Our tale begins in late Autumn of the year 1419 Shire Reckoning. The Prancing Pony Inn at the village of Bree is scantly populated on this dark and dreary night. Rain falls heavily on the rooftops as the inn door bursts open. A dark hooded creature stands in the doorway. He enters and strides to the bar. Barliman Butterbur, the innkeeper calls to him.

"Hi! Sir! Kindly close the door! Its cheerless enough in here tonight without the wind and rain accompanying my tendors!"

The figure doesn't reply. Instead he raises his hand and the door slams shut. Sitting at a tall bar stool he waves his hand and a mug slips from the counter and fills with beer before placing itself before him. Throwing back his hood reveals a weather worn face with a long black beard and icy blue eyes.

A minstrel in the corner of the Inn looks up as he hears the door slam. He was just repairing his flute, one of his Many flutes, I should say. When he looks at the two men, who he has never sen before, talking, he gets suspicious. What are people like them doing here? Continuing his work on the flute, he gets more and more paranoid. Needless to say he is drunk. He had been in the Pony for over a week now, and thought of this as a safe haven. All that people knew about him here, was that he was a marvellous lute player and singer. Could be worse, he thought. But now mysterious people were coming in, and he was getting worried...

Belegror opens his eyes at the sound of a door being shut down stairs.

He's laying in a rented room, in a warm bed with a candle glowing at his side. His journey had been long, but last night he had finally arrived at the Pony. Happy as he was at the time, he had decided to taste some of the local brew. 23 or so pints of ale, 3 stale lumps of bread and 2 large portions of soup later, he had passed out in his bed.

"What foul smelling goblin would make such a noise?!" - Belegror thought as he woke up. The noise had been like a thundercrack in his head and he instantly decides to get dressed and walk down stairs to see if anything has happened.

Before leaving his room, he makes sure his plate armor, his 2 handed warhammer and his travelling gear is still placed where he left it.

He locks the door, walks down stairs and finds a seat at a empty table.

"What a strange gathering of people here to night" - he thinks to himself as he looks around the other guests...

Bran watched as the two formidable opponents faced one another. If what they said was true then they were both enemies of the one true enemy. He stood from his stool and before he could stop himself he was striding over to them. This might be his one chance to join real adventurers and he was not about to let it slip. "Peace friends!" Bran called out to the two. "We are all united in our hatred of the Enemy. Do not waste your strength doing his work. We should fight together against the real foe." Bran suddenly felt stupid and his courage left him. Why would these mighty warriors listen to him, a na’ve bowman who had barely come of age? He looked at them for a response. The room was silent and Bran could hear the gulp in his throat as he swallowed.

The mysterious man doesn't reply. "Fine. Be as you please, wizard. Just don't go causing trouble. Plenty of that is brewing on that table there." Erumber turns around and heads to the his room. His eyes heavy as lead. Some new suspicious folk start to appear. "Maybe I ought to stay a while more." thinks Erumber "Need be I shall prevent trouble". He strides to a dark, gloomy corner of the bar. He sits down and closes his eyes. "A short wink would do me good". All the while he is listening, for a single hint of danger, with his sharp, almost elf quality ears.

Erumber wakes up to a loud crashing noise. "Just thunder". He lays his head back to rest but notices the same man from the bar is walking towards him."Are you looking for an adventure?" The man asks. "Now you speak to me?" replies Erumber. "If a Ranger be you" said the man "then no doubt you'd want to be one of my companions."

While Theodinaith (after this called Theo, by everyone please )’had finally finished his flute, men were talking. Mysterious men... He whispered something that sounded like "Lasta Laika". Then, Theo put his flute right up his ear. Since people saw him as a never moving part of the furniture, he didn't expect anyone to see it.

As he listened to what the men were saying, he became more relaxed. No danger. Then, as the men were speaking of an adventure, Theo felt immense happiness. He could get out! He wanted to walk up to the men, but just in time he remembered the flute in his ear.

Edit:worst timing. Ever

"Greetings Shareg,". The young man said. "I am Bran of Esgaroth. I seek a chance to fight the forces of darkness. I am not strong in arms, nor have I much experience. But I am skilled with my longbow and not lacking in courage. I do not fear death but rather defeat. Will you accept my company?"

Two men had already entered the room when Belegror opened the door.

The young man from earlier that evening and another, more experienced-looking man.

Belegror bowed before Shareg and gave the two men a nod.

"Being kinsmen, requires me to help you achieve your khazadush (dwarf vengeance), as is the Old Laws." - Belegror said, looking at Shareg.

"I offer you my hammer and my service."

