“You are a bully!”

Outraged, he brushed her hand away and brought his face close to hers.

“I’ll have you know I was helping that cat. He’d been caught in a trap and I was mending his paw.”

Glancing over to where the cat still lay, watching them all with his imperial feline gaze, she noticed for the first time the bandages and herbs strewn throughout. Her face turned beet red and she cast her eyes down to her scuffed slippers as she picked at the torn and dirty silk of her gown self-consciously.

“Oh. Oh. I assumed…I am terribly sorry.” Bainind looked on with more than a little shock as Nora straightened and gave the lad what was quite possibly the most elegant curtsy she had ever performed. “I hope you can forgive me. Let us start over. My name is Noruind, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Stunned the lad stared at the young girl for a few seconds before Gaerdagor prodded him none to gently on the back. Fumbling a sketchy bow he mumbled back a greeting.

“No trouble miss. I’m Berenthor, nice to meet you.”

Recovering her poise, Bainind smiled prettily at the two guards. “Again, I apologize for the inconvenience but we really should be going now. Thank you.”

The two men watched the sisters walk slowly away; Noruind meek and chastised as Bainind desperately attempted fix her dress and rub the dirt from her cheeks. Gaerdagor sighed deeply.

“If that little lady ever decides to join the militia we’ll be in for it.”

Berenthor’s thoughtful gaze followed the little disheveled figure as she rounded the bend.

“She is a rather fearsome opponent.” Realizing he’d spoken aloud, Berenthor’s face reddened considerably.

Gaerdagor laughed, “Well she did put you in your place didn’t she?”

“She had the element of surprise. Plus I don’t fight women, I’m a gentleman.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, lad.”

******
Eight years later…

“Lieutenant Noruind!”

Nora scrambled to her feet and saluted at the tall auburn-haired man who had entered the room.

“Captain Berenthor, sir!”

Berenthor turned and smiled at her.

“Pack up, our squad has been assigned a post.”

I know I promised in my last post to have pictures of the Halloween costumes I have been working on but late last night I got a call saying that they didn’t need them for a party today…but for a party on Halloween…a week from now. Their bad. >.< So needless to say I ceased freaking out and am now taking my time again and being all perfectionist about them like I enjoy doing I should have pictures in a couple of days. BUT to make up for my failed promise I have a pretty screenshot with a nifty Gaelic saying, it’s the one that’s quoted in my mini’s (Telwen’s) bio. Hope you enjoy!

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The saying in Gaelic:

Thig crioch air an saoghal, ach mairidh gaol is ceòl

And its meaning in English:

The world will pass away, but love and music will endure

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Ever since I posted that comment saying that I would have to take a break from “Banning’s Tale” for the time being I felt as if a weight has been lifted off my chest. I became almost obsessed with feeling that I needed to get it out there that I lost all inspiration and focus. Last night was the first time in several days that I have felt like writing. And this is what came out of it! I’m working like a mad woman on those Halloween costumes (pics to come by Sunday!) and I think that is what inspired this post. Hope you enjoy and have a wonderfully wicked Halloween!

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I walk along this darkened road
knowing not what ill abodes
beneath the harvest moon
of me the night demands a choice
as trees whisper with rasping voice
“the witching hour looms!”

when black secrets the moon keeps
and spirits wake from slumber deep
echoes on the wind cry
the light has gone and darkness falls
and all about the wraiths do call
“the witching hour’s nigh!”

the forgotten souls of yore rise
severing their empyreal ties
to dance upon the mere
as lost I wander in faery rings
aloud I hear them madly sing
“the witching hour’s here!”

I’m starting to write a lot in my downtime at work (it’s about the only time I have atm to write), in case anyone has noticed a pickup in the pace of my posts. We’ll see how long it lasts or if I get burned out (or if you get burned out from reading them!) This is a continuation of the “Banning’s Tale” story arc (part of the Ciorstan’s Call storyline). I’m going to continue posting bite-sized (as Harperelle aptly called them) portions of the story as I think it makes for an easier read. So here is part 2, “Honor for the Dead” Sorry there aren’t any pics but as you’ll see from the text, it wasn’t easy to find screenshots to go with it. I have tons for later parts of the story as there is more action, etc. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Previous Story Next Story

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Banning rested his head against the shovel wearily. The sun had long sunk below the rim of the world and yet the wardens were still at work digging graves for the lost by the light cast by the fires consuming their homes.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Banning reached out of the hole to drag the next body down. A tiny form fell into his arms and he fought back tears as he brushed the curls back from her little face.

“Damn savages.” The bitter tone in the man’s voice matched the thoughts whirling in Banning’s mind. “How the hell could someone…kids Ban! Even the kids…”

Banning laid the little girl down gently. He sniffed loudly and attempted to mask it with a cough. “I don’t know Alwin.”

Al stooped to pick up a battered rag doll. He fingered it gently for a moment before handing it down to Banning who placed it in the girl’s pale arms. Silently the two men filled in the little grave.

Breathing heavily, Banning gazed about them. His voice was flat as he turned to Alwin.

“Looks like she was the last of them finally.”

The wind tossed a shock of brown hair into Alwin’s eyes and he brushed it back with annoyance. His young face was haggard and his eyes were hard as he stared out at the burning remnants of the little hamlet.

“They need to pay for this.”

Landry, the captain of their unit, thrust his head out of a nearby grave he had just finished digging.

“And they will lad. We’ll see to that.” With a grunt he hoisted himself out of the pit. “But we won’t do much avenging if we don’t rest up a bit first. Ban lad, go fetch Graeme, he’s out along the road on patrol.”

Banning nodded quietly and set off towards the road. But he had only made it a few steps before a shout from Graeme sent them all running.

“Riders on the road!”