Chapter 1: Middle Earth in Shambles.

Idhrenpen stood at the prow of the Sea's Savior and looked out across the empty city, nothing moved through out it and this sadden the Maiar. He turned around and grabbed his sword Celegdram from where it lay and then made his way to Anarion's side on the dock. He looked around at the other ships as they too docked and began to unload, from the nearest vessel the Noldorian Nephredil disembarked and made her way over to the Numenorian. She bowed before him and then turned to look at the city.

''(Mithlond at last, we must remain alert)'' She said in Elvish ''(Middle Earth will be our grave if we let our guard down.)''

Idhrenpen nodded in agreement and then turned to Anarion

''Well, here we are,'' He said ''What do we do now?''

As Idhrenpen spoke to Anarion Nephredil began to issue orders to search the city and set up camp.

Eruanno Alcarohtar stepped off of the boat onto the pier. The fresh sea breeze blew his black hair away from his face, sharpening his senses. He wore the great Noldorin armor of old, shining in the dim sunlight. In his right hand he held Hatalion, his great spear he had used ever since he learned how to fight.

Middle Earth was very gloomy these days, much due to the presence of Sauron, Morgoth's underling. It seemed his only plan was to destroy everything that was pure and good about this world. Eruanno had joined this small group of warriors from the Undying Lands because he wanted to put this terror to a stop before it was too late to save Middle Earth.

Anarion II was the unsaid leader of their group. He seemed to be comfortable with leading others and everyone looked up to him. Eruanno respected him as a Numenorian and would gladly be led under his banner.

Eruanno stood by and awaited for any other commands while helping setting up a small camp as Idhrenpen ordered...

As they group of men and women split up to look around the city, all weary from the voyage, Anarion realized something was horribly wrong. There were no signs of life.. anywhere. The city was a literal ghost town, with the only sounds coming from the wind and the whistling through the lonely trees. He slowly put his hand on the hilt of Bêlzagra with keen caution. A fell omen it was...

As he slowly walked up the main steps, born of elven craftsmanship, he found dried specks of blood, long spilled as the spots were black and crumbled on touch. With a heavy heart, he knew that the blood was no of their enemy. Ahead, by the exit of the city, he found two fluttering flags, tattered and blackened. As he walked toward them, a gust blew them around, showing its emblem. A menacing red eye.

"Mordor... then that must mean.." Anarion's eyes grew wide with shock.

The city, as he suspected was still occupied, not by Elven-kind, but rather Orcish. They were not along it seemed, the Orcs had prepared for something like this. Anarion flashed his long blade from its sheath in an arc of steel. He roared a single order to his companions still far below at the bottom of the stairs.

"STEEL YOURSELVES, WE ARE NOT ALONE!"

Thalmir, with the utmost haste, retrieved his bow and knocked and arrow, the rest of their group hefted their weapons or unsheathed their blades. At the moment that Anarion yelled from the top of the stairs, a long hideous shriek was heard from a house.. then another.. and another. Orcs, the most detestable creatures of Middle Earth, started to finally show their face again. Buildings doors slammed open, and forth came the enemy, garbed in chain and spiked armor, brandishing weapons of the same fell caliber.

"Orcs!" Eruanno said with surprise. This was certainly a dark homecoming. Even the Grey Havens were taken over by Sauron's Black forces now. What was the rest of Middle Earth like? The situation here was truly worse than he had presumed. Eruanno stopped whatever he was doing and hefted his great spear, Hatalion, his most trusted weapon.

Immediately orcs began to flood out of the doors and other places where they were hiding in ambush, catching most of the party off guard. An orc jumped at Eruanno with a fell scimitar, slashing wildly. Erruano dodged to the side and pierced the orc through its skull with one swift movement, black blood splashing onto the ground. He ripped the blade out in time to counter another orc, slashing this one across the chest and felling it instantly.

"These orcs will pay for taking over this sacred port," Eruanno said with much anger. He charged forward at another orc and impaled him with an upwards thrust, throwing it back. He looked around at his other comrades, each fighting for their lives. We must defeat them, Eruanno thought to himself. This will be the first step towards liberating Middle Earth...

Nephredil looked up to see the Orcs charging, she drew Daercrist and readied her self

''Ech a thand!'' she shouted to the Noldor

They immediately raised their shields and readied their spears, as the Orcs closed in on them the bows opened up in song as they let loose a hail of arrows. Nephredil waited for the first volley to hit their targets and lifted her sword

''(Charge!)'' she called out in Sindarin

With a fury the Noldor charged the oncoming Orcs, spears flashed and the ring of steel striking steel echoed through the streets. Idhrenpen raised his staff and pointed it at the Orcs and with a white flash he froze some in their tracks, then he drew Celegdram and joined the charge.

((OOC: ''Ech a thand'' basically means Spears and Shields...))