"And now, perhaps you will tell us more of this quest we're about to start." - Belegor said. He sat down on a chair and found his smoking pipe...

 

"Greetings my new companions, I eagerly welcome you all and I gratefully accept you into my company." Shareg says rising. He bows low and in his own turn offers his own hammer to his fellows. He stands and pulls a grim face.

"You wonder about my, well our, quest? I assume that you are all familiar with my kinsman Dain Ironfoot, previously of the Iron Hills, who now is King Under the Mountain in Erebor? Well, word has reached me of Kainin, Dain's trusted right hand man. Kainin has requested the help of his kin to help him vanquish a most evil foe; Dogok the Balrog. Dogok has taken up residence in the Iron Hills and is laying waste to the land. Many of Kanin's followers have been killed and they are trapped. By way of Raven he has sent word across Middle-Earth of his plight and it is my perogative to assist him. Our journey will be long and terrible and some of you may not come back. I will press none of you but I beseech you to stand beside me. I may be a Wizard, but even a Wizard has foes greater than he."

Shareg sits and removes his hood. He is far younger than he looks. A fire burns in his eyes as he waits for the answers of his companions. WHen none back out he stands and nods.

"Very well, we shall begin at first light. May the Valar protect us."

Bran went back to his room. Sleep was a long time in coming. He lay awake for hours, too excited to sleep. Finally he drifted off and dreamt of dragons and wizards. In the early morning he rose before the sun and leapt out of bed. Quickly he packed his belongings including his trusty longbow. "Maybe you will finally be loosed on orc... Or worse!" He said to it. Then he left his room and went to meet his companions, eager to leave for adventure.

(Sorry for missing the midnight part. I've been off the site for some days now. Here's my solution to this matter.)

 

It was morning already and Saegron slowly started to wake up. First, he thought that he was sleeping comfortably in the room he had booked last night, but no..

Instead, he found himself sleeping on a wooden chair at the end of the inn. And as he rose back to his feet, he walked to the commons, where the dwarf wizard from yesterday awaited.

Remembering his words and all, Saegron summoned Rathik, his mysterious raven and approached him by saying: 'Greetings, or good morning. I'm Saegron Ithael, a fellow wizard. I cannot reveal where I originate from, but I've been traveling across the Middle-Earth for ages untold. Different camps, inns and taverns. Such is the life of a wanderer.'

At this point, Saegron bowed down, took his staff and placed it unto the ground. Then he smiled at the wizard, saying:

'It was Shareg, was it? So, Shareg Villusian. Despite the late events, will you accept me as a companion? Truth to be told, it was all an act. I just wanted to find out about things. And now I know enough.'

By cleaning his throat, he continued: 'Sorry for my long speech. I can offer my staff and spells, my skills as a swordsman and my talents as a writer & singer. And oh..'

At that point, Rathik flew from his right shoulder to air and shouted to Shareg: 'Croak, may I come too, croak? Someone has to protect this two-eyed fool of a wizard!'

By sighing and rising up from the ground, Saegron continued by saying: 'Yes, may Rathik come too? And that is all. What say you?'

My first entry. Let's mix things up a bit...

 

At that very moment a slight chill could be felt in the room. Not the kind to which you'd then grab your furs, but the kind you feel deep in your bones. The kind of chill that thrives in the company of darkness, brought on merely by the presence of uncertainty. Both Shareg and Saegron shifted slightly as they slowly raised their heads, meeting the other's gaze in a moment of immediate understanding. Most of the occupants in the room seemed oblivious, but the wizards knew something had changed. For less than a second a silence enveloped them, their hearts unknowing. Uncertain.

The sound of thunder could be heard in the distance. As it faded away the heavy wooden doors to the inn could be heard, hinges squeaking as it scraped against the floor, opened gently with confidence yet an unmistakable subtlety. Nothing but wind entered immediately, though you could see the innkeeper looking through what was the only safe way out. Something, or perhaps someone, was clearly drawing his gaze. After a moment that felt longer than a moment, a hooded figure stepped into the room. Clad in a cloak the color of crimson blood with boots as black as the night, the candles on the walls near the door flickered but slightly, though perhaps that was the wind. Perhaps.

"A-ho and welcome traveler!" called Barliman Butterbur, the owner and innkeeper of The Prancing Pony. "Sounds like a storms rollin' in, care to rent a room? Or perhaps a warm pint to ease the weary burden of travel?" Though Butterbur was known for his welcoming smile and natural affinity for travelers greetings, there was no denying a look of uncertainty.

