#Methedras

[rockattitudegr]

Για πρώτη φορά έρχεται στην Ελλάδα η Thrash – Metal δολοφονική μηχανή των Methedras και συναντάει μια από τις ιστορικότητες Ελληνικές metal μπάντες, τους Piranha Greek metal band για τέσσερα εκρηκτικά live shows στα πλαίσια του “ETERNAL DECEPTION” tour 2024. Μαζί τους οι Cleavercult, Rockband Parhelion και CORAX B.M

ΚΟΜΟΤΙΝΗ - 17/10 Valhalla ΘΕΣΣΑΛΟΝΙΚΗ - 18/10 Eightball ΛΑΡΙΣΑ - 19/10 Skyland ΑΘΗΝΑ - 20/10 Temple Athens

[mysteriis-moon666]

METHEDRAS - Human Deception

Le groupe italien de thrash-death metal Methedras a sorti son sixième chapitre intitulé « Human Deception » avec un line-up renouvelé composé de Beppe « Rex » Caruso (IRA, ex-Node) comme frontman et Edo Sala (Folkstone, BardoMagno) comme batteur : « Deux incroyables et talentueux Italiens. des artistes qui ont remarquablement enrichi le style du groupe depuis leur arrivée et ont su donner une classe supérieure à nos nouvelles compositions » expliquent Andrea Bochi et Daniele Colombo.

Enregistré au légendaire Studio Fredman par Fredrik Nordström, « Human Deception » réinvente l'attitude de Methedras : « Nous sommes extrêmement satisfaits de notre nouvel album, fait d'une étude minutieuse en termes d'écriture de chansons et plein de nuances, perdant un peu en fruitabilité immédiate mais gagnant beaucoup en longévité et en malléabilité. Chaque aspect a été amélioré par une maturité de création, de préparation et d’exécution, amenant le projet à un nouveau niveau jamais atteint dans le passé. « Human Deception » dispose de ce rôtissage thrashy et deathalique. Un autre aspect important à mentionner est la collaboration avec deux incroyables artistes comme Francesco Ferrini (Fleshgod Apocalypse) pour les orchestrations de cinq chansons sur dix et Giacomo Gastaldi, un maître en synthétiseur analogique, qui nous a offert son talent pour donner une touche plus fraîche et moderne. -jusqu'à notre nouvel album. Avec « Human Deception », nous souhaitons attirer l’attention d’un public plus large et curieux, fasciné par les contaminations sonores, sans barrières mentales lors de l’écoute de musique métal » dixit Methedras

L’album inonde de forêts tordues par les tempêtes, et des broussailles cachés dans des roches escarpées, léchées par un feu déchirant.

[deadqueernoldor]

It is my firm belief that if Caranthir had survived the 1st age, he would have established a new realm either on the eastern side of Esgaroth or around the area where the Rivers Celduin and Carnen (from Iron Hills) meet.

My man nopes out of the active warzone until his brothers forced him into it again, he'd do it again but more firmly the second time around.

[aurore-parle-de-ses-idees]

for the geoguesser! :D :D

hmmmm i wanna say misties somewhere? trying to go for the slopes near helegrod- bruinen source north

[gwynbleiddyn]

delinquent dúnadan behaviour

[lotro-tooltips-daily]

[esther-dot]

We Will Be the Walls of this House 27k @tornadodream

"She stood firm, her clutch steady against his forearm. 'You are my brother.' 'No,' he said, and his voice was gravelly. 'No, I am no brother of yours, Sansa Stark.'" The war has taken much from both of them. But when Jon Snow returns from the south as the new Region-King of the North, Sansa Stark knows that the best way to secure Winterfell for the both of them is a marriage that neither of them want, but the marriage that they both know that they need.

To Be Alone With You 10k @methedras

If he willed it, Sansa would make a Stark of Jon. One way or another.

I'm Holding You Closer Than Most Because You Are My Heaven 8k by @sansaswolfbits

Perhaps she deserves more than a man who loves another woman, but it's him she wants, so she'll take whatever part of him she can have. She's grown used to pretending, how hard can it be?

want me to love you in moderation? well don't you know, i wish i could 8k by @sansaswolfbits

He had Winterfell and Sansa, and everything that should have been Robb's, or Bran's or Rickon's, and now hers, and he couldn't even allow himself to enjoy it. The guilt was eating him up, tearing away pieces of him every single day and keeping him up at night. All of his brothers—who had never been his true brothers—had died so that he could be Lord of Winterfell, so that he could use the girl he'd once called sister to take everything that was hers for his own. Even with Jon it was just her claim he needed. But at least to him, Winterfell was more than a keep and a title. He understood what her home meant to her. They shared the same memories and suffered the same losses. Jon cared for her, but he didn't love her the way a man should love his lady wife.