"My Bêlzagra hasn't tasted Orc-blood in a while. This will be only the beginning of a larger movement toward liberation!" Anarion stated with excitement.

Alone, Anarion, always the one to wish to get things done then and there, charged up the stairs. His blade and armor gleamed in the dim light between the clouds. He prayed inwardly that Eru and the Valar helped him get through these next days. With a resounding war-cry, he hit the first of the enemy. His blade plunged through the thin make-shift armor of the Orc, earning a hideous gurgling noise and a death cry as he ripped his sword back up. His blade, fashioned from the mightiest of Numenorean ores and with the greatest of the 1st Age's craftsmanship was indeed a force to be reckoned with. Bêlzagra, the Brightblade was blinding as it arched through the air and split it asunder.

Taking his heavy Numenorean Shield from his back, he held it firm and bashed the first Orc that came to him. With a crash, the thing rang and fell to the ground, confused and disoriented. Anarion rammed his sword into its gut in answer. Spinning around, he pummeled another in the gut with the haft of Bêlzagra's blade and then bashed twice with his shield until it fell with multiple fractures to the skull.

Thalmir had stood along with the rest of his group. He couldn't help but glance up to the top of the stairs warily at his comrade fighting alone. Find that Anarion was holding his own, he sighed and decided to slowly make his way up there. The entire time, he kept his bow out, singing arrows madly firing from its great string. They never missed their mark, only affirming his prowess as a Dunedain Ranger. With another twang of the bowstring, a archer Orc fell from a high wall, an arrow protruding from its neck.

The orcs just kept coming in waves. If it wasn't for their numbers, this battle would've been easy, but these foul creatures didn't know when to retreat. It was almost suicide of them to stay. Eruanno swung Hatalion fiercely, cutting the stomaches of three orcs in succession because of the length of the spear. It was almost too easy.

Eruanno hit a nearby orc with the shaft of his spear, stunning it, then followed up with a swift stab through the skull, killing it instantly. He ripped the spear out, causing the dead body to topple over, and turned around, swinging, to deflect the swords of two orcs that attempted to sneak up on him.

"What a cowardly move!" Eruanno yelled at them, stabbing one through the chest and beheading the other in two swift attacks. Black blood and bodies of orcs covered the ground before Eruanno. He wiped the blood off of his spear on the dead body of an orc and prepared for more.

Nephredil bashed an Orc out of her way and then impaled another on her sword, she spun around and pinned an Orc under her shield and then beheaded him with Daercrist. As she stood up a larger Orc approached her, he swung his sword with great speed but she managed to block it, then she struck back at it and instead of defending itself it stabbed at her unshielded torso and pierced her armor. Ignoring the wound she brought her sword down into his shoulder and then bashed his other arm with her shield, as he stumbled back she grabbed a spear and impaled the monster on it. As it fell to the ground she retrieved Daercrist from it's corpse and then turned to see Anarion was also locked in battle with the foul spawn of Sauron, she then began to battle her way to his side.

Surprisingly, the orcs below in the lower level of the Grey Havens started to dwindle. Their numbered lessened until the last of that battle were short skirmishes within the hollowed buildings of the elves. However, even with the orcs diminishing below, atop the stairs, battle raged on. Anarion started to feel fatigued by this battle, however arrows had started to sing forth from Thalmir, lessening his burden.

Finally, his comrades caught up, fighting all the way to the top of the stairs. Their blades clanged and shined in the dimmed sunlight behind dark clouds. Anarion roared as he plunged his blade through the thin armor of a orc. The twang of bow-strings hummed out below the clashes. Battle had come to its climax, and finally the end could be seen. No more orcs poured from the empty buildings of the pier, and the ones left were just as fatigued as they.

After five more minutes of a vicious melee, the battle ended. Around fifty orcs lay dead on the old stone ground, while much of the party who ventured forth into Middle Earth, were either wounded or unscathed. Two Numenoreans and a Noldorin Elf were heavily wounded, with crossbow bolts to the chest, and one with a half severed arm. The latter died among comrades an hour later. The other two pulled through after being healed.

Anarion knew that this was only a sideshow to what the real action they would redoubtably receive would be. The battle was but a stepping-stone to a deep chasm... and they were to jump head-first into it. The orc's bodies were unceremoniously burned outside the city, much to the elven-kind's thanks. Thalmir stood watch outside the city limits for any suspicious activity, but there was none.

Anarion called to the center of the city; Thalmir, Nephredil, Eruanno, and Idhrenpen. The time for planning was nigh. With exhaustion in his voice, Anarion addressed the battle that they had gone through, and his future plans for them.