"My stay will be brief, my horse needs the rest more than I. I will take a room until the storm passes, if ever that may be. Bring me your finest." Stated with determination as they dropped a bag of coins onto the table next to Butterbur. The stranger didn't move as the innkeeper shuffled the key ring, looking for the room farthest from him. When he finally found it, he pulled it off quicker than he had ever pulled a key before, and slowly held it in front of him, a slight tremble in his hand. "That'll be the top floor, last room of the left. I'll send my wench with some Brandywine Red immediately." It was unusual for Butterbur to not thank his residents after their business. Very unusual.

As the stranger turned towards the staircase, which was the opposite direction of our adventurers and wizards, they paused for a moment. The candles flickered again. But this time, the door was shut. Thunder crashed above the old building, louder than before, and the stranger disappeared into the darkness of the staircase, not a sound to be heard on those old, creaking stairs.

"It is not my business to sit with strangers, nor should it be yours," came a deep voice that left you feeling strangely shallow. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm not willing to speak my name among those I do not know, nor trust. I am not your company and have traveled many paths to be here. If you wish to know more you must earn my respect, and that is something no man, much less dwarf, has ever done."

The adventurers around the room had all stood up by now, each one staring right at the stranger, some coming closer, none seeing through the darkness below the hood that revealed nothing but the sharp jaw underneath. The stranger sat perfectly still, as if he was in a deep sleep. The nearby fire began to flicker and an unbearable silence overtook the room, one that grabbed at your gut and caused it to scream with a desire for any sound, and as each adventurer prepared to cry out, the stranger spoke again.

"As for your other inquiry, it is mere coincidence I arrived with such weather. Is it so uncommon to have a stormy autumn morning here in Bree? I come from afar and even I have heard otherwise! Perhaps I arrived because of the storm? It's true dwarves are known for their quick tongues moreso than their quick wits. So alas I have many roads ahead of me and little time for rest. If you're finished with this accusatory query of a weary traveler, then I will take my leave."

At that the stranger stood up, and there was a quiver within the fire.

Shareg stands and sweeps back his hood.

"There is no need for such rudeness. I merely wished to start a conversation. As for  your very impolite references to a Dwarf's tongue, i am afraid you are mistaken."

SHareg croses his arms. The stranger peers at him for a moment before chuckling. He then turns to leave.

"Stop!" Shareg grwols. The stranger turns.

"I tolerate such treatment from no man alive. Now, before you die, tell me your name so i may carve it on your gravestone!"

"Hold your tongue, both of you!" growls Erumber "Imbiceles we would be to attempt to defeat the Demon with such a weak bond in our company!" He stands up rapidly and says "Pride is getting in the way of our quest. May Dwarves, Men, Hobbits and Elves put aside their differences for once!" After an uncumfortable dead silence he says softly "I...I need some fresh air, I'll wait outside. May anyone ready to begin the journey join me."

Erumber takes out his pipe and lights it with one swift motion. "I'm glad you joined me, Shareg, and don't worry about the other one, he will find his place in the group. We all will. Meanwhile lets wait for the others" He says as he lays back with his hood still on, and then Erumber falls into the dark world of dreams.

Shareg sighs and lights his own pipe as he waits for his other companions. He stares up at the sky and watches the birds flutter past as he send smoke rings up into the air.

After a moment he sits up straight and rouses his friend. Erumber grunts and gives him a sleepy glance.

"What is it?" he groans.

"We can no longer wait for the others. They must catch up at their own pace. We must go. Come with me." Rising Shareg opens the stables and calls for his mount. A short grey horse, not lacking in dignity not stoutness, prances out and submits itself to Shareg's saddle. Moutning up he waits for his companion to do likewise. When the two are mounted they set off in the direction of Weathertop and a liesurely speed. 

"Let's hope the others catch up soon" grumbles Erumber or else it will be a difficult journey. He brushes his fingers through the brown horses mane. Suddenly he stops. "What is it?" asks Shareg. "I sense something. Ready yourself. We don't want any interruptions from Bandits." Erumber releases his sword from it's prison and prepares for battle.

(I know, but I can't make them post. :-/. Oh well, maybe we will be joined by them and maybe not. We only really need three people for it, though i hope our friends return.)

 

Shareg balls his hands into fists and twin split bladed dagger blades slide out of his gauntlets. Erumber looked at them in surprise then shrugs, to each his own. Shareg looked around, the houses of Bree weren't even fully out of sight yet and trouble beset them. Shareg hoped his quest wouldn't claim his life just yet.............

Erumber gripped his sword tightly. Shareg's wristblades gleamed in the morning light as the spiders charged. The first made for Shareg, still mounted on his horse. The spider leapt through the air, squealing and snarling. Shareg ducked and stabbed upward with his wristblades as the monster sailed over him. THe blade split the creature in half and it hit the ground heavily.