Finding Love in the Strangest Places 50k

The Rebellion didn't happen till Next Gen: Arya was engaged to Joffery and eloped/was kidnapped by Aegon. Robb and his father Brandon went down to King's Landing and Mad King Rhaegar killed them. Now Jon has to marry Robb's betrothed Sansa Tully. Sansa had a crush on Robb and now has to marry his sullen younger brother before he goes off to war.

The Northern Crown 2k by @hkafterdark

They were married in the Godswood as the snow fell around them.

The Quiet Balance of Wolves 12k by @sevensneakyfoxes

Regardless of what may or may not linger between them, he knows exactly the horrible position he is putting Sansa in: her home and freedom for another interloper in her bed. Jon cannot put her through it again. “My brother knew that the blood of dragons needed to flow in the North, and despite his misguided attempts at creating a lineage, I am starting to understand why. Wolves and dragons were meant to balance each other." Jon is thoroughly sick of prophecies; blood is blood - spilt, it looks the same red on snow. -- Daenerys and Jon make a deal. Jon barters poorly.

Seasons of Wine 1k by @geekprincess26

Sansa still drinks wine only when she has to. Every so often, as the world changes at a dizzying pace around her and her cousin Jon, she has to.

Say Your Vows Against My Skin 8k by @madamebaggio

Jon had married Sansa to protect the North. At least, that was what she thought. Sansa had married Jon to be protected. At least, that was he thought. Their marriage might have started for political reasons, but they love each other. Now if they'd could only say that to each other... Fortunately, one night makes them realize they might've been missing something significant about their relationship.

Duty, Desire, or Love 2k by @damdamfino

Sansa’s duty as Queen is to give the King an heir. But what if that is the only reason Jon is so gentle and caring to her? Would everything change if she told him she was with child? What if she wanted to pretend…for just a little longer.

What Grows in Winter 3k by @orangeflavoryawp

“There are too many years ahead to think of the years before.” - Jon and Sansa. Through the years of a harsh winter, they tend their love.

The Songs Never Mentioned the Scars 2k by @azulaahai

Sansa could hear how naïve it sounded even as she thought it, but the only thing she could think was - not Jon. Jon would never. Jon, her sweet Jon, who's first words to her after their wedding in the godswood had been that Ghost was her wolf now as much as his (which was so adorable and silly that Sansa never failed to smile when she thought about it), who knew exactly what it meant to grow up a bastard - would that man start visiting a brothel without explanation?

time goes by go and i can't control my mind (just keep breathin') 10k by @ladyalice101

“She’s grieving," Arya says, "I’ve never seen her like this and I don’t think she should be alone, but I - . . . have you ever seen her so sad?” Jon’s face has pulled down, the lines etched across it deeper than she’s ever seen them, and there’s a true sorrow in his eyes. “Once or twice,” he answers quietly. “You’re right, she shouldn’t be alone." - We have sad Sansa being comforted by Jon, we have arranged marriage, we have pining, we have feasts, we have bed sharing! This one is just chock full of tropes friends.

Take Me To Wife 1k

When the liege-lords and bannermen to House Stark find out that their king is not who they thought he was, a solution is suggested in the hope of restoring peace among his subjects.

All My Days 74k by @kit-kat21

The night before, as Sansa oversaw the packing of her trunks – her chamber at Winterfell being emptied of her possessions to take to her new home with her – she had asked her brother to describe her soon-to-be husband because Robb hadn’t even supplied a sketch of the man. “Well, he’s… pretty,” Robb decided after a moment’s contemplation. “Pretty?” Sansa’s eyebrows both raised at that.

Put Your Hands on My Waist, Do It Softly 1k by @kitten1618x

The Great War has ended, and Jon and Sansa have wed, but a marriage of convenience has evolved to so much more. As the frigid winter winds whip about outside the walls of Winterfell, Jon suggests something new to take the chill off, testing the boundaries of Sansa's trust in him.

tongue-tied disservice 9k by @ava-rosier

Jon and Sansa are wedded and bedded for the good of the realm.