"My friends, as you are my determined leaders among the soldiers we have brought, I shall address you on our quest. We have finally defeated what I suspect to be a small lookout horde of Mordor orcs. I am going to have to clarify that it is highly possible that a messenger is heading toward an authority and reporting our activity here. We must remain wary. I suggest nightly guards until we have more companions in this war. Now... as for my next step, I think we must liberate Mithlond before we do anything. Elves are still here, though dishonored and hidden from plain sight... they would be invaluable allies! We shall invade the country side, liberate the peoples we find, and purge the orc menace from these lands. After we take Mithlond, I propose another meeting." Anarion said.

The battle was finally over. Many orc bodies were strewn across the ground because of the harsh combat. The disgusting bodies were all thrown into a pile and burned, for that was what they deserved most. Eruanno's armor was wet with black blood, prompting him to clean it off before he did anything else. The last thing he wanted was the blood of their enemies stained on himself. His spear, Hatalion, served him well in the battle, as he expected. It was a very high quality spear, one that was notorious for its worth in combat.

After walking around the Grey Havens, using his spear as a walking stick almost, he was called upon a meeting with Anarion and the other prominent figures of their party. Eruanno made it as fast as he could and listened to Anarion's words. He was thankful they had one with such initiative as that man, as having one excellent leader like that was something of great value. Eruanno stood forward in the meeting after Anarion finished, scratching his chin.

"I have no objections to this plan," he said, looking around at everyone to make sure they were listening to his say on it. "We will need as many remaining allies as possible if we truly wish to take back this land. Mithlond it is, then."

Esmonda had been riding for seven days too many. Rohan had become too dangerous: with the Mouth of Sauron sending his troops ranging far and wide across the plains, evading capture was becoming more difficult every day. Her horse could not always outrun the swift warg riders, and each fight sapped her strength, even when it was only a patrolling pair.

She adjusted her too-large helm and checked that her packhorses were still firmly attached to a lead behind the saddle. Can never be too careful with that, she thought. After all, they're all I have at the moment. On the backs of those horses were two months' worth of light supplies, as well as two spare spears and her shield. Her grandfather's sword was girt at her side.

The Gap of Rohan was drawing closer, and with it the likelihood that she would be captured. The passage through would be risky, but if she escaped she could start making her way northwards to join up with the Dunedain. She had heard they were masters of concealment, and she hoped desperately that their stealth had saved them from the orc forces moving into Eriador.

She would join them in their fight. If she survived...

The next day started off from the Grey Havens, now quite void of enemies. Anarion had started the march into Mithlond, with the ultimate cause of destroying any Mordor Orcish forces in the area. It would prove in being a long, arduous, and terrible experience, as war had always been. Glory, in Anarion's eyes, was marred heavily beneath a veil of hellish brutality. As he marched before his comrades, through a trodden path of dirt, and a grassy and forested terrain, he felt much sorrow for the faded peace that once had a firm hold on the land.

((OOC: I think War in the North has made me a bit more excited for LOTR oriented stuff. ))


Eruanno made his farewells by looking upon the once beautiful Grey Havens, now covered with orc filth. He wished he had come before Sauron had taken over the once good land. Now it seemed they would have to liberate each land one by one to restore what was once good in this world. Sauron would pay for his destructive resolve.

Eruanno was not one to be eager for combat, but he could not help but want to find more orcs to slay and vent his rage on them. Those foul things deserved the bite of a sword for what they have helped achieve. They would not pay easily for these achievements. They would pay in blood.

Eruanno looked ahead, seeing the land before them. The path was quite open, but an air of dread and death still hung around them. His reaction to these senses was one of depression, which helped fuel his hatred even more. Such anger was not good for an elf to have; not good at all. The road would be long and hard, but it was necessary.

The compatriots headed northward and into the area called Lindon. Before them, stretched the Blue Mountains of Ered Luin, which the Grey Havens and the River Lhun divided. There, the grassy lands of the south transformed into a landscape of snow and ice. Anarion wrapped himself beneath his cloak, as did his comrades. He could see steam rise with every breath he took. After a while, they started to trek through the snow, hearing nought but the crunch beneath their feet.

The wind was chill, carrying with it a foul cold that only one servant of the Dark Lord harbored. In all truth, Angmar was not too far off from them, and thus the thought that possibly the terrible Witch-King of Angmar planted himself upon his frosted thrown once again in Carn Dûm. No doubt, if he had, his fell servants would have long ago inhabited the reaches of old Arnor.

They found themselves in what Anarion knew as Beleriand from the First Age, now called Eriador by the current folk. He grudged knowing, that at some point, they would have to liberate Angmar and hopefully quell Mount Gundabad of their orc hordes. They would likely find both Elven-kind and maybe Dwarves where they were.