Erumber moved out of the way as a spider leaped at him. He looked to the right and saw Shareg split a beast down the middle. He turned around to face his enemy and pointed his blade at the beast.

"Fear me and my cold blade!" cried Erumber.

The beast, once  again, charged and leaped at him, but Erumber, with his quick reflexes, sidestepped and, with a single stroke, cut the spider in half.

HISSSSS. Erumber turned around to see that Shareg had saved him. The last spider was pinned to the ground by Shareg's blades.

"As I've said before, I am forever in your service" panted Erumber.

Shared remounted and stowed the spider's hide in his pack.

"THank you." he said to Erumber. THe Ranger merely nodded.

 

TWO WEEKS LATER:

"Curse this foul wind and all the trouble it brings!" cried Erumber, "I thought wizards control the weather!" Shareg wrapped his cloak tighter and said nothing. He was rather fond of the Ranger's constant complaints. They made him feel somewhat encouraged.

Sharegsighed. Whatever reservations he had began to slip away.

"The first thing you need to know about me is my name is not really Shareg. Even a powerful wizard cannot claim one title alone." his voice rose over the wind though it never rose in volume, "In the North, where i am seldom seen, I am called Meshgor, in the East Chayen, in the West Orgikil, in the South Goskgow. My true title, however, and the one I answer to among my closest friends (of which there are few) is Gigan."

Erumbergrunted, a sign for Shareg to continue.

"I was born in Moria nearly two hundred years ago. My father was killed in a raid by Orcs and my mother died of grief shortly after. Left on my own I took to traveling. All i had to my name was a dagger and a small sack of food. The food soon ran out and i took to poaching. It was not long before I was caught and brought before the King of Rohan. He sentenced me to three years in prison, a term which was cut short by my assistance in a battle against Orcs, the same, I later learned, that slew my father. I was released and made my way across the land.

"I was in Harad when i encounter my first of many mentors, a Man named Bog. Bog was a master magician, a con man who put small parlor tricks to his own uses and made a name for himself. Hee taught me enough to sustain myself and i quickly moved on. In Gondor I found another magician named Dergon. He allowed me access to the vast libraries and vaults of Minas Tirith. It was here that i was to learn true magic. I began teaching myself and soon i learned enough to claim the title Conjuror. I used this to gain access to other lands previously closed to me.

"After a few years of wandering, i made my way to Moria, hoping to rejoin my kinsmen. I arrived too late however and nothing was left. I encounter Durin's Bane deep under the earth. I alone of all Dwarves, faced the monstrosity in the vast halls of Dwarrowdelf. He bested me and i was forced to flee, crawling back to the Iron Hills with my shame weighing on me like an anvil.

"In the Iron Hills I slaved away, blacksmithing and earning my keep. My magic came in handy and I helped my people prosper. Soon, however, I grew restless and sought greater magical instruction. I took leave of Nain and began the long trek to the coast. It was here that I met my destiny."

Here he paused and pulled out a pipe. He filled it and lit it with a match, puffing at it thoughtfully.

"I made my way to Belegaer, the Great Sea. On the beaches there i met an old man. All cloaked in grey he was, with a pointed hat and a long grey beard. 'Hello, old one!' i called to him. His bright eyes looked at me keenly. 'Old, you say? And what, pray tell, would a Dwarf know of old? Are you old yourself? I think not. So who are you to judge? Speak quickly beardling.' I didn't think much of his tone and said so. His only response was a laugh. 'I am Gigan, son of Nir, son of Hoj. Now what name might you go by?' 'Olorin, some call me,' said he, 'But to others i am known by different names. Perhaps you have heard the name Tharkun?' I admitted i had not. Other names he spoke, Incanus, Greyhame, Stormcrow, Gandalf and lastly Mithrandir. 'Mithrandir!' I cried, indeed i recognized him. I bowed low before him and he bade me rise. I resquested his tutelage and he graciously granted it. Within a year he had taught me all I now know. He taught me the way of birds and beasts, of trees and stones. I learned many languages and spells.

"Two years to the day we met, Mithrandir vanished. He disappeared and I have not seen him since. That was nigh on fifty years ago. I returned to the Iron Hills but soon grew restless again. I left and was passing through the Shire when a message came from Mithrandir. A bird told me of the Balrog in the Iron Hills and I quickly turned back, reaching Bree within a day. And that is where our two tales intertwine."

Sharegglanced at Erumber and found the Ranger deep in thought.

"Perhaps you have questions about me? I will gladly answer if i am able..............

  

who desires*