Strange Bedfellows 7k

Married at Daenerys' behest, Sansa and Jon take a chance and open up to one another on their wedding night.

forbidden fruit's in season 13k by @bravegentlestrong

Jon and Sansa get married. For political reasons. And heir producing purposes. They only have sex this much for the good of the realm. There is a 0% chance they're secretly in love. Alternatively titled "Newsflash, asshole! I've been in love with you this entire goddamn time!"

Jon Snow's 5 Infallible Steps to a Successful Marriage 1k by @azulaahai

By mutual agreement, Jon and Sansa do not share the lord’s bedchamber.

Beasts of Seasons 69k incomplete

She had prepared her words and her actions meticulously.She hadn’t prepared to actually see him. Or, Jon and Sansa reunite and things don't go according to plan, forcing Sansa to reevaluate her identity and her loyalties and forcing Jon to come back to himself. Post-ADWD, bookverse fic. Jon and Sansa reunite on campaign to win back Winterfell.

i could offer you a warm embrace 10k by @amymel86

Of course he wants to keep his newly earned grotesque covered. He’s seen it in the looking glass; a sightless milk-white eye surrounded by angry puckered red scarring from brow to temple. Jon is not a vain man, but no one wants to witness their king’s weaknesses, least of all his wife who had once dreamt that her husband should be a beautiful, fair-haired prince. Well now you have a half-blind brother king.

Hard times for Dreamers 4k by @comma-spice (this was posted in 2014)

She shouldn't feel saddened by his outward lack of affection. Outside of their separate chambers Jon was a good, dutiful husband. He tried to see the logic behind her requests, agreeing on the importance of Bran sitting with them during the morning petitions, and riding out to Wintertown to visit the smallfolk. They rarely fought, and when they did an easy compromise was often found. More importantly he was kind, which was something she had long come to accept as impossible in a husband. Sansa is Bran's Regent and she starts to suspect perhaps she and her husband have built their marriage on a misunderstanding.

time's been kind to you, my love 23k orphaned

Sansa knows her loyalties lie with the Northern independence. Robb might have forgotten her, but she hasn’t forgotten him. Married to Tyrion, beaten by Joffrey- she’s never allowed herself to forget. Sansa has Stark engraved deep into her blood and bone. She’s been a quiet girl for long enough: wolves are protective of their own, after all, and it’s time she lived up to that.

[Aged up Jon and Sansa, set in an universe where, on Jon’s fourteenth birthday, Ned tells him his true parentage and Jon goes to Essos instead of the Wall; upon hearing of Sansa’s predicament in King’s Landing, he returns with an army.]

and I'm like falling water, set me free 2k by @aflashofgreen

Sansa resents these childish dreams of hers she can’t let go of despite the years. She resents them as much as she cherishes them.

From a Flicker to a Glow 8k by @dresupi

In retrospect, it was stupid to think Joffrey Baratheon had ever intended to propose marriage, but Sansa Stark is often blinded by wolves in sheep's clothing, especially if they have very fine wool. Jon arrives to save her, reminding her of the knights in the stories she enjoyed as a girl, complete with a white horse and all. But is he only offering to save her because she needs saving? If so, will that be enough foundation upon which to build a marriage?

but you're the one that i want; is that really so wrong? 4k orphaned

In light of the North’s demand for a marriage alliance, Jon and Sansa have some long-harbored matters to discuss.

Fill the Earth 6k by @darkmagyk

Arya Stark is a simple girl with simple desires: a prosperous North, a safe family, a large pack. And that her favorite brother and only sister would get on with the heir making business. She cannot have a niece until they are properly bedded. But as always, Jon and Sansa are being difficult.

And the Geese Are Headed North 13k by @yekoc

In the dark and honest part of her that Sansa is no longer afraid of, she had thought that Jon would die, and she was no sadder than she was relieved. In the months that she ruled Winterfell while the great war of men and wights waged around them, she felt herself growing into her power, sinking her roots back deep into the Northern soil. She enjoyed it, ruling. She was good at it. And at night, she had a wide bed and a door that locked and she was never cold. If Jon died in the war, she would miss him like she missed Robb and Rickon and Bran. She wouldn’t miss her husband. Seeing him now, she notes the absence of the relief and joy that marked her first glimpse of him at Castle Black. Instead, she feels a too-familiar grief: my brother is gone.

PRE CANON - WESTERN- FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - SALTY TEENS - POST CANON

[a-lonely-dunedain]

they're making a snowed man :) everything is fine in Tal-Methedras :)

Nothing bad is going to happen to them or the snowmen :) :) :)

[captainderyn]

[Fictober24] Day 9: "Don't listen to me, listen to them."

Prompt: "Don't listen to me, listen to them."

Fandom: LOTRO

Pairings: Wulfwryn/Raenor

Warnings: This one is a dark one again. Mentions/implied torture, mentions of injury, general dark and angsty tone.

SPOILERS: For the beginning of the Rise of Isengard.

Summary: Trapped and imprisoned in the orc pits of Isengard, but kept separate, Wulfwryn sneaks down to see Raenor. Her resolve to do what must be done is waning, and it is on him to convince her to keep going, no matter the risk to him. aka I put them both through the horrors again I'm sorry

--

Sneaking away from the kitchens in the orc pit beneath Orthanc risked both Wulfwryn and Raenor’s lives. Yet it was a risk Wulfwryn could not bear to not take. 

Raenor stuck his hands, bruised and bloodied beyond recognition, through the bars of his cell. He could barely make it past his forearms and Wulfwryn pressed her forehead against the rusty bars just to feel his hands cup her cheeks. 

The time they had before Morflak became suspicious about her delivering slop to the caged prisoners was slipping through her fingers. She’d been lucky today, lucky that infighting among his suborinates had drawn his attention away so he had not been able to mark the exact minute that she had left. 

It still was not enough time. 

Raenor pressed their foreheads together, or the idea of their foreheads, his thumbs bushing across her cheekbones. 

“Meldanya,” he murmured in raspy elvish. His voice, shot and raspy, hurt her worse than any knife could. “Don’t listen to me, whenever the White Wizard drags me before you again. Whatever he has his lackeys do, whatever tool he tries to make you fold, do not listen. Listen to them, your overseer, these monsters, and bide your time.” 

“Raenor,” Wulfwryn pleaded, cradling his hand against her cheek. “You ask too much, asking me to stand by idly. I cannot let them break you.”

His eyes, glassy with pain but steely, focused in on her. Her resolve began to crack as she met his gaze, her eyes burning. 

“I can’t.” she whispered. 

She’d failed him in Moria, allowing him to fall into the hands of Mazog, and she failed him in the prison caves of Tál Methedras. Never before had she been so easily overpowered, so helpless to stop the forces at work around them. 

If it were just her, she would grit her teeth and bear Morflak’s cruelty alone. She could shoulder it, even if it broke pieces of her off in the process. 

But knowing Raenor languished down here except when Sauraman wished to tout him around like a songbird for show, to try and bend Wulfwryn to his will…

That did not break pieces off of her, it corroded her very foundation, the very core of her. She did not sleep at night, she could not shake the heavy dread that weighted her chest down. 

“You must.” Raenor shifted, brushing a kiss across her forehead that barely reached through the bars. Wulfwryn stifled a sob. “And you will. Melin gin, meldanya.” 

Morflak’s furious voice boomed down the hallway, calling for his wayward ‘maggot’. 

Wulfwryn flinched, squeezing her eyes closed and pressing Raenor’s fingers tight to her skin where they rested against her skin. Then she took a deep breath, pushed it all down, and stepped back from his cell. 

Raenor retreated into the deep shadows at the back of his cell, settling back against the wall. 

Taking the heels of her palms, Wulfwryn brushed away her tears and Raenor’s bloody fingerprints from her skin. With a swift kick, she sent what remained of the slop bucket spilling across the floor, then picked up a dirty rag as though she attempted to clean it up. 

She grit her teeth to the paint of pain as Morflak seized her by the back of her hair, yanking her to her feet, and snarled at her for skulking around. She cobbled together the facade of a meek, panicked story about spilling the bucket and not wishing to attract rats. 

And thus the act began anew once again.

[loremastering]

lotro geoguessr!

This looks like the Snowman Village in Tal-Methedras, Dunland! At least how it looks before the betrayal ;;

[hobbitwrangler]

At the Death of a Friend

Prompt: 'friendship' for lotrweek day 4

Summary: Saruman has not heard Galadriel's voice in years. But in the aftermath of Gandalf's death, they speak one last time.

Character(s): Saruman & Galadriel

Rating: G

Words: 3.4k

Note: I struggled with whether to post this on day 4 or day 5 since, due to revolving around Gandalf’s death, this could fall into the ‘loss’ category. However, I decided to post it on day 4 because for me the emphasis is more on the ‘friendship’ aspect, which the loss brings out.

Saruman did not know what drew him to the pinnacle of Orthanc. That should probably have warned him. At such height the air was cold, the spires of the tower honing the winter wind until it was knife-sharp and shrieking. Snowflakes danced on the wind, melting in the swirling black heat which rose up from below.

Wondering why he had not thought to don a cloak, Saruman pulled his robes more tightly about him, his gaze tracing the peak of Methedras, scanning the tree-clad slopes reaching toward Isengard. Not for the first time that day (or that hour), he wondered what had befallen Gandalf and his band of fools. Did they walk the dark pathways beneath the mountains or were their bodies frozen in the snows of some mountain pass after another failed attempt to cross? His spies watching the Gap of Rohan had reported nothing, meaning that those two paths were surely all that was left to them.

As if sensing his thoughts, a surge of wind cut down from the mountains, howling discontentedly as it broke against the black stone of Orthanc. Cursing whatever impulse had led him up here, Saruman ducked his head and decided to return indoors.

“My kind are well aware that trees can be angered, but we think much less of mountains. Yet it seems that Middle Earth in all of its parts is unsettled this winter.”

AO3 link - lovely dividers by @saradika

[rockattitudegr]

Για πρώτη φορά έρχεται στην Ελλάδα η Thrash – Metal δολοφονική μηχανή των METHEDRAS και συναντάει μια από τις ιστορικότερες Ελληνικές metal μπάντες, τους PIRANHA για τέσσερα εκρηκτικά live shows στα πλαίσια του “ETERNAL DECEPTION” tour 2024.

Tην Παρασκευή 18 Οκτωβρίου στο εμβληματικό Eightball θα προσφέρουν στο κοινό της Θεσσαλονίκης ένα live show αντάξιο της ιστορίας τους. Μην λείψει κανείς!!!!

Opening act οι CLEAVERCULT.

[chaos-corvus]

Going back to visit Tal Methedras, and my good friend Lheu Brenin. Such friendly folks! Surely nothing will go wrong!

Bonus pic of Kytt and CajunSpice

[hallothere]

11 for whoever you feel hasn't been bullied enough (just be nice to them afterwards ok)

11. Hiding from pursuers

Orthanc poked up above the mountains from this angle. The Wizard's Vale wasn't what it once was. Last he'd been visiting- scouting, poking his head in for a peek at how the Head of the Wizards lived- it had been a green place. A living place.

Now Dagoras hid in a graveyard. Trees and Ents and Rohirrim and Dunlendings had come and died. He'd been far enough from his camp when he'd noticed the signs. Footfalls started and stopped with him, dead branches crackled out of time with the wind. His knees told him he'd been crouching behind this rock for too long, but his instincts said not long enough.

It was not the first man- not the first servant of Isengard- that had been sent for his head. This probably wouldn't be the last. He had to hand it to Saruman. The Wizard kept an eye on his domain. Not much went on in the nooks and crannies of Nan Curunir that went unnoticed, including himself.

He thought back to the glorified kennel in the caves of Fordirith... Unfortunately, that was likely to be the kinder of the two prisons on his journey here. He was all alone- one of five scouts sent south from Tal Methedras- and couldn't expect help from Daervunn soon. They'd split up near the Rohirric encampment with different goals in mind. Now, he might be about to pay for that lack of caution.

Another twig snapped directly behind him. Directly, and clear on the other side of this rock. He didn't have a moment to lose.

Dagoras scrambled up and over his cover, knife drawn, and launched a surprise attack that would make Faeron cringe. It probably saved his life that he fell onto a crossbow and not a drawn blade. Now a broken rib, bruised jaw, and bloodied knife later, Dagoras fought the urge to sink to the ground and catch a breath.

He made haste for his camp, where he'd no doubt dine alone, pack alone, and set out to see if Daervunn was still alive. The Wizard's Vale might've finally gotten too hot to handle.

[aurore-parle-de-ses-idees]

Panic, .....Halbarad?

greetings from tur morva! at the very beginning of when Things Start Happening :)

The wind off the lake in the shadow of Methedras is cold, remembering the ice in the heights and the snow on the peaks, but the fires are warm and enough of the people of Tûr Morva are welcoming that they can forget the wind, for a time.

Halbarad waves a greeting to Radanir, who has been in a foul mood for nearing three days now, and continues into the caves where Calenglad had said he would wait. Just inside the heavy door he finds a pile of crates, a familiar cloak draped over one of the stacks.

“Oh! Hello, Ranger,” calls one of the Hebog-lûth girls with a bright smile. “Your friend told me you would be coming; he said he would help Maelona carry some of these crates down into the drier tunnels and join you as soon as he could.”

Halbarad thanks her and steps back outside, the cool air sharp enough to bite but still preferable to the stuffiness of the caves near the entrance. A small bird lands on a low stone wall nearby and looks at Halbarad inquisitively, as if he has some news for it. The Sun comes around the shoulder of the mountain and he lets his hood down, content to soak in whatever warmth she will provide this time of year. Someone calls out once elsewhere in the village. It’s peaceful.

Esterín and Lothrandir pass him, deep in quiet conversation, and enter the caves. Golodir enters the caves as well, bearing a tray of sweet-smelling tarts that steam in the mountain air, stopping just long enough to make a face at Halbarad when he swipes one.

“If you see Calenglad,” Halbarad adds as an afterthought, “tell him I’m only waiting on him.” Golodir eyes him carefully.

“Anything urgent?”

“Next steps,” Halbarad answers. “I am growing anxious to move on.” Golodir nods, some faint wistfulness briefly touching his face, and goes.

Some time later, neither Calenglad nor Golodir have returned from the caves and Halbarad begins to frown. How deep in the caves can they be? Surely it should not have taken this long to move the crates, even if they made several trips.

“Halbarad?” Corunir’s voice stops him. Worried, though he tries to contain it. “Have you seen Golodir? He should have been back by now. Idele is getting impatient; she set aside a tray of berry tarts for him, but they’re getting cold just sitting out.”

“He went down into the caves perhaps an hour ago,” Halbarad says, worry growing in the back of his mind. “I haven’t seen him since.” Neither Esterín nor Lothrandir have come back, either. “Corunir,” he says, very quietly. “Is anyone else unaccounted for?” Corunir’s gaze snaps to him, sharpening at his tone.

“No one has been noticed missing yet,” he says after a moment’s thought. “But I haven’t seen Idhrien or Braigiar in some time, and there are fewer of us about than there should be for the hour.” Halbarad takes the handle of the thick, heavy door that keeps the howling of the wind on one side and the caves on the other. His other hand finds the hilt of his sword. Corunir takes up a position just behind him. “I have not seen the Brenin either,” he says. Halbarad nods grimly.

“Stay close.”

He had hoped it would not come to this. He had taken Lothrandir’s counsel with all the weight it merited, and with his own judgement he had thought the Falcon Clan sincere, even those who had nearly as little love for the Dúnedain as for the White Hand. He had dared, for just a moment, to believe they could find allies here as they had in Lhanuch, and now he can only beg whatever Powers may be listening that it was not the wrong choice.

Calenglad’s cloak is still draped over the crates. No more of them have gone down into the caves.

The upper cells are empty. Halbarad sweeps deeper into the damp caves, Corunir silent at his back and eyes alight with sharp-edged worry.

They come upon a fallen tray, small tarts scattered about and crushed underfoot. There is blood there, too. Halbarad draws his sword. Corunir curses softly behind him. “Go,” Halbarad says under his breath. Corunir turns a sharp look on him, protest already in his eyes. “Now,” Halbarad hisses. “Find anyone still free and leave the village. Find the Rohirrim in the Gravenwood.” Corunir’s eyes flick to the scattered apple tarts. “Corunir, there is no time.” He tries to gentle his voice. “I will find him. You are swifter than me; take everyone you can.” Corunir closes his eyes and whispers a vicious oath.

Someone shouts, deep in the caves, and then Halbarad is running, not looking back to see if Corunir heeds his command. Fear rises in Halbarad’s throat and he crushes it ruthlessly. There will be time enough for that later, but first he must know what has happened.

He turns a corner, and there are five Falcons against three of the Company with naked blades, and he throws himself at their backs sword-first.

But Tirneth still falls heavily to the ground, and more of the warriors of Tûr Morva come down into the caves behind him, and though in their surprise they lose hold of the sons of Elrond, the sound of the fighting draws more attention from other tunnels, and soon they are surrounded. Halbarad fights desperately, panic buzzing from the back of his neck to his sword-hand, but the Falcons are many and this is their territory, and at last someone crashes into the back of his knees and sends him to the ground. A knife is put to his throat and the others are commanded to stand down, and to his great despair, blades clatter to the mossy stone and they are hauled away, one by one, into cold, wet cells to await Lheu Brenin’s pleasure.

[radanir]

i hate you dunland i hate you tâl methedras i hate you tûr morva i hate you oxen i hate you manure i hate you falcon-clan i hate you lheu brenin i hate you jackals i hate you leg injury i hate you i hate you i hate you