As they clamored through a small wood, they stopped, rooted to the spot. Before them lay a small town, a few home's thatched roofs burning with plumes of black smoke reaching up to the sky. The sounds of screaming women and other civilians could be heard above a din of crunching timbers and the roar of Orc-kind. Anarion narrowed his eyes with wrath, he quickly turned to his comrades, drawing his blade, Bêlzagra, allowing its shimmering blade to flash through the air.

"Show these beasts no mercy, kill them all, liberate these peoples!" Bellowed Anarion in rage.

Whether it was the sight of innocents being hewn down by the forces of darkness, who had no place in this world, or the dead bodies of small children laying in piles by the side of the village, or just a pure hatred of Sauron, Anarion lost his cool at that moment and charged straight into the village. His booted feet pounded into the cold, wet, snow-covered earth and his cloak whipped behind him in the piercing breeze. Thalmir grunted at his commanders rash actions, but nevertheless withdrew his own blade and charged forward just behind Anarion.

Orcs! Eruanno thought to himself, readying his spear, Hatalion. These beasts will get no mercy from me. It's time for judgement.

Eruanno charged with the other Elves, his spear slashing in a wide arc as he cut two orcs at once, spilling their blood on the ground in front of them. As each drop of dark and corrupted blood hit the ground, Eruanno felt satisfaction. He would not be completely satisfied until all of them were killed. Orcs were such a corrupted race that not one of them has a mind of good. It didn't matter, though. They were creations of darkness and needed to be purged by the light.

Eruanno lifted up his spear again and knocked away the blade of an orc that was about to stab him. He followed up with a swift stab through the hard, causing the orc to let out a guttural cry of pain. He tore the blade out and continued to fight with rage against these foul creatures.

"Don't let any of them escape with their lives!" he roared.

Anarion slammed into the surprised Orc he found first. The very one who had just slit the throat of a young woman. He allowed his rage to overtake him as he hewed the Orc straight down the middle from the base of their rotten skull. As he bashed away another's pike held directly out, then lopped off their head, he realized the battle quickly took a turn toward complete guerilla warfare. No order in troops, nor formations, would be seen. It was urban combat at its worst. A one versus one contest, where the one who wins goes on to another.

Homes burst into flames, that quickly spread. The battlefield took on a blood red glow, as embers flew in the air. Thalmir stood nearby Anarion, plunging his own long blade through another orcs gut. Ripping it out, an orc approached from his back. Shifting his stance to the side, then spinning his blade backward, he impaled the orc before it let its war hammer fall upon the ranger's head.

"Anarion, this is getting dangerous...." Thalmir yelled over an orcs roar.

Before Anarion could respond with an indignant grunt, his head immediately turned to the east toward a path of woods. From the gloom, marred lightly by the smoke lifting to the heavens from burning homes and stables, a full regiment of Mordor Orcs marched into the city. His eyes grew wide, realizing the danger they were now in. Behind him, he saw an elven warrior fall with a spearhead through their neck by a rather large Uruk.

"FALL BACK!" Anarion roared above the din of battle.

As the soldiers of the Grey Haven forces moved back from the burning village, a sudden horn was heard, peculiar in sound and yet... familiar. It was the sound of a Mithlond Horn. From deep within the unburned area of the village, a tattered flag stood high, blowing in the air. And from the homes, were the newly awakened peoples of Mithlond, their spear-tips and long curved blades shined brilliantly in the sun. Anarion smiled at the surprising appearance of reinforcements.

"Regroup and make save the village!" was bellowed from Thalmir as he sheathed his blade and let loose a green feathered arrow into the oncoming orc horde.

Hatalion sung as it decapitated another orc, slicing through air and trailing black blood from the blade. Eruanno attacked as many as possibly, fighting every one he could see. He could not stand the sight of the dead bodies of good and normal people on the sides of the road. The orcs would pay for this.

"FALL BACK!"

Eruanno turned to see Anarion telling them to retreat. Eruanno cursed. As much as he hated giving up ground, it looked like there would be no choice as the newly arrived orc regiment started to flood in.

When all hope for them seemed lost, a horn was sounded. Eruanno couldn't help but let a small smile appear on his face. Men from Mithlond had arrived to save them after all. Now they could attack and free this village!

"That's make these orcs feel the pain that they have caused us!" Eruanno roared as he readied his spear.

Eruanno walked about the field, looking for any stragglers. He had been helping put the foul beasts in the fire and killing any leftovers. It was something that he actually quite enjoyed. They all deserved it, and it felt good letting the flames devour them all. Eruanno spotted a straggler, choking on its own blood. The orc was cut up and nearly dead, so Eruanno walked over, kneeling down to the orc.

"It looks like life has not yet left you, fiend," he said to the orc. "Allow me to change that."

The orc, unable to speak, looked up in fright as Eruanno picked the barely alive orc, carrying it over his shoulder. He walked over to the bon fire and threw the orc in, still alive and writhing.

"Burn," Eruanno said, turning around and walking back to continue his